Three wise men (Monday 21 February)

Downhill Gorkha much more enjoyable then uphill. Descent speed carrying through most of small climbs, and the bends just wide enough to retain speed accumulated. Unlike coming down from Bandipur where the hair bin bends required dropping speed especially with weight.

The great downhill came to a sudden deceleration due to descending below the fog, down from 50 ish km/hr to 35 as peering through (sunnies off) the fog we kept an eye out for oncoming traffic, dogs and school children. Scared the pants off one guy who was standing in the middle of the road and obviously had not heard the whizzing of the rims as we very nearly met in a less than friendly manner.

Down to the crossing of the rocky Darondi Khola only to climb up and around prior to descending more gradually to cross the wider Marsyandi into which the Darondi is a tributary further to our left. This time not stopped at the police checkpoint, just smiled at.

Abu Khaireni breakfast of Jerry Burgers, Chiyaa and Chana. Nepalese working ok. Samosas not yet on offer as being made while children getting ready for school.

Father rolling the pastry, mother cooking the potato and slicing the onion (using a floor foot knife (a curved thin horn with a foot plate attached) which she used to peel the onions as she crouched) the kids removing the peas from the pods.
On the way up we were really impressed with the Asian Paint sponsored bins. Once back on the highway we passed a rickshaw, the local garbage truck, which was tipped up backwards emptying it's load down the drop to the Marsyandi bank below. Aahhh. Nepal is crying out for some waste education and planning assistance. The trail of debris on passing stretched down but not quite into the river 80 mtrs below.

Pass a couple of Flying foxes setup to cross the river where no suspension bridge. One was carrying kids in the shopping trolley sized basket, 60mtrs or so above the river on their way to catch the bus. At another an old man lying in the sun at the concrete receiving station whilst yelling a constant stream of either instructions or complaints. On the far side a man having collected a woven basket full of leaves filled the flying fox prior to disappearing into a banana grove, above which a leaf thatched cottage sat just under a rock face. A rope hung from the face, so whether wild bees not sure. There were white bee hive boxes below. When we left the old man was still shelling out a constant stream of quality verbalising across the river to the now apparently deserted far bank.


Cross a bridge just after cycling past a large well guarded Hydro scheme where the meeting of the East running Marsyandi and the West running Trishuli turn south through the Mahabharat Range combined they are renamed Narayandi (Sapt Gandaki) prior to entering India where known as the Gandak.


Pass three sadhus walking in orange and thongs heading for Kathmandu. We have been told that in early March there is a large festival attracting thousands of pilgrims to Pasupatinath. They look like a Hindi version of the three wise men, one with wooden walking staff, though dreadies add a slightly different feel. A bit like Bob Marley alternatives of the wise men. Stop in at the Boat shed and Big Fig along the way also Himalayan encounters run and just as polished as the Bandipur setups. Nice crew and not too smooth, similar to Bandipur involved in local support such as youth leadership training and biogas etc. Even if small and for the feel good of the briskly passing rafting adventure passengers it is nice to see tourism funds being invested in community projects as well as wages and profit.


Traffic increasing in speed and stupidity. Buses main candidates. Pass several remains of rolled buses, one truck which obviously rolled an embankment on the river side, one which had crashed into the embankment side and a bus still with glass surrounding crashed into a tree just on the edge of a town. Thankfully casualities already relocated. Cycle on with the theme music to Live or Let die a James Bond movie from the eighties playing in my mind, especially the da da daa, da da daa, daa da as we dodge close encounters of the transportation kind. Passed by at least one ambulance (interestingly marked as Indian govt supported) with sirens blaring.

Pass the three wise men again, had to look twice to make sure same crew as they had leap frogged us, last we had seen them they had passed as we were finger chipping at the Boat shed. Either religiously inspired walkers or cheating by catching a free ride every now and again!

Passing through fields of terraced veg, I have never been a purveyor of cabbages, but these had me semi salivating. Pull in at a small village to stock up on pani (mineral water) with the largest stretch of suspension bridge we have yet encountered. Send Soph down for a photo, whilst practicing my limited nepalese with the locals waiting for transport East. Soph takes longer then expected as catches up with a 93 year old grandmother, who she introduces herself to using her limited nepalese.

Meanwhile dark clouds forming and my company has all loaded into the back of a freight truck. Competition for the front bench seats was stiff. Given the dings and side door just hanging on, I feel that the tray is the better option.

Starting to get really tired, meanwhile the dark clouds are starting to spit. No hotels, still 14km to the next lodging, at Naubise. Climb up and around a small rise to be stopped behind a line of traffic. A motorcyclist turning from upfront identifies that a small landslide is in progress. Quick reassessment of the soil only bank to our right. Someone makes an assessment that it has all settled down and so traffic heading east starts moving. Traffic heading west required to remove blocking rocks. Dodge the odd one being thrown down the side of the ravine as we pass.

Getting really tired, not assisted by a kid grabbing one of the panniers, too tired to tell him to bugger off, so just growl instead. Life becomes darker when tired. Further up some friendly teenagers who clarify that it is only a further thirty minutes to Naubise. Pull into a road side restaurant to buy some Pepsi as a last resort for Soph whose face is not reflecting the joy buried deep inside, waiting bus passengers on way to Kathmandu supportive as we cycle on.

Make Naubise just as the remaining dusk light lost all it's strength, legs not having much either.

Petrol station lodging only hotel we could find in the failing light. Negotiator looking every inch like a nepalese Jet Li. Whether due to this or shear exhaustion no negotiation over price. Generator and power which was great but no hot water unfortunately, not even bucket. Good Daal Bhat that even Soph gets into with relish. To bed in our sky blue bedroom exhausted listening to the non soothing sounds of engines revving as trying to make it up the last rise over to the Kathmandu valley and brakes squeaking from those departing it.