Leaving Hetauda presented us with an entirely new challenge: a 2000m ascent, in our rickshaws, to the Katmandu valley. We had two choices: safely pursue a 160km road; or risk a near vertical 40km dirt track.
Against all the advice of the extremely concerned locals; we rapidly opted for the dirt track.
And with risk comes reward…
First, it proved once and for all that these mechanical marvels can take anything that we can throw at them. At first they pulled up steep tarmac tracks; and when those expired; steep, rutted, rocky mud paths.
More interestingly, we got to meet some mountain village dwellers, who were not only lovely, they also opened up their kitchen to cook us all a simple-yet-sumptuous local dish. Their only request being that we donate any small change we could spare to support two elderly women in the village, who did not have the support of any family; and who - apparently - had taken to trying to throw themselves off the tallest building on a fairly regular basis. Whether true or not, it was the least we could do in return for our lazy lunchtime experience.
The only downside was being frequently stopped - and in some cases temporarily detained - by local army check points, and chancing villagers who had erected makeshift barriers. In one case, a young boy gave us an official looking ticket for 22 rupees, and then upped it to 100 rupees when we tried to pay. When I stepped out the tuktuk he ran off; leaving us to pass through without paying anything… A financial ‘bust’ for the enterprising young fellow.
Katmandu - the capital - lies in a valley; and as with all valley-dwelling capitals suffers a serious pollution problem. Not content with this, it is also crowded, dirty, noisy and extremely touristy in ways rarely seen (Khao San Road for those who know the reference, hawk ridden and neon-clad for those who do not; only with an added mix of shifty drug pushers and tired old prositutes). Did I hate it? No, it had a certain bustling charm; but nor did I like it.
Thankfully, the hotel was charming enough, and helped us get our rickshaws off the road; which was handy given they are technically illegal in the city centre (we were warned not to venture in; but as with all things around here; in reality no one seemed to care).
We left early, fearful of the ‘treacherous’ road to Pokhara - Nepal’s second city.
In reality, the road was ideal - smooth, wide, and surrounded by stunningly lush mountain scenery. The downside? We had 250km to travel, minimal fuel, and the strikes had rendered Katmandu petrol-less. As a result, the mood became tense and we were forced to freewheel down the steep roads (something not altogether unpleasant, as it afforded us the chance to listen to the air rustling passed us). It was not until the 9th pump we tried that we struck liquid gold; and finally relaxed.
One particular little entertainment were the hoarding’s for Nepal’s premier water park. On paper, it looked magnificent. Later, when we stopped to play on a huge rope bridge over a big river, we spotted this ‘fantastic’ tourist attraction. Just as it was in the poster… but in miniture scale. One small plastic frog, a small mushroom, and a short plastic slide into something little larger than a pond. Yet still it drew a reasonable - if apparently unenthusiastic - crowd. Sadly, a fear of frightening the locals with our reflective white skin meant we could not partake in the exhileration.
We ended in Pokhara; which was worthy enough to become the one town we spent two nights in. On the surface, it does not demand too much respect, being as it unashamedly geared towards tourists. But within 24 hours I have developed a serious soft spot for it. A leafy collection of attractive buildings, lazily scattered around a large gentle lake, nestled in a valley of lush green mountains; with truly massive snow-capped mountains in the background.
After a heavyish night of beer and gin & tonics, we arose at 5:30am to do a day trek through small mountain villages (where children reflexively shout ‘hellogotsweets’); before returning to relax and do minor tuktuk repairs. I cannot dedicate anymore time to describing this place, other than to say it is the perfect antidote to the rampage and carnage that we are otherwise engaged in!
Looking forward, we are now under serious time pressure. We have no slacktime for problems; and need to average 300km a day across bad roads and against rebels in order to make it to the finish party. Will we make it? That’s the fun part!