24th January 2017

The bed was excellent, warm, comfy, and wonderfully sleep-inducing, just what you need after a long flight.

We woke just before 5:30 am, dressed hurriedly, gulped down a quick coffee, and made our way downstairs to reception, where we were surprised to find our transfer already waiting. We were the only ones in our party who had chosen to fly to Everest. Despite the considerable traffic, with seemingly the entire population of Kathmandu on their way to work, we managed a relatively swift return to the airport.

With boarding passes in hand, we passed through a rather indifferent security check. The only instruction of note was that Sue had to proceed through one door and I through the one adjacent. Both doors, as it turned out, led to the same room. As anticipated, our flight was delayed; we eventually took off at 7:30 am, half an hour later than scheduled. On the bright side, the delay gave us an opportunity to chat with some of our fellow passengers.

Once again, we were directed through separate exits, men to the right, women to the left, before boarding a coach that took us to a small, twin-engined, 16-seater aircraft. With only 14 passengers, we nervously settled into the single row of seats on either side of the cabin, each conveniently positioned next to a window. The pilot and co-pilot were already in their places, and without delay, a rather charming air hostess ensured our seatbelts were secured before serving the in-flight meal: a single toffee!

Take-off was smooth but noisy. As we climbed through the pollution overhanging Kathmandu and burst into clear air, the snow-capped, jagged Himalayas stretched from left to right before us. It was exhilarating. We had been given a graphic detailing the shapes and names of the mountains we would soon pass. Very helpful. After around 20 minutes of flying, we reached the line of truly towering peaks and began to follow their length. Anticipation built.

Sue’s side of the aircraft had the initial view of the trails, waterways, and tiny settlements giving way to unforgiving rock, snow, and ice. Typical! As our small red metal aircraft glided alongside these immense granite formations, a sense of insignificance crept in. It was humbling. I was the second passenger chosen to visit the cockpit and take photos, free from the obstruction of propellers or wings. Fortunate indeed. We started with Annapurna and ended with Everest before sharply banking to begin our return journey. Finally! Snap, snap, snap, photos and videos captured the memories as we flew back.

A wonderful experience, one that certainly shouldn’t be missed if visiting Nepal. Not for those who are brave/foolhardy enough to attempt to do it the ‘right’ way, but it does give us lesser mortals just a slight insight into the hardships they have to face. I, for one, am seriously impressed.

We landed safely through the early morning smog, and after a photo from our transfer, yes, he wanted to take our photo for a website, with us holding our certificate of achievement proving that we had conquered Everest!

We managed to hurriedly throw down a bit of breakfast back at the hotel before we joined the rest of our party on the minibus. All rush!

Our first stop was Boudhanath, home to the largest Buddhist Stupa in the world. A UNESCO heritage site dating back to the 15th century, it was an awe-inspiring sight. We watched as hundreds of vibrant worshippers circled the Stupa, spinning prayer wheels as they passed. Inside one of the temples, we stood mesmerised by the rhythmic chanting of orange-robed monks, until suddenly the atmosphere erupted into a cacophony of alpine horns, drums, and pipes, a sound reminiscent of a dying haggis. I observed for quite some time, unable to pinpoint the shift from the hypnotic chanting to the chaotic din, which brought to mind the image of twenty cats trapped in a metal dustbin. Near the exit, for later use, Sue wisely purchased a smog mask.

Next was the Hindu shrine at Pashupatinath. Heavily affected by the earthquake, many of the buildings were in a poor state. We spent a long time there, and it was fascinating. This is where Hindus are cremated along the Bagmati River, much like the rituals performed at the Ganges. Several funerals were taking place, and we sat quietly watching one. First, the shrouded body was washed, and the funeral pyre was carefully built. A relative, stripped to the waist, was also washed. After the body was placed on the pyre, he circled it several times. It was heart-wrenching to see his grief; he broke down repeatedly during the ritual. His most difficult duty followed, setting fire to the body of his relative. When the time came, he had to be helped; he couldn’t do it alone. He was unable to watch as he tossed the torch onto the straw bundles. You felt for him.

We watched for some time, joined by a large crowd that had gathered. In stark contrast, several disinterested cows lay basking in the sun along the riverbank, lazily chewing cud. The surreal juxtaposition of life, death, and indifference stayed with us.

To the relief of some, we moved on to Durbar Square, another UNESCO heritage site. Many of the temples and buildings here had been badly damaged by the earthquake, with the remaining structures heavily propped up. We spent half an hour enjoying refreshments at a café before visiting the House of the Kumari. A Kumari is a young girl chosen at the age of six to be an earthly goddess. She holds this status until she reaches puberty, at which point a new Kumari is selected through a complex series of signs. The current Kumari is eight years old. She is not permitted to leave the house or meet anyone who is not Hindu. Her role includes granting wishes, which she does by appearing briefly at a small window in the courtyard at 10 am and again at 4 pm each day. If you are present and praying in the courtyard at that time, your wish will be received. We were fortunate to be there at 4 pm and saw a young, heavily made-up girl appear. As we put our hands together and wished, perhaps luck would be on our side.

We wandered further into the complex of destroyed temples, capturing photos that inevitably featured piles of rubble or scaffolding. What a shame.

Our next stop was another Hindu shrine, which also featured a Stupa. In Nepal, Hindus worship in Stupas and vice versa, without any conflict. Hindus regard Buddha as a prophet. If only Christians and Muslims could find a similar understanding. However, our primary reason for visiting was not the architecture but the hundreds of monkeys that inhabit the hilltop complex, aptly known as the Monkey Temple. Darkness had settled by the time we left.

On return to the hotel, tired from our early start, Sue and I chose to dine in the hotel restaurant while the rest of the group opted for a night out at a local bar. We were there in spirit but not in body.

Another early start tomorrow as we travel to Pokhara, a seven-hour drive away.