Getting High

I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on the Himalayas.

About half way in to the mammoth 8 hour bus journey from the border to Pokhara, I realised I hadn’t actually put my head forward to see if I could spot the most famous mountain range on Earth. I had been admiring the gradually more impressive landscape unfold below me, as the bus twisted its way up winding dusty roads, sometimes coming precariously close to the egde. The fact that we passed a bus on its side along the way didn’t help calm the nerves. Nepalese buses didn’t have the best reputation.

When I did take a look forward to see if I could spot anything, I saw nothing. I thought this strange, as given how close we were to Pokhara, they really ought to be in sight by now. I was perplexed, so I took another look, this time craning my neck further, so as to see higher.

And there they were, sitting miles above the horizon, far above where you’d expect to see the European Alps. I stared in wonderment, and cursed whenever the road took a deviation which hindered my view.

And that was pretty much the story for the remainder of the trip; me twisting my neck like a rubber-man in order to make sure they didn’t disappear or something.

And so we arrived in Pokhara. We’d left the chaos that was India behind, and were ready for a more relaxed few weeks amongst a more natural setting.

So first things first. Get a steak.

I’d spent 3 weeks in India eating Indian food, and quite frankly I’d gotten sick of it after about 4 days. The absence of anything beef related on Indian menus was frustrating to say the least. Indian streets are full of roaming cows, and although each time we were forced to pass one in the narrow streets Lise was only afraid of them kicking her, I was having hallucinations about big steaks with legs, mooing things in my ear about eating them.

Pokhara is like a Nepalese version of those small Swiss mountain resort towns, where the prices are triple and everyone walks around in the latest brand gear from North Face. In the most touristic area, Lakeside (named surprisingly due to the fact that it’s next to a lake), there’s about 10 book shops, 30 restaurants, 10 supermarkets, 20 trekking equipment shops and the same number of Tibetan clothes shops. And that’s about it.

Once off the main drag though, and on to the shores of the lake, it really becomes evident that Pokhara is a beautiful place.

We hired a boat on the second day, and despite me rowing like a slave whilst Lise sat at the other end giving orders, it really was the most pleasant two hours on the entire trip so far. Some huge peaks loomed over Pokhara and the lake, and it felt like we had entered Middle Earth or something. My hairy hobbit feet did nothing to kill the theory.

We sipped tea in the sun at cafes on the lake. We tasted beer named after the world’s tallest mountain. We bought English books and read them in the green garden of our hotel. We even took the time to learn a bit of Nepalese.

And then Lise got sick.

We managed to get on top of it fairly quickly with plenty of prescribed drugs from the doctor, and luckily she avoided the worst of it (vomiting, fever etc). It did mean we had to postpone the beginning of our trek by a few days, which was fine by me. We had plenty of time to spare, and Pokhara was a nice place to be stuck.

On knowing I had a few days extra up the sleeve, I decided to take the plunge and do some paragliding. Nepal is a bit of an extreme sport paradise, and although I’m not exactly an adrenaline junky, I do enjoy the occasional rush.

We basically walked off the side of a small (by Nepalese standards) mountain, and from there the views were spectacular. 2000m up in basically a parachute, and I felt surprisingly at ease. 1 hour later, and I was beginning to regret the big breakfast I’d had maybe an hour prior to the flight, although in the end I managed to keep it down.

The next few days consisted of a significant amount of waiting around, awaiting the commencement of something I really couldn’t wait for. Trekking.