Pokhara, Royal beach camp, Kathmandu valley, 25 degrees

In the past weeks we had had many coffee break talks about in which direction we should continue our journey. The original plan was to travel to New Zealand via Southeast Asia. However, the temperatures in Cambodia would soon exceed our comfort level and the oncoming monsoon in Laos and winter in New Zealand did not sound very appealing either. Looking at the climate charts the conclusion was obvious: From April onwards it would be best to travel on the northern hemisphere. Just a day prior to our departure for the Annapurna trek we decided upon our alternative route and booked our tickets.

After another night out in Pokhara, celebrating our return from the Thorang-La pass, we again woke up with a heavy head, but we had to start organizing for the second part of our journey: Contact the shipping agent, arrange a place to stay and apply for the required visas. We also informed our parents and they actually got excited about our next destination and informed us they might join us there. Arranging, and re-planning took some days after which we travelled to Kathmandu to meet up with the shipping agent. En route to Kathmandu, on the shores of the Trisuli river, lies the Royal beach camp resort. Here they specialize in white water rafting. The campground is very nice and tranquil, with thatched roof bamboo huts, a white sandy beach and very attentive staff. So when we stumbled across this place, we decided to stay a few nights to enjoy the peace and quiet, before entering busy, dusty Kathmandu.

Among the staff there were two Westerners: Chris (Switzerland) and Noora (Finland), who were taking kayak courses and volunteered as rafting guides for a few weeks. It was great chatting with them, especially since Chris had worked in remote villages for two years and had some in-depth knowledge about the Nepali culture. With his stories he underwrote our views about the Nepali as kind and strong people. On a critical note, however, he also described the laissez-faire attitude of Nepali, a likely contributor to the dire political and economical situation of the country.

During a stop next to the road to Kathmandu, Marlieke took a quick look at the level of petrol in her tank. We still had to cover 50 km and all petrol stations we had encountered so far, turned  out  to be out of fuel. “What do you think?” she asked with worried undertone. Uncertain if the few remaining liters of gasoline would be enough, I decided to play it cool and answered with fake confidence “It will be fine, let’s go”.  To save gas we crawled westwards at a frustratingly slow 35 km/h, the same speed as the trucks struggling uphill.  At the city border my bike was out of gas and Marlieke, rather reluctantly, gave me a tiny bit of her fuel. This was just enough to crouch in to Thamel, the tourist trap area of Kathmandu. Driving on fumes we arrived at Oskar’s guesthouse a cheap, rather dirty hostel, but with secure parking (very rare in Thamel).

The shipping agent of our choice was Eagle Eyes Exports, which provided excellent service at a reasonable price (after negotiation). He planned the complex shipping schedule, arranged a carpenter for making crates and took care of customs procedures. The day before shipping, we took the bikes to a workshop for a super deluxe wash-job, even the sheep skin seat covers smelled nicely afterwards. Rather frustrating though the route to the airport turned out to be a muddy, slippery road, which meant that we had to wash them by hand again before crating. Preparing the bikes was rather hard work, especially the front wheel nut was very reluctant, so the whole process took almost an entire day. Luckily, just before closing time we succeeded in getting the two 284-kilo-boxes through customs… done!

No more bikes, so again we transformed ourselves into backpackers. The first event we participated in was Holi, the most colorful festival in the world. However, no Nepali seemed to be able the explain the significance of the  holiday nor the colored powder. On our way to the  safe, high, balcony of the guesthouse where Chris stayed, we were already enthusiastically targeted by the locals with colored powder, water guns, and buckets of water. Resembling two rainbow gummybears, we teamed up with our friend and retaliated by deploying our tiny water pistol and our red/white/blue tikka powder. We ended the day by dancing, drinking beers and of course taking a long hot shower.

With a week to kill until our flight day, we explored the sights in the Katmandu valley. Bhaktapur,  a suburb of Kathmandu, used to be a separate, tiny kingdom. The historic city center is jam-packed with shrines, temples, plazas and royal palaces, well worth the visit. Nearby, Nagarkot, is famous for the splendid panoramic views of the Himalayan range. Sadly the weather was misty during dawn and sunset so we cannot say anything about its splendor. The Hindu temple of Swayumbanath is seated on top of a hill in the northern part of the city and is also known as the monkey temple. As soon as we arrived beneath the long stairs leading up to the stupa we understood why: Monkeys sliding down the rails, eating the food offerings etc. It was a busy place, packed with religious shrines, devotees and monkeys. We liked the painted eyes on top of the stupa and it’s golden hat, but agreed that there were too many shrines and messy, tikka powdered statues. The similar looking, buddhist Bodnath temple appealed much more to us. It was more focused with just one large, white stupa, lined by countless prayer wheels, which were tirelessly set in motion by beautifully dressed pilgrims circling it’s giant base. Pashupatinath, the burning ghats, is another very sacred place in Kathmandu, the Varanasi of Nepal. Here we observed a cremation ceremony, discovered the largest golden cow ever and tried to ignore the money-minded baba’s.

Nepal offers a lot of outdoor activities and we both felt it was time for something extreme. So on April 3rd, Marlieke’s birthday, we treated ourselves to a bungee jump. Not just a bungee jump, but the highest in Asia and apparently the cheapest one per falling meter. Subscription was easy, but the disclaimer that we had to sign did make us worry a little bit: “You are aware that you are jumping down a 160m high bridge with just a single elastic band attached to your ankles”. Then the real fun started. Like a group of Weightwatch participants everybody had to come forward to be weighed, after which the weight would be shouted to one of the staff members and would be written in capitals on your hand. Not a light task for all of  the brave-hearted. The staff was very professional, so the harness was put on, the rope attached to your ankles and before you knew it you were standing on the tiny platform of the hanging bridge with your toes already in mid-air.  One, two, three and there we jumped! It felt very unnatural to throw yourself off such a height without anything to hold on to, but within 3 seconds you were already down in the gorge suffering from an adrenaline-rush and wondering what had actuallly happened. In the evening we celebrated our achievement and Marlieke’s birthday with Emile, a great Canadian traveller/bungee jumper and two of his Lebanese friends. Our last evenings in Kathmandu were also spent in the bar, because we were finally reunited with our Finnish friends that we had left behind in Sukkur, Pakistan. It was great seeing them again, so we spent our last nights chatting, laughing and drinking in Tom and Yerries bar. They would head back via China and Russia, while we would take a flight to continue our travels on a different continent, but we are confident we will meet again.

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Pokhara, Annapurna circuit from Besi Sahar to Kande, hot and freezing cold.

After another winding road, 100 km in 5 hours, we were greeted by a hail storm just before Pokhara. We settled in a nice guesthouse and went out for a night at town to celebrate finishing the silk road route without any major accidents. The food and wine at Moondance restaurant was delightful and we felt exuberant about reaching our intermediary goal. Next morning, however, we were reminded of the fact that we had drank very little alcohol over the past 6 months.

With a heavy head we set about the task of preparing for our trekking around the Annapurna circuit. This is one of the longest hiking trails in the world of 250 km, 19 days and includes a high mountain pass at 5416 meter. Before heading of on such a journey it is good practice to gather some local intelligence. Fellow travelers and the local hiking agencies informed us that the Thorong-La pass was probably still closed due to heavy snow fall. Fortunately, the weather was about to improve rapidly so by the time we would reach the pass, conditions were likely to be more favorable. They did advise us to bring along some crampons, which would later proved to be an excellent asset. We had a careful look at our trekking gear and picked the bare minimum of clothing. In addition, we stocked some high calorie snacks, which would be very expensive at the higher camps, so we were told. Our combined gear weighed a mere 20 kg and fitted in one small and one medium sized backpack.

The bus ride to the starting point of the circuit was very uncomfortable; on the roads we prefer two wheels since it allows you to avoid potholes more efficiently. After a 5 hours drive the bus dropped us and around 20 other tourists off in Besi Sahar. Among hikers it is well know that the Nepali government has authorized the construction of a dirt road around the Annapurna mountain range. As far as we knew this would only have a negative impact on the hiking experience in the western stretch of the circuit. So, much to our surprise we turned out to be the only ones starting from Besi Sahar while all the others opted to continue their travels by jeep to Chamje, a three days walk. Apparently construction work had started on the road in the East too. Visions of walking along a dusty construction road for 2 weeks ran through our heads while we warily mounted our gear and set of in northern direction.

Although we had to walk on the road for some parts of the circuit, most kilometers still followed century old walking paths, up and down stony trails or steps along the mountain ridges. The trek started at the low altitude of 890 meters. The vegetation was green and lush and the farmers were busy ploughing the raised terraces that line the steep hill slopes. In every small mountain village there are many so-called teahouses; rudimentary hotels that offer cheap, very basic rooms and slightly overpriced meals. The higher we came, the colder the nights became, so we spend many evenings crouched around a small fireplace, exchanging tall tales with fellow trekkers. Hinduism is the main religion in Nepal, but in the more remote mountainous areas Buddhism takes the overhand, so we entered a world of colorful prayer flags, walls with prayer wheels and carved prayer tablets. After a couple of days walking we had the opportunity to visit a splendid Tibetan Buddhist monastery in Upper Pisang. The walls of this monastery have been meticulously decorated by beautiful frescos of the live of Buddha, and the ceiling has colorful, geometric shapes closely resembling a mandala drawing.

In Manang, 7 days in our trekking, we took a rest day in order to acclimatize to the altitude of 3,519 meters. Here a basement under a village house was converted into a basic cinema with fire stove. Together with 20 other trekkers, dressed in hats and gloves, we watched “Into thin air”, a movie about the tragedy that enfolded on Everest in 1996 at which 8 climbers died. Somewhat worried by this story we exited the cinema to be greeted by a snowstorm… For the next couple of days, bright white snow fields under clear blue skies would dominate the scenery. We continued over icy footpaths and through deep snowfields, humbled by the snowcapped giants looking down upon us. As we gained altitude we soon found ourselves at equal height as some of the surrounding summits.

In the final teahouse before the high pass, we teamed up with Uwe, a German solo hiker, in search of inspiration for his new novel. At 5am the next morning we started the final, freezing ascent, 1,000 meters up to the Thorong-La pass. The first 400 meters were a steep icy climb ending at High camp, where we warmed ourselves with some ginger tea. When daylight set in we continued the climb over a narrow snowy path next to a steep slope. The closer we got to the summit, the more people we overtook. Apparently some of them were really struggling with the thin air around 5,000 meter, but we felt surprisingly fit. And then we reached the summit, wow! We ate our “special occasion” chocolate candybars, took some victory pictures and placed our signed, sacred stone (from the riverbed of Bardia national park) on the holy rock pile, wrapped in Tibetan prayer flags. Ahead of us were ‘just’ 1,500 slippery meters down to Muktinath, a pilgrimage place for Hindus and Buddhists, where we would spend the night.

The circuit continued through idyllic villages, passing remote monasteries and blossoming apple tree gardens and river valleys. Following the example set by the locals, we strolled along the dry riverbed in search of ammonite fossils. Marlieke found three premium specimens and I was assigned the task of cracking the stones by brute force. Two weeks down the trail we ended up in Tatopani, where we relaxed in the hotsprings with three befriended Australian/Kiwi/English trekkers. The closer we got to the finish, the busier the trail became with fresh, mainly unfit tourists. They must have wondered where these two smelly, mountain Yetis (us) came from. Poonhill, surrounded by beautifully blossoming Rhodondendrons, offered us a last glance of the mountain giants. Grateful and certain that we will greet them again, we turned our backs and strolled down the last hills to the bus stop to return to bustling Pokhara.

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Mahendranagar/Bardia national park/Tansen, warm and quite sweaty

Now that spring had begun in Nepal we felt that there was no reason to linger in India. The map revealed that the nearest border crossing at Gadda Chauki, Mahendranagar was a mere 180 km away.  Again we underestimated the delaying capabilities of the Indian traffic. We had to spend one last night in an overpriced, scruffy business hotel. Next morning, while brushing my teeth, I was kindly greeted by a curious rat: Time to leave! The border crossing was in sharp contrast to the rest of India as we appeared to be the only motorized vehicles crossing that day. An unmarked, seemingly abandoned off-road trail led us to a closed gate. On our request a polite border official opened the gate, so we could ride over the hydro-dam to two chicken sheds, which turned out to house the Indian customs and immigration officials. The procedures were fairly straightforward, a nice chat, some free chai, the obligatory paperwork, lots of stamps and we were free to go. On the Nepali side, yet again the proper route was a completely unmarked dusty trail, but in the end we managed to locate the immigration guy sleeping behind his desk. After his rude awaking, his eyes sparkled with joyful anticipation: fresh tourists to scam. After issuing the visas, he proposed a special price, which was skillfully countered by Marlieke. After a few seconds of awkward silence in reaction to his special offer he broke and accepted the official amount of 80 Dollars for two 1-month visas.

And we were right, Nepalese traffic is much less challenging than Indian traffic. The national ‘highway’ in the Terai (the Southern, flat bit of Nepal) had perfect tarmac, and outside the villages we were sometimes the only ones on the road, what a bliss! The few bus and truck drivers also seemed to be more laid-back, the most dangerous fellow road occupants were the small school children chasing each other by foot or bicycle. Although most people go to Nepal for the mountains, the Terai also has stunning scenery; small mud-houses with thatched roofs, green rice paddies and in the background the majestic Himalayas.

The first touristic site on our agenda was Bardia National Park, some 13 km off the highway. Less overrun by tourists than Chitwan National Park , the village near the entrance was still very traditional. Walking around felt like being in an open air museum: No corrugated iron roofs and no concrete, but oxes and chicken roaming the farmyards, and families working on the small fields enclosed by little purple flowers. We were heartily welcomed by the staff at Jungle Base Camp, where we had our own little mud hut surrounded by a tropical, lush garden. We met Bissnu, our guide, which would lead our two day jungle walk.

Early next morning we set off and entered the park armed with our own jungle-guns: A bamboo stick that would surely fend off any attack by wild animals. He instructed us how to handle if a rhinoceros or an elephant would attack: Either hide behind a tree or run up and down a steep slope. Upon our question what we would need to do if a tiger took too much interest in our presence, he smiled and said “if that happens than you are done”. Somewhat worried by his statement we ventured deep into the park. Deers and birds were abound, but the more exotic animals did not yet show themselves. After a couple of hours of walking we stopped for lunch, when all of a sudden a rhinoceros crossed the dry riverbed some 100 meters away. Later that day we also spotted a family of very playful otters. Slowly we crept towards them, but after a few moments they noticed us and we found ourselves in a weird Mexican standoff: Us hiding in the tall grass and the otters raised on their back legs both curious and alarmed by our presence.

Next day’s safari started off exciting when we heard the distressed call of the deers. From Bissnu we learned that this can indicate the presence of a tiger, so we decided to investigate. At a grassy opening in the forest we spotted the herd of deers, clearly distressed by an event at the forest edge. Not able to gain a clear viewpoint we waited for some minutes when we heard a loud deep roar. According to Bissnu the tiger was very near and was  clearly enjoying his breakfast. We crept to the undergrowth in search of a better viewpoint, but after a while our guide decided it was not safe to venture any further since the tiger could be just around the corner, so we retreated. The remainder of the jungle walk was, unfortunately, rainy and uneventful.

Heading up from the Terai to Tansen, a mountain village, meant that the wide straight ‘highway’ changed to a narrow, winding road with the occasional pothole or landslide. The riding was generally good fun, although we still had to watch out for oncoming traffic cutting the blind corners. The closer we got to Tansen, the narrower the road became. Tansen did not really live up to it’s expectations, as described by the Lonely Planet “Tansen (Palpa) is a romantic medieval hill town”, a lot of concrete, electricity cables hanging around and dirty streets. In the centre we ran into an Italian couple on a BMW 1200GS, still fresh, since they had only rolled off the plane in Kathmandu a couple of days ago. We joined for dinner in another scruffy hotel, luckily the food was of a better quality than the room. Over dinner we found out that our new friends were attempting to ride overland from Nepal towards Singapore from where they would ship to the Philippines. This meant that they would have to cross the Birmese land border. An impressive feat if they would succeed, since this has been impossible for many years. While they were in a bit of a hurry, we took a day off to stroll around Tansen. We discovered some historical remains in the form of typical Nepalese architecture; wooden balconies decorated with intricate woodcarvings and a three-topped roof temple with erotic carvings on the support beams. In the temple courtyard a wedding ceremony was in full progress, it all looked quite serious and they did not seem to be aware of our presence. After another night in our mould-infested room, time for our next destination.