Made an attempt to get off to an early start, in which resolve we were helped by the still truly revolting tea – there was no incentive to linger. However, we almost immediately missed the way. The old path branches off from the new road soon above Betrawati – we must have missed it, + followed the road itself. Luckily, we were soon put right by a couple of engineers in charge of one of the work parties. They spoke good English, + were able to direct us on to the path at a later stage. We had just begun to get into our stride when we were hit by a rain shower. Whoever was directing it was doing so very cannily. At first we sheltered under a large rock, but then, deciding it had passed us by, we ventured out, only to be hit, out in the open, by the full force. We did manage to find a much more insignificant rock further along, + sheltered miserably behind it, wet, cramped + uncomfortable. It wasn’t very sensible, for 50 yards further up a steep slope was a substantial overhanging shelter, big enough to accommodate 20. We did move up there during a lull, but by then the damage had been done. Still, tho’ our bodies were dampened, our spirits weren’t, + when the rain finally eased, we pushed on at a pace to Ramche, where we had a plate of dhal bhat. It really hadn’t been too strenuous at all, + belied the stories we had heard from a couple of Swedish girls staying at Betrawati about a killingly tough first day’s climb.
Over breakfast, we chatted with an Australian couple on their way out. They work for an Australian company specialising in organising Himalayan expeditions, + were doing their trek “properly”, camping out, + using porters. However, it was soon enough time to move on again. We walked thro’ the village of Grang, a strange little place, packed with stone cottages, more Scottish than Himalayan. We had thought we might stop here, but there was nowhere to stay that looked particularly inviting, + in any case it was still relatively early, so on we went.
It was now that we encountered the first problem with the road-building. We were following the path, some way below the road, when we came to a couple of local kids, indicating strenuously that we shouldn’t go on, that we should climb up to the road. It was easy to see why. Ahead of us the workmen were heaving huge boulders down form the road, to hurtle bouncing + crashing down the mountain. But the alternative was not attractive. It was a long way up to the road, + a very steep slope. Nonetheless, it didn’t appear as tho’ we had any choice. At first the ascent was reasonably easy, with a tough path winding upwards, but the second half was nightmarish, being first scree, then loose dirt above us reaching up steeply; below us with a slide all the way down the mountain. We were picking our way upwards very gingerly indeed, despite the shouts of the workers above us. I for one was very nervous, + slightly desperate about the whole thing.
Then 2 of the workers came bounding down the slope to us. The leader of the 2 grabbed Val, 10 yards above me, + dragged her across to his companion, who took charge of her, then came back for me. He seized my wrist in a vice-like grip – I grabbed his equally fiercely – + started to haul me across + up the slope. We were in a desperate hurry, scrambling up at a great speed, no thought form foot or hand holds now, And in a moment it was obvious why, when a great crack split the heavens, then another, then another; a chain of explosions, 20 or more. They were dynamiting just ahead of us. We reached the road just as the explosions finished, + stood there doubled over, gasping for breath. When I’d recovered sufficiently, I thanked our helpers, + on we went.
We walked along the road for a time, but it wasn’t pleasant. The way was dry + dusty, the workers as unpleasant a bunch as one is likely to meet, making jokes about us in their own language, and laughing heartily. So we were pleased when the path bent down from the road once more, + took us, in a short time, to Thare. Here we stopped for the night, our hosts being a young couple running a lodge + small shop. Not that they had much to sell – compared with the luxuries on offer in the Pohkara region, the shops here are very barren indeed. I was intrigued to see that, on the simple scales they have to weigh out potatoes, beans, etc, the standard measure was 2 “C” batteries. We ate a filling evening meal – dhal bhat again – then clambered upstairs to sleep.
Our adventure with the road-building team was pretty dramatic, but ultimately no harm was done, and has provided us with another story. A longer trail this time, heading out to the Langtang Valley, and it does seem that we are now a good bit fitter, and cooping better with the rigours of the trail.
