Headed on an Epic BIke Trek

Well I havent even finished updating you on my last adventure and I am headed on another one. I had a post all written up on my Ipad and it went on the fritz again. (no offence to Isaac). I am quite disappointed in apple right now it is refusing to run until I download the new Ios Software and the internet here is far to slow to make that happens.
The post was all about a quick kayak trip and celebration of brothers and sisters, and I must say quite good. However I do not have time to recreate the genius that poured out of my soul last week, as I am headed on a trek that I have been trying to find the time for since I've been here. I have gotten the itch to move in the last week stuck here in Besisahar and need to get off my bum, so.....
I am going to take my cycle on the Annapurna Circuit. I will have to carry it to the top of a 5,200meter (roughly 17,000 ft.)  pass but the ride 90Km down to Pokhara is all ride-able and will be well worth it. I am making it a much shorter trip than I originally intended by getting a jeep for the first 3 days of riding. I am hoping to be back in Besisahar in 6 days, it should be a fun challenge. I will let you all know how it goes.

Kristen's Contribution: Highlights of the last month with sub-par captions

Touching the Mani Stones:
Tibetan prayer walls in Langtang National Park

Cherko Ri: 4984 meters
Life is easy on the rooftop of the world.

Behind us: the mountains of Tibet

Thor and I take tika for Desain! And look like Julius Caesar!

Rooftop riding on the public bus: Look Mom! No hands!

Thor's favorite place: This one time, at rafting camp...

I also got a rainbow tika.

Sapana giving Thor a rainbow tika for Tihar

Thor Jones: Baby Model
Your baby looks goooood on him.

Whitewater in The Morning! ... That's it.

Hello again Thank you all for your comments and whatnot I really appreciate it. 

About two weeks ago Kristen had abandoned me in Besisahar to do her work in the village. With only my work at the school I found myself agonizingly bored. After a thorough cleaning of the apartment I was itching for an adventure, so I sent a text to Nabin to see if he had any trips leaving and to my delight, he replied that there was a trip leaving Pokhara in three days’ time and that I would be welcome along. After two, three minute conversations.  I packed my bag that night and set out the next morning for a couple nights in Pokhara before we left for 2 days and 3 nights on the Kali Gandaki River. I had not given half a thought to who would be going on the trip, but on the bus ride a sudden fear struck me that I would be stuck on a raft with a large Chinese family that spoke little English, and I became quite sure that this would be the case. I submitted to this worst case scenario and arrived in Pokhara thinking that it would inevitably be better than sitting in Besisahar on my own. 

I arrived in Pokhara and stopped into the office, just before dark. Nabin and his wife were gathered around the office desk with a hippie looking couple, another couple dressed in well used outdoor clothing, and another woman and a baby faced young man similarly clothed. I immediately noticed that almost all of these people had chums on their sunglasses and were drinking out of plastic cups. Nabin greeted me warmly and introduced me to the group. To my surprise and delight, this was the group that was to be my companions on the river. Not only were they dressed the part of a group suited for a great river trip they were river guides themselves, from Colorado and Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Immediately settling in at the table I was offered a rum and coke in a plastic cup, and a cheers was put up at the assembly of what was to be a fantastic Himalayan river trip. 

Soon after our assembly I left the office in search of a place to sleep for the two nights before we put onto the river. I wandered north of the main tourist hub to the cheaper section of town and saw a sign that said “Hotel Espanol: Cheap sleep Rs 100” and was lured in. The place was very basic and there were no private rooms but an elevated hut accessed by a ladder where people were welcome to crash. Good enough for me. I dropped my stuff off and headed out to find some dinner with the crew. We found a fantastic little Dhal Baht place and had our fill of rice and went to the “Busy Bee” to listen to live music and have some beers. We shut the place down at the late 11 O’clock police enforced closing time and headed to my crash pad through nearly deserted streets.

A relaxing and quite boring day followed punctuated by a nap near the lake and visits to a few coffee shops. I again joined some of the crew for dinner and made it an early night to rest up for the trip ahead. We would need it and knew it because someone’s birthday was the second day of the trip.

Before I talk to much about the trip here is a rundown of the people that made up the customers and crew.

Nabin: Owner of the company. Helpful, friendly and funny.

Santos: Smiling and quiet gear boater.

Setu: Robust guide with a jolly face and a hearty laugh.  

Kisan: Safety kayaker with a permagrin.  

Rosan: 17 year old safety Kayaker with long sun-bleached tight curls, very quiet but one of my favorites.

Customers

Ariana: the one full price river customer from Holland.

Malcheck and his girlfriend: Both river guides working in Jackson Hole at an adaptive sports program for people with disabilities.

Julie:  Another Jackson Hole woman and ex river guide. (Not sure if that is actually her name but maybe)

Greg and Sam: Greg is a Colorado River guide with a huge beard and dirtbag style (not an insult). Sam is a permaculture farmer that works in Cambodia developing sustainable farming techniques with the locals.

I think I got everybody even if I had to guess on a name or two. All in all it was a wonderful group of people.

We all met at the office in Pokhara at around 7AM and set off for the River, two hours drive, in a fully loaded Micro-van. We stopped so that the Guides could eat their dhal baht and we could acquire last minute provisions including a couple gallons of Raksi and a hefty amount of Rum, intended for Greg’s birthday. By Noon our boats were pumped loaded and floating down the river. By 12:30 we were at the biggest rapid we would run on the trip “Little Brother.” The rapid was a Class 4 narrow spot in the river with a large wave in the middle that there is no getting around, followed by a couple smaller waves and a sharp turn. With our superior paddle crew we dominated the rapid after a very short scouting mission, and continued down.

Not 10 minutes later we came to “Big Brother.” This class 5 rapid strikes fear in the guides who have been around for a while. The waves are not too big but for about a 50 meter section the river narrows down to about 20 feet wide with large waves and holes all along. The water however is not the scary part of the rapid; the fear inducing part is the undercut halfway down the rapid that makes a portage necessary. Just below the largest wave in the section, on river right, is a large jagged brown boulder that juts out from the left above the flow of the water just where you would like to be on an otherwise safe line. Although our paddle crew would likely have been able to make the right move across the river out of the way, the decision was made to portage in the name of safety. A large factor of the portage decision is the lack of medical care within a day’s travel. A story that explains the fear of the wave came out later from one of the most experienced guides around. He told about someone getting their entire face ripped off. Although I wanted to run the rapid at the time, after hearing his story I was glad that we portaged.

The other company sent their gear boats through without a soul on board, and both smashed into the face maiming rock. The second of these was a cata-raft and the nose cone was blown off resulting in immediate listing to one side and difficult rowing the rest of the day. Nabin just smiled and said “I told them not to do that.”

The Dutch girl did not feel well that day and we were all a little worried that her trip was going to be ruined, or that we would have to get her off the river early so we stopped for the night a little higher than we were planning to and on the same beach as another company with a massive group of Israelis. The proximity to another group did not dampen our spirits and the party was on. Although the Israelis did not join our campfire party their guides did not hesitate to come and join in the partaking of our large supply of raksi and rum. We stayed up fairly late but not terribly and it was a shock in the morning when we realized just how big of a hit the booze had taken. This was not ideal since the next night was Greg’s birthday and supposed to be our big night.

 Perfectly spaced mild rapids and about 6 hours of floating made up the next day. We kicked back against our dry bags strapped in the middle of our raft with a cargo net on the flat sections and had a great time with our good company. The party situation however, was always in the back of our minds as we were a little short on supplies to live up to a true river guides birthday party.

We pulled up to our beach and set up camp. The Nepali guides were busy prepping a snack and dinner, and as we settled in around the table for a cup of tea a Nepali woman emerged from the jungle with a large wicker basket on her back. As she began unloading the basket we quickly realized that she was the savior of Greg’s birthday shindig, around 15 big beers and as many small bottles of rum and vodka were stacked onto the beach, and most were promptly purchased by the thirsty rafters, commencing the party. Some of the highlights were Greg freestyle rapping, (which led to an explanation of why dirt bag was a nice thing to call someone), the Nepali guides singing and dancing around the fire, Malcheck living up to his nickname “Marbles” as he mumbled through many stories, and Setu bringing the entire pot of spaghetti noodles to the fire eating out of it by hand and when he was full heading straight to bed.

The third and final day of the trip started late for obvious reasons, but it was OK because the float was short and the large Israeli group would have been in our way at the take out had we gotten there any sooner.  There was only one or two rapids that day and I decided to kayak the flat-water that we soon reached above the 5 year old dam. Nabin says that that day used to be the best of a five day trip before the dam went in. The takeout went smoothly and we began the 4 hour ride back to Pokhara.

Although we saw some very big monkeys on the second afternoon, I still have seen no sign of the Yeti. I guess that is enough for now although since this trip I have had another one day river trip and celebrated another holiday. Those will have to be for another day. Enjoy!

Finally Doing What People Usually Do When They Visit Nepal

As the equivalent of the Nepali Christmas break came upon us Kristen and I set out on our first trek. We did not have a lot of time, as other commitments restricted us, typical of any holiday season. My complaints of too much bus time were put to the side and the extra rides proved to be far above average. While an actual bus ride would have been a terrifying nightmare, due to the road and excessive crowding, we stumbled into a jeep ride on the way up and an empty micro van on the way back. Both were at a reasonable price I may add. The only bad part about the ride to our trekking departure town was the crushing pain in my hand as we went over a massive landslide. Wondering what was going on, I looked down to realize that it Kristen clutching it like a freshman girl whose boyfriend snuck her into a midnight showing of Saw. Despite the momentary feeling of impending doom, we arrived safely in Syabrubesi (don’t worry we can never say it right either).

Kristen and I kept a joint journal each day on the trail, and from here I will simply share those. First here are some things to keep in mind while reading.

-It is long don’t hurt yourself trying to finish in one sitting!

-Kristen and I both wrote in this, so the perspective changes a lot, sometimes in the middle of an entry. It shouldn’t be too hard to figure but be forewarned.

-I typed most of it straight out of our journal and did very little proofreading so don’t be appalled at the spelling and punctuation mistakes.

Anyway here you go:

Monday, Oct 7

Pre-trek- After the news that all busses were full that go to Syabrubesi, wer were solicited to share a jeep with some Chezks and Germans. The 117km ride took 8 hours, including a tense 20 minutes across an active landslide. We arrived in Syabrubesi and got a room at one of the smaller hotels in town. The owner/operator was a sweet elderly Tibetan woman. Talking to her she asked if we had ever been to Tibet, or were going.  Kristen did no more than say “It’s difficult to get a Chinese visa.”, to make the otherwise smiling cheerful face to turn to a sour glare. She said she evacuated Tibet when she was 6 years old during the Chinese invasion in 1959.

Tuesday, Oct 8

Day one- We set out on the trail at about 8AM and quickly passed any groups that had started ahead of us. Our first rest gave the shocking realization that dal baht was going to be 400rs and that we were going to have to re-budget. At the advice of a guide we went an hour and a half past where the travel book recommends, and where the rest of the parade of trekkers behind us would stay. Woodland Lodge was nice and saved us a little money as we managed to get a free room with the agreement we would by our overpriced food for the duration from their kitchen. The only other guest at the lodge was a smiley traveler from Seattle named J.P. with whom we discussed the subtleties of what success and happiness means in life.

Wednesday, Oct 9

 We left Woodland at about 7:30 with no specific destination in mind. Langtang village was about 2 hours and 400 meters vertical above Woodland. Leaving early and ahead of the mass behind us made us the only white people heading in our direction. 30 min into the hike, after a question about our last 3 vice Presidents in a cage match to the death, we broke out of timber into alpine country at about 9,500 feet. Peaks without snow towered on both sides of us. The highest forest bore a striking resemblance to the Pacific Northwest and in the alpine country immediately after, I could have convinced myself that I was hiking in East Rosebud or Glacier National Park. Before reaching Langtang we passed an army check post and various shops, where we received our education on the business model of the Langtang Valley. The name of the game is to funnel tourists from your tea shop to the family shop further on the trail. This was used to our advantage as a recommendation came with a free room and food discounts.

Rather than pushing up to Kyangin Gumba like we felt capable of, we stayed in Langtang. We had received a recommendation and a bundle of vegetables from a man at a teashop down the hill to take to Happy Home Guest House in Langtang and receive 250rs dal bhat in exchange. The promise of cheap khanna was not realized in full; we settled for 300rs dal bhat and a free room. After filling our bellies under a blue sky of sunshine our motivation to continue the journey to the Gumba quickly dissolved. We napped and stayed the night in Langtang. Being the only guests that night at Happy Home and arriving earlier than all the rest of the trekkers, we enjoyed some privacy and conversation. Because we are not often in proximity to others, when confronted with the possibility of conversation with Westerners, both Thor and I find difficulty passing up a chat session. But on this day, we relaxed in the courtyard alone together.

After a very satisfying nap we made for the local cheese factory. To our surprise and delight we found not only fresh yak cheese but also freshly baked bread (and it wasn’t white bread), and French press organic coffee. By the end of the trek we would stop there 3 times.

We also enjoyed watching the hordes of tourists struggling into the village hours after our arrival and congratulation ourselves on our foresight to pack lightly.

Thursday Oct,10

We rose early Thursday morning in time to enjoy a French press at the cheese factory and still hit the trail before the masses. We met 2 rather effeminate Dutch guys at the factory sipped coffee and chatted. We started our short walk to Kyangin at about 7AM under bluebell skies. As we strolled gradually upwards and around the bend, towering snowcaps loomed spectacularly above us, their grandeur increasing with our every step. Mani stone walls divided the path, cutting a dashed line between the upward bound and the returners. We stayed on the left hand side, as per religious tradition and paused from time to time to admire the prayerful mantras etched into the ancient stones, many of which had been blanketed by white and orange lichen or had been there long enough that the prayer writing had worn away till the stone was nearly smooth.

A white stupa, sides painted with red, orange, yellow and blue mantras, welcomed us into the holy site and offered us picturesque views of Langtang II and Langtang Lirung draped in colorful prayer flags. We rounded a hill into the valley, which cupped a small village dotted with lodges and free range yaks. The valley is named after Kyangin Gumba a 400 year old Buddhist monastery that still operates in the imposing shadow of Lirung and Yubra Himal. A lodge hosts many visitors just adjacent to the Gumba, and due to its prime location unparalleled views and a discount I managed with the landlady. We settled there for the duration of our stay. Although we got the room free of charge the food was once again overpriced and subpar. It seems as though, every cook in the Langtang Valley works from the same recipe. Despite the bland dal baht, we eagerly devoured our lunch, dropped our gear in the room and hurriedly set off to a lookout point 500m above us, racing the foreboding cirrus to the top. After a grueling hour long climb over a well-worn trail with loose footing, we reached our destination just as a cloud bank poured over the Ganja La Pass on the far side of the valley. The exposure unnerved me, as my inner ears struggled to compensate for the lack of reassuring visual cues. The viewpoint, composed of a rocky precipice, magnified the ubiquitous 20,000ft+ peaks. Carefully stepping over fallen strands of prayer flags, we settled in a secure spot to snack snap photos gaze out at the majesty surrounding us. Four glaciers, three lakes and tumultuous plummeting streams 1,000 feet below multiplied one others beauty.

The way down took nearly as long as the ascent due to Kristen’s’ near vertigo. I had to ask very politely for her to stop skidding down the trail on her rump. Upon return to the gumba/hotel we were informed that I had forgotten to shut and lock the door to our room. Fortunately, the trustworthy Tibetan landlady had closed it for us and all our stuff was as it should be.

Crazy eyes somewhere along the trail.
Notice there is only one Chum strap, broken glasses.

After our brief adventure, I washed our smelly clothes while Thor practiced some yoga inside the monastery. We then departed once again for a stroll around the village. We paused for coffee and a game of chess at a bakery where we were tipped off on the next days activity by eavesdropping on a pair of very tall, middle –aged, persnickety German fellows. We hoped that our hike had prepared us for the following days climb up Chergo Ri. We returned to the gumba for supper, settling into the woodstove heated dining hall, filled with gin rummy playing scots, and excitable French women chattering about their future trekking plans. After another round of hum-drum dal bhat, we retired to our frigid room, blankets in hand.

Friday, Oct 11

Although the bed was very comfortable and we were plenty warm under the blanket and sleeping bag neither the cold air, or something in the room plugged our noses and turned us into mouth breathers. I had very strange dreams about challenging an autocratic principal when I was in high school. Despite our lethargy we dutifully rose to eat breakfast at 6:30. We lazily procrastinated, questioning the weather for a while but realized that if we were going to go it had to be now. Mustering our strength and will power we departed on our attempt at Chergo Ri 4,984m (roughly 16,300ft)

 We struck out at 8Am and as we progressed we became increasingly satisfied that we had made the decision to climb it, as the weather cleared and the low clouds were swept away by blue skies. We also quickly realized that we were making considerably faster progress than the poorly conditioned parties who left ahead of us. On the trail we passed a group of older Japanese men, to young French girls, and elderly lady lying in the grass with a guide, and a large group of middle aged French people decked out in all the best trekking gear. Only one group summited ahead of us, a worthy feat considering that we left 2 hours after some of the groups.

The view from the top was breathtaking (no pun intended). We rested at the top for 30-45 minutes and began the descent. This was tougher for us than the way up. We both swore that we would bring trekking poles back after Christmas in an effort to save our knees. Despite our grueling pace to the top we went the same speed downhill as the rest of the trekkers, who had poles for extra support.

Upon returning to Kyangin Gumba we again took respite in the local coffee shop and enjoyed percolated coffee, a cinnamon roll, and a slice of cold apple pie. We then returned to the lodge and at long last rested. The afternoon and evening were pleasant and we chatted with a Swiss Buddhist, and some teacher trainers from Poland and Scotland. In preparation for the long day out the next day we retired early for another night of plugged noses.

Saturday, Oct 12

Our plan was to be in Kathmandu by the evening of the 13^th. In order to make that happen we needed to make it a considerable distance, one that took us all of 2 ½ days on the way up, today. We did everything within our power and rested not but 45 minutes all day. Our speed was very quick until we were about an hour’s walk from the intended, Bamboo where there are 3 lodges. Just as the steepest part of the descent began Kristen’s knees began to ache. I could not believe mine did not but I was spared achy knees until the next day. Our pace slowed but we were determined and we made Bamboo at around 5:30.

 This is where our plan deviated slightly. We intended to go to bed early again so that we could rise around 5:00 and make the 2 ½ hours to Syabrubesi by the time the last bus left at 8AM. A fine plan until we met Thomas. Thomas we found out grew up in Pennsyltucky, went to college in San Diego and now has a wife and 2 acupuncture practices in Kathmandu. Very intriguing fella. We chatted over dinner and decided that a pitcher of raksi was called for on the occasion of meeting such fine company. After 2 pitchers of raksi, 2 pitchers of chyang (another kind of rice brew), several Chinese medicine checkups of the locals and myself, and a local cultural dance by a drunken mountain guide we finally made our way to bed. The guide had been talking of the Ganja La Pass that we had seen from below at Kyanjin Gompa. He seemed to think that it was doable without ropes, at this time of year and the idea caught both Thomas’ and my attention. From Ganja La it is a 3 day walk to Kathmandu and we had already shared our dissatisfaction with the Nepali transportation system. Thomas had most of the necessary gear including a tent. I on the other hand would need to acquire some provisions. A plan was made that I would go down to Syabrubesi with Kristen and if I could acquire the appropriate supplies would hoof it back up the trail to catch up and we would make an attempt at the mysterious Ganja La. I went to sleep with dreams of an epic crossing of the storied pass dancing in my head.

Sunday Oct, 13

As is natural after a night of plans made on the sauce, some doubt had crept into my head by the time I awoke. Some soreness and a stomach ache had also turned up by morning. Before setting out Thomas and I, to Kristen’s satisfaction acknowledged that the plan would likely not work out, but if I could find the provisions and felt fresh enough I would call him to inform him that I was on his tail. Needless to say this did not happen. Syabrubesi is not exactly an outfitting town and the moment we arrived on the main drag rain began to fall.

All I wanted to do was sleep, but Kristen was insistent on trying to find a jeep and people to share it with back to Kathmandu, today. After about an hour of searching and explaining our situation to the locals, we gave up and retired to a room at the Cheerful Tibetan woman’s hotel. I fell asleep instantly and the next thing I knew it was 3 hours later and the woman was knocking at our door and saying something about a car she had arranged for us. It wasn’t a dream but close to it. We came outside to find a micro van completely empty waiting for us. The drivers wanted to get back to Kathmandu and their family for the holiday and agreed to take us the whole way for 2000 rupees, a steal. After pushing the van up a couple of muddy hills on the landslide we safely found ourselves in Kathmandu and checked into our hotel at 8PM.

Post trek

A lazy day of rest in the tourist district indulging in the few western amenities available there took up our Sunday. On Monday we went to Sapana’s house to stay the night and celebrate the holiday of Deshain with her family. We received our customary big red dots on our forehead (called tika) and I ate a lot of goat meat. Kristen later rued this fact as the aroma mysteriously kept returning the next day, nearly the same as when it had been cooked. We both held the month old baby for a while that day and the next. He pooped on Kristen twice and fell asleep in my arms.

Please comment and add a caption. Someone besides my mother.
(I love you mom, you can comment too)

The next morning we found our way back to Besisahar on four different bus legs. On the longest leg we got to ride on top of the bus, because the laws against it loosen during the holidays, the bus was full, and no Nepali will refuse a chance to take a few bucks off of a foreigner. It was not too scary and in fact did not feel any more dangerous than riding on the inside. We did get a rush when the conductor told us to lay flat while going through one of the regular police checkpoints. One more bus transfer and we arrived safely in Besisahar at around 7 with a feeling of finally being home. At least it is enough of a home for now.

Sorry that this has been a novel. Somewhere at altitude something went wrong with my I-pad that I am in the process of fixing, but I may not be able to post again for a while. The next couple weeks promise to be fairly boring however so it is ok. If anything truly exciting happens I will be sure to let you know 

Headed Trekking!

Not a whole lot to report but here is a brief update on what we are up to.

It is Christmas break here, or rather the Hindu version. For us that means 2 weeks to play!

We spent a chaotic day in Kathmandu today gearing up for the Langtang trek we are headed on. I had to renew my visa and get permits to go into the Langtang National Park. Sounds simple, but it took all of 6 hours and 3 headaches. At the end we found out that there are no seats on the busses to our destination. We are going to show up though, and try for a spot standing or riding on the roof. As unsafe as that sounds,when the roads are taken into account, it may be the safest place because in the unlikely scenario that the bus hurls itself off a cliff, we can bail. Wish us luck!

River Bound

A full week of teaching with a bare minimum of assistance and curriculum left me ready for another adventure. After a brief texting convo with Nabin ( the raft company owner). It was decided that I would join the Nepali guides on their first run of the year on the upper section of the Trisuli River. 

After my one class on Friday morning I hopped on my bike for a mostly downhill 80 kilometer ride to the rafting camp. Upon arrival I met the only other guests, an amusing Australian couple. The wife was a total hippie on her third visit to Nepal. The husband was a wisecracking truck driver who collected motorcycles. We spent the night drinking raksi with my new friend Akaas and hit the sack dreaming of whitewater. 

Morning came quickly as I slept we'll on my thermarest pad. I learned my lesson on my first visit, that the bedding was insufficient for my delicate sensibilities. As there was plenty of paddle power on the raft with the Australians, an Italian couple and two guides in training, I decided to tackle the unknown river in a kayak. It made me a bit nervous but I was confident in my skills. I picked a boat from their good selection, a "Bliss Stick: Mini Mystic", and we were on our way. The Aussie woman and I rode on top of the jeep the 20 Km upstream to the put in. It was a great scouting trip, because the road runs above and next to the river. We even stopped at one point so the guides could get a good look at "Upset," the biggest rapid of the day. Apart from that rapid, a large wave train leading straight to a rock wall that the full force of the river ponds against on river left followed by another wave train on river right, my confidence grew in my ability to safely navigate the flows. 

After our rendezvous with the aforementioned Italians, boat pumping, and some light hearted teasing by the Aussie guy, the safety speech commenced. It was painful to watch. At various times I had the urge to jump in and clarify points that were confusing, and clearly lost on the Italians. I held my tongue but it was hard. The raft, two other kayakers, and myself with a monster outs grin on my face set out for our 20 Km trip. How nice it was to finally be on one of the rivers that I have been drooling over since the day of my arrival in country.

Something to remember about the trip is that it was sort of tryout for me, the Nepalis assessing my river prowess for potential usefulness on future trips. 

The first few rapids were fairly tame and were easily navigated but the further we went the bigger the waves got. As is usually the case, the waves seemed much bigger when on than them than they looked from shore. Apart from an embarrassing tip crossing a boiling eddy line I was very pleased with my performance till lunch time. However, "Upset" was yet to come, and was only the second rapid after lunch. 

With bellies full of PB&J, and hard boiled eggs, among other more nutritious fare we again followed the current down stream. Immediately I noticed I had stiffened with the inactivity of lunch time and that mead me a little nervous. But one rapid down and I felt more confident. 

It is hard to admit but I was at this point getting very nervous, and worse tense. I forgot to remind myself that I was on my favorite kind of playground and to have the best time I needed to be loose and playful. The directions, and the obvious line was to stay on the far right, so as to avoid the death trap undercut cliffs on the left. I was on the correct line but had my eyes downstream on the big wave trains and danger. Between my stiffness and lack of attention on the current moment you can see what was bound to happen. A preliminary wave, not small by most standards, snuck up on me and instantly I found myself on the wrong side of the surface in the worst place to be that way on the whole river. 

You idiot Thor! 

Freaking out I tried to make my roll quick. Bad move, fail. And what's worse is somehow, likely a panic reaction that was controlled quickly enough, my knee ended up out of it's wedge. At this point the first rational and sensible thought I had had in minutes came to mind "YOU DON'T WANT TO SWIM HERE!" Popping my knee back was difficult. Fortunately my wits were back about me. I had to let go of my paddle with my right hand grab the bottom of my boat for leverage pop it back in and then, executive a proper role. The roll is no problem when I take the time to set it up. Sage wisdom came to my head Thank "knuckles on the rail, ear on the shoulder". Thank you Uncle Dave! There was a third part to that saying that I can't remember, but apparently my muscles do, because soon after I found myself upright facing the biggest wave train of the day. Big waves, no problem! Now to master those wide boiling eddy lines, not to mention my nerves. Embarrassed as I was for mental lapse, disaster was averted.

With the worst behind us the smile came back to my face. One of the rookies wanted to kayak so the lead kayaker got into he boat and took the guides spot, while Akaas got busy pulling pranks on the customers. I was nervous that even the rookie would be a better kayaker than me but my fears were proved wrong in the first rapid we came across. Two small waves in he tipped and swam. It was tense at first because his swimming skills were above average for a Nepali, he could barely swim. After the tension was gone, I was relieved not because the rookie was safe, but because someone swam and it was not me. 

That night with more raksi we talked over the day on the river and I think I made the cut. "I think you are very good rafting guide. " and " good man, you try Eskimo roll twice." Were a couple of the comments I remember. With offers to help them with their english skills and safety speeches I was happily invited back, and cannot wait to go. That little riverside bamboo camp seems pretty close to paradise to me.

A Vacation From a Working Vacation: Segment Three

Rhinos, Elephants, and Air Conditioning 

After the hunger holiday Kristen and I took a long bus ride that got progressively hotter as we went. Fortunately I talked Kristen into getting a tourist bus and the ride was at least not as crowded. Plus, we  ran into my rafting friend Nabin Gurung. 

We arrived at Chitwan National Park, notorious for being the hottest most humid place in the country, at around 3 o'clock. Checked in, and for the first time since arrival in Nepal experienced the miracle of air-conditioning.  We laid down and I immediately fell asleep only to be awakened 15 min later so that we could go for a walk to the government elephant  facility. As Kristen was rousing me for the walk I just wanted to sleep and objected "What if I don wanna go pet the elephants?", my face still mashed on the pillow. 

The walk turned out to be somewhat enjoyable, I got a new Facebook profile picture and lost a pound of water weight. That night there was a cultural show, complete with fight dancing, elaborate costumes, a fire twirler, and at the end silly white and Chinese people being forced on stage and attempting to dance the indigenous dances quite awkwardly. When the show was done we promptly retreated to our ohh so nice A/C room. 

The next day was action packed, involving a lot of wildlife sighting and even more sweat. After a brief tutorial on how to run from a charging wild rhino, we boarded a dug out canoe for a river safari, followed a jungle walk. During the canoe ride, we spotted a few crocodiles and a rhino's rear end, reminding me of Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls. The jungle walk, to our disappointment, did include running for our lives from dangerous wildlife, but rather running for our lives- Jumanji style- from giant flesh eating insects as well as battling heat stroke. Thankfully the next item on the agenda was the refreshing elephant bath in the river. Kristen could be heard for kilometers around as she wailed in delight as trunk after trunk was tossed and sprayed in our face, followed by a buck and tumble into the river. After a few rounds of this we tipped our mahout (elephant trainer) and returned once again to my favorite place in Chitwan... The air conditioned room. 

The last activity of the second day was actually the high light of the trip. We went to ride the elephant. We had to climb some stairs and were loaded onto the beast's back with a Japanese couple.  The ride was rough at first but we got used to it and learned to move with them. I thought it was cool riding an elephant in the first place but the advantages of doing jungle safaris on elephants became obvious about half an hour into the tour. We went on smaller and smaller paths with more and more branches threatening the well being of our faces when suddenly we came into a small clearing with a mud wallow in it. In the wallow was a mother rhinoceros and her baby. Normally a mother rhino would be nearly as dangerous as a mother bear, but we were on elephants and for some reason their presence did not threaten her. We were able to approach to just aside the small wallow, not 20 feet from the mom and baby. Pretty cool! Later we got nearly as close to another mother and calf on our way back. Double whammy! 

One day remained and there was no schedule for us. Despite the steam cooker that was the outdoors, Kristen convinced me to leave our A/C sanctuary. We rented some rickety old bikes and went to a place called 20,000 Lakes. (Don't worry Minnesota. I highly doubt that there are nearly that many lakes in this entire country) apart from seeing a couple of monkeys and a soldier telling me I needed to put my shirt on the trip was not terribly eventful. In fact it would have been terribly relaxing if it were not for one thing, the seats. Somehow the memo about comfortable seating never got to Nepal. I have yet to find a seat that does not cause pain or make my but go numb, the bicycle seats being no exception. 

The next morning we bid farewell to our pleasantly refrigerated room and again entered the world of public busses. Fortunately the return trip was not terribly uncomfortable and we made it bac to Besisahar in under 5 hours. 

End vacation

Next up: Thor doesn't completely embarrass himself in a kayak.