Deliverance
I had never been white water rafting before. In fact I have never really spent much time on the water. So perhaps going headlong into a 10 day rafting expedition on a river with some scary rapids on it was not the best tonic for me. But I went and did it anyway.
The river in question is the Karnali in the West of Nepal. It is quite isolated and it took a 24 hour bus ride from hell to get there, plus a night in a hotel with similar specifications to a solitary confinement chamber. The bus journey took us across many mountains and valleys in Nepal but to be fair the scenery was good. On the days of travel though the bus was hot and the air dusty so I was rapidly losing the will to live. There is simpy not enough room for someone with legs this long on one of those buses. Every bump meant I knocked my kneecap on the seat in front and as the seats did not recline, getting comfortable was impossible. This went on for about 24 (count them) hours.
We finally arrived at some backwater where we would unload the bus and get the rafts and stuff ready for departure. We were on this stony beach unloading the buses and the usual crowd of locals came to stare at the funny white men and women. There were also Maoist reps who came up and had a word with our Nepali guides. It turns out that in order to use the river we have to pay them a certain amount, about US$20 per head! They then spend this on antique firearms, as far as I can see, and they let us pass freely. Believe this or not, this scheme was factored into the price of the bookings and they had cash ready to give them! The Maoists then issued us a proper reciept and told us that we would not be disturbed for the duration of our journey, so long as we stuck to our plans. With quality of service like that I half-expected one of those "Help us improve our service to you" questionaires.
The routine was to be that we would get up early from camp at about 0600, then have tea and breakfast between 0700 and 0800. We'd then tidy up and set off in the rafts at about 0830-0900. We then raft for the morning until about 1200 then break for lunch, then onwards until about 1600 where we would stop and set up camp again. The sites for camping were lovely. There were a lot of secluded sandy beaches along the river and they made perfect campsites, if you ignored the cow-poo. The campsite was very efficient and we all had to muck in to set up the rafts as tents and get the food ready to be cooked. The Nepali guides did all the cooking though we could help prepare. The food was suprisingly good too! Each night was something different and the food they brought with them in large barrels kept for the duration of the trip.
The plan seemed simple. All I had to do was sit in the raft and paddle when I was told to paddle and stop when I was told to stop. Even I can do this. So it went on, until we reached the rapids. To start with they were quite spread out so we had time to steel ourselves before impact. Hitting a rapid in the raft was like taking a car over a cliff: you reach a certain point and the raft them topples over into the pool beneath it. Most of the time the length of the raft means that you just slide over them, but one was particularly nasty and our raft landed at an angle. I dropped out the raft like a stone and sank to the crushing black depths of Davy Jones's Locker. Well, that's perhaps being a little melodramatic but it was very disorientating and I was unable to stay afloat, even wearing a buoyancy aid! I was eventually washed out into thwe calmer waters and the safety kayaks wasted no time in coming to rescue me (we were already drilled on this procedure). It scared the crap out of me though and I clang to the raft like a limpet for the rest of the trip, though it did not spoil it for me. I even bent my glasses-frames as they came off in the water and I caught them in time but gripped them too hard. I looked like Eric Morecombe.
One night there was a massive storm and it turned out that our quality workmanship that built the raft-tents that night let us down. It was amazing. The air was still then it started to rumble with thunder and rain. The rain continued for about 10 minutes and stopped. Then, as if someone flicked a switch, the wind came rushing down the valley and took our rafts with it! Confusion ensued and every so often the scene would be illuminated with bright flashes of sheet lightning. The scene was actually quite funny: all our stuff was strewn across the beack and our rafts were on the rocks. We managed to get the rafts back and effectively lash them together on a 'V' shape until morning, though our sleeping arrangements were more like a scene from a plane crash with most people holding onto the rafts to avouid a similar occurence. Amazing weather though. With that and the falling into the rapid I think Mother Nature was teaching me some manners.
Meanwhile the relatrionships between some of the safety kayakers and the lady contingient of our group were warming. The Nepali men are very flirtatious and I think that some of the women were enjoying the attention, though obviously they would deny it.
It came to pass that on the final day I would have a go on a very calm stretch of the river in a kayak. I was kayaking with two of the women and two safety bods, who spent a lot of the time that morning together learning to "roll" (yeah, right). In the mean time I was cheefully whistling and paddling around in circles in my kayak unable to point the bloody thing in a straight line. I think I got the hang of it at one point but kayaks weigh nothing and as a result get easily moved by the eddies and currents in the river. I looked a fool but was having some fun, until my kayak started taking in water like a sponge. Submarine kayaking could be the future of the sport, I think.
At one point some of the kayakers were flagged to the shore by Maoists who started asking questions. I was told the dialogue was something like "Good morning, we're Maoists," "Hello, we're tourists," or something like that. They then asked to see our reciept (they had been expecting us) and asked if there were any American or British in the party (I mean come on! we're not difficult to spot). I was tempted to say "Terribly sorry old boy, nobody here but us Aussies, what what!" seeing as they cannot distinguish the accents. I didn't though as even though his carbine looked like it was used during the first world war it was loaded.
To be honest this and some other encounters convinced me that the Maoists are pretty useless freedom fighters. Their problem is with the Monarchy in general though they are trying and failing to capitalise on the general discontent within Nepal at the current King. They have failed to garner support for their position internationally by coming to the table to talk and are only managing to piss-off tourists and scare villagers with their toy-soldiers bullshit (please excuse my French). Not only that, 70% of the money that enters Nepal is the tourist dollar and as most Nepalis are regular normal people trying to make a living they are alienating them by scaring off the tourists. In the past, revolutionaries had charisma, organisation, and perhaps the rest of the world on their side. These guys are like some sick Dad's Army pastiche. Yes, they annoyed me by wanting to beat Yanks and Brits because, er, well that's what they do isn't it? Some of them were so young and puny that I could have held myself in a fist fight with them. Communists, they're all bastards.
However, the whole trip was exciting in places and relaxing in others. I certainly never got bored and after Pokhara I managed to avoid getting burned by the sun (factor 200 white-wash did the trick). I was relieved to be back on terra firma though and one of the first things we did was to have a meal of dhal bhat and get back on the bus. It was nice to have that and a Coke inside me after the iodine-water that I had been drinking for the past one and a half weeks.
It was from here that Matt, a couple of others, and I would be dropped off on the bus's way back to Kathmandu in Chitwan. This is a big nature reserve in Nepal where among other things you can take an Elephant ride. It sounded good and I needed to get to a hotel with a bed and shower and get all the sand and rubbish washed off me.
Unfortunatley that night we had to sleep on the bus because of the curfew and roadblocks. This was utterly dismal as I have already described. I managed to find something close to a comfortable position by laying on my bag and propping my legs in the air over the seat in front of me. Naturally the following day I was more like a vegetable than I had been and reaching the National Park and the hotel was like a dream. Plus I got to see Elephants!
The river in question is the Karnali in the West of Nepal. It is quite isolated and it took a 24 hour bus ride from hell to get there, plus a night in a hotel with similar specifications to a solitary confinement chamber. The bus journey took us across many mountains and valleys in Nepal but to be fair the scenery was good. On the days of travel though the bus was hot and the air dusty so I was rapidly losing the will to live. There is simpy not enough room for someone with legs this long on one of those buses. Every bump meant I knocked my kneecap on the seat in front and as the seats did not recline, getting comfortable was impossible. This went on for about 24 (count them) hours.
We finally arrived at some backwater where we would unload the bus and get the rafts and stuff ready for departure. We were on this stony beach unloading the buses and the usual crowd of locals came to stare at the funny white men and women. There were also Maoist reps who came up and had a word with our Nepali guides. It turns out that in order to use the river we have to pay them a certain amount, about US$20 per head! They then spend this on antique firearms, as far as I can see, and they let us pass freely. Believe this or not, this scheme was factored into the price of the bookings and they had cash ready to give them! The Maoists then issued us a proper reciept and told us that we would not be disturbed for the duration of our journey, so long as we stuck to our plans. With quality of service like that I half-expected one of those "Help us improve our service to you" questionaires.
The routine was to be that we would get up early from camp at about 0600, then have tea and breakfast between 0700 and 0800. We'd then tidy up and set off in the rafts at about 0830-0900. We then raft for the morning until about 1200 then break for lunch, then onwards until about 1600 where we would stop and set up camp again. The sites for camping were lovely. There were a lot of secluded sandy beaches along the river and they made perfect campsites, if you ignored the cow-poo. The campsite was very efficient and we all had to muck in to set up the rafts as tents and get the food ready to be cooked. The Nepali guides did all the cooking though we could help prepare. The food was suprisingly good too! Each night was something different and the food they brought with them in large barrels kept for the duration of the trip.
The plan seemed simple. All I had to do was sit in the raft and paddle when I was told to paddle and stop when I was told to stop. Even I can do this. So it went on, until we reached the rapids. To start with they were quite spread out so we had time to steel ourselves before impact. Hitting a rapid in the raft was like taking a car over a cliff: you reach a certain point and the raft them topples over into the pool beneath it. Most of the time the length of the raft means that you just slide over them, but one was particularly nasty and our raft landed at an angle. I dropped out the raft like a stone and sank to the crushing black depths of Davy Jones's Locker. Well, that's perhaps being a little melodramatic but it was very disorientating and I was unable to stay afloat, even wearing a buoyancy aid! I was eventually washed out into thwe calmer waters and the safety kayaks wasted no time in coming to rescue me (we were already drilled on this procedure). It scared the crap out of me though and I clang to the raft like a limpet for the rest of the trip, though it did not spoil it for me. I even bent my glasses-frames as they came off in the water and I caught them in time but gripped them too hard. I looked like Eric Morecombe.
One night there was a massive storm and it turned out that our quality workmanship that built the raft-tents that night let us down. It was amazing. The air was still then it started to rumble with thunder and rain. The rain continued for about 10 minutes and stopped. Then, as if someone flicked a switch, the wind came rushing down the valley and took our rafts with it! Confusion ensued and every so often the scene would be illuminated with bright flashes of sheet lightning. The scene was actually quite funny: all our stuff was strewn across the beack and our rafts were on the rocks. We managed to get the rafts back and effectively lash them together on a 'V' shape until morning, though our sleeping arrangements were more like a scene from a plane crash with most people holding onto the rafts to avouid a similar occurence. Amazing weather though. With that and the falling into the rapid I think Mother Nature was teaching me some manners.
Meanwhile the relatrionships between some of the safety kayakers and the lady contingient of our group were warming. The Nepali men are very flirtatious and I think that some of the women were enjoying the attention, though obviously they would deny it.
It came to pass that on the final day I would have a go on a very calm stretch of the river in a kayak. I was kayaking with two of the women and two safety bods, who spent a lot of the time that morning together learning to "roll" (yeah, right). In the mean time I was cheefully whistling and paddling around in circles in my kayak unable to point the bloody thing in a straight line. I think I got the hang of it at one point but kayaks weigh nothing and as a result get easily moved by the eddies and currents in the river. I looked a fool but was having some fun, until my kayak started taking in water like a sponge. Submarine kayaking could be the future of the sport, I think.
At one point some of the kayakers were flagged to the shore by Maoists who started asking questions. I was told the dialogue was something like "Good morning, we're Maoists," "Hello, we're tourists," or something like that. They then asked to see our reciept (they had been expecting us) and asked if there were any American or British in the party (I mean come on! we're not difficult to spot). I was tempted to say "Terribly sorry old boy, nobody here but us Aussies, what what!" seeing as they cannot distinguish the accents. I didn't though as even though his carbine looked like it was used during the first world war it was loaded.
To be honest this and some other encounters convinced me that the Maoists are pretty useless freedom fighters. Their problem is with the Monarchy in general though they are trying and failing to capitalise on the general discontent within Nepal at the current King. They have failed to garner support for their position internationally by coming to the table to talk and are only managing to piss-off tourists and scare villagers with their toy-soldiers bullshit (please excuse my French). Not only that, 70% of the money that enters Nepal is the tourist dollar and as most Nepalis are regular normal people trying to make a living they are alienating them by scaring off the tourists. In the past, revolutionaries had charisma, organisation, and perhaps the rest of the world on their side. These guys are like some sick Dad's Army pastiche. Yes, they annoyed me by wanting to beat Yanks and Brits because, er, well that's what they do isn't it? Some of them were so young and puny that I could have held myself in a fist fight with them. Communists, they're all bastards.
However, the whole trip was exciting in places and relaxing in others. I certainly never got bored and after Pokhara I managed to avoid getting burned by the sun (factor 200 white-wash did the trick). I was relieved to be back on terra firma though and one of the first things we did was to have a meal of dhal bhat and get back on the bus. It was nice to have that and a Coke inside me after the iodine-water that I had been drinking for the past one and a half weeks.
It was from here that Matt, a couple of others, and I would be dropped off on the bus's way back to Kathmandu in Chitwan. This is a big nature reserve in Nepal where among other things you can take an Elephant ride. It sounded good and I needed to get to a hotel with a bed and shower and get all the sand and rubbish washed off me.
Unfortunatley that night we had to sleep on the bus because of the curfew and roadblocks. This was utterly dismal as I have already described. I managed to find something close to a comfortable position by laying on my bag and propping my legs in the air over the seat in front of me. Naturally the following day I was more like a vegetable than I had been and reaching the National Park and the hotel was like a dream. Plus I got to see Elephants!