Kagbeni to Tatopani – Highway to Hell (7th blog today)

Today we had decided to set off walking early down the valley towards Jomsom and if a bus passed us then we’d jump on it, then take another bus to Tatopani. We don’t have enough time to walk the whole circuit so now we are going to jump to an interesting and final section. 

The view from the guest house was lovely in the early sunlight.

Setting off, the morning was cool but not crisp, and the view down the valley was great as the sun had risen a bit higher.

At this lower altitude, around 9,500 feet, walking was easy, the air wasn’t thin. Looking back upriver the Mustang valley was broad and stony, with Kagbeni just above it in the middle

There is a Hindu festival for a few days on the 18th October and cities have been stocking up with produce from the regions. These goats will find themselves in Pokhara or Kathmandu, being killed by the families that buy them. Unless they fall down the mountain first.

We had covered a couple of miles when a bus came along. A ropey effort with a maniacal driver. I thought we were going to die. The bus bounced over the boulders at great speed.

​Shaken and stirred, we arrived in Jomsom, the biggest town this side of the mountains. It was a  windy dust bowl that was teeming with people. Pilgrims coming, pilgrims going, trekkers passing through and locals trying to make their annual salary this month whilst folk were here. It has very little appeal.

We couldn’t get bus tickets to Tatopani, despite there being several buses an hour, until a 2pm deadline, the journey being 5 hours and no buses leave when they might have to finish in the dark. The price of jeep hire escalated by the minute. There were many bus operators and we trawled the ticket booths until we found standing room only on one that left at 12.15. We pushed a reluctant Prem into buying the tickets and went for an early lunch. Then we turned up early at the ticket booth next to the Mustang Pub and Snooker Hall, with a Himalayan backdrop.

The bus arrived and it was crap, not far from scrap. It took nearly an hour to load luggage on to the roof. A bloke tying the tarpaulin then slipped and spectacularly fell to the ground, hopping around holding his ankle and wrist. He was the second driver on this 12 hour journey to Kathmandu, which luckily we only shared for 5 hours. 

The bus had 39 seats, all full. There were 15 people standing up, a few hanging out of the door and 11 of us inside the driver’s cab, including the driver. I think that’s around 60 to 70% over capacity. The luggage was spectacularly overloaded up on the roof, causing us to lean dramatically when driving on a slope or turning a corner, and there were sacks of rice, boxes and luggage piled on the floor for people to clamber over. 

Forgive the lack of photographs on this journey. I was scared, so was Jet who begged that we got off and walked, but we had to do it. I couldn’t get my iPad out to take photos as I was hanging on for dear life, white as a ghost. Jet said I was the same colour as when we went on one of the most manic rides at Lightwater Valley. 

The road was just bulldozed out of the mountains and was a mass of boulders, mud and dust, with no surface at all. There were multiple landslides which had crashed through it and streams that splashed across it. The road clung in places to the side of one of the highest ravines in the world (there are many of these superlatives in Nepal). Jet used one – worst experience of her life. 

We were both convinced that this road led to death. Except for one saving grace, being our young and unflappable driver, even when we were slipping in mud towards the side of the abyss. We were reassured by his control of this top heavy freak show. The bus made regular stops and, halfway through, the driver got out and the man with the broken ankle and twisted wrist got into the driving seat. He told me and Jet that he was now the driver and asked if we had painkiller spray! 

Luckily we hadn’t and he realised that he was too injured to drive this sarcophagus over the river Styx. Our original driver took over. Hooray!

We hit a problem with a breakdown blocking the road, at a relatively low level on the mountainside.

After hours of Fred Karno’s Army of traffic control and manouvering close to the edge we were released into the darkening pass. With only one headlight working. Another hour and a half later we arrived in Tatopani. Sighs of relief were never heavier. Eventually we found a guest house of decent quality that wasn’t full, ate and slept. Relieved to have escaped from the Devil’s grip.

Night night.