Nepalese Redemption
First impressions matter. I know this from once interviewing a man for a job as a scientist who appeared to have porridge down his jumper. He didn’t get the position. My first impressions of Nepal, a country I expected to adore, were unfortunately quite mixed. I found it polluted, busy and loud, three things I didn’t fully expect. But a bad first impression doesn’t necessarily mean redemption isn’t possible. Second chances happen. As such, as we land back in Nepal after two amazing weeks in Bhutan, I’m coming back with an open mind.
My wife, Jess, and I begin our journey with a taxi from Kathmandu airport west to the small village of Bandipur. As open as my mind is, the door to redemption starts to creep slowly shut at the state of the Nepalese roads. They were poor on our first visit, which headed north of Kathmandu, but not awful. Unfortunately, the route west from Kathmandu, which should be a main artery, is a complete disaster. It’s a visual testament to the significant level of corruption the country suffers from. The taxi driver can’t stop telling us how angry it makes him, muttering “corruption, corruption, corruption” under his breath as he bounces along the pot holes. The evidence is clear. The entire road has been dug up as we leave Kathmandu, and the only evidence of any repair or resurfacing is small sporadic groups of workers at the road side. He says it’s been like this for years. Kilometre after kilometre of road is trashed, nothing but potholed hardcore. The dust flies up at the houses along the roadside and coats every plant and surface in a fine brown powder. It’s not surprising people openly throw rubbish out the front of their houses when the government leaves them dealing with such a mess. Further evidence is lying at the roadsides; annodised steel lamp posts every 50 meters. None of them are erected. It’s clear they’ve been sitting on the ground for years, grass and vines weave their way over them. The cost must be in the millions as the kilometers pass. It’s depressing to see. Our driver says the recurring issue is people taking the government’s money in promise of resolution, then running away overseas. It’s such a shame, the welcoming people of Nepal deserve much better.
As the car trundles on, we stop and take a cable car up a mountain to Manakamana Temple. It’s a scene of beautiful madness; a bustling market leads from the cable car station to the main temple where monkeys steal offerings, men in bright clothes offer you a red bindi on the forehead, and lines of pilgrims queue to pray and burn incense and oil on an open table. A smokey haze fills the central square as small children feed pigeons with corn. The roads are lined with people selling seasonal oranges by the bucket load, thousands of them line the pathways where bright orange marigold flowers adorn every doorway. It’s a great stop, particularly whilst sitting looking out over the hills with a couple beers.
(A man offers me a bindi at the Manakamana Temple, Nepal)
(A woman prays at a table of burning offerings, Manakamana Temple, Nepal)
After making our way back down to the road, we drive on to Bandipur, a small former trading town that developed during the 1700s on the India-Tibet trading route. A large flat square piece of land just out of the town centre was home to the historic market. Now kids kick footballs around with unobstructed views to some of the highest mountains in the world, some over 8000m.
(The sunset view from the old trading market at Bandipur, Nepal)
The buildings in the town centre itself are constructed from wood and brick with plants growing out into the pedestrianised walkway. It feels somehow old and authentic. The views from the restaurants to the northwest are magnificent, looking out to the impressive mountains of Machupuchare, Manaslu and Annapurna.
(The restaurants and shops of Bandipur town centre, Nepal)
After a day exploring the town, and falling in love with a small kitten in the hotel called Lucky, we hike down to a cave in the mountainside that Jess has read about. We keep an open mind, although our expectations are that it might be underwhelming. As we enter the cave with our guide, who I’m pretty sure is drunk, it’s clear it’s bigger than we thought. For 20 minutes we walk and scramble further in, going deeper under the mountain through limestone tunnels carved by water over millennia. At times we have to use a rope to help climb up some of the steep and slippery slopes. Finally, we reach a large open cavern and head off into a small tributary. Our guide asks us to turn off our head torches and we sit in silence for a few minutes. I’ve never been anywhere so black, my eyes play tricks on me in the dark, strange shapes forming and disappearing. There’s something quite disconcerting about having your eyes wide open but with not a single spec of light hitting your retinas. The hike back up the mountainside afterwards is steep and hot, and the mosquitos pounce on you as soon as you stop moving. Once at the top we sit with a cold drink and discuss our onward plans. Bandipur was great stop, and for its size, it packed a real punch.
(Inside Siddha Gufa (cave), Bandipur, Nepal)
Our journey continues west, this time in a bus to the city of Pokhara. It’s the main town from which people begin treks into the Annapurna region. I’ve wanted to trek here since a close friend told me he cycled and ran the main Annapurna circuit back in the 1980’s. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for those living in the region, road development since has progressed further and further into the circuit route, turning an epic 20 day trek into something that can be completed in close to 10. We would still have been tempted if it were not for the fact that it’s December. The highest point, the Thorung La pass at 5400m elevation, is dangerous when the snows come in. It’s not worth the risk. For this reason we decide to hike the Annapurna Sanctuary trek, also known as the Annapurna Base Camp trek, or simply ABC, which leads through a steep valley north to the base camp of Annapurna Main, one of the tallest and most dangerous mountains on the planet.
After carrying all our supplies on our last trek, we decided this time around to take a porter. We meet him in Pokhara and figure out how to split our supplies. We also go hunting for a hot water bottle for Jess, something she won’t give up on, particularly because the best sleeping bag we can rent only goes down to -20. After visiting eight pharmacies and multiple shops we finally give up. In a last ditch effort, Jess asks the receptionist at the hotel. He finds one in less than 2 minutes at a pharmacist just down the road. Typical. I try to be macho and say I don’t need one, but when I realise they only cost a few dollars I give in and we buy two.
On the final day before heading out on our trek we visit the Gurkha museum. It’s a 40 minute walk north out of central Pokhara. It chronicles the involvement of the Gurkhas in various overseas wars and their reputation as brave and courageous fighters. That evening we have dinner at a restaurant in central Pokhara that has a Christmas tree in the entrance. It’s only two weeks until Christmas. Just looking at the tree fills us both with a feeling of nostalgia and brings back happy memories of home.
(A Christmas tree reminds us of home, Pokhara, Nepal)
Day 1: Phedi to Landruk (9th December)
Our Annapurna Sanctuary trek begins by the side of the highway at Phedi, a 40 minute taxi ride from central Pokhara. We begin the hike by climbing up steep steps through forest until we reach a ridgeline where we’re greeted by unobstructed views of Machupuchare Mountain, otherwise known as Fish Tail Mountain. In Nepalese culture it’s a holy mountain, believed to be the home of Lord Shiva. As a result, climbing it is prohibited. The British apparently got to within 100m of the top and turned around in 1957, which is surprisingly honourable. There are reports of disrespectful individuals making the summit, but nothing confirmed.
(The valley at Phedi with the highway back to Pokhara, Nepal)
(The view of the holy Machupuchare mountain on the right, Nepal)
We then hike through the small village of Dhampus. As we leave the village, a group of around 15 school kids start chatting to us. They’re wearing thin jogging trousers and lightweight jumpers with no backpacks. They tell us they’re hiking to ABC, which normally stands for ‘Annapurna Base Camp’. It’s where we’re headed, but it’s 4 days away at 4100m elevation. It was minus 20 degrees Celsius there last night. After walking with them for half an hour we finally figure it all out. They’re walking to somewhere called ‘Australia Base Camp’, which is not much further up ahead. With slightly less concern for their welfare, we part company and wish them the best of luck. The trek continues pleasantly to the small village of Landruk. It’s a long day, covering 19km and gaining 1200m in elevation, but because of the up’s and down’s we only end up sleeping at an elevation of 1600m.
(Nepalese school kids keeping us company on the trek to Landruk, Nepal)
Day 2: Landruk to Chhomrong (10th December)
The next morning we wake early and continue along the trail. We gradually descend down into a lush green valley where ponies graze in front of a large waterfall. As we start to ascend, we come across pack mules carrying heavy loads to resupply the Annapurna valley with fuel and essentials, and no doubt Coca Cola and crisps. As we arrive at a huge steel suspension bridge (Chhomrong Khola) crossing a valley we have to wait while the mules cross. You’re not allowed on the bridges when they are, in case they decide to kick you off I suppose.
(Jess treks towards the Annapurna range, Nepal)
(A man sits sorting through his crops on the path to Chhomrong, Nepal)
(Mules carry supplies over a suspension bridge, Chhromrong, Nepal)
In total, we gain 900m elevation over 8.6km. We sleep at a nice, albeit cold, teahouse in Chhomrong at 2200m.
Day 3: Chhromrong to Bamboo (11th December)
The next morning at breakfast the views over the mountains are stunning. It’s a great start to the day with clear blue skies. We first head down through the main valley on hundreds of stone steps past a small Buddhist stupa. After we reach the bottom we start a steep ascent up stone steps for what feels like hours. The steps become nicknamed ‘Jess’ Nemesis’, she’s not a big fan. Along the way a warning sign on the trail says ‘landslides for the next 30 minutes’, I joke with Jess that I might sit around for half an hour. It’s a terrible joke, but I’m still proud of it.
(Breakfast with a view over the Annapurna range, Nepal)
Eventually, we reach the tiny collection of teahouses at Bamboo village. Although we’d climbed a lot, because of the initial descent we don’t really gain much over the 8.2km. That night we sleep at 2300m elevation.
Day 4: Bamboo to Deurali (12th December)
The trek begins again the next morning, and although it’s beautiful, it’s relatively uneventful. As with the previous ones, steps are the order of the day. One particular highlight was a large waterfall cascading down the side of the valley cliff face. We gain a total of 1200m over 8.5km, ending at 3160m elevation at a teahouse in Deurali. As we arrive, the sky’s have darkened and sleet is driving in to our faces as we finish the hike. It’s a very cold night, with no heating. The hot water bottles were a wise investment.
(A waterfall cascades down a cliff face near a Buddhist stupa)
Day 5: Deurali to Annapurna Base Camp
In the morning there’s a thin layer of snow outside and the water in the pipes and puddles have frozen solid. But the skies are again clear and it’s a perfectly serene start to the hike to Annapurna Base Camp. We wind our way through the main valley as the mountains grow taller around us. After about an hour it starts to snow lightly, but the path is reasonably clear and we don’t need crampons. At this point there’s only one way to go, the trail only leads ahead.
(A cold start to the day, Deurali, Annapurna range, Nepal)
We eventually reach Machupuchare Base Camp, which is somewhat of a misnomer, given that you can’t actually climb the mountain. We stop briefly for a hot chocolate at a teahouse, and provide a porter with a large bandage after he slipped and cut his palm quite deeply. From here it’s a short hike along a snowy path to our final destination. Although it’s short, it’s one of the most stunning stretches of hiking I’ve done. All around you the mountains, most of them over 7000m high, look down at you imposingly. It feels like wandering through the centre of a craggy cauldron created by the gods. The clouds gather around the towering peaks, flowing over them like blankets. It’s literally a 360 degree panorama. The hiking, however, is now somewhat harder because of the thinner air, but we both seem to manage ok. By lunchtime we’ve arrived at Annapurna Base Camp at 4100m. With the up and downs we’ve hiked up over 2100m during the 8km.
(The view from Machupuchare Base Camp to Annapurna Base Camp, Nepal)
(Thickening clouds gather over the Annapurna Base Camp, Nepal)
We settle in and make friends with some fellow trekkers. We start playing cards to pass the afternoon as the main dining room gradually gets busier. As the afternoon progresses, the clouds gather and the snow starts in earnest. It starts to stick easily on the ground in the freezing temperatures. By the late afternoon it’s dark outside and the temperature is well below zero. In the meantime, a large group of Korean trekkers have arrived and taken over two thirds of the long table in the centre of the dining room. One falls asleep with his head on the table. Our game of cards becomes quite spirited and a loud slap on the table wakes him with a jolt. He’s not happy and tells us to stop and shhh. We don’t, but then ironically one of his group starts playing some strange woodwind instrument which becomes the sound track to the rest of our evening. To heat the room a small gas heater is placed under the main table. It means your legs get warm, but not a lot else. Ice crystals start to form on the inside of the window panes and your breath becomes visible even though you’re indoors.
(The view from the guesthouse at Annapurna Base Camp, Nepal)
(A Korean man plays a woodwind instrument at Annapurna Base Camp, whether we like it or not….)
After refilling the hot water bottles twice, costing a few dollars each time, we turn in for the night. It’s probably about 7pm but the temperature makes doing anything else challenging. Wrapped in all our clothes, a minus 20 sleeping bag, hot water bottles, and multiple blankets, we get as much sleep as we can. It’s easily minus 20 overnight with no heating, but to be honest it felt like I was cuddling up in some kind of nest over winter.
Days 6-8 – The Return Trip
The next morning we wake at sunrise and walk out into the crisp cold air. Pristine snow covers the entire landscape. We walk slowly up to a viewing point to watch the sun rise as it coats Annapurna Main in an orange glow. In the morning sun, with a clear sky above, it looks easy enough to climb. Surely it can’t be that hard? More than 20% of the people that have tried have died, making it one the most deadly mountains on earth. I think I’ll be happy to have made it to base camp. We walk up and down a small ridge covered in prayer flags and enjoy the views in the sub-zero temperatures. A small cat’s prints wander off through the snow, it obviously passed through camp early this morning. We have a quick breakfast and then figure out how to put on our crampons.
(The sunrise over Annapurna Main, Nepal)
(Jess treks from Annapurna Base Camp, Nepal)
Over the next two days, it’s back down the way we came. We decide to get a jeep to pick us up from a closer location, allowing us to save a couple of days as we approach Christmas.
After the trek
After a hot shower and a beer, we relax back into Pokhara. We wander along the edge of the large lake with excellent views of Machupuchare mountain and reflect on the last few days. The Annapurna Sanctuary trek was one of the highlights of our travels so far. It was short but really delivered. The feeling of getting to base camp and seeing the grandeur of some of the highest peaks in the world will stay with me forever. The trails were clean (unlike those we’d hiked before), the people were friendly and the scenery was stunning. It provided what I hoped to get from Nepal, getting it considerably closer to redemption.
(Colourful boats on Phewa Lake, Pokhara, Nepal)
Our decision to end our trek slightly early was motivated by our plans to visit Chitwan National Park. It’s a bad time of year to visit because the elephant grass is up to 5 meters high, which makes wildlife spotting difficult. The chances of seeing a Bengal tiger at this time of year are vanishingly small, but we wanted to give it a shot.
Nepal is roughly divided into three geographical zones, the treacherous high mountain peaks that border Tibet, the lower habitable Himalayan slopes, and the hot and humid lowland plains to the south that run into India. The latter are the breadbasket of the country. As our bus trundles first east and then south towards Chitwan National Park, the scenery changes to fields full of crops. Acres of yellow mustard flowers extend out from the roadsides and the temperature gradually increases. It’s a strange transition. Just a few days ago barely anything grew on the barren craggy mountain slopes.
Eventually, we transfer into a 4×4 Land Cruiser and make our way to our accommodation, Tiger Tops Lodge. It was the first lodge in Nepal to stop using elephants for tourist rides and has been initiating conservation programs since the 1970’s. It’s perhaps a little overpriced and getting a bit dated, but it’s nice to support their principles. They still look after the elephants previously used for tourist rides on site. We get to feed them up close and learn about the strong bonds they make with their ‘Mahouts’, or carers.
(A delighted Jess makes friends, Tiger Tops Lodge, Chitwan, Nepal)
The next morning we wake early and set off for our first safari in Nepal. Chitwan National Park was first gazetted in 1973 and covers approximately 950 sq.km of pristine sub-tropical forest and grassland. It’s separated from the surrounding villages by an aging and broken fence and the Rapti River to the north. As we approach the rivers bank at 7am our guide gets out and wanders along the sand. He points to a large print in the soft river bed, it’s clearly a tiger paw print. It’s huge and freshly made. He says we’ll see a few of them on our safaris, but the tigers themselves are much less likely. It’s only then that it dawns on me that the tiger was just on the edge of the village, which by human definitions is the wrong side of the river. It shows just how close they come to human villages at nighttime and the challenges faced in their protection.
A small wooden boat materialises out of the thick dense mist that’s covering the river itself. You can’t see the other side. A man is sitting on the front of the boat with a paddle as we climb aboard. It’s just the boatman, our guide and us. He paddles out into the stream of fast flowing water on a path known only to a few. He lets the current takes us on an oblique angle across the river. He seems to sense the eddies and movements of the water in the thick fog, and after 10 minutes he lands us exactly where we’re meant to be; on the opposite bank next to a Land Rover that’s as old as my parents. It has no roof and the wheels don’t turn until the steering wheel gets to 30 degrees in either direction. It’s amazing it’s still running, never mind doing safaris.
(A man paddles a boat through the mist, Chitwan National Park, Nepal)
(A trusty old Land Rover awaits us for safari, Chitwan National Park, Nepal)
We head into the national park and immediately it’s clear why tiger spotting is hard at this time of year. The grass towers meters tall either side of the car. It’s so dense you can barely see a meter into it. A tiger could be sitting looking at you and you’d never know it. We drive further in, eventually coming out of the thick grass and into forest where we see our first antelope, some monkeys, and a range of colourful birds. It’s only after a few hours of driving though when we finally spot an Indian Rhino. They’re incredible creatures, they look armour plated, like something straight out of Jurassic park. So very different to those in Africa. Throughout the day we head off on small off shoots to try and spot tigers, but it’s just too hard with the density of the vegetation. There’s only a few hundred of them, so the chances were always slim.
(A Indian Rhino, Chitwan National Park, Nepal)
For lunch, we climb a tall viewing platform and eat whilst surveying the landscape for anything that might wander by. Not much does, but just looking at the scene and knowing what’s out there, hidden, hunting, endangered, makes it exciting nonetheless.
(Jess looks for animals from a viewing hide, Chitwan National Park, Nepal)
After a long day on the bouncing seat at the back of the Land Rover we head back the same way we came. By late afternoon we’d spotted a number of elephants, a mother rhino with her calf, mugger crocodiles, and much to our surprise, wild peacocks.
(A Mugger crocodile on a small tributary in Chitwan National Park, Nepal)
(A female Indian rhino and her calf. Chitwan National Park, Nepal)
The next day we start by trekking with the trained elephants in the national park. One walks slowly in front of us and one behind. It prevents the tigers from attacking us, apparently and hopefully. It’s quite a special experience to wander through the park with no engine noise, knowing tigers and leopards could be watching us as we stroll along. We see some wild boar, more tiger paw prints and antelope, but just the experience in itself was wonderful. In the afternoon we embark on another safari in the trusty Land Rover. We head off down a small path in search of tigers, but no luck. As the paths ends the driver turns the car around, which is followed by a large bang and the sound of grinding metal. The axle has snapped. Not so faithful after all. Quite amazingly it manages to limp back to the river side where we swap into an even older car. In the final hour of safari, Jess manages to spot a python basking in some grass at the side of the road. We also find a rhino munching on weeds in a river, holdings its breath to obtain each mouthful. As we drive back to end the safari a rhino is blocking the road. We sit for about 20 minutes in a standoff before it finally got bored and wandered off into the grass, immediately disappearing from view.
(An Indian rhino munches on weeds. Chitwan National Park, Nepal)
(A python warms itself in the afternoon sun. Chitwan National Park, Nepal)
With the Land Rover issues, our safari overruns. It gives me some time to think about Chitwan compared to our African safaris. There’s something different, and it’s hard to explain what. It’s a combination of things, the vegetation, the animals, the people, even the way the sun sets feels unusual. The wildlife spotting also feels harder, which makes it all that more rewarding. We didn’t see any tigers this time, but I’m hoping they’ll be a next time.
As we catch the small wooden boat to return across the river, the sunset is quite incredible. Thousands of small birds fly low over the water, catching fly’s near the surface. This last tranquil half an hour of the day equals the safari’s themselves. It’s a perfect end to a few days in the jungle.
(Sunset on the Rapti River, Chitwan National Park, Nepal)
Our final few days in Nepal are spent in Kathmandu. One afternoon we walk over to Swayambhunath Stupa in the northeast of the city. After the amazing scenery in the Annapurna region and the wonderful wildlife of Chitwan, the disgusting state of the rivers of Kathmandu is enough to push you over the edge. The stupa itself is nice, and the abundant monkeys provide some entertainment by climbing all over the stupa and sliding down the bannisters for efficiency. A temple at the top is filled with hundreds of butter lamps and a large prayer wheel, which reminds me of our recent time in Bhutan.
(Butter lamps and a prayer wheel in the temple at Swayambhunath Stupa)
Before leaving Nepal for Australia to met our friend Morgan for Christmas and New Year, we visit the former city state of Bharatpur in the Kathmandu valley. Like its former sister city state, Patan, its buildings and architecture feel cleaner and more impressive than those of central Kathmandu. We walk around the central section and stop when we find a small bustling square where around 30 men are playing a board game with sticks. I’ve struggled to find its name, but I think it’s derived from Ludo.
(Temples of Patan, Kathmandu Valley, Nepal)
(Men play a board game competition, to enter you have to be over 60 years old. Patan, Nepal)
As our journey through Nepal comes to an end, I’m left asking myself if it fully redeemed itself. I’d say not entirely, but I know I’ll be back, which is more than I would have said after our first visit last month (see ‘Nepal has Mountains to Climb’ blog). Like everything in human experience, the more you see or do something the more you become blind to it. The more normal it appears. By the end of our time in Nepal, I didn’t really notice the rubbish. The constant noise of mobile phones with the volume turned up didn’t bother me in the same way. The corruption ruining the lives of Nepals citizens was clear to see, but it angered me less. It’s sad, but not entirely surprising. If ignorance is truly bliss, I’m in love with Nepal and I’ll be back again soon.