NEPAL
PAGE 1 - ON THE ROAD
PAGE 2 - ON THE TRAIL
October 1998 saw me on my first real overseas trip, 5 weeks in Nepal with stops in Bangkok coming and going. After a lifetime as a sheltered American, my first encounter with the 3rd World changed my outlook a lot, and consequently my life too.
I didn't carry a camera on the trip, trusting my memory to leave me with adequate images of the trip and my facilities as a writer to convey those images. In this I was partially successful; while I regret not having my own pictures, I also appreciate the sense of being present that I carried during the trip - a sense that is usually dulled by being behind a camera. (The pictures in this section were taken, and graciously loaned to me, by a very nice veterinarian from the San Jose area with whom I hiked with for the first few days of the trip.)
Travel really does broaden a person, just like they say. I want to do a lot more of it - starting with a return to Nepal. A week doesn't go by that I don't think of the beauty of the country and the warmth of its inhabitants. Next time - I'll take a camera.
All photos this section J. Schmit.
The proper starting-point for any expedition: the Hotel Utse in Kathmandu. Run by Diki, a Tibetan woman of infinite grace, the Utse's rooms are clean, the lobby bustling, and the food excellent.
I hooked up with some other Americans in Kathmandu and formed the nucleus of a group that rented 2 Land Rovers (and their drivers) to take us to Besisahar, where we'd start the Annapurna Circuit trek proper. That was the plan, anyway. Here we are loading the ill-fated Rovers prior to starting. As one of the rental's organizers, I made sure I got the shotgun seat to minimize motion sickness. (It helped a lot.)
First snag: traffic jam due to some unspecified accident on the narrow two-lane ahead. Our driver - the one glaring at the camera, who always looked this baleful naturally - took the opportunity to do some maintenance on the Rover. (It didn't help.)
Many buses were piled up behind us just like this one - which was identical to the bus we were packed aboard when the Rovers broke down for the final time.
The Rovers break down for the final time. Soon enough, a bus came along and our steadfast driver arranged for us to ride on it - on the roof.
See that little dark speck fording the river? That's our bus. The bridge was washed out (surprise!) and the bus canted to the left and then right across the ford like a ship tossing on the ocean. Once it reached the far bank we got back on and rode the rest of the way to Besisahar without incident.