Phillim to Bihi – Dannii to the Rescue (2nd blog)

I slept until the alarm woke me at 7am and I still had a bad dose of the runs. It just takes your strength away. It’s too long now to be food poisoning, it’s a virus or summat. Diarrhoea, Diarrhoea, Figaro, Magnificococoa.

I was determined that we wouldn’t fall behind again today and asked Bhim over breakfast if he could get a porter for the day to carry my rucksack. Needs must. Whilst he was away I wandered round the garden. My clothes were hanging on the line soaked. The monsoon had struck in the night. Oh well.

The view was just amazing.

Bhim came back to say that the teahouse owner could fix us up with a local lad, so we committed to reaching an ambitious target that would still allow the lad to return home in the day. Otherwise you have to pay for the return day as well. House rules. The owner and Bhim reached agreement.

Dannii joined us and we set off at 8.30. He seemed a decent lad and was enjoying the attention of the locals, particularly the young girls, as we made our way through the village, him with my pack on his back.

Above the village was a big gash in the hillside where a landslide had taken out a few houses two years ago. The survivors moved up above it and rebuilt houses. Hardy breed.

My missus came up with Bohemian Rhapsody as a song with Landslide in it. Bien fait Maggie.

It was a slog but it was so much easier with 16 hours sleep, some food and no rucksack on board. There are dozens of mule trains up and down this valley delivering to and from dozens of mostly tiny villages. We followed one up the trail for a while.

Bhim confirmed that we weren’t going across this bridge. Safe but scary. Thank goodness.

Dannii was doing alright for a skinny lad and we made decent progress. Relentlessly tracing the route of this river to its source high in the Himalayas. With waterfalls cascading and mule trains dotted along the path.

As we approached the waterfall in the last photo we realised how stunning it was.

For the last few days we’d been well and truly into wild marijuana country, and on this section of the trek there was enough to supply Europe for a year.

The bridges were occasionally more pragmatic than the long suspension swingers, particularly where the path could get lower down the river banks.

However high we got the river was still crazy, being fed by the melting glaciers above us.

The path wound up the other bank but the effects of the monsoon were still here in the forest with difficult land-slipped soil to negotiate. The drops below were scary so we were more than careful.

After a decent lunch we were feeling brighter, although the heat was still sapping. I was feeling ok and was grateful that Dannii had been available. He had eaten his Dal Bhat curry and rice with his fingers. Bhim had used a fork and got twice as much down.

We were beginning to move into Buddhist areas. We’re less than 20 miles from Tibet, which was devoutly Buddhist before being invaded by China, and a lot of refugees had trekked over the Himalayas to seek sanctuary in Nepal. But going further back in time, Buddha was born in Nepal, although the majority of the population is Hindu. There are ancient monasteries hidden in the mountains, one a few miles higher housing 200 Buddhist nuns and 300 priests. The path passed a thick, short wall which was lined by worn but still decipherable Buddhist rock carvings. Phenomenal.

And finally we arrived at our destination. And it was shut. We let Dannii go back home and he scampered down the valley like a puppy. Back to school for him tomorrow. We waited but nobody came so we donned our rucksacks, me for the first time today, and walked across the village to the next teahouse, which was open and gave us a hot shower and food and a room. Long sentence wasn’t it!

Night night me ducks.