When we get up, the spectators are back, and I wonder if they stayed there all night. They watch us pack up with the usual expression of amused bewilderment, we pay for the chickens and a random camping charge (100 rps) and leave.

Chillis drying in the sun Photo (c) Tom Padgham 1998

We are heading for the Bhote Khosi river valley today, just below its junction with the Rolwaling valley, which is far below us. However, Pasang knows a shortcut as always, which, as always, goes up. This is followed by a gruelling descent through large sprawling villages with lush fields to the river.

Here we collapse in a sweaty heap at a large farm house for lunch. The Bhoti river is flowing at an astounding pace, even though the monsoon ended over a month ago. It is deadly cold, and is full of boulders and pebbles of every type of rock pounded smooth and round by its immense force.

At lunch, we get some bad news. The village of Chechet, where we plan to stay tonight has been destroyed by a landslide, along with the bridge. Fortunately, there is a new bridge a few miles up river at Jagat, which also boasts a new technicolour bhatti (lodge). We cross over and climb steeply up the other bank towards the trading town of Simigoan.

At Trashinam, we stop to buy a few manna (pints) of chilli peppers from a local, who picks them in front of our eyes. Pasang also treats us to a 'grorange' - a sort of green clemantine. We set up camp next to the school just outside the village, and commandeer the classrooms for dinner, which includes some bizarre cactus-like vegetables described by the cook as 'marrow', which we later see growing on what look like beanstalks. We finish the last of our whisky and sleep well.