We said goodbye to beautiful Pokhara yesterday and girded our loins for the 5 hour drive back to Kathmandu. 8 1/2 hours later we were able to pop back various dislocated joints as we returned to our original hotels.
To try to take my mind off any travel inconveniences (and I may have mentioned this previously) I never go anywhere without my music. It’s all in the head of course but do you think I could remember Bob Seeger’s song “Kathmandu”? It kept morphing into “Old Time Rock and Roll” and I could only take that for a limited time. So it was a case of hang on for dear life and be distracted by the scenery (which was rather easy) and the traffic. I still don’t know how the mini-bus’s side mirror survived that drive, or the others.
After reaching the hotel some serious repacking was required as we had purchased two Tibetan rugs which are small enough to roll up and fit diagonally across a suitcase, a healing bowl (or singing bowl – I didn’ know what they were either until we were subjected to the inevitable bout of economic tourism), numerous t-shirts, a shawl and two goat bells for a friend (because everyone needs a goat bell). That done, we headed down to the bar where the barman recognised us from a week ago and remembered our order – God I love this country. It’s not that we spent a lot of time in the bar (no…really) although after many hours of exploring each day it was a welcome respite, I will admit.
As the ten days we’ve been here have progressed, the weather has got progressively better. There was only one false start before the chopper flight to Annapurna Base Camp. On our first full day we’d missed out on the Mountain flight, as they call the flight to Everest and back because of the weather. Our delightful travel companions had missed out two days in a row so were particularly disappointed. Our last day, today has been the best we’ve had weather-wise so the flight was back on. So it was up at sparrow-fart, out to the domestic airport, do the flight (I’ll get back to this), back to the hotel for breakfast, finish packing then back to the airport to leave.
It was a hectic morning but gadzooks, was it worth it. The sky was clear apart from a few clouds which were keeping a respectful distance from the mountains which we flew past at 25000 feet. The plane was a 70 seater with 35 passengers – everyone gets a window seat. We flew east along what I can only describe as the Himalaya wall. It’s hard to believe that 80,000 Tibetans walked through those mountains back in the late 1950’s and I don’t think there were too many North Face stores in Llasa back then.
I was on the left side (or should that be port-side) of the plane so got the killer view on the way to Everest. When we reached Everest, we turned left towards the mountains and commenced the return journey considerably closer to the view – you could wave to the Yeti. Those on the right side of the plane now, including the CB, had the (even better) panorama so naturally everyone on the left side moved to the right and we flew back to Kathmandu on a 30 degree angle.
This flight was a highlight to top all highlights – the world cup (pick any) trophy of tourism, the academy award (without the sanctimony and stupid dresses), the dope-free gold medal. If there was a Nobel Prize for the best view, this would win every year. I’ll be sanguine if I never get to fly to the moon because I’ve done this.
Himalaya Hijinx #8 – The End
It’s not often that thing’s happen for the first time in your life at my age but something just did and I have rather mixed feelings about it. The child bride and I got on the bus at Kathmandu’s international airport to go to our flight and a young Asian lady offered me her seat. Either l look older than I think I do or she was being respectful to people older than her in the delightful Asian way. I’ll go with the latter because I still consider myself to be a fully paid up member of the offerer rather than the offeree class.
So it’s another one of those bitter-sweet times when a kick-arse holiday finishes and the homeward journey begins. It’s one of those times you feel rather pleased with yourself for not going to Bali but doing something a bit different and loving it. The vindication for looking outside the box, and smugness only grows when I think of our next two trips – a cruise up the west coast of Africa from Cape Town to Lisbon then a trip round the Middle East which, if this trip’s anything to go by, will require a considerably more athletic level of fitness. Our occasional morning walks will need to be more frequent and incorporate a gym session, I’m thinking. Lugging extra avoirdupois up those 52 bloody flights of steps didn’t help either. I’ll have to have an arm amputated to reduce my mass.
So only two more early mornings (praise the Lord). We have an overnighter in Bangkok (and reaquaintence with the Touch Down bar) and a very early start in Sydney, such are the vagueries of airline schedules when you can’t afford or couldn’t be bothered constructing a more convenient flight sequence. So one thing we are looking forward to is our own bed and a lie-in if only to allow our legs to adjust to flat, sea-level.