We washed down our malaria tablets with mint tea and put away a bowl of porridge each, in the shadow of Annapurna. We were taking a weekly dose of Maloprim™ (dapsone/pyrimethamine) which was registered in Australia for malaria prophylaxis in 1979. It was phased out in 1990 after increasing resistance in malaria parasites made it ineffective. Maloprim is no longer available in Australia or the U.K.
We watched the village come to life and squatted in the crude latrine that had a classic view of the Himalayas. We waited for the Kraut to get ahead and settled our bill, getting a free hot lemon drink in the process. We then headed down the extremely steep valley side, going adrift once by following a path which followed the valley side like a contour line.
Our mornings walk from 09:00 to 12:00 hrs. consisted of crossing the colossal Modi River Valley. This was cultivated in stepped shelves or terraces running along the steep valley sides. Farmers battled to shoo water buffalo from their fields as we passed while others spread and dried the dung.
The bulk of the walk was taken up by the conception of “Swagman Tours”, our own trekking company. We discussed initially setting up guided Nepal holidays for soaps and our imagination and enthusiasm was fired. Future plans took shape, plans which we must definitely pursue on our return to the U.K. (we didn't!).
We paused at Ram Lodge to put pen to paper and take a couple of teas on board. Unfortunately, Joe Kraut caught up with us at this point (we had overtaken him earlier). We hit the road on another steep uphill haul through the woods and over the watershed.
From here it was down again along pleasant, wooded trails and broken rocky steps. We had our final tea stop before continuing along to Dhampus. This looked like a lovely village, full of colour but we decided to carry on to Suiket.
The trail weaved and split many times and at one T-Junction we took the wrong track. We’d been led to believe, by a porter carrying buffalo fodder, that Suiket was high on the hillside that we were following. Therefore, we were appalled to see the path plummet in a steep set of winding stairs to the flat valley bottom far below.
We struck out on a lesser path that appeared to be going in the direction that we thought we ought to be going in. Five minutes later we met a local who indicated our error and bid us follow as he danced sprightly back up the hillside. His nimble sure-footedness was amazing as he led us back to the T-Junction and he put us right.
We then had a short period of knee-jarring downward galumphing following a newly laid rocky stairway. With relief we emerged onto a wide sandy valley bottom with a tiny stream running along it’s left side. We walked along this “desert” expecting to have to climb again to reach Suiket.
We made our way to a collection of huts on the right side to ask directions and, to our delight, this turned out to be Suiket. We booked into the poshest looking lodge, the Shanti Hotel, at 17:00 hrs. Donkeys roamed the plain while the locals gathered, chatting and bargaining, near the old army jeeps that shuttled back and forth to Pokhara.
With an egg curry under our belts followed by a porridge for George (now his staple diet) and a rice pudding for me. We set contentedly in the brightly pressure-lamp (paraffin lamp) lit dining room. A marvellous week had passed with awesome scenery, integration into the environment and no end of surprises around every turn in the trail.
There was different terrain, different scenery, new villages and hamlets. Just as you thought that you had seen it all, something new would occur to keep your attention. We’d done the best by travelling light and we had enjoyed a natural rugged existence virtually free from the trappings of civilisation. This area was only accessible on foot or by beasts of burden, no motor vehicles could negotiate the terrain. Only helicopters could venture into the mountains for emergencies.
We read our books and polished off a bottle of raksi as the hotel boy went through his Bruce Lee martial arts routine. George began to deface the cartoons in the “Work your way around the World” book and I got on with “The Enemy” by Desmond Bagley.
We turned in at 21:00 hrs. as the dining room was also the lady’s bedroom and the local girls were standing about waiting for us to piss off so that they could go to bed. We crept cautiously up the rickety stairs and took the four-bed dormitory as our previously allocated double room was now occupied. The way to the toilet was long and complicated, passing through pitch dark storerooms and around rooms that had been securely barred for the night.
I found this out the hard way and gave up half-way, returning to piss out of the window of our room into a grubby alley that ran along the side of the hotel. It was warmer at this lower altitude, so we took our boots off! We soon fell asleep on our table-like beds dreaming of wedding feasts to come when we got back to England.
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