At this altitude I was feeling chesty and Jet was feeling heady. We decided we could continue but not as far as Manang, and that we should take the official lower track of the Circuit and not the higher route, to get more oxygen in our systems. Fantastic views from the guest house and we were off at 8am, making our way down to the river. 

We passed small fields of barley (light colour) and buckwheat (brown) with the harvest just starting, and down in the valley people threshing the buckwheat with huge flails. I like this photo.

We also passed many prayer wheels and shrines during the day and Jet was doing good. Always turn the prayer wheels clockwise and don’t eat the yellow snow. Thanks Frank.

The track rose over mountain sides and down into the valley a few times, giving good views of the direction in which we were going.


Prem and Sulis, looking like dodgy geezers. Standing on a street corner, suitcase in my hand. Thanks Lou.

Juliet,  trekking like a good un.

The Annapurna range was to our left, as we are walking around it anti-clockwise. And that meant that it was south of us at the moment, and views in that direction were the highest mountains and a lot of snow.

However northwards to our right the Kangla Himal was fantastic too. 

A horseman came down the track at a gallop, stopping and posing to allow my photograph. Proud and hardy. 

After lunch we carried on up the valley, finally arriving at Braga in the dip here, with Manang, our original destination, behind and higher up the hill. Lower altitude tonight for me and Jet. 

The views from our guest house room are fabulous. Cop these!

There is a south facing balcony and Jet was catching some rays. 

We ate earlyish and went to bed. In the morning Jet was still heady and I had woken many times gasping a bit, so we decided to take a rest day and stay in this guest house in Braga. Jet slept and I walked up to Manang and got more medical supplies, drinks and spice (bounty bar, toblerone and locally made popcorn). I dropped in to the medical centre to get advice on altitude sickness in case either of us developed it. We’ll see how tonight and tomorrow goes.

Night night.

Another decent night’s sleep. These are local hostels with typically five or six rooms, all without heating, and maybe attached toilet and shower or outside toilet and shower. If you’re lucky you can get a western toilet, but they are mostly holes in the floor. Showers can be warm or cold. What do you expect for £4 for a twin room? The beds are ok but we cover our pillows in silk pillow cases that we brought, and we have our own sleeping bags for higher up when it will get cold. The forecast for tomorrow night is minus 8. 

The track to the outside world at the moment is cut off by landslides so goods don’t come up in great abundance, and transport is restricted to jeeps and motor bikes. And, as we’re climbing up, the forest is becoming predominantly pine, and the bamboo has disappeared. See you later bamboo baby.

We set off at 8am, our little Fellowship of the Ring – we’re walking in a ring around the Annapurna Massif, which is 14 peaks all over 23,000 feet, including one over 26,00 feet. We’ve been so lucky with the weather. Dry and sunny, although it has been hot, and it got hot for a shorter time around noon. The views were going to be good!

We crossed the river, again and joined a footpath which climbed the mountainside above the river, starting with a Buddhist shrine.


Passing 10,000 feet and the views were becoming more amazing as the air was getting a little thinner and my breath was getting shorter.

Then either side of the footpath an apple orchard opened out and a large building turned out to be an apple warehouse and cafe. It sold apples! But surprise surprise, it also sold fresh apple stuffed doughnuts and chocolate doughnuts. In the heart of the Himalayas. Delish.

The track continued round a corner to the next valley, which was pure rock ground out by glaciers over millions of years. 

The path dropped down to the river, which is usually bad news as you have to climb up again. Another footbridge, but these are all metal suspension bridges mostly with strong cables and modern engineering. No Indiana Jones manoeuvres. The path did climb and climb, although it levelled out after a tiring hour. We passed a French couple on the way and I explained in French how tired I was and feeling old. Attention seeking baston. It got a laugh out of them.

In the forest were miniature cairns erected by Hindus, which Prem explained were built to please the gods and ease the individual’s way into heaven on expiry.

Eventually we arrived at a village for lunch, with beautifully painted guest houses.

Lunch was eaten on the roof of a restaurant and looking back the curvature of the rock was clear. Locally this rock face is called Heaven because people do climb it but never come back.

After another hour and a half, having crossed the river again and climbed a hundred or so metres up the valley side, we came to Upper Pisang where we were to spend the night. A two storey wooden structure clinging to the slope, with a view southwards towards Annapurna IV. Later in the afternoon the cloud on the tops cleared a little. Wow wow wow! 

We were at 11,000 feet, well within the high altitude zone where individuals are prone to altitude sickness. We drank lots of water coupled with a good night’s sleep.

Night night.

A great night’s sleep. In bed by 7.30pm and asleep (bar 1p) until 6.30am. Ten hours at least. My Achilles was aching but Prem soaked it with a rag dipped in boiling water and salt. Christ, that was frickin hot, but over the course of the day it helped. And after masala tea and porridge for Jet, and milk tea with omelette for me, we set off. And almost immediately a real big mountain came spectacularly into view. 

I’m sorry to jump time sequence, like Pulp Fiction, but as I’m sat here in the cosy kitchen of our tea house this late afternoon, there is a flute player around the corner tripping out Himalayan music. It is enchanting. The smell of wood smoke, maybe some incense, and certainly curry cooking in the village evokes emotion. I love this. Trekking frees up my sense of smell, which is usually restricted to Donald Trumps. Back to Bruce Willis in the morning.

Walking up the valley and more mountains came into view. With the moon hanging over the range. 

Looking back the clouds were hovering on the mountainsides but were white and billowy, not dark and grey.

After a while a footpath cut up the hillside away from the track, and we followed it up ancient steps. The sun had come round into the valley but this way was shadowy and winding in some shade from the heat of the sun. Jet was taking the climb in her stride, although I was struggling a bit with the steepness and some pain, but not a lot, in my Achilles.

We came to a tea shop and I asked if we could stop for a cuppa. Then a bunch of Jet’s like minded crew came down the hillside.

And they gathered in the relatively luxurious vegetation around the water tap; until they tried to eat the clothes there for washing and were chased away by the lady of the shop. 

It was another couple of hours before we arrived at the village for lunch. Jet tucked in to rice and cheese omelette and I copped for fried potatoes with vegetables and local wild mushrooms. Great, great, great. Reinvigorated and energised we left the village and set off for Chame.

We nailed it. Heel painless, everyone on form and we were born, born, born….. born to be alive. Which has to be the crappest rock lyric in all of history. The track followed the river, although high above it. This photo doesn’t capture the steepness of this rock face. Very steep. 

As we approached Charme we crossed a brow and something miraculous happened. And it had to be pointed out to me. Above the first layer of clouds to the left of centre are some unusual white shapes. Annapurna 2 at 7,900 metres. Oh my giddy frickin auntie baby! Out of this world. Clearer photos over the next few days I’m sure.

We slipped into Chame and ensconced ourselves in the Moon Over guest house. Around the corner from this shrine.

8,000 feet, moving into the ‘altitude zone’, I can expect to be short of breath. Tell this asthmatic something new. 

Night night.

These aren’t hills, these are monsters. We haven’t seen the half of it yet, but enough to know that these are the behemoth of the mountain race. The Beginning of the Roof of the World. But it’s not one of those ‘I can’t believe that I’m here’ feelings. It’s normality in a fantastic place. 

Asleep last night by 8.30pm and awake at 5.30am. One pee and no other disturbances. Omelette and Tibetan bread for breakfast, Jet had porridge again, and off by 8am. It takes a while to repack the rucksacks and get everything ship shape.

Jagat is above the river, a river we are following from the start all the way up to Thorong La pass, the highest pass in the world, on day 13 or 14. Not sure. 

But it’s day 3 now and we’re on our way down to the river, over another modern footbridge and then up the opposite bank on narrow footpaths for 7 hours up to Dharapani. Before we got to the footbridge I posed with Sulis and Prem against a background of a huge waterfall.

And then the bridge.

The climb up was steep and getting hot, although we were getting up around 6,000 feet so we were expecting things to cool down.  Unfortunately I had a soreness on my Achilles which, all of a sudden, turned into a tearing pain from my heel to halfway up my calf. Now, like baston we’re going to have to use another word for something else. Let’s call it ‘frick’ as any fan of Gold Rush on the Quest Channel would be familiar with. Anyway it frickin hurt and I shouted in pain. Luckily I could still walk with a hobble and we weren’t far from a tea house where we got some water and a decent surface to strap up my lower right leg and be administered Ibuprofen by Jet. Not good but not bad. I could still walk if I took it slowly and the pain was easing. 

After 43 years of playing football, and lots of trekking since retirement, this was the first leg injury I’ve ever had. Broken toes and damaged feet, broken ribs and leg cuts and bruises, concussion and chipped vertebra, yes, but no leg injuries. Frickin old baston!

And after a mile or so further uphill we came across a natural painkiller. 

Marijuana grows wildly and freely in this area. It wouldn’t last very long in Roundhay Park.

A final climb before lunch took us to a view point looking back down the steep sided valley.

And, climbing forward, to a nick point, which the river came roaring and bubbling over, and beside which we entered a valley through this gate.

Suddenly the world changed to an old lake bed, flat as a pancake for a mile or two, and the path went on to the village where we were to have lunch.

Fed, ready and off.

The view back down the old lake bed towards the village was beautiful. 

The path was difficult in places. There were sheer drops at the side into raging torrents and there were strong streams cutting across which had to be forded on stepping stones over the edge of the waterfall. Eventually we crossed back over the river and high above a valley cutting down towards us, was a bridge hanging over a 600 foot drop. Glad we didn’t have to cross it!

Dharapani!

And this is our little house – 104!

A good shower, a good meal and early night. Perffick. 

Night night.

An early morning for me and Jet again, breakfast on the top floor of the teahouse. The sun was coming up behind the mountains and looking up and down the valley, over the rice paddy fields, the views were beautiful, although not as spectacular as in the next few days we’re told.

Omelette and chapatti, oat porridge with honey for Jet. Then packed and off by 8am. A long walk up the valley today, but still following the country road so it should be straightforward. But it rarely is! The guide gave us two options; firstly to stick to the right hand side of the river going upstream or cross over a footbridge to the left. The right was up hill and down dale and not recommended by our guide. The left stuck closer to the river and followed the track. The guide said that both had similar views. Left every time! 

The track slipped down to the river and across a decent bridge, before cutting up steeply along the mountainside. It felt like we were climbing higher and higher above the river but the valley is so narrow and steep in this section that we were actually just keeping pace with the rise in the valley floor. It was getting hotter and hotter. My pack felt heavy and I was sweating like an old bloke sweating a lot. But it was heavy and it was tough following the track. Almost immediately we came across major landslides. Some of these had been cleared but some were so substantial that they had dragged the road down the mountain and we had to climb gingerly round what was left, with near vertical drops down to our raging river. And one was so massive that there wasn’t much left of the mountain side or the road for a hundred metres. 

There were diggers desperately, and dangerously, trying to cut a new road and clear the debris. We had to climb up past these through the waterfall and on round the near steep face of the land slip. 

Jet has done so well so far. We have to ford rivers where landslides come down and she gets on with it. She keeps going and never moans. She’s loving it. Good old kid. 

Looking back down the valley we could see where the landslide had cut down the hill. 

And looking forward where others had ripped the earth apart.

We stopped for a great lunch at a village. These restaurants are not all proper buildings, and these villages have to carry in supplies on their backs through the landslides. Dozens of them. There is only one track and it’s buggered. There was a fantastic waterfall next to the restaurant.

After we’d eaten the track cut higher up the mountain. It was exhausting in the midday heat but eventually the village we were aiming for came in sight. Jagat.

We had made good time, in time to hand wash some clothes, have a hot shower – joy of joys – and sit on a western style toilet. No toilet roll. We then went walking for thirty seconds through the village. 

Now we’re going to eat and get an early night. Brilliant.

Night night.

We got up for a 6am taxi ride to Besishahar, the start of our trek, accompanied by Prem, our guide, and Sulis, our porter who we picked up en route. Kathmandu was heaving with people and traffic grew by the minute, until we couldn’t escape it’s grip, however much we wanted to be jammy dodgers. What was really insane was the dust, which sometimes completely obscured vision, and the hooting, even at 6am, was incessant. After three hours we made it out of Kathmandu and although the major roads were the equivalent of badly kept farm tracks in the UK, we made progress and eventually covered the 108 miles in 7 hours. 

Besishahar for lunch, and it was dal bhat again for me, the rice dish with various accompaniments. I caused concern by chewing on a chilli pepper, a feat I repeated twice more today, including the hottest chilli in Nepal. Nobody was amused as I turned purple, and then I pretended the heat was making me lose my teeth, and pulled my falsies out. Sad old attention seeking baston. I know I should say ‘bastard’ but some people find it offensive so I’ll refer to bastard as baston from here on in. Get it? Not using bastard any more. Using baston instead. 

There was a demonstration by local women down the Main Street over inaction by the authorities, and the uselessness of the government, in a rape and murder case involving a 13 year old girl. Bastons whoever did it and deserving of the death penalty.

We ate and then said goodbye to Besishahar.

On foot with our rucksacks we followed a footpath down to the river and up to a very, very rough country road. This is Jetty with our guide.

The route took us upriver and across to Nadi Bazar, three hours distant. It was hot and I was sweating like a dog under the weight of my rucksack.

We stuck to schedule, cooling off under water taps and waterfalls, and crossed the river on one of the oldest bridges on this trek.

There were some lads fishing in the torrent underneath for tilapia, and according to Prem the cold water of these rivers produces very tasty fish. One slip and they is gone.

Meanwhile Sulis helped Jet over the bridge. It was rotting wood in places and wobbly but reasonably sound.

We sweated on and passed a brilliant waterfall. I love em. All the while heading further and further upstream. 

Jet was joined by a bunch of donkeys. Like minded!

And sunset found us in a teahouse with a cold outside shower with two footsteps in the snow for an outside toilet, without toilet roll, but a twin room and decent scran. It’s been an eventful day. Got to sign off. The WiFi is hopeless and it’s taking ten minutes to upload each photo. I need sleep and so does Jettifer. 

Night night.

If you want your senses overloaded then this is the town. The roads are narrow, the traffic is rampant with motor bikes, no pavements so as a pedestrian you weave in and out of motor bikes, cycle driven rickshaws and taxis as they struggle to avoid each other. The road surfaces are mostly very difficult, the noise is intense and the heat and humidity are high. Everybody hoots their horns, even the rickshaws, and wild dogs sleep during the day and roam around after night. One hospital here treats 150 dog bites a day. And the dogs are protected by the Hindu religion, which covers 80% of the population. Bite me or Jet and I’ll kick you to death you rabid bastards. 

But it’s manic and marvellous. The dust drifts and tourists like us are constantly harassed by taxi drivers, shopkeepers and buskers playing Jews’ harps and single string violins. It’s just exhausting that’s all. 

We slept well, breakfasted and a ‘fixer’ turned up at 11am, pre-arranged by our trekking company, and we were accompanied to a money change shop, which doubled as a trekking equipment emporium. We brought dollars, paid the trekking company in cash and exchanged most of the rest into rupees. We then bought some water bottles from the emporium and took a photo of the shop assistant, money changer and fixer, in that sequence from left to right.

The money changer has a smug little smile as we discovered that he ripped us off for 6 quid. More fool us.

Lunch was outstanding. Vegetable stir fry for Jetty and Dal Bhat for me, with Local beer. For £12. Brilliant.

Then back through the mental, historical and spiritual streets to the hotel where we got our gear ready and packed it for tomorrow.

The shops here are full of wonderful stuff, but largely mass produced. 

We met again with the trekking company manager this evening and talked through the next three weeks. We’ll trek in very warm and very cold weather, stay a couple of days in Pokhara to relax in a nice, and very cheap, hotel and then come back for some time in mental and manic Kathmandu. Excellent. Don’t beam me up Scotty, I’m loving it. I’ll reflect on this photo for a while.

I know. You want a photo of Jet. Not on her life without make up. Well, maybe.

Night night.

The flight with Oman Air was about 80% empty so we could spread out and try to sleep. I got a couple of hours and we landed in Muscat at 7.30am with a 7 hour wait for our connecting flight. The airport has really changed from a small terminal 8 years ago, when I went with SIG, to an international player.

The country’s been ruled by the Sultan, Qaboos bin Said al Said, since 1970. What a nice old chap. He overthrew his dad in an armed coup 

Me and a Jet got visas and left the airport terminal for a while for a short stroll, but it was too hot. At 9am it was not far off 40c in the shade and the sun was a killer. The breeze was like a fan oven, blasting in your face and the mountains a few miles inland were screened by dust and heat.

Eventually came the time to get the plane to Nepal but there was a technical problem. By this time me and Jet were knackered. The plane was full and the gate was jammed with Nepali blokes going back home from working in Saudi and Oman. After an hour an official stood up and said that the problem was electrical but it was only a section of the plane and it only affected the entertainment system and the screens. He said we could all vote to depart without waiting any longer for it to be fixed but all two hundred of us had to be unanimous! 

In the event nobody objected and we took off just over an hour late, landing in the dark in Kathmandu airport, which was a bit run down and aged. We got picked up by our trip organiser’s brother and we’re getting to sleep now at midnight. Tired and heat drained but here.

Night night. 

Well, finally after months of anticipation, me and my youngest, Juliet, are off to Kathmandu to start an adventure. It’s a good one too. The real deal as we’re trekking a couple of hundred miles in the Himalayas around the Annapurna range, and climbing up to the highest pass in the world, Thorong La, at nearly 18,000 feet. 

We’re at Manc airport at the moment, setting off soon to Oman, getting 6 hours there in the sun and then setting off for Kathmandu. 

We’re leaving the suitcases in Kathmandu and putting on our cold weather gear and rucksacks for the trek, no roads on much of it, just mountains and tiny villages. Can’t wait. We are on our own with a guide and a porter. It doesn’t get much better. 

And it looks like this. Oh my giddy aunt!

And here’s our old lass who makes it all possible and worthwhile. What a babe. 

I hope to blog in Oman tomorrow. 

Night night.




I’m happy. I made it to the start of the southwest coastal path in Minehead yesterday, along the beach and the esplanade.

The place where I started out my trekking four years ago when I retired from SIG. 

1,450 miles. From …….

To ………

Through……..

And ………

Loved it, loved it, loved it. 

What I love as much is that in four years walking in the UK and Spain, over 2,700 miles, you have donated £7,000 for charity, including my trek with Gary earlier this year. A big thank you. 

And in true Incredible String Band style you can ‘Be glad, for the song has no ending’. I’ll blog in September from Kathmandu. 

Night night.

.