Lesson 7:  School's Out

With the completion of my final lesson for the courses I have been running I took advantage of a 1 week break and headed out toward the Chinese border, without a guide or a trekking map.

The Border has been closed for sometime now, due to loyal followers of the Dalai Lama attempting (and often succeeding) to incinerate themselves in a bid to promote the demands of the man they beleive to be the reincarnation of Lord Buddha, despite the fact this man promotes their suicides along with the murder of any Han Chinese; yet claims to be a role model for global peace.

Buddhists of different nationalities protesting against the Dalai Lama.

With the end of my class on Sunday, I packed my ruck-sac and took a bus out to Kaule to spend the first night with a friend there, at this point the Monsoon was in full swing and I was greatfull that I had decided not to cycle out to the border.  Also as per usuall, in my rush I had packed too much and my bag was fairly heavy.

From Kaule I took a mid-day bus out to a riverside trading town called Trisuli, the journey was much faster than I had imagined, so in the late afternoon I decided to leave my bag in my guest house and head up a stone staircase that lead up a nearby mountain-side, at the top I found a typical Nepali farming village... just as the skys opened.  Clambering down an ancient stone staircase is no easy task when water is streaming down it and you are soaked to the skin, but I made it back just before the sun fell and after a change of clothes I had an even heavier load to carry for the next day.

Trisuli River.

My plan for the following day was to travel by bus to Dunche, another trading town, but one high on a mountain side.  Unfortunately the only bus to go there was sold out by the time I managed to corner the driver and ask for a ticket, however tickets are only sold for the seats and as I knew a days delay could mean not reaching the border, I climbed ontop of the bus and squeezed myself and my bag in, amongst 20 or so Nepalese, a setee and various water pipes and construction tools. Inside the bus were a few Spanish tourists and their guide and porter, who were headed to trek in the Langtang reserve.

After a 1 hr uphill bus ride, I was joined on the roof by 2 of the tourists as one had been sick inside due to the hot, cramped and bumpy journey, shortly after this we were headed into a town with a police checkpoint, this meant all the cheap travellers getting off the roof and treking up the mountainside to meet the bus at the end of the town, as you are not aloud ontop in residential areas by law.  After a 30 minute steep climb, we waited patiently and nervously for the bus and our bags. Luckily after 20 minutes the bus made it to meet us. We set off again continuing the climb toward Dunche, thankfully with fewer people ontop and free from the monsoon rains.

View from the bus.

After another hour or so we came to a mudslide, which was too thick for the bus to risk, therefore everyone grabbed their bags and started to trek to the next bus stop. This was followed by 2 more hour long treks over landslides.   The roads on this route are solid tarmac and in most places strong enough to withstand the monsoon landslides, so luckily we just had to walk accross the rocks and bolders that covered the roads, in Western Nepal the mud roads there would also collapse and you would have to climb up and along goat tracks to get past such areas.  During the treks I made friends with the tourists' guide, who I kept pace with and chatted to all the time.  Walking quicker than the others ensured us prime places on the roof when we reached the next buses.

Landslide area.

Not only was Ram (the guide) impressed that I could match his pace and surprised when he checked how heavy my bag was.  He also seemed quite happy to meet a foreigner who would travel in this area without a local guide, unfortunately not everyone else was pleased with this fact.  We were stopped at an Armed Police checkpoint, were the police could not accept that I would travel there without a guide, after they had held the bus up for 30 minutes, taken my name, nationality and other details to check on their radio, they let us go-on with scawls on their faces.  I just wish I could have heard the radio conversation.  It seems trekking without a guide can be seen as both brave and stupid, personnaly I don't draw a distinction between either.

After 7 hrs of travelling on 4 buses and onfoot inbetween and passing through Dunche to a tiny village afterwards, I took a pleasant hour and a half down hill trek, to the next town Syabru Besi as advised by Ram.  Arriving there shortly before sunset.

View to Syabru Besi.

I guess thats enough reading for one day... more to follow.