Chamje to Pokhara – The Last Day (3rd blog today)

Just give me some candy before I go. Thanks Paolo. I didn’t get candy but I got two fried eggs. Very good. Bhim had been at work and there was a jeep, with other people and goods in, coming to pick us up at 7am. It would cost us a couple of quid each for a three hour drive. However the weather had been appalling during the night with a monsoon thunderstorm for many hours. Bhim was concerned about the state of the road.

The weather was showing signs of clearing as we took off with two other passengers and the owner driver of the jeep. The road is horrendous and an owner driver is more likely to be careful to avoid damage to the car and his livelihood. Employed youngsters screech around too fast sometimes. Four died in the hills above Pokhara in a jeep tumble from a mountain road, just a week ago. The kiddy drove too fast. Seven survived.

We were the first jeep down that morning, and the driver stopped a few times to roll fallen rocks out of the way. Stopping for a quick pee break the view back to Jagat, which we had passed half an hour after setting off, was beautiful.

The road seemed to be perfectly ok round here, and both the jeep and the driver were great. Reassuring as some of the drops at the side of the road were instant death. In fact instant death would be good if you went over, but this would be a long rolling fall. Adam can have me season ticket. I know that inside he has that glory fan desire to be a full Blade and not just a part time one. Good lad. Should he deny this then he is cut out of my Will. Well, he’s not in it but I wanted something dramatic and threatening. And now it’s just turned out foolish. Adam has made a fool of me. I instruct my eldest daughter to leave him. After I’ve been to visit them in Oz. Well, perhaps later if they go somewhere else. There he goes. Making a fool of me again. Barstaaard! He’s a good lad though.

Last year at this point on the Annapurna Circuit, coming uphill, there was a huge landslide which Jet and I climbed over with some trepidation. This year it was still very difficult for the jeep going through the same spot. I had a momentary lapse of reason, as we skidded going over the river and the rubble, and trumped. At least it was something which would disperse. This is a photo of the spot from last year.

As we drove down to the valley the driver got a call asking if we were ok. Apparently, not long after we passed last year’s landslide spot the mountain had come down again knackering the road. Oh dear. I did another Donald. At least it wasn’t a Geoffrey Hurd. The jeep wouldn’t be going home tonight, or anytime in the immediate future. How lucky we? Thanks Mike.

It was another hour to Besisahar, and glad we were to get there. The jeep had been shaken to pieces. And as soon as we got there we drew up next to a bus. By coincidence it was a bus to Pokhara, leaving now! This has been a lucky trek. Long may it continue. The luck, not the trek; I’m buggered.

At a stop further down the road the bus filled up with local folk, as well as sacks of rice in the aisle and construction materials in the boot on top of our rucksacks. But we were in the front seats and our window pulled back to give us some respite from the heat. Me and my mate Bhim.

Halfway to Pokhara, after nearly three hours, was Dumre, where you turn left for Kathmandu and right to Pokhara. Before we got there a young boy across the aisle from Bhim projectile vomited into the aisle and over Bhim’s shoes. He then decorated his seat.

A bit later, as the bus was stopped, the woman behind me leaned over to my window and puked out of it. We got out, to avoid being puked on again, and she threw up out of my window onto the bloke who collected money and put all the goods in the hold, who was stood directly below. I had a quick word with Bhim and we thought a cab might be a good idea if he could negotiate a good rate.

We got our rucksacks out of the boot and Bhim came out of a heated discussion with a local crew, who had descended on us straight away, with £22 for the two of us in an air conditioned cab for a two and a half hour drive. What a star that man is. And the taxi driver stopped so me and Bhim could buy a couple of cold beers, and commemorate our friendship with chinking bottles of locally brewed lager. Whilst being driven in relative comfort with no-one vomiting on us.

On the way I had to take this photo.

It could only have been beaten by Buddha Was a Blade, like Jesus was when I walked in Spain, for those who remember.

Now we’re going on a journey, up to the puckin Prem! Knew he was!

All things must pass. Thanks George.

This has been a gas, the experience of a lifetime. More yet to come. Experiences and lifetimes. Thanks Buddha.

Goodnight Irene and my dears. If anything cosmic happens in Pokhara or Kathmandu before I come home then I’ll blog. Otherwise, a la prochaine. XXXXXXX