Journey to the West

We had little time to appreciate the bustling metropolis with just over 24 hours to prepare for our odyssey to the frozen peaks of the Nepalese Himalaya.

Enough, however, to recognise all the colour, chaos and contrasts we'd come to expect of India. Our excitement allowed little sleep in the basic rooms we'd shacked up in for the night, but was rewarded with one of those unbelievably atmospheric mornings

when mists and smoke and intoxicating smells collide in the sultry air to amaze the senses.

Jangling on through the markets of Old Delhi aboard a cycle rickshaw, we were wide eyed with the prospect of the journey ahead.

Thirteen hours in a train lay beyond and as we rattled through the fertile Gangetic plains of Uttar Pradesh there was time not only to drink in timeless beauty of the rural landscape but also to interact with our fellow passengers. We found ourselves crammed

with 14 others in a berth for six! Taking turns to stand and sharing snacks and food made for a triumph in tolerance. The children especially enjoyed listening to Andrew's walkman, inspiring them to jiggle about to

the amusement of all.

As night fell, we were numbed towards sleep but by 3am we had reached our destination, Gorakhpur.

Finding a fly-ridden tea stall in the blacked out town we awaited a bus under the faltering glare of a single hurricane lamp.

Sooner than expected, we were bundled

aboard a bus bound for the border. There, passing the formalities of visas, changing currencies and putting our watches forwards 15 minutes, we signalled our arrival in Nepal.

We were soon fixed up with a ramshackle bus, Tim making the first of many forays to strap luggage to the roof, on the way to Pokhara. This is the second city of Nepal, (Kathmandu laying some distance to the east) which would be the base of our trek in the Annapurna region of the Himalayas.

In the 12-hour journey, we were treated to the full spectrum of Nepal's lower

natural zones. Beginning in the Terai, the edge of the great Indian plains, we climbed over the Mahabharat hills in lush forest, before cutting through the ever-steepening middle hills by breathtaking gorges which

eventually yielded in the flat valley of Pokhara. It was an auspicious introduction to the unparalleled beauty of the country.

Escaping the 'over-friendly' hotel touts vying for custom at the bus stop, we found

the city beyond surprisingly serene. On the edge of its great lake, Phewa Tal, we quietly prepared for the trek, hiring clothes and searching out maps.

From the moment we awoke to see the colossal shapes of the Annapurnas shimmering white in the distance, we longed to be among them.

So it was after a heart-stopping ride on board, and sometimes on the roof of, a local bus - we negotiated the increasingly impassable roads to Besi Sahar and the start of our walk.

By nightfall, we'd already made

headway on the trail. The equivalent of 10p bought us a bamboo shack for the night under the care of a Nepali family and a little more was asked for our first 'Dahl Bhat', the lentils and rice that constitute the basic Nepali diet.

Needless to say, we didn't mind having to wash in the nearby river!

Dipping our feet in those icy emerald waters, we made our breathless acquaintance with the snow-covered heights far off beyond our sights, and tingling with anticipation realised our arrival in the foothills of

the Himalayas.

Our first days on the trail took us up past hillsides whose every inch seemed hewn by generations of farmers into the distinctive terraces that support their crops.

Despite the gloomy atmosphere, the winter wheat being cultivated was a lumious green.

As we watched a pair of buffalo pull a simple wooden plough with a farmer and his wife in tow, it struck us that we were witness to a way of life that has remained largely unchanged for centuries.

With low cloud and rain, we had more time than ever in those initial days to appreciate the details of the world around. The vegetation at first had a distinctly tropical flavour, with giant bamboos striking up long

strands, like fishing rods to hook at the sky, and silky cotton trees naked in this early spring apart from their eye-catching blooms of brilliant red.

This steamy demi-paradise soon gave way to a more familiar temperate zone, as we made our way along the side of an ever deepening gorge, with the river churning below and villages perched precariously high

up on the opposite hillsides.

It constantly amazed us on the trek how the landscape differed yet everywhere people had adapted to live in balance with their surroundings.

The architecture of dwellings reflected those materials immediately at hand We saw everything from the sweeping curves of bamboo roofs to the more sturdy if no less rustic stone houses that seemed to be stacked almost on top of one another.

Our trail at this point was also a testament to their industry. Sometimes, it would be carved out of the rocky sides of the gorge, at others descending steeply on steps or crossing suspension bridges high over the

gushing river. Being the major route up the valley, we soon became familiar with the porters carrying enormous loads by a single strap over their foreheads. The more we saw of Nepal, the more we were humbled by it!

We had made friends with a Canadian couple and their Swiss companion, following the same path before the cloud finally broke to usher in the first views of the

alpine climes anead. As the air grew thinner and colder by degrees, we were treated to glimpses of the high peaks from within deep coniferous forests.

Breaking eventually into the high Maqnang valley even these hardy inhabitants thinned to a few stunted silver firs and scrubby juniper bushes.

The dangers of contracting altitude sickness commanded that we rest a day to acclimatise. Diverting from the trail, we had our most intimate meeting yet with the

spirituality we had seen expressed increasingly in prayer wheels, flags and burnt offerings that adorned villages.

We received a blessing from a Buddhist lama in his hermit-home above Manang village, wishing us well for the high pass we would soon be crossing.

In this rarefied atmosphere, it was easy to be overwhelmed by the massive white summits of the Annapurna range.

The cloudy apparitions we'd seen in Pokhara were now very real and we almost felt we could reach out and touch them.

Nevertheless, after a couple more days

under the shadow of these giants, including a night sleeping at 16,000ft we stood jubilantly if somewhat breathlessly celebrating having reached the summit of Thorung pass.

At 17,600ft, it marked the highest point on our journey. From here, it was almost all downhill into the Mustang valley, an ancient trading route between the sub-continent and Tibet.

Appropriately enough, teams of horses and donkeys still plied the well-worn track alongside an increasing fraternity of backpackers and porters.

We were told that the arid landscape and Buddhist influences of the upper valley strongly resembled Tibet.

Whilst the roof of the world remained elusive, we headed south and still had some great days walking ahead returning once more to near-tropical climes.

There was even an opportunity one day to bathe in natural hot springs beside groves of orange and lemon trees!

Reinvigorated, we tackled the long climb up to Poon Hill, a spectacular viewpoint to witness the dawn sun emerge to bathe the Himalayas in golden light.

It was a poweful final image to carry on our final descent through oak and rhododendron forests to the novelty of a tarmac road.

It was odd to be reacquainted with the city life of Pokhara and Kathmandu. The latter undoubtedly has a certain kudos for any traveller, and we didn't fail to visit its infamous monkey temple or wander round ancient streets.

However, as we parted company, Tim

returning to Calcutta and Andrew to Delhi, it was the mountains that haunted us.

It is hard to see the Himalayas and not be affected by the exquisite natural beauty of the land, or feel anything but respect for the people who struggle to retain their harmony with such a diverse and often difficult landscape.

The apparent permanence of such

mountains perhaps betrays the fragility of the life upon them but we hope those aspects which make Nepal so amazing will remain unspoilt. We certainly feel privileged to have seen just a little of this spectacular country, and will no doubt continue to dream of returning one day!

Updated: 12:28 Thursday, September 27, 2001