Nepali Time

Part One:

Around 10 days ago I flew back into Heathrow and joined the complaining crowds waiting for their turn to go through Passport Control. They obviously hadn't become accustomed to "Nepali time" as we had over the previous 6 weeks. Nepali Time is similar to "Student time" - if something needs to happen, it will, eventually (regardless of the deadline, or time frame given). 

Whilst time slowly ticked past in Kathmandu, we had little choice about our introduction to Nepali time. We soon discovered that promises involving time scales were in fact optimistic guesses in which "this morning" actually meant "today, if you're lucky" and "It's being taken care of right now" probably meant that the tea was being brewed. Nothing can be rushed in Kathmandu as we quickly came to realise. 

Kathmandu at dusk viewed from our hotel roof top.

We were in Nepal with the aim of paddling the Thuli Beri river. Cutting through the tall imposing Himalaya of Western Nepal, the Thuli Beri is tucked away in the remote Dolpa region, accessible only by plane or by a week long trek over several 3000m+ passes. This remoteness means fewer tourists visit the area for trekking and as a result the required permits are harder to acquire. Trekkers may only enter the area with a guide, as we weren't trekking this didn't apply to us, but without an agency guide it's hard to get a permit. In short, we had slightly unusual needs and this combined with Nepali time meant we found ourselves sitting and waiting in Kathmandu for 6 days.

Sitting and waiting in Kathmandu.

After several false starts, we were a little sceptical when we were informed our tickets and permits would be ready one afternoon. As we sat in the agents office, patiently waiting "just 30 minutes more" for our tickets to arrive, our hopes began to fade. It looked like there was only one likely outcome - delaying our flight and waiting another day or two in Kathmandu - so it came as a shock when we were presented with tickets and permits just before closing time. Now that we had everything we needed the rush was on. The flight left Nepalganj in less than 36 hours, and the buses to Nepalganj take between 12-18hrs. If we weren't on the night bus in less than 2 hrs time, chances were that we'd miss our flight and face the long, drawn out ordeal a second time. Fortunately we could still remember how to function on a timescale faster than Nepali time, rushing across Kathmandu to collect our kit, leave the unwanted bags behind and race to the bus park. Miraculously we made it onto the night bus with about 5 minutes to spare before it rocketed off onto the dark twisting mountain roads, our first hurdle was behind us.

Loading the pony and cart in Nepalganj for the ride to a hotel and some much needed rest.

Most who have paddled the Thuli Beri in the past have done so with a privately chartered plane. As a group of 3 this was never an affordable option, so taking our chances on a commercial flight and with just 10Kg of baggage allowance we knew we faced an uphill struggle to avoid being ripped off. After making our way to the airport on cycle-rickshaws (desperately praying that a passing bus didn't catch our kayaks which were wedged sideways across the rickshaw), we began a long session of bargaining with the airline staff. Eventually they realised that we weren't going to stump up the $1700 for a charter plane, and after both sides tried a few tricks to raise/lower the excess baggage charge we eventually squeezed onto an 8 seat Cessna, which just about had enough room for our kayaks.

Our boats ready to be squeezed onto the small plane.

The crew "pack" the aircraft ready for the flight.

Having been instructed by the pilot to hold onto the boats during take off and landing we quickly climbed up into the haze that clings to the northernmost limit of the Indian plains before the monsoon. Soon, the mountains began to appear and loom over the small aircraft and for the first time we began to see just how remote and unforgiving the landscape we were entering could be. Soon we were treated to our first views of the river as the aircraft approached the landing strip, but we didn't have long to admire them as we set eyes on where we would be landing. Carved out of the mountainside, seemingly incredibly short and steep, the prospect of landing on the "runway" left us sitting rather uncomfortably behind the pilots as they completed their pre-landing checks (a few prayers) and began the descent into the mountainside. 

Flying into the river between the mighty peaks that dominate the region.

The view through the cockpit with (inset) the runway perched precariously on the mountainside.

Despite our greatest fears, we landed safely and were soon stood between the few buildings that constitute the village of Juphal. From Juphal we hired porters to carry the boats to Dunai, the next town up the river, where we hoped we could continue up to above the first gorge section. Unfortunately we were running out of daylight, so instead opted to just put on in Dunai and drift out of town until we could find a suitable campsite for the night. 

Andy kitting up in Dunai, eager to make a start.

After a week of falling victim to the endless faff induced by Nepali time, we were finally on the Thuli Beri. As we slid into our bivvy bags, we were all contemplating what lay in store for us: was the river level right; did we have enough food; would we work well as a team? 

To be continued....