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Sep 5th Nepal Notes Part 2: Getting To The Trail

Part 1 of the story can be found here

Up until now, I had spent about a week in Kathmandu, walking everywhere I needed, and just trying to get my bearings. This was my first solo trip, and that level of freedom and socialization took some getting used-to.

Nepali Busses

Nepal is a tricky place to navigate, and I mean that literally. Roads are, generally, in rough shape and the buses all seem to be on their last legs. There are two types, Local and Tourist buses. Tourist buses are similar to a charter bus in Canada, in that, it is assigned seating and it’s typically one passenger per seat. Local buses are more what you would expect of a developing country. They are small and they fill them with anyone willing to get in. They also tend to run different routes. I wanted to get from Kathmandu to Besi Sahar, the original starting point for the hike. My plan was to take a taxi from my hostel to the station and catch a local bus direct to Besi Sahar. I had skipped breakfast and even avoided drinking water. I have IBS and bus travel is difficult for me, and there are simply no buses in Nepal with a bathroom. After seeing the roads, I understand why. I was also told my trip should take about 5 hours, keep that in mind as the story progresses.

As I was walking out of the hostel early in the morning, I was met by a French couple (a woman from France and a man from Quebec). The man, Ioan, was one of the guests that helped me on the roof that first night in Kathmandu. They were headed to the trailhead as well. They convinced me to join them. Their plan was to take the tourist bus headed west to Pokhara but get off half way at Dumre and then catch a bus north to Besi Sahar. I should have declined, but I wanted travel companions. At this point in my trip I was a little afraid of navigating alone, and was desperate for familiar faces. We walked to the tourist bus station, found a bus, bartered for our seats, loaded our gear, and hit the road. Nearly 5 hours into our trip I noticed on my phone, we had passed Dumre. Ioan went and talked to the bus driver and got a vague “yes yes 2 minutes, 2 miles” which did not comfort me. A local sitting behind us, who spoke excellent English, asked about our situation and talked to the driver on our behalf. He came back with the news I expected, we missed our stop, and the bus was not turning around. Luckily, there was a bus rest area ahead, the driver said he would put us on a bus headed back and we would be golden. We reached it shortly and our driver found us a bus, I suspect the other driver offered our ride as a professional courtesy. When we went to board, an oddly dressed woman scolded us. The bus drivers and our, now, translator had a quick meeting. I looked around, took it in, and realized what I was looking at. It was four tour buses and a chase truck. The chase truck was full of pedal bikes and the buses were filled with people wearing full cycle gear, including helmets… while seated in the bus. I knew what was coming, some things are truly universal. Our interpreter came back and said the drivers were fine but the buses were rented privately and the passengers didn’t want anyone else on them. Ioan and I had to physically restrain Selena. She wanted to go on that bus and fight someone. This incident solidified my opinion of cyclists, and made me like the French a little more. 

The driver loaded us back on to be dropped off at the next town, where we could take a local bus back. As we pulled out of the rest area, I spotted Rita standing among the crowd, she had mentioned earlier that she was headed to Pokhara, small world. We took two more hours in bumper to bumper traffic through road construction.

Just shy of being assisted with a boot, we were rushed off the bus and onto the side of the road, abandoned. Not a bus in sight. A local spotted us and stepped in to help, as Nepali’s seem prone to doing. He walked us a few blocks to a parking lot and loaded us on a very small bus headed past Dumre. This bus was a bit on the full side but more importantly, it was tiny inside. I wedged half of myself onto a seat next to a lovely old lady, a good foot shorter than me while seated, she spoke to me in Nepali. I smiled apologetically and she just kept chatting. We were now taking local buses, a real interesting creation on their own. I have previously written about them here.

After a few more hours, back through the same construction zone, our bus found its way to Dumre. I got up to get off and: bop “OH!”…. bang “Gah!”… pow “sonofa!”… crack “FFFFFFuuu!” I hit my head on 4 rungs in a row while walking out. My fellow passengers stifled their laughter as best they could. We were escorted a few blocks on foot to the next bus, by yet a different friendly local. Selena began to barter with the driver, I was ready to pay for her ticket and everyone else’s if it meant we could leave right now… I was about 10 hours into my 5-hour trip and doing my best to be polite. Silence was my best option at this stage, so I kept my hungry, grumpy, yap shut. I still hadn’t eaten that day, my stomach felt like it was full of fire and my head was throbbing. I was wedged in the back next to a very young girl who was fascinated by me and asked a million questions. At some point I mentioned to the crowd man that I needed to use the washroom, as did my companions. We stopped at a general store, got out and talked a bit then he waved over. I was led to the bathroom in the back, there was a hole in the tile floor, a dim light, and a bucket of water in the corner. It was rough, but I was thankful. 

The bus, well after dark, rolled into Besi Sahar. I stumbled off the bus in what can only be described as a daze. I was tired, furious, light headed and just generally unwell. My joints felt rusty, even my eyes hurt. A man was leaning against the back of the bus, looked at us, and said “your luggage on top?” “yes, it is” “ok, 500 rupees Ill get it down for you”. I debated spitting on a bank note and throwing in on the ground versus just strangling him… before I could make up my mind, Ioan started laughing. Somehow, in my state, it was infectious, I honestly cannot remember the last time I laughed that loud with such honesty. We both stood there laughing manically at this man for a solid 20 seconds before the bus driver noticed and shooed him away. It turns out it was a local trying to scam a few dollars, not a shady business practice of the bus company itself. The driver climbed up and handed us our luggage with a smile, free of charge.

I navigated the dark streets in my near delirium to my hotel. The hotel I had booked was on the nicer side at a whopping $30 per night. I wanted to stay somewhere comfortable before starting the hike in hopes a hot shower and good sleep would help my Kathmandu cough. The staff were so friendly and helpful it made me uncomfortable. Clearly this place was too fancy for me. I was so tired, and fed up, actually, under fed. I was starving. For the first time in my life, room service was an option, and I took it. With one quick call, a pizza and French fries were delivered to my door. A fellow could get used to this. I tried to have a hot bath but settled for a lukewarm one. The hotel included complementary slip-on sandals that were comically small on my size 14 feet. Promptly, a photo was posted to social media for a laugh. 

Nepali Trucks

The following morning, a good breakfast at the hotel had me feeling a little more human. Though, the bacon was dangerously under cooked… oh how quickly I had acclimatized to my high standard fancy living. My cold felt a little better but I still had the cough and my voice was a bit off. I spoke to my dad on the phone for a bit, it was a weird feeling to talk to my family on my cell phone on the opposite side of the world. It was a long way from my first trip to New Zealand in 2011 where I had to log onto the communal hostel computer to send emails… which was pretty amazing at the time. 

Before leaving Kathmandu, the owners at Planet Nomad had informed me that Chame is a better and far more common starting point. Road construction along the trail meant that very few people actually started hiking at Besi Sahar. The French couple met me late in the morning, they had stayed at a local budget hotel and mentioned a run-in with some cockroaches. I was thankful for my splurge. We went to the Jeep booth and booked a ride in a “Jeep” which was actually a Mahindra pickup, a boxy 4 door diesel truck from India. We paid roughly $30 per person, nearly double what the guide book had suggested, but the book was old and the driver had a monopoly. Like buses, the jeep wasn’t leaving until the driver had all seats full. We waited an hour and a half before we found our last rider. The box was also loaded with goods for delivery, our driver, understandably, was making every dime he could. 

The drive was rough to say the least. It was a narrow mountain road carved into the side of a cliff. The last time I had seen a road this questionable was in Colombia on a road dubbed “The Trampoline of Death”. The difference is that in Nepal, it was alternating between snow and rain… and more than once Selena scolded our driver for texting. On the five hour drive we made several stops at police checkpoints where they documented our hiking permits. As we passed through the rainy little villages, my spirits began to spiral down. My spine, and top of my head, were getting battered by the road. All the towns looked muddy and muted with their slate stacked buildings and faded painted doors. The livestock stood in muddy corrals, just dull and grey, even the overcast sky. I couldn’t help but worry what our unknown accommodation would look like. Unfortunately for my high anxiety, you don’t book accommodation on the hike, you just show up and they put you somewhere. It was a terrifying thought that I may end up sleeping on the kitchen floor of an overcrowded tea house. 

I got lucky, a local with us in the truck had suggested a place called Eagle Eye. It was nice, inside was clean and warm. The room was free, if I agreed to buy both supper and breakfast. Dal Baht for supper and a pancake for breakfast, was my order. In the end, food and accommodation cost me $11 CAD. The room was private with an ensuite. Unfortunately, it was unheated, uninsulated, and it was snowing, raining, and just above freezing outside. The room did have a shower but it was also unheated. There was a hot shower in a room across the courtyard but I didn’t want to have a nice hot shower and then brave the snow and rain back to my cold room in a towel. I just accepted that I may stink during this expedition and that’s just life. We chatted with two other hikers, Linda and Bonnie, in the common area. Linda had a guide, Raju, and had befriended Bonnie on the trail. I went to bed that night in my base layers, sleeping bag, and a heavy quilt over me. All night I laid there in disbelief… me in the Himalayas, somehow it just didn’t feel real. It just didn’t feel like something I was capable of. Despite being there, I still had a hard time believing I had used my own free will to get there alone. In the next few days, it would feel very real, and I would get the chance to prove to myself just how capable I was. 

Technical

I had packed with the intention of taking everything with me on the hike. Some people leave some of their travel gear at a hostel, do the hike, and retrieve it after. The plan was to go from Kathmandu to the Annapurna Trailhead, hike to the end, and take a bus to Pokhara. As such, I brought all of my gear. I packed lean with this in mind, that said, there are things I brought on the hike I didn’t need (like my swim shorts and crocs). I traveled to Nepal with my hiking pack, boots, and technical gear. Once in Nepal, I bought some cheap hiking poles, water purification tabs (I also brought a UV light water filter from home), and various snacks for the trip.

The police at the checkpoints were friendly at each stop and just jotted down my TIMS card info. It didn’t fit in this story but by this time I had noticed a lot of police and military all around Nepal and they all had various odd firearms in all kinds of condition. At the airport I spotted what I believe is a Sten Gun, and out on the trail, I had spotted a few Lee Enfields like the one I had recently restored. The difference being, most of the ones I saw were missing small pieces, like the rear sight. I was curious, but I dont think it would have been wise to approach military and police with questions about their firearms and asking for pictures.

As to accommodation, the typical way it is done, is you stay for free at tea houses in exchange for buying meals there, some also charged a room premium, but it was rare and never much. The general layout was a large common/dining area with a wood stove and attached kitchen. The fire is usually lit after dark, and the farther up the trail you get, where you need it the most, they are the most stingy with burning wood as its becomes rare at altitude. The rooms are usually in an out building, or at least accessed from outside and all I experienced were un heated, most uninsulated (and others varying levels of sealed/wind proof). They did provide some bedding, but it was always insufficient and I used my own hiking quilt which is essentially a sleeping bag without the bottom. I had concerns about warmth when bringing this but all tea houses had some form of mattress that provided enough insulation on the bottom. I would lay out my sleeping quilt on top of their bed sheets and put their quilts over top of everything and even on the coldest nights I was still warm. I went early in the season when its still chilly, I found blogs and vlogs of people who went when it was warmer and were just fine with what the tea houses provided for bedding. As mentioned above, there is no booking system, you just show up to a town and look at the different tea houses, pick one that looks good, and go ask about a room and prices. Usually they’re all pretty similar and I never ran into a shortage of space but had heard stories of people not being able to get rooms and having to sleep in the common area or kitchen, which sounds bad, but also, that’s where the heat is so maybe that wouldn’t be too terrible after all.

Lastly, it was advised to me, and is a common tidbit of advice, that when on the trail, do not eat meat. As most food is carried in via porter, meat is a minimum of a few days old and unrefrigerated. There is many a horror story about food poisoning on the trail. I followed this advice.

Posted in Hiking, Travel and tagged adventure, Annapurna, backpacking, hiking, nepal, Outdoors, travelwith 1 comment.