I’ve realised that my presence on this blog has been very much non existent over the last month and I’d like to apologise. This is because I’ve been both incredibly busy and for the rest of the time, admittedly, incredibly lazy. Five weeks has been spent on holiday and I’ve been adventuring, exploring and generally being fairly productive for the duration, and It’s been amazing. I’ve caught myself saying this before but I’m genuinely in love with Nepal. If it were possible to ask a country to marry you and live with you forever you can trust that I’d be on one knee right now. This month has allowed me to open the gates of my mind to their fullest and I feel so clearly about what direction I want to take it. My ambition to become a writer has grown exponentially, becoming less of a goal and strangely more of a calling. The prospect of developing my knowledge in literature and expanding my own writing style through university is making me unbelievably excited. If I could only find the words to describe this feeling of almost matured boyish wonder I could write for hours. For now, however, I still have the stories of this past month to recollect and the future will have its time.

Also, this post will undoubtedly be very long, so sorry for that too.

The first few days after our arrival in Pokhara was what I think of as the exploration of Lakeside. Firstly and most importantly, food. So actually it should be known as the exploration of cafes restaurants and everything edible. We were eating and drinking what ever our hearts desired and it was glorious. Interestingly in Bobang Sam and I could talk for hours about all the delicious food that awaits us back in the UK, but when we have the food in front of us all we seem to talk about is all the interesting food we could make in Bobang again! Anyway so once our cravings were dealt with we had time to explore lakeside during the day and appreciate lakeside during the night, which was made easier accompanied by an occasional night time beverage, of course.

At our hotel I met an interesting Swedish pensioner, who I nicknamed the prophet in my head for his insightful and interesting remarks on society and those who live in it, or as he called a lot of them, ‘stupid fucks.’ This guy has been living in Nepal for months without a visa, just telling locals and strangers stories and being nostalgic about his life as a younger man. He’s using part of his pension to travel the world and next month he’s going to India to reunite with the love of his life! Now that’s the life I want to live when I’m 69, like my own grandparents, with the drive to see the world still going strong. I hope one day to be able to tell stories of my life like they can. He told me once, ‘I’m glad you are coming here to open your eyes. You have a very open mind, I can tell.’ And I would have thought that was a really nice comment, if it wasn’t dampened slightly by his earlier comment that ‘Saudi Arabia is the root if all evil.’ That was the first interesting encounter I had, and only slightly bordering homicidal at that. ‘Enjoy life man, and if you don’t, you’re an asshole.’

The group decided on one of the days to hire a convoy of water vehicles and head out onto the lake for a picnic and a swim. One paddleboat, one canoe and three kayaks, it was indeed a mighty convoy. Diving from the side of the paddle boat I was surprised to find that the water in the lake was not cold in the slightest, and for a lake of its size this was incredible. I’d even go as far to say that it was positively warm! Swimming was bliss. Surrounded by green mountains in beautiful warm water, multi-coloured paragliders circling above our heads and the cloudless blue sky above theirs, with a selection of tasty picnic treats to fuel us. I went hysterical and couldn’t stop laughing at the entire situation. You can only imagine my red head floating above the waters surface with the biggest smile on my face, laughing seemingly without reason. The other volunteers would think me mad if they weren’t feeling the exact same thing. There’s something about being on the lake that you can’t explain but only experience, like the water can wash away all the problems you thought you had and replace it with the most welcomed distraction possible.

The same day, or night rather, we decided to hit up a place called ‘Busy Bee’ it’s apparently the place to be when the sun goes down in Pokhara but much to our dismay on the way we got caught in what I assume could only be the last blow of the monsoon season having a very dramatic exit from Nepal. Hiding under the awnings of local shops there was no option but to take shelter in a bar and wait it out there. After 20 minutes of continuous heavy rain the prospect of Busy Bee was abandoned and instead we braved the journey back to the hotel, and it was insane! We hadn’t realised the extent of the rainfall from the safe haven of the pub, so you can guess our surprise when we were met with a monstrous flash flood! The water level was nearing our knees in the middle of the street! It took all the effort I could summon to keep my flip flops attached to my feet and when running against the current this wasn’t made an easy task. While turning the corner into our street a huge flash of white filled my eyes and seconds later a cracking boom of thunder almost knocked me off my feet. Like the sky was shooting cannonballs down on our heads from above. The five of us were hysterical and yelling almost the entire way. Angus wasn’t as lucky as myself and lost contact with his flip flop rounding a corner and we were forced to leave it to get swallowed into the unforgiving depths never to be found, we made it back mostly in one piece apart from that. Watching the Swedish man run back through the hotel gates with a lolly pop in his smiling mouth has to be one of my favourite memories of that night.

The next day was the day of the world peace pagoda. A climb to the top of one of the surrounding hills and you reach a huge Buddhist monument with a great view of the entire city below. A sign at the footsteps read ‘enjoy the silence,’ and I definitely appreciated it. That night we as a group went to the moon dance restaurant and bar. Here I was with a preconceived idea of myself in Nepal eating exclusively Dahl Bat for a year and instead six weeks in I’m enjoying a burger and a lemon meringue pie. It emptied the pockets slightly but it was also very tasty. I’ll remember this meal for the next five months where I really will be eating almost exclusively Dahl bat. This was also the day of our first successful trip to Busy Bee. It was okay, I met a cool guy from Thailand who said that I should come and live with him in Thailand because it’s really rock and roll. That’s about as much that happened but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

THE ANNAPURNA BASE CAMP TREK

I had such an amazing time climbing to ABC. If you’d asked me the day before we left I what I thought the ten day trek would be like I’d probably whimper quietly and shrug my shoulders. I didn’t have any experience to compare an answer to and frankly is was dawning on me that a trek to the Base Camp of the tenth highest mountain in the world could actually be fairly difficult. A little worry had started to build up, or maybe it was just apprehension, but honestly aside from the occasional steep climb and the gradually thinning air it really wasn’t worth the brain time and by the time we got back I felt fantastic, considering what I was leaving behind.

Our guide Rossan, nicknamed Rizla by the group for reasons I never fully grasped, proved to be invaluable. He knew the route like the back of his own hand and also booked our stay in hotels in advance for us, so ultimately the hardest part turned out to be only going forwards.

The second day of walking was I think the most challenging one of the trek and coincidentally also the steepest. Halfway up a huge staircase I bumped into the guy from Thailand! I was speechless, I know it may not seem like much but when I think about it what are the chances? I mean numerically what are the chances that the one guy I speak to in Busy Bee I also happen to see on the very same trek as mine, and treks around Pokhara are in plentiful supply, miles from the bar only two days later? I was flabbergasted when I recognised him at first. Him slightly less so.

The third day we woke at 4:30 in the morning for the forty five minute climb to the top of Poon hill, famous for its view of the Himalayan range. Every step I asked myself, is it worth it? Is it worth it? And at the final step I got my answer, with my back to the view on the climb up I could finally turn around and join the chorus of ‘wow’s’ being muttered around me. We chose the greatest day, it was such a clear and crisp morning and the view before us was beyond perfect. Watching the sunrise slowly fall onto the unimaginably big snow topped mountains of the Himalayas as they eventually transformed from the huge silhouetted shapes against the starry night into the infamous Annapurna and Machhapucre peaks in front of us was a sight I will hold treasured in my memory for a very long time. At 3210 metres above sea level poon hill isn’t warm at the best of times but I quickly solved that problem by buying Sam Angus and myself a cup of hot chocolate to dine on, and I don’t know if my other senses where working extra hard in a futile attempt to catch up with my eyes, but it was the best I’ve ever tasted.

After we returned from Poon hill a few hours later and fuelled our bodies with a tasty yet wholly disappointing egg breakfast we began our day of trekking. It was a long one. Up and down, up and down, up and down. I remember thinking that my legs better be cinder blocks by the end of this or I’ve failed myself as a trekker. We arrived at our hotel with sore feet but motivated hearts and I was feeling confident about what was to come.

On the 4th day I was grateful for a bit of rest and we only walked for a total of four hours, Caimophe and myself spent a time talking of our favourite pastries in preparation for passing through the village Chommrong, which from this direction was a long stretch of descending steps. At the top of said steps were two of the most beautiful smelling little bakeries I’ve ever set my nose upon. I had planned to get a pastry, or possibly five, but Rossan assured us that we’d be better waiting, for ahead there was an even better one and we would stop there. I was doubtful at first but put my faith in Rossan, he was a good guy and like I mentioned earlier he knows the route like the back of his own hand, in other words I trusted his judgement, but when we reached the promised bakery it was nothing more than a local corner shop, with some biscuits and Pepsi sure enough but zero croissants. The sting of betrayal pierced my heart with the intensity of a fiery love affair. My once watery mouth became dry and closed, the water migrating from my mouth to my eyes as I wept silently in the knowledge of what could have been. I suspect a foul alliance between our guide and the shopkeeper.

A good portion of the next day was spent discussing the unjust and in some cases simply ridiculous wars that have occurred throughout human history. A fairly heavy topic but then again the most important normally are. We talked of books and fascism and corruption and it was all just terribly intellectual. We are a very open minded group. They say open mindedness costs nothing, and I’d like to think we are all rich in mind because of it. The walk happened to be very beautiful on this day and it was heavily due to the abundance of waterfalls that scattered themselves at random on the steep mountain faces surrounding us. You could see where the small streams of water had impressively drawn scars down some of the biggest mountains in the world, eroding through their hard exterior for century after century. As we reached the hotel I was not too pleased to be greeted with a very feeble looking bridge over a very angry looking river. Rossan suggested to take it slow and being the first to cross after him I decided to follow this advice keenly, but could still feel the thing bouncing under my weight. I watched through my fingers Margo practically running across and I thought for sure our number was about to drop by one but thankfully the bridge held and we all made it safely to our beds that night.

The day after that was the final ascent to base camp. Around us the air was notably thinning and although it wasn’t the steepest of days my legs began to ache fairly painfully, but my mind was so determined on reaching the top not even a broken leg could’ve slowed me. Sure enough not long later I found myself in the Base Camp of the tenth highest mountain on the planet! We made it, every one of us. An achievement worthy of high praise in the vast record books of our lives. At 4130 metres above sea level it is easily the highest I’ve ever been and, aside from swimming in the Scottish sea, the coldest too. My fingers were slow and numb, my nose red and ticklish, my legs painful and heavy. They all deserve credit but really it was my eyes that carried me up there, the longing for that view and the bragging rights that come with it. I was literally in amongst the Himalayas, a place that when I was kid may as well have been Hogwarts, a place I’d always hoped to see but I never thought I would. I felt absolutely invincible, and this feeling was oil on the fire of my motivation for later life. I want to be a writer, and that’s what I’m going to be. I love to travel, and that’s what I’m going to do.

After filling up on some Veg fried rice and celebrating this climb with a pack of Oreos, card games and a cigarette, sorry mum, sorry dad, I was ready for bed. I tried to wake early for sunrise but the universe had a different plan and sent the most freezing morning yet to our doorstep, I watched for as long as I could bear it. Permanently destroying my sense of scale in the process. I heard the booming collapse of an avalanche that lasted nearly twenty seconds long. The sheer amount of snow needed to make a noise that tremendous is boggling, a noise so powerful it released another involuntary ‘wow’ from every mouth in earshot. As a group we left soon after, and began our descent with high spirits and blown minds. If I had to tell you exactly what the experience was like in only three words they would simply be: I highly recommended.

The walk down was pretty easy going for the most part, I fancied a little bit of reflection time so I popped in my earphones and let the music flow. We travelled the distance it took two days to cover climbing up as I was pretty much in a light sprint heading back down. Travelling back through Chommrong I had the opportunity to visit the bakery that was so cruelly taken from me before but sadly it just didn’t have the same appeal. They did ask if we’d like our food warm which sparked a little hope in me, but when they carried it through to the back room and I suspiciously heard the familiar sound of a hair drier that hope soon faded.

The last notable part of my trek has to be the hot springs. Natural jacuzzi like springs neighbouring a roaring river and amongst some dense greenery. We spent a few hours soaking it all up and it gave us the chance to rest our weary muscles. Perhaps it’s this I have to thank for my incredibly fast recovery when we returned to Pokhara. Or perhaps I’m just superhuman which is just as likely.

We finished the trek with group chemistry at an all time peak and personally, a great sense of achievement and confidence. This was such a great ten days and being the first and so far only trek in my life I’m eager to continue with more. So people of Scotland be warned, if you’re reading this and you know me personally, be prepared for me to suggest one when I see you on my return.

We were in Pokhara for a few nights after returning, loitering and doing nothing in particular, before we set off in our separate directions to follow out our own callings again. Nothing of interest happened apart from on one night when myself and Ethan left the confines of our hotel in a spontaneous search for food. I was happy enough with the prospect of a pack of biscuits and so was Ethan, but not a shop in sight was open. As desperation set in and we were about to turn around and solemnly return empty handed we bumped into two very hard to describe guys. The word rich springs to mind. We told them of our search and two minutes later they had bargained our way into one of the most fancy and expensive resteraunts in town, and bought our entire meal for us! The more I think about these guys the stranger it becomes. One of the two was some kind of Dubai prince and told us over the table that “I want to buy a lion, a pet lion to sit beside me. That’s just a little out of my price range though. Damn shame.” I mean who seriously considers buying a lion? He also told us about the fantastic air conditioning in his Lamborghini. They gave us a lift back to the hotel on the back of a motorbike and I could feel the underside of my flip flops grazing the ground below. My lack of a helmet became even more worrying when he eventually stopped and said ‘you’ll have to get off, I’m to drunk for this.’ I’m glad we got away with that one. The other guy was a music producer but lived in Nepal and was definitely a lot more humble about his riches than Mr Dubai. I think these are the kind of guys I would hate if we were back in Scotland but this proved to me that arseholes can also be generous, and after that delicious meal, they aren’t so bad.

A lot of the group were talking about trying out Nepal’s infamous white water rafting when we got back to the city, because as great as Pokhara is its difficult to spend more than a few days there at a time, the significant lack of anything nightlife and the surplus of mundane tourist shops had ruined the magic for me. Like myself I think a most people were keen to keep the adventure going. I however wasn’t drawn to the idea of spending a few days on the water and took the opportunity while everyone was away to have a little solo adventure by myself. I wanted to explore the more traditional areas of Nepal. The areas unaffected by the rise in tourism and western culture. I find the little villages much more interesting than the bustling noise filled cities. I think this is because in these villages they don’t expect guests and so don’t alter the way they live to accommodate for them. The general atmosphere seems more honest that way. I wanted to explore these areas again and also wanted to experience what it was like to travel like this alone. To see if I was capable, to go my own way. It was for these reasons that I made the conscious decision to not hire a guide. I was looking for the kind of experience that I don’t think can be captured with a guide.

So I bought a map of the surrounding Pokhara area, planned my route, set off the day after, and don’t regret a thing.

I jumped on a bus in the morning heading towards the village of Ghotichhina, a roughly 45 minute ride from Pokhara. I knew that from here I should have enough time to reach the hill of Panchasse before dark and set off in that direction immediately after the bus stopped. I walked with a couple of ladies from the country of Israel for a while until we separated. Unfortunately once I was alone again my thoughts turned counter constructive and started working against me. I’m alone out here, what if I get injured? That type of thing, and paranoia started to rise. At one point I saw a furry brown object lying in the long grass ahead and, for fear of a bear, swan dived off the side of the path and hid behind a convenient rock. I stayed there crouched for 20 minutes trying to scout out the mysterious brown shape up ahead until I finally worked up the courage to approach. To my relief, as you can guess, t’was only a tricksy cow. Further along the trail I managed to hitch a walking pace ride with a group of friendly French men and their guide. They welcomed me into their group and together we covered the last half hour to the foothill of Panchasse, also known as, my first checkpoint. I had a really fun day thinking back on it. I learnt that I really liked the apprehension of not knowing where I was going to spend the night but continuing to walk forward nonetheless. Being alone gave me time to reflect on what exactly I was doing out there, and I eventually came to the conclusion that I didn’t know, but strangely not knowing was a good enough reason in itself.

I wrote in my journal at the start of the second day “I can’t help but shake the feeling that I’m out here looking for something, what that something is I’m not certain. For now all I know is how content I am on the search.”

I woke once again at 4:30 for my climb to the top of Panchasse, forty five minutes of solid stair climbing for the reasonable reward of a sunrise view at the top. To my own surprise I didn’t find it that difficult. I’m just becoming the Scottish T-1000 with all this healthy living malarkey. The view at the top was pretty spectacular and a very different type of beautiful to the likes of Poon hill. A flat stretch of clouds spread out below me, hiding the ground under it and letting the sunrise break not from behind the mountains but the horizon of the clouds, filling them with an ambient yellow and pink. One of my favourite views is from the window seat of a plane when the clouds level is broken and becomes the new ground, and the sun still hangs alone in the sky. I love it, it’s beautiful, colourful, peaceful and spans the entire eye. It’s like a new world, a world I’d very much like to live in, and sitting cross legged on the grass of Panchasse I was grateful to experience it from outside the walls of a cabin.

The French men walked with me once more for a time, but as I was far ahead of where I expected myself to be I decided to only travel half the distance of the day and spend the rest of the day enjoying the village Badaure. So I bid a fond au revoir to my French friends and settled myself into a guesthouse. As it happens there was a football tournament taking place in that very village, and all the neighbouring villages had come to compete. The pitch was quite a sorry state: a mixture of grass, sand and mud, but the football itself was pretty good. I sat and watched amongst the Nepali for a while until the winner was announced and we all dispersed. Badaure was exactly what I wanted to see and it paid off, I had yet another really fantastic day.

Word on the streets was that the Australian Camp is a really good place to spend the night, and so leaving the next day that’s where I planned to go. On the way I spotted a solitary Buddhist temple atop a hill and began to make a venture towards it, it was clearly out of my way but I felt a strange attraction towards getting up there, seeing it closer and being up there with it. I felt like the Neil Armstrong of Nepal with slightly stronger gravity and slightly less funding from NASA. I had to traverse up the side of a hill and climb over just enough fences to make me question whether I was breaking the law, but alas I reached the top a free man. More free than I’d ever felt in fact. I was totally alone, with a 360° view around the temple I could see for miles. It sounds like tomfoolery but I genuinely felt a mental weight, a burden on the mind, lifted from me. Nearing the end of the trek that I successfully travelled alone, and without hesitation finding and exploring such an amazing place, I find trouble explaining what this realisation was. It was along the lines of all of life’s worries and sadness don’t deserve the time we give them when it can all be cured in the most simple of ways, like going for a walk. I think Bob Marley summed it up well in only four words. “Don’t worry, be happy.” I hope I never forget this simplicity and of I ever do, if future me is reading this and feeling dissatisfied with his direction, take my advice Callum and go for a walk.

I spent that night in the Australian Camp playing cards with a very multicultural table. We played three games of bull shit and yours truly won three out of three. Sipping on a beer bought for me by a German man and adjusting the cigarette behind my ear given to me by a woman from Thailand, this was the best victory ever. The Australian camp was the most expensive placed I’ve stayed yet at £5 a night but it was worth it, as a treat to myself for spending the days alone productively not dying.

I got a call from Sam on my return journey to Pokhara after dancing my way down a mountainside towards my final stop, a place called Dhampus. They had such a great time rafting that they decided to continue the watery adventure and book a four day kayaking trip down the river Trisuli and me still being on the tail end of the best mood ever agreed to join them. We left then next day, because resting is overrated.

The first two days of kayaking were fairly slow, we only stayed in one area to practice our paddling and balance. I was eager to get going but the rapids ahead were roaring and subdued my eagerness until I felt we were confident enough to roar back. We also spent these few days practicing the art of ‘rolling.’ This is the act of up righting one’s kayak when one finds themselves in the small predicament of being upside down. The technique was challenging, especially under water, and every roll the river got a little shallower as turn by turn I snorted it up by nose. Eventually I completed a successful roll and even managed to do it pretty consistently in the end, but doing it while going down a rapid is a different story and one that I wasn’t prepared to try. I’ll quite happily leave the kayak, float down separately and continue living as much of my life as I can able to breath.

Our food was made beachside for us and complements to the chef, it was delicious. All you can eat buffet on the beach of pasta, salad, peanut butter, basically the perfect picnic. We camped on the beach too and spent the nights around a campfire looking up at the stars. It inspired many a conversation of space exploration, which is one I’m always ready to partake in. I also found out that when subjected to a high temperature, rocks have a certain tendency to explode. I found this out, to my great surprise, after our campfire exploded next to me.

On the third day we were ready to hit the rapids. They were huge, and basically acted as ramps for our kayaks to jump over, this mixed with the crashing waves breaking over the front of my kayak and the speed I managed to pick up going though them all contributed to the unintentional and constant cheers and whooping from the group. After the first one I had to take a moment, for a breather and a chuckle at my friends who didn’t quite make its heads floating down past me. The only capsize on my part was when the safety raft managed to get caught in a whirlpool and roll over the top of me, but personally I think it was the irony that dealt the real finishing blow.

I returned to Pokhara in high spirits and with a clear mind, to finally disband with the group and return back to Bobang a satisfied man. I feel like I’ve learnt a lot over the last month, I’ve taught myself my own capabilities and my thoughts on later life have cemented too. I’m now back in Bobang and eager to settle into life here once more. We have a lot to do, a lot of challenges to face, and five months to do it in, but after this month I have a sure confident in myself to overcome. Lots more to come.