We Got To Get Out Of This Place – Part 4

As the dawn breaks, over roof slates, hope hung on every washing line. Thanks Richard. We had to walk around on to the main thoroughfare for breakfast. Chicken drumsticks all round. It took an hour to cook them and they were raw in the middle.

The plan was to go to the airport and hustle for tickets. None available on tinternet. Nine flights to Kathmandu and we’re getting on one or hiring a bleeding helicopter.

Bad news. All flights from Janakpur cancelled. Wtf! The weather is fine. This is just malice.

Nir was buzzing. We packed and he took us to a bus stop. A grotesquely overloaded bus but we’re on it. I suspected that this was some kind of Tibetan magic carpet ride to Jiri. But we were heading to Bardibas. A town on a main highway. Well, a main road, of sorts.

Here we would board a jeep which had a few people on board already, but this lad driving knew a way to Kathmandu. Yeah, right.

Our fifth jeep.

This driver meant business. Focussed, concentrating, hooting and overtaking, even on blind corners. When it might be really dodgy to overtake he sounded his police siren. Like every ten seconds.

This road was east to west, around 80 miles south of Kathmandu. We would actually drive past Kathmandu before turning right and climbing up into the mountains. We understood that all roads were blocked. Is this a deliberately failed attempt to generate hope and profit, before despair and loss?

We were in a convoy and the passengers were all Nepali. There must be a chance. A police roadblock gave our driver instructions. They didn’t turn us round!

Some people were enjoying the roaring floods!

This road climbed well up to over 9,000 feet and it was beset by landslides all the way. But none fully blocked the road. A digger done the biz! Eight hours after setting off we were still climbing. Then the road levelled.

And even the tiniest views of Manaslu and Annapurna were emotional. Part of my past but not my future. Thanks for the memories.

We began to drop down north easterly. The Everest range shone brightly in the setting sun. Too distant for a decent photo. But the irony, that we started from there nearly four days ago and were now heading back in that direction

The darkness descended and we continued to drop. Surely it couldn’t be blocked now. There were vehicles coming the other way. They didn’t look like turnarounds.

Then the well surfaced road that we were cruising on was blocked. We were shunted off this road, with forty odd miles still to go, we were shunted onto a boulder track. Bang bloody bang on the suspension and my arse. The track meandered and split in the dark but our driver kept us on course and we kept passing trucks coming the other way. This glorified footpath was now the main route from Kathmandu to Delhi.

We hit some steep parts of the track that were deep in mud. Our boy got his foot down and skidded us up. Climbing and climbing. Until we reached a small settlement. Pie and pees.

Well, a drink and a tiddle.

It was nearly 9.30 pm and we knew we were near Kathmandu. We can smell it. Don’t screw us over now please.

We got back in the jeep. And drove over a pass at the top of this mountain, that opened up before us. Majestically set out in the huge valley below were the lights of Kathmandu. Everybody shouted ‘Kathmandu’! Some of us added Doo Doo Doo for good measure. Nobody will stop us now.

This pathetic depiction is the majestic lights of Kathmandu.

The city was rammed with queueing vehicles. Thousands of lorries stacked up trying to get to Pokhara. Hundreds stacked up trying to get to India. After a log jam we wormed our way through and arrived at the Oasis Hotel where we had left our suitcases. It was fully booked. A place just down the road fitted the bill. Aircon and clean bed. Heaven. Eighty three hours since we left Lukla. Five jeeps, one bus, one taxi, seven hours climbing.

Made it.

This is my last Nepal trip. If every one could be guaranteed to be this good I might think again! I love it. I love the people. The mountains are beyond divine. The trekking has to be the best in the world. Surely ref? But there is a lot to do nearer home.

John O’Groats to Africa

The Spanish Pyrenees

The Alps

Scottish Munros

Finish SW Coast Path

Reus to Valencia

Thank you to my darling nephew Danny Boy. It was a pleasure, once I got used to his style. I thought, what an abrasive bastard, but he was soft in the middle. I’ll be blogging again in January from North East Spain up in the mountains with my mate Gazza.

We have rested here in Kathmandu and I’m ready to go home.

Night night darling boys and girls.