I woke up without my loved one’s arms around me – despite what Orlando says. Early start, quick pack and off to the bus terminus not far away. I left a bag of stuff that I don’t need for later collection. 7.30am departure and the streets were already hot and quite sticky. Mercifully the bus was air conditioned and almost empty.

Kathmandu is a bit messy, but nice. The traffic was light and we stopped for lunch, included in the bus price, by the river after four hours on the road. The journey to Pokhara is bumpy but safe. Unless the bridge collapses into the monsoon waters.

The food isn’t bad at all, mostly curry but pretty good. Three more hours after lunch and we crossed another river and then on into Pokhara, with its famous Fewa lake.

My hotel was five minutes walk from the bus terminus at Lakeside. Not pestered by roaming stalkers, only those in shops who sit outside soliciting custom. A shower, a kip and out for dinner. Christ it was hot. Hotter than Kathmandu and stickier. I walked along the lake front, which has shops and restaurants most of the way so it wasn’t too dark – street lighting isn’t great – and ate fish from the lake in spices.

My bed awaited and then it was 8am! Just like that. Thanks Tommy.

Fried eggs and guava for breakfast and I met my new guide, Bhim and the trekking company’s guy. Bhim is nice, he’ll help me by carrying water and some heavier items and he’s a great guide.

Let’s put in a photo from today. Fancy a boat ride?

They wanted to send me and Bhim on buses to the start of the trek but there was some debate over whether the road was blocked by landslides. After checking we found out that it was navigable by small buses and four wheel drives but it was rendered ‘off road’ for an hour of the drive after monsoon slippage.

There was some toing and froing and if I wanted a four wheel drive then it would be expensive. I got a quote from my hotel owner for a cheaper price in his 4wd so the trekking company came down to match it. It’s going to be a difficult enough trek without horrendous bus rides so I’m happier.

Another photo please Dave! OK you little monkeys! Here’s one on Zen and the Art of Rowing Boat Maintenance. Never did finish that book.

We finished business and then I was free to walk, eat sleep and eat.

A bit too early for the bananas in the hotel garden.

And the lake was great. Apparently Prince Charles stayed in this hotel just across from where a load of guys were fishing. Oh lardy dah!

This looks like a Hindu shrine to a bloke who knows next to nothing about Hinduism.

And as a part of it is this much smaller object of worship, with a carving of Ganesha, the god of beginnings. I hope that he will look kindly on the beginning of our trek tomorrow.

The local guys were riveted by a game of chess, which was invented just down the road in India 1,400 years ago. How many centuries have lads from this village taken a queen across this table?

Below them on the bankside the anglers were out taking advantage of any pick up in feeding activity in the early evening. I’ve not seen owt caught yet.

I was melting in the heat. The sticky heat of late afternoon that pulls the sweat from ma wee baldy heed! But I wasn’t anywhere near as hot as these lads must be, playing football with speed and maximum commitment but no nastiness. It’s well up into the thirties centigrade.

The trees at lakeside must have seen centuries of toings and froings – phrase of the day. They are huge, solid and timeless. Amazing.

And, before I ate another great meal of lake fish and ginger sauce, the day ended over the far mountains at the head of the lake.

Night night.

Woke up, fell out of bed – but didn’t need Paul McCartney’s comb across my head. Breakfast in the hotel and then spent two hours deciding what I would leave in Kathmandu and what I would take on’t trek. Changed money, at the best price in town, picked up my bus ticket to Pokhara and went for a long walk. Lovely day. No monsoon.

This place is very eastern, but it’s difficult here in Thamel to work out what is traditional and what is for the tourists. Fifty fifty would be my assessment. This is a hotel reception. I didn’t realise that I’d capture myself on film, and yes they are swastikas above the door. Ancient symbols round here.

The roads are blooming awful. Blooming – I’m refraining from vile and abusive language. But not as bad as the electrics.

There aren’t many tourists at the moment, which is one of the reasons I chose now. The other one being that I’ll get back in time for the Liverpool home match. COYRAWW, meaning come on you red and white wizaaards! However the lack of targets means that I’m seen as one of the few cash cows for the local entrepreneurs and literally can’t walk ten seconds without being accosted. And they’re persistent. Two followed me for at least 15 minutes, trying to engage me in conversation. I was polite but in the end got so frustrated that I shouted at them ‘get lost if you don’t want to see me get nasty’. They went, no doubt with some amusement.

These shops are great but they have to be for tourists. Would a local buy a funny wooden mask?

Lunch was a burger with fries and then I worked my way back through bedlam to my hotel for a late afternoon snooze. The little box on the floor to the left in the photo below is a Hindu shrine. Lightly battered.

I know it’s indelibly tainted but the swastika does look good in some, more pleasant, contexts.

The fruit van’s here mum.

I thought we had a knife problem but there’s strange blokes with knives here too.

I had a great hour’s kip and up for dindins.

The roads were quieter for a while and I had hot and sour veg soup, tandoori chicken, flatbread stuffed with mashed potatoes and chilli, and a pint of Everest. Nine quid.

Then the walk back to the hotel. Dark and deserted but not creepy. Kathmandu feels safe. Love it.

Night night.

Back into rapping already.

So…..which is a rubbish thing that people say today to start the answer to a question or make a statement. So……good album by Peter Gabriel, used to have it on cassette. So….where am I going?

I’m in the capital of Nepal, Kathmandu. A legendary bolt hole for hippies in the past and still a very cool place to be if you like awful roads, massive traffic, incredible noise, being hassled by sellers, stalked by chancers and targeted by drug dealers. I was sorely tempted by the opium seller but I think it might be a bit more debilitating than the opioids I thought were rather good in hospital when I broke my head. Anyway he’d comatose me and nick my dosh. But it is wonderful here really, I love it so much for two days.

Tomorrow I’m up early for a bus at 7.30 to Pokhara, a lovely, peaceful place. The journey is 8 hours, not 5 hours 32 minutes as google suggests, and the road is poor but not too dodgy.

There I’m meeting the guide company, getting my trekking permits and meeting my new guide. On Friday we set off hopefully in a jeep for the start of the Manaslu Circuit trek. The drive should take 7 hours and the trek will take 14 days. More likely they’ll provide an old car or put us on local buses that take a long time to navigate the dirt tracks. With it being monsoon season the roads are difficult to pass in some areas. If you look at the map below in the bottom right you’ll see Arughat, where we’ll start walking. The trek follows the track north along the valley and round on the yellow footpath, up to the top left where we cross over Larkya La pass at 17,000 feet. Then down to join the Annapurna Circuit.

If you look at the map down below there is a thin green line that comes in to the Annapurna Circuit halfway down the map, on the right hand side between Tal and Chame. I’m coming down there at the end of the Manaslu Circuit, dropping off my guide and carrying on solo anti-clockwise, taking three days to reach Manang. There I’m going on that track to the left, almost due west for two days up to Tilicho Lake. I would love to continue westwards to Jomsom, which would take another two days, but sadly, on my own it’s too dangerous. However, I’m going to turn around and go back the way I came for 5 or 6 days to Besisahar in the south of the map. I’ll be able to vary the route, taking in some relatively remote Buddhist temples and villages.

That’s the plan kids. Let’s see how I get on. One footstep at a time. People here keep telling me that the Manaslu Circuit is tough. Let’s see if I wet my sleeping bag, bottle it and spend a month eating curry.

Night night.

Well, I’ve been thinking about this trip for months, with some trepidation and anticipation, across the nation from station to station. See – rapping is easy. Or was that hip hop? I know it wasn’t jungle or garage. Garbage, Basil says.

It started with a kiss, never thought it would come to this. Thanks Errol. God bless you if he, she or it exists. The kiss Errol referred to was a ‘goodbye, will miss you but see you later’ kiss from my missus, before Adam, my Leeds scum son in law, drove me away to the station. He’s a good lad, and really he’s a step up from scum; but Leeds nevertheless. I’d taken from my wallet an old schedule of trains. The chosen one was cancelled but I’d built in sufficient time to my busy schedule not to be concerned.

The flight from Manchester to Qatar was good. The best music selection of any airline I’ve ever been on. Qatar Airways rocks, or is it rock? Full albums of John Mayall, the Killers, Neil Young, Amy Winehouse, Led Zep and Tom Waits.

The connecting flight to Kathmandu was on time and flew across southern Iran and Pakistan. Two hours over bone dry desert, baking in the morning sun. Good job I wasn’t trekking it.

Within the space of a few minutes the landscape transformed from harsh desert to reasonably lush arable farming. This is the transformed land by the way so act suitably surprised at the photo. Say ‘oh my gosh’ or summat. It’s the valley of the Indus River.

Neil Young was on his second album and was asking Southern Man to free his head by the time I got my first glimpse of the Himalayas, surrounded by the monsoon cloud. Absolutely stunning. You need to look hard and look twice because the cloud is a brilliant disguise.

In the sunlight even the monsoon clouds looked fab.

It was raining when we landed in Kathmandu, only 20 hours after I left home. But the visa queue was horrendous and took another hour and a half to get through. Anything more than 30 days was difficult visa-wise and a bit pricey. By chance the day I landed to the day I left was 30 days. Still $50 but that’s ok and necessary. I thought the visa was a month rather than 30 days. That made it tight!

The taxi struggled through the rush hour, a mad cacophony of bikes, scooters, mobikes, taxis and trucks, randomly appearing from every angle. The noise of hooting was deafening. Eventually we arrived at the hotel, a basic but decent place in the middle of the tourist area of Thamel. I dived into my shower and emerged cleansed. Well, physically anyway.

I remembered these streets and walked to a courtyard covered against the rain, not too far away from the hotel.

Tandoori chicken and mashed potato Nepal style, with Gorkha beer. Heavenly.

…the innocent sleep.

Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleeve of care,

The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath.

Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,

Chief nourisher in life’s feast.

Night night.