Nepal 1 – Festival of Light in Kathmandu

We had been introduced to Karma Lama by Toby and Heather, our most intrepid/mountain climbing friends who have kids the same age as ours.  We called them up in New Zealand in May to ask their advice on whether Nepal was doable with kids – “Of course it is” was their answer. “Contact our good friend and guide Karma, he will sort you out and give you some ideas.” This was brilliant advice. I don’t know how much Heather had pre-warned him about us, but he has been and still is a PERRRFECT guide. “I will take you on the Tamang Heritage Trail, it’s quiet and relatively unknown, ideal for family, they will like the Tibetan culture and beautiful scenery and we can stay in family home-stays and small tea-houses. I will collect you at airport and if you like, you can come and stay in my house in Kathmandu, I have 2 spare rooms”. This sounds great. I have been warned of Kathmandu and this seems a perfect arrangement.  Done deal.

We arrived in Nepal the week after the Annapurna freak weather disaster, where hundreds of porters and a dozen foreigners died in a freak snow storm and blizzard, which unexpectedly hit the mountains during their summer months, taking everyone by surprise. (We later met a group of young Israelis, just out of conscription from the army, they happened to be doing the circuit at the time and were rescued by an Israeli helicopter, which arrived faster then even the Nepali services).

I had been sending Karma email messages from India to check he was still alive and ok to guide us after this tragedy, but having received  no answer for a whole week, I wasn’t sure whether Karma would be at the airport to meet us at all. However, there he was waiting outside with a large banner and white silk scarves to drape around our necks, a Tibetan custom. What a welcome.

Having come from India and Ethiopia where we barely bumped into other tourists, we were a bit taken aback at Kathmandu airport to see plane after plane arriving with North Face clad people of all nationalities and ages, all of whom looked like they were about to tackle Everest. We, by comparison, look a  very un-intrepid, unlikely family to be Nepal, with  our crocs, sandals and shorts, as though we might have boarded the wrong plane by mistake.

It was a perfect decision to stay with Karma – his house high on a hill out of the smog and filth of Kathmandu and his warm welcoming family who enveloped us in their arms, plied us with chai and beer and delicious Nepalese food and swept the children off to play.

We manage to hit Kathmandu in time for Divali, and Karma’s trusted jeep driver, who will be taking us into the mountains, would rather not drive during this merry and probably rather drunken festival. Thank goodness for his honesty, we are quite glad of his decision. Karma’s best friend is in a coma in hospital as the bus he was travelling in on the roads that we will be travelling on, toppled off the mountainside… I am not In a hurry.

With the children being entertained by Karma’s children, Mark and I get a chance to see a bit of Kathmandu on our own. This saves the children from being subjected to too many BORING temples, stupas, Budhas etc. Kathmandu  is ablaze with merriment, bunting and brightly coloured paintings decorate the pavements

We while away a few days here, visiting a few of the main sites and doing our washing on the sunny roof top of Karma’s house. All the action takes place on this roof, dried yak meat is hanging out to dry, Karma’s sister is spinning yarn for her embroidered crafts, and fending off the greedy crows who are after the yak meat and herbs for teas are drying, vegetables too for the winter and pickles are being prepared and hair is being washed and combed. it’s a hive of activity. The rooftops provide communication between neighbours too as they exchange goods and chat over the balconies. It’s a fun neighbourhood to be in.

After a discussion with Karma about the sort of trek we are looking for, he advises us to take the lesser known Tamang Heritage Trail and a section of the Langtang, ending up in his village perched high on a ridge. We can take as long as we want to do the trek and we needn’t feel pressured to accomplish certain mileage, as there so many options along the day for stop overs, or STOPS  if the kids just won’t walk, though I am not sure how we get them off the mountain if that was the case.

Karma checks out our kit and advises us to get another layer, warm hats and gloves. It will be cold, he warns us. He and his nephew take Mark and I on the back of their motor bikes to hire sleeping bags and buy lightweight warmer puffer jackets (North Face …. But NOT North face , everything here is a replica of It’s more famous cousin…and cheap as chips).

I have no idea what to expect, taking our three kids trekking. We don’t exactly do a lot of walking back in the UK. Karma doesn’t seem to think it’s a problem. Does he realise what little tenacity little legs have in the west, I wonder? What if the children mutiny and refuse to walk, leaving Mark and I stranded with the three of them up the mountain?

Trekking in Nepal is something I have always most selfishly wanted to do. But this could be a recipe for disaster and even put the kids off walking for life. We decide to take 3 porters – this may seem a lot of staff, but Mark and I each have a ruck sack and then an additional person to carry Millie when she decides her legs won’t walk, plus Karma, who will primarily guide us.

We set off in a jeep to Syabru Bensi, the journey will take 7 hours. I hadnt realised how filthy Kathmandu is till we climb out of the valley and you can suddenly start actually seeing and breathing. We have a Dal Baht stop for lunch. That’s the equivalent of India’s dahl and rice, but with a variation of curried vegetables, this will be our staple diet over the next 2 weeks. The kids love it, so I am happy. The drive is totally beautiful. We follow a huge, wide, sea-green river, with numerous long pedestrian bridges suspended like elastic over the icy waters. Wow this tiny little country is stunning.  And then up, up, up those steep mountain roads, the ones I have been dreading, the ones that that public bus toppled off. I daren’t look over the edge. Then we arrive in Syabru Bensi, a Trekkers’ enclave – it’s a lot colder here and there are lots of those tourists clad in the trekking and mountain gear from head to toe, and so are we by now, with a few locally knit hats thrown in too.

I am feeling very excited at the prospect of this next adventure.