Travel Tips

In Kathmandu we booked into the Down Town Hotel, which could have been renamed the Down Town Tel Aviv Hotel, as we were the only non-Israeli guests.

We seemed to have so much to organise, we didnt know where to start. For four days we hammered around the city arranging flights back to the UK, trekking permits, buying essential gear for our stroll through the Himalaya.

We treated ourselves to a chunky, delicious steak at the Everest Steak House on our first night, and to watch a live band play at a bar, the few bottles of beer again giving me a mammoth headache. But otherwise it was just about getting organised.

Our room at the hotel turned into a nightmare, The Israelis held a party out on the verandah, every night until 2 or 3am. They were so loud, and our French windows so thin, it was as if they were sitting around our beds partying. We couldnt move rooms as the hotel was full of Israelis. We couldnt move hotel as we had arranged to leave our bikes and gear in storage there.

On our final night I had a quiet word with the hotel manager, pleading with him to do something. We just wanted to sleep!

(journal entries)

“... A word in the staff's ear last night at the Down Town must have worked. The Israelis moved their nightly bong party upstairs and we had a peaceful nights sleep.

We caught a micro bus from the New Bus Park for the five hour ride to Besishahar, which turned into six when we hit a politically motivated roadblock. My poor butt was screaming for mercy and my brain deep-fried in sweat by the time we finally arrived.

We booked into an uninspiring hotel and wandered around the friendly village, distant snow-clad mountains rising tantalising over forest-clad hills.

We organised a porter to carry Juliet's duffle bag having made a few enquiries around the village. Her shoulder injury has never properly healed, so it made sense. Im hoping my six quid North Fake backpack will last the trek. I'll be surprised if it lasts the week.

Tonight Juliet is suffering massive headaches. Perhaps just the thought of AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) has actually given her AMS. It doesn't bode good for the morning. But thank god we are finally at the trail head, back in the friendly villages and soon away from the roads.

On waking this morning Juliet's headaches had receded slightly, so we had breakfast and met up with Juliet's porter, Dayaram ('Ram'). There was some discussion about his 'gear', or lack of it. I wasn't happy that his all-weather, high altitude clothing consisted of canvas baseball boots, pair of jeans, a sweater and a plastic poncho. I know the mountain boys are tough little buggers, but even so ...

Finally reassured by the hotel manager who had recommended him, we boarded a tiny local bus with eight French hikers on an organised trek, their two guides and five porters and a cackling mob of local grannies and drove up the rocky dirt track to the first village and entrance to the Annapurna Conservation Area.

Loaded up and Juliet was struck down by the CLAP. Ive mentioned the CLAP before (Crippled Legs After Cycling). She describes it as severe cramps and pains to her to her thighs. We stopped in a chai shop to apply the cream she had bought back in Turkey when it had first happened before we carried on.

At last. No traffic, no pollution. No noise. Just the low rumble of the river we were following. Either side the hills rose lush and green. Thin, deciduous woodland pockmarked by cultivated steps cascaded down the slopes.

The path was easy to follow and there were plenty of chai stop options in each tiny hamlet.

We passed the French contingent a number of times. Their poor old porters, each lumbering under the weight of three huge bags roped together. At one stop, I tried one of their loads

to check the weight. I guessed about 40 - 50kg. No wander Ram laughed every time we passed them. With just Juliets bag, his load was even lighter than my pack. He was on a right old jolly.

After a steep climb we rolled into the village of Bahundanda and booked into the best lodge, with the most reasonable prices, I could find. The room was only 200 rupees (about GBP 1.80), and there was a good, hot shower, but the food prices were plain scary. We are going to have to box clever to stay within budget.

The French rolled in, all happy smiles, followed by five knackered looking porters. I saw one Frenchie change into a pair of fluffy slippers for dinner. That explained everything!

After a wholesome, if overpriced meal, Juliet found herself making a dash for the toilet. Oh no... Poor lass. Ontop of everything else she has the Sir Edmund Hillary hop-and-skip as well. And it's only day one.

Its now 9pm and the lodge is in darkness. Trekkers sleep early. Juliet has just killed a two-inch flying cockroach that attacked her in her sleeping bag, and now to sleep...

And a good nights sleep it was too, though I couldnt get right into my down feather sleeping bag Id bought in Kathmandu – it would have roasted me alive.

It was another pleasant days hike, up and down, the Frenchies and a rather odd, pasty-faced German
overtaking us every time we stopped for chai, before we caught up with them again later.

We are at another pleasant lodge, overlooking the river deep within the gorge with a spectacular 210m waterfall cascading down the opposite cliffs.

Had dinner. The budget allowed for a choice of macaroni or potato with rice. My last three meals have been macaroni, so I went with the potato. Bottled water, which cost 10 rupees a liter in Kathmandu, has now reached 80 rupees, and the price climbs ever higher as we climb. A Twix chocolate bar has reached a phenomenal 210 rupees (GBP 1.83). Even the Nepali staple diet of Dal Bhat, which cost 30 rupees down in the Terai lowlands has risen to 210 rupees. Macaroni and potatoes are the only affordable things that fill me up!

Juliets headaches and leg problems have gradually elevated, though shes squitting ferociously and with alarming frequency. We are just hoping it doesnt get any worse. We'll see how she is in the morning.

(... continue)