I finally got around to finishing my blog of our Everest basecamp trek of October 1998, 21 years ago.
Nepal like so many once raw places has changed a lot during those years, in 1998, there was no internet, mobile phones and rescue from the mountains near impossible if you were going indepedent/sol as we were, we were on our own, any problems we had to solve ourselves, any help we needed we had to find it - we certainly ended up needing it!
It's a long one but full of phot'os. If interested make yourself a brew and read on:-
We had visited Nepal a couple of years earlier and had done the 'Tourist Triangle' of Kathmandu - Pokhara - Chitwan (Jungle) and back to Kathmandu. We spent most of that time suffering from Asian Cryptospiridium (Dysentery) but had still managed to enjoy the experience.
We decided to go again only this time attempt the Everest basecamp Trek.
Although I was very fit from my many walks and running, my wife Pat had not done much walking in recent years, and so the six months training began.
The first was a five mile walk around some nearby reservoirs. This could not have been more flat, but my wife, Pat needed a ten minute rest inside of the first mile. I thought to myself, 'This is going to be hard work'.
Anyway with six months she had done all the Yorkshire 3 peaks, some good walks in the Yorkshire Dales and many of Lakelands high tops, and lost 2 stone in the process, despite eating more than before.
The idea was that she would carry a small pack whilst I carried a large heavy pack containing most of our gear including two sleeping bags, thus slowing me down to near her pace.
The day came and we flew with Qatar Airways, changing at Doha in Qatar. The flight along the Himalaya Range with the Annapurna's below was jaw dropping as before.
We landed at Kathmandu, jumped in taxi and told the driver to take us to the hotel that he was associated with. This turned out to be the Crown Hotel which was nice and clean although the dirt street outside was rough to say the least. Our room overlooked the dirt road across to a big house oppositte. We were woken each morning around 5am by loud chanting coming from the building.
Having been before we knew what to expect, and the culture shock that hit us like a smack in the face last time, was just a reminder rather than a new experience.
The marauding hassling street vendors of Kathmandu take a little getting used to before being able to fend them off effectively, but this time it was easier to do so.
Queuing up outside the immigration office for our trekking permits for four hours in the burning sun and being pestered by beggars was not ideal, but eventually we had secured them, and set about trying to book our flight to Lukla in the mountains.
Bad news was immediate. Due to bad weather and a public holiday there was a backlog of trekkers wanting flights and new bookings were not being taken anywhere. Our schedule only allowed for delays at the end of our trek, not at this stage, so after some negotiation we secured two seats on a small helicopter (at twice the normal airfare) for the following morning. However after several hours waiting for our contact at the domestic airport the next day, we gave up and returned to the travel agent to ask what had gone wrong.
He made enquiries but got nowhere so told us to go get a cup of tea while he phoned around. A runner came and beconned us back to the agents. He had managed to get us a couple of seats on a cargo aircraft bound for Lukla, but as money had, had to change hands there would be no refund.
We just wanted to get to Lukla, so agreed.
A few hours later we landed at Lukla on its sloping gravel runway and began our trek.
Fending off would be porters and guides we pass through the village and out onto the trail.
The first trailside loo was promptly tried out and was rather posh to most were to come across, this was soon followed by the first suspension bridge. It looked scary and indeed it was. Not because of its height above the raging torrent below, but the way it swayed and lurched as we crossed. Its low rope handrail, too wide apart to reach both did not make it any easier and as I reached the other side wondered how on earth Pat was going to handle it. To my surprise when I turned round once on Terra Firma I saw that she had been right behind me all the time.
Having survived that, called for a bowl of soup and we sat on a veranda amused, watching other trekkers and Yaks cross the same bridge, in styles that varied from ultra slow motion to a frantic mad dash.
Moving on we passed through many Mani Stones and arrived at Phatding where we found a lodge for the night. We sat with other trekkers in the lounge and had a rice meal and a few beers before retiring to our mattress topped wooded platformed beds.
Up early and a quick wash from the cold tap outside, we set off on day two.
The weather was kind to us but very hot, We soon came to a Swiss built suspension bridge where we had to wait for a Yak train to cross before doing so ourselves and grabbing some breakfast at a lodge on the other side.
A couple of villages were encountered including Monjo, and we entered the Sagartha National Park where we had to register at its entrance post. More tea stops and another bridge brought us to Jorsalla. We had some more tea and soup here on the veranda and decided to stay for the night.
After getting our room we walked further along the trial to the river and another suspension bridge spent some time there and then returned to our lodge. This place was very smokey, like most nepalese buildings in the hills, there was no chimney, so the smoke from the fire and cooking simply circulates below the blackened ceiling. Whilst us tourists duck below the smoke the locals just walk through it and breath it in.
The next day another bridge led us onto the long steep trail and 2,000ft climb to Namche Bazaar the Sherpa Capital of the Nepalese Himalaya. Yet another tea stop (Pat does like her Tea) before the final slog up to the welcome sign at the entrance to Namche. It reads " Come as a guest, leave as a friend" and how true this is.
We booked in at the Khumbu Lodge, then went up the hill to register at the police post. This climb up had me feeling the first signs of altitude, suddenly and without warning despite not carrying my sac, my legs felt like lumps of lead. This was to be followed by becoming short of breath at every ascent, even up just a few steps from one level to another, Namche being in an old glacial bowl and a series of different levels joined by steps, the only traffic being Trekkers and Yak trains, and two weeks walk from the nearest road.
We had to stay another day here to allow our bodies time to adjust, as we had ascended twice the human daily capacity of height gain in a single day.
Back at the lodge we found the horrendous toilet area at the lower level of the building. Basically it consisted of a few planks of wood with a few 12" or thereabouts holes cut out. You had to hover above the hole and let things go! Everything landing several feet below on piles of sticks and leaves. Wooden slats with gaps hid this scene from the campsite only yards away on the grass. The smell inside was the usual obnoxious norm for Nepalese hill country bogs.
Yak steak for tea which took an age to chew during which we struck up a conversation with a couple from Australia and USA. They had seen us arrive at our first lodge in Phakding, having taken more notice because of the size of my rucksack.
The following morning we had breakfast then walked out to 'View Corner' a mile or so out on the trail from Namche. Blue skies and very warm the scenery was stunning then rounding the corner came our first view of Everest behind the Lothse Ridge, framed either side by Ama Dablan and Tengboche Peak.
"This is what we've come for" said Pat and we sat there in the sun, taking it all in.
Back in Namche similar to the previous evening and got ready for moving on the next day.
After breakfast we were off. Walking steadily as we climbed out of the settlement yet again towards 'View Corner' and onwards.
After a while we could see our intended destination area in the distance. This was to be just beyond Tengboche monastry on the hill several miles up the Khumbu valley.
The bases of 22,000 foot peaks ran riot with white ribbons of water gushing down to meet the Dudh Kosi river 2,000 feet below us in the valley bottom.
Pat began slowing down dramatically, eventually needing frequent rest stops. I was becoming concerned that we may not reach our intended destination, on our tight schedule. However she was getting worse and falling asleep et each stop, she was clearly exhausted, I took her small sack and attached it to mine. Passing porters gave their concerned look.
We reached a remote lodge at Kenjoma, where I ordered a couple of drinks and we stopped for a while. Intending to continue on, Pats legs gave way on standing and there was no choice but seek accomodation there for the night. Had we descended the 2,000 feet to cross the river below and she had not been able to then ascend the 2,000ft+ up the oppositte ridge, with nowhere in between,we would have been in serious trouble.
She went straight into her sleeping bag, only to venture once for loo in the three days we were there. The following day I went off for a few hours and walked up to Kunde where Sir Edmund Hillary built his school and hospital. On the way back I bought a small silver figure of the Hindu God, Garnesh, the protector for Pat and placed it next to her bed.
She awoke that night with a blinding headache and I gave her painkillers. I noticed that her face and hands had suffered Peripheral Odoema and as she held her head in her hands her finger nails disappeared in the fluid that had settled on her forehead.
The next day she remained in her sleeping bag unable to eat or drink and vomitted at every attempt.
I realised that she was showing all the signs of Cerebral Odoema and that we needed to get back to Namche if she was to survive. Descending to a lower height was the only remedy, and although I had Diamox in the first aid kit, I was reluctant to administer it, as it only dealt with the symptoms and I felt I needed to know what was happening, rather than having the medication hide what was going on.
I decided that we would have to try and get back to Namche the following morning and I informed the Sherpani Lodge keeper., saying that if Pat couldn't walk I would have to try and carry her meaning we would have to abandon our gear. Next thing her daughter came to tell me that her mother, had told her and her brother, to take our rucksack to Namche for us. I told them where to leave it.
I had a rice meal and the Sherpani followed me to our room where we found Pat being sick again. No dounbt the lodge keeper had seen it all before but tears were rolling down her cheeks in genuine concern.
Next morning at 6am I watched as the children left with our gear.
We left shortly afterwards after our separate quite emotional goodbyes to the Sherpani and her youngest son.
Fortunatly Pat was able to walk albeit very slowly. It felt strange with Everest now behind us going back the way we came.
Later that day we booked into Tamserku View Lodge where Pat was examined by an Italian Mountain Guide who was an expert in AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness). He told me I must get her back to Kathmandu as soon as possible.
Getting back to Namche we had not lost enough altitude, but if we had gone on to the base of the hill and Pat had taken a turn for the worst, we would had been really stuck, in between places, with no shelter or help. I decided to try and get a doctor to come from Kunde Hospital, however I was unable to get on the only public phone in the settlement. Then I noticed a hut run by 'Everest Air' and enquired about a rescue helicopter. We had all the insurance but thay wanted cash, all $5,000 of it.
In my frustration I headed for the door and muttered "I will just have to let her die then!"
The lady there then told me that a light aircraft was landing at Shyanboche, 1,000ft above us, up on the ridge the following morning to rescue a Spanish trekker who had Pulmonary Odoema, she said there were two seats available. I snatched them up and paid her the £300.
Next morning at 5am a guide and his horse arrived at our lodge. This was a very fit horse and it took off up the steps with Pat in the saddle. I couldn't keep up and after shouting after them, the young guide took me rucksack but got a shock when he felt the weight. I paid him double his fee after arriving at the gravel airfield, where we then waited for the aircraft to arrive. We met Carlos the Spanish trekker and could hear his lungs bubbling every time he spoke.
Eventually we took off and flew over Namche and along the mountains before landing at Ramachap on its grass runway. This was a rural airstrip and as Kathmandu was still smog bound we had to divert there to wait for it to improve. The pilot took us for a walk along the riverside and afterwards sheltered from the sun beneath the wings and locals brought us Lemon Tea and Fruit. However we were down and everyone was in high spirits now Pat and Carlos would only get better now with plenty of air pressure and oxygen at this level.
Back in Kathmandu we booked into a hotel and took it easy for a few days.
Pat wanted to look for somethin comfortable in the heat, that the local women were wearing but not a Sari type. We found a shop and went in, the very helpful women in there couldn't have been more helpful and Pat chose a blue two piece outfit. Once wearing it, local women seemed love the fact that she was wearing the same as them. We had a walk to Durbar Square where vendors were selling their whares, layed out on the floor.
We visited the Swyanbuha Buddist temple as we had done during our first visit, only this time after climbing the many steps up to it we descended via the back way down the road past the Lotus Flower monument.
The following day we walked the couple of mile to another buddist Temple, Boudenath, Pat and I went round the base turning the prayer wheels.
Unfortunately after our evening meal a couple of days later Pat suffered a seizure in the hotel and I had to call a local doctor to be on the safe side. We decided to go ahead with a bus journey to Pokhara in the Annapurna Himalaya that we had booked the next day. The day long journey through remote high sided valleys was as we remembered it from our first trip to Nepal, hazardous, pot holed roads, people living by the road side, avalanche debris, collapsed bridges etc.
Once in Pokhara we found a hotel and made ourselves at home. We spent a week relaxing allowing Pat to recover, hiring a a rowboat on the lake and a walk up to Sarangkot, the high point overlooking the town.
Once again back in Kathmandu we booked into the same hotel as before but this time a room overlooking the main front road. Down below our window a blind female beggar played her drum and sang. She looked pitiful sat at the front of a pile of rubbish strewn along the road. Some tourists were happy to photograph her but not put anything in her collection tin.
We had dropped off some warm clothing that had been donated by friends from our running club among others, for the children of a local refuge. They were Nepalese children (some only10 years of age) who had been rescued from sex slavery in India by the refuge's founder. As it is close to Pashupatinath temple area we headed that way. We got turned back from walking further around the higher temples as we were not Hindu's. We retreated to the lower area overlooking the river. This is where cremations of the departed take place. I'm sure those at the funerals are not too pleased at the tourists (us among them) on the opposite river bank steps taking photo's but such goings on are mentioned in tourist literature as a sightseeing location. Funeral pires burning and two kids skinny dipping in the river!
Later looking at the map of the Kathmandu valley and now that Pat had mostly recovered, I came up with the idea of doing a short few days trek in the hills that were off the tourist and trekking routes surrounding the capital. We were more interested in the real Nepal rather what is just laid out for tourists.
We hired a taxi to take us to Dhulikhel, around 14 miles out of Kathmandu, where we stayed just the one night at the Dhulikhel Lodge Resort, it was very quiet with only a couple of other residents. We had a walk round around the town where local were drying off Wheat etc spread over the ground at the square and in the street to dry in the heat of day. Some children played on maekshift swings.
Later we were woken at around 1.30am by loud bangs on the entrance door followed by singing. Dipawali festival had begun.
The following morning we booked out asked about a taxi to take the remote village of Nala. It turned out taxi drivers were reluctant to go there. explaining that the access road was very bad. However they would do it for extra money - typical! The taxi was a Land Rover open backed type vehicle and we sat in the back. After turning off the main road we could understand the problem, the road to Nala was a horendously lumpy dirt track and we had to hold on to prevent getting thrown about. The driver stopped a few times to give some ladies a lift who were walking along. they piled in the back with us. We arrived in Nala right close to the ancient temple, I check ed the map and we headed off on our walk.
This took along the valley a short way before heading across some Paddy field where women were working. They stopped and looked our way, they were not used to foreiners in that area. We ascended through forest, crossing streams and emerged at a track near some communication masts. Pat in particular was relieved for us to come across a tes shop at a track junction. The young lady there was very pleasant and soon we were enjoying our brew.
We headed off further uphill to the hill village of Nagarkot, where on a clear day you see right across lower land to much of the Himalays range, including Everest which shows itself as a tiny pinnacle in the distance. This village lies at 7,000f.We walked out and found somewhere for our evening meal. A local guide tried to sell his services for our walk the following day down to Bhakhtapur. However we had done the same walk during our first visit to Nepal so knew the way, he of course persisted but we wriggled out of it without offending him.
Following morning we had a nice easy mostly downhill walk. along the way we went through a bit of rough land close to a house, where some pushy children wanted us to part with some money, we resisted much to the annoyance of a stroppy lady we assumed was their mother.
Some hours later we arrived in Bhaktapur and found accomodation for two nights. We toured around the town as we had done before but it was much more relaxing this time, a lovely place is Bhaktapur devoid of the hustle and bussle of Kathmandu with hardly any street hawkers who won't take no for an answer.
Day later we are back in Kathmandu at the same hotel as before.
Just afew days left of our four week stay in Nepal and by now Dipawali was in full swing and we watch with crowds the procession through the streets. People happy dancing and singing and generaly making a lot of noise most of them in motorised vehicles.
Finaly checked out of our hotel for the last time, along to the airport and on the aircraft back to the UK via Doha in Qatar.
What a second trip to Nepal it was, we didn't make it to Everest basecamp but returned with memories of a four week, different adventure every single day.
It came as shock a few weeks later while reading the Climber magazine to learn that, that aircraft, the only Pilatus Porter owned by Royal Nepal Airlines had crashed two weeks after getting us back to safety, at Phatding, our first overnight stop and the pilot killed.
Nepal like so many once raw places has changed a lot during those years, in 1998, there was no internet, mobile phones and rescue from the mountains near impossible if you were going indepedent/sol as we were, we were on our own, any problems we had to solve ourselves, any help we needed we had to find it - we certainly ended up needing it!
It's a long one but full of phot'os. If interested make yourself a brew and read on:-
We had visited Nepal a couple of years earlier and had done the 'Tourist Triangle' of Kathmandu - Pokhara - Chitwan (Jungle) and back to Kathmandu. We spent most of that time suffering from Asian Cryptospiridium (Dysentery) but had still managed to enjoy the experience.
We decided to go again only this time attempt the Everest basecamp Trek.
Although I was very fit from my many walks and running, my wife Pat had not done much walking in recent years, and so the six months training began.
The first was a five mile walk around some nearby reservoirs. This could not have been more flat, but my wife, Pat needed a ten minute rest inside of the first mile. I thought to myself, 'This is going to be hard work'.
Anyway with six months she had done all the Yorkshire 3 peaks, some good walks in the Yorkshire Dales and many of Lakelands high tops, and lost 2 stone in the process, despite eating more than before.
The idea was that she would carry a small pack whilst I carried a large heavy pack containing most of our gear including two sleeping bags, thus slowing me down to near her pace.
The day came and we flew with Qatar Airways, changing at Doha in Qatar. The flight along the Himalaya Range with the Annapurna's below was jaw dropping as before.
We landed at Kathmandu, jumped in taxi and told the driver to take us to the hotel that he was associated with. This turned out to be the Crown Hotel which was nice and clean although the dirt street outside was rough to say the least. Our room overlooked the dirt road across to a big house oppositte. We were woken each morning around 5am by loud chanting coming from the building.
Having been before we knew what to expect, and the culture shock that hit us like a smack in the face last time, was just a reminder rather than a new experience.
The marauding hassling street vendors of Kathmandu take a little getting used to before being able to fend them off effectively, but this time it was easier to do so.
Queuing up outside the immigration office for our trekking permits for four hours in the burning sun and being pestered by beggars was not ideal, but eventually we had secured them, and set about trying to book our flight to Lukla in the mountains.
Bad news was immediate. Due to bad weather and a public holiday there was a backlog of trekkers wanting flights and new bookings were not being taken anywhere. Our schedule only allowed for delays at the end of our trek, not at this stage, so after some negotiation we secured two seats on a small helicopter (at twice the normal airfare) for the following morning. However after several hours waiting for our contact at the domestic airport the next day, we gave up and returned to the travel agent to ask what had gone wrong.
He made enquiries but got nowhere so told us to go get a cup of tea while he phoned around. A runner came and beconned us back to the agents. He had managed to get us a couple of seats on a cargo aircraft bound for Lukla, but as money had, had to change hands there would be no refund.
We just wanted to get to Lukla, so agreed.
A few hours later we landed at Lukla on its sloping gravel runway and began our trek.
Fending off would be porters and guides we pass through the village and out onto the trail.
The first trailside loo was promptly tried out and was rather posh to most were to come across, this was soon followed by the first suspension bridge. It looked scary and indeed it was. Not because of its height above the raging torrent below, but the way it swayed and lurched as we crossed. Its low rope handrail, too wide apart to reach both did not make it any easier and as I reached the other side wondered how on earth Pat was going to handle it. To my surprise when I turned round once on Terra Firma I saw that she had been right behind me all the time.
Having survived that, called for a bowl of soup and we sat on a veranda amused, watching other trekkers and Yaks cross the same bridge, in styles that varied from ultra slow motion to a frantic mad dash.
Moving on we passed through many Mani Stones and arrived at Phatding where we found a lodge for the night. We sat with other trekkers in the lounge and had a rice meal and a few beers before retiring to our mattress topped wooded platformed beds.
The weather was kind to us but very hot, We soon came to a Swiss built suspension bridge where we had to wait for a Yak train to cross before doing so ourselves and grabbing some breakfast at a lodge on the other side.
A couple of villages were encountered including Monjo, and we entered the Sagartha National Park where we had to register at its entrance post. More tea stops and another bridge brought us to Jorsalla. We had some more tea and soup here on the veranda and decided to stay for the night.
After getting our room we walked further along the trial to the river and another suspension bridge spent some time there and then returned to our lodge. This place was very smokey, like most nepalese buildings in the hills, there was no chimney, so the smoke from the fire and cooking simply circulates below the blackened ceiling. Whilst us tourists duck below the smoke the locals just walk through it and breath it in.
The next day another bridge led us onto the long steep trail and 2,000ft climb to Namche Bazaar the Sherpa Capital of the Nepalese Himalaya. Yet another tea stop (Pat does like her Tea) before the final slog up to the welcome sign at the entrance to Namche. It reads " Come as a guest, leave as a friend" and how true this is.
We booked in at the Khumbu Lodge, then went up the hill to register at the police post. This climb up had me feeling the first signs of altitude, suddenly and without warning despite not carrying my sac, my legs felt like lumps of lead. This was to be followed by becoming short of breath at every ascent, even up just a few steps from one level to another, Namche being in an old glacial bowl and a series of different levels joined by steps, the only traffic being Trekkers and Yak trains, and two weeks walk from the nearest road.
We had to stay another day here to allow our bodies time to adjust, as we had ascended twice the human daily capacity of height gain in a single day.
Back at the lodge we found the horrendous toilet area at the lower level of the building. Basically it consisted of a few planks of wood with a few 12" or thereabouts holes cut out. You had to hover above the hole and let things go! Everything landing several feet below on piles of sticks and leaves. Wooden slats with gaps hid this scene from the campsite only yards away on the grass. The smell inside was the usual obnoxious norm for Nepalese hill country bogs.
Yak steak for tea which took an age to chew during which we struck up a conversation with a couple from Australia and USA. They had seen us arrive at our first lodge in Phakding, having taken more notice because of the size of my rucksack.
The following morning we had breakfast then walked out to 'View Corner' a mile or so out on the trail from Namche. Blue skies and very warm the scenery was stunning then rounding the corner came our first view of Everest behind the Lothse Ridge, framed either side by Ama Dablan and Tengboche Peak.
"This is what we've come for" said Pat and we sat there in the sun, taking it all in.
Back in Namche similar to the previous evening and got ready for moving on the next day.
After breakfast we were off. Walking steadily as we climbed out of the settlement yet again towards 'View Corner' and onwards.
After a while we could see our intended destination area in the distance. This was to be just beyond Tengboche monastry on the hill several miles up the Khumbu valley.
The bases of 22,000 foot peaks ran riot with white ribbons of water gushing down to meet the Dudh Kosi river 2,000 feet below us in the valley bottom.
We reached a remote lodge at Kenjoma, where I ordered a couple of drinks and we stopped for a while. Intending to continue on, Pats legs gave way on standing and there was no choice but seek accomodation there for the night. Had we descended the 2,000 feet to cross the river below and she had not been able to then ascend the 2,000ft+ up the oppositte ridge, with nowhere in between,we would have been in serious trouble.
She awoke that night with a blinding headache and I gave her painkillers. I noticed that her face and hands had suffered Peripheral Odoema and as she held her head in her hands her finger nails disappeared in the fluid that had settled on her forehead.
The next day she remained in her sleeping bag unable to eat or drink and vomitted at every attempt.
I realised that she was showing all the signs of Cerebral Odoema and that we needed to get back to Namche if she was to survive. Descending to a lower height was the only remedy, and although I had Diamox in the first aid kit, I was reluctant to administer it, as it only dealt with the symptoms and I felt I needed to know what was happening, rather than having the medication hide what was going on.
I decided that we would have to try and get back to Namche the following morning and I informed the Sherpani Lodge keeper., saying that if Pat couldn't walk I would have to try and carry her meaning we would have to abandon our gear. Next thing her daughter came to tell me that her mother, had told her and her brother, to take our rucksack to Namche for us. I told them where to leave it.
I had a rice meal and the Sherpani followed me to our room where we found Pat being sick again. No dounbt the lodge keeper had seen it all before but tears were rolling down her cheeks in genuine concern.
Next morning at 6am I watched as the children left with our gear.
We left shortly afterwards after our separate quite emotional goodbyes to the Sherpani and her youngest son.
Fortunatly Pat was able to walk albeit very slowly. It felt strange with Everest now behind us going back the way we came.
Later that day we booked into Tamserku View Lodge where Pat was examined by an Italian Mountain Guide who was an expert in AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness). He told me I must get her back to Kathmandu as soon as possible.
In my frustration I headed for the door and muttered "I will just have to let her die then!"
The lady there then told me that a light aircraft was landing at Shyanboche, 1,000ft above us, up on the ridge the following morning to rescue a Spanish trekker who had Pulmonary Odoema, she said there were two seats available. I snatched them up and paid her the £300.
Next morning at 5am a guide and his horse arrived at our lodge. This was a very fit horse and it took off up the steps with Pat in the saddle. I couldn't keep up and after shouting after them, the young guide took me rucksack but got a shock when he felt the weight. I paid him double his fee after arriving at the gravel airfield, where we then waited for the aircraft to arrive. We met Carlos the Spanish trekker and could hear his lungs bubbling every time he spoke.
Eventually we took off and flew over Namche and along the mountains before landing at Ramachap on its grass runway. This was a rural airstrip and as Kathmandu was still smog bound we had to divert there to wait for it to improve. The pilot took us for a walk along the riverside and afterwards sheltered from the sun beneath the wings and locals brought us Lemon Tea and Fruit. However we were down and everyone was in high spirits now Pat and Carlos would only get better now with plenty of air pressure and oxygen at this level.
Back in Kathmandu we booked into a hotel and took it easy for a few days.
Pat wanted to look for somethin comfortable in the heat, that the local women were wearing but not a Sari type. We found a shop and went in, the very helpful women in there couldn't have been more helpful and Pat chose a blue two piece outfit. Once wearing it, local women seemed love the fact that she was wearing the same as them. We had a walk to Durbar Square where vendors were selling their whares, layed out on the floor.
We visited the Swyanbuha Buddist temple as we had done during our first visit, only this time after climbing the many steps up to it we descended via the back way down the road past the Lotus Flower monument.
The following day we walked the couple of mile to another buddist Temple, Boudenath, Pat and I went round the base turning the prayer wheels.
Once in Pokhara we found a hotel and made ourselves at home. We spent a week relaxing allowing Pat to recover, hiring a a rowboat on the lake and a walk up to Sarangkot, the high point overlooking the town.
We had dropped off some warm clothing that had been donated by friends from our running club among others, for the children of a local refuge. They were Nepalese children (some only10 years of age) who had been rescued from sex slavery in India by the refuge's founder. As it is close to Pashupatinath temple area we headed that way. We got turned back from walking further around the higher temples as we were not Hindu's. We retreated to the lower area overlooking the river. This is where cremations of the departed take place. I'm sure those at the funerals are not too pleased at the tourists (us among them) on the opposite river bank steps taking photo's but such goings on are mentioned in tourist literature as a sightseeing location. Funeral pires burning and two kids skinny dipping in the river!
Later looking at the map of the Kathmandu valley and now that Pat had mostly recovered, I came up with the idea of doing a short few days trek in the hills that were off the tourist and trekking routes surrounding the capital. We were more interested in the real Nepal rather what is just laid out for tourists.
We hired a taxi to take us to Dhulikhel, around 14 miles out of Kathmandu, where we stayed just the one night at the Dhulikhel Lodge Resort, it was very quiet with only a couple of other residents. We had a walk round around the town where local were drying off Wheat etc spread over the ground at the square and in the street to dry in the heat of day. Some children played on maekshift swings.
Later we were woken at around 1.30am by loud bangs on the entrance door followed by singing. Dipawali festival had begun.
This took along the valley a short way before heading across some Paddy field where women were working. They stopped and looked our way, they were not used to foreiners in that area. We ascended through forest, crossing streams and emerged at a track near some communication masts. Pat in particular was relieved for us to come across a tes shop at a track junction. The young lady there was very pleasant and soon we were enjoying our brew.
We headed off further uphill to the hill village of Nagarkot, where on a clear day you see right across lower land to much of the Himalays range, including Everest which shows itself as a tiny pinnacle in the distance. This village lies at 7,000f.We walked out and found somewhere for our evening meal. A local guide tried to sell his services for our walk the following day down to Bhakhtapur. However we had done the same walk during our first visit to Nepal so knew the way, he of course persisted but we wriggled out of it without offending him.
Following morning we had a nice easy mostly downhill walk. along the way we went through a bit of rough land close to a house, where some pushy children wanted us to part with some money, we resisted much to the annoyance of a stroppy lady we assumed was their mother.
Some hours later we arrived in Bhaktapur and found accomodation for two nights. We toured around the town as we had done before but it was much more relaxing this time, a lovely place is Bhaktapur devoid of the hustle and bussle of Kathmandu with hardly any street hawkers who won't take no for an answer.
Day later we are back in Kathmandu at the same hotel as before.
Just afew days left of our four week stay in Nepal and by now Dipawali was in full swing and we watch with crowds the procession through the streets. People happy dancing and singing and generaly making a lot of noise most of them in motorised vehicles.
Finaly checked out of our hotel for the last time, along to the airport and on the aircraft back to the UK via Doha in Qatar.
What a second trip to Nepal it was, we didn't make it to Everest basecamp but returned with memories of a four week, different adventure every single day.
It came as shock a few weeks later while reading the Climber magazine to learn that, that aircraft, the only Pilatus Porter owned by Royal Nepal Airlines had crashed two weeks after getting us back to safety, at Phatding, our first overnight stop and the pilot killed.
