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The
trek proper starts today, and after breakfast we carry all the stuff to the
agency office and pick up our peak and trekking permits. We realise that we
don’t have enough tents, and hire some at the last minute. Then we bundle everything
on to a large and very square Tata bus and we’re off.
Driving in Nepal is a nerve-wracking experience. At first, it appears to be totally anarchy. After a while however, an observant bystander will conclude that in Nepal one drives on the left. If one studies further, a hierarchy emerges, which goes something like this:
This system, combined with continuous use of the horn, seems to reduce accidents to an acceptable level.
We weave our way slowly out of the capital towards the Sun-Khosi highway that leads to Tibet. This road his described in the Lonely Planet Guide as ‘the worst journey on earth’, but in the event is quite acceptable. After a few hours of rolling green hills and checkpoints we arrive at Barabise where our trek is to start.
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| Packed and ready to go Photo © Tom Padgham 1998 |
We turn everything out onto the side of the road, and chaos ensues. We watch helpless as our equipment and food disappear in all directions and dozens of men and children gather around. After an hour or so, a line of twelve loaded doko appears on the other side of the road, each with a porter attached to it. The porters carry upward of 30kg each, attaching the basket to their back by means of a piece of rope passing across their forehead. They have skinny legs and wear flip-flops, but still put us with our 16kg rucksacks to shame.
We have a horrible meal in Barabise’s only restaurant, and head off. The large trail climbs steeply out of the village into open paddy fields and it’s very, very hot. We also discover the first error our the ‘Schnider’ maps, which indicate a quite different route. The paths are quite busy, and the trail is studded with villages and houses. Paddy fields and terracing cover the hills as far as the eye can see. After about 10km and 800m climbing, we came to the loosely clustered village of Kathali, where there is a little guest house or bhatti.
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| Sue reminding herself never to have children Photo © Alan Geer 1998 |
The porters disappeared, and we hid to our tiny wooden rooms to escape the irritating children that are present in huge numbers on this part of the trail. Some altruistic souls have had the idea of giving the local children pens instead of balloons or sweets, with the result that the hills now echo with the phrase ‘HelloPEN, YESPEN!’
We are fed a simple but excellent dinner in the lodge owner’s tiny kitchen, and retire exhausted. Unfortunately, someone spots some giant spiders. They are about five inches across, and have eyes that reflect torch-light in a highly disturbing manner. Antoine, who is arachnophobic, sleeps in full waterproofs.