Pokhara Travel Blog

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Tribhuvan International Airport was nothing more than a single brown brick building at the time I visited it.

We flew to Pokhara on the lovely Necon Air: it's not an airline for the faint-hearted. We reclined our chairs simply by leaning backwards with some force; and the in-flight delight was a dodgy-looking egg sandwich that looked like it was made about a hundred years ago.

Pokhara was very different to Kathmandu. It was a beautiful place to start our hike. Minutes after we began our hike, it started raining. We all stopped to don our raingear (that we'd all packed at the bottom of our bags, of course) and only minutes later, it hailed. It was a dreary start to our five-day hike, though it didn't dampen our excitement.
A postcard of Pokhara in my scrapbook

The trek started off on a muddy, sloshy road and eventually twisted around a corner and turned into a stone path. We were concentrating so much on not slipping, that it wasn't until we were a decent way up the valley that we realised we were on the wrong side!

Then, it all started to go wrong. We crossed a suspension bridge that was very slippery. Its planks were old and worn, which made it difficult for us to cross.

After I'd crossed the bridge, the first thing I noticed was that people behind me began to fall back. I thought maybe an animal had grabbed their attention, but because it was so cold and wet, I was eager to steam ahead to find some shelter. So I hurried on to catch up with the people in front of me. I walked alone for a long time. Then, I started running, and eventually, I found a few of the others.
A map of the Annapurna region that I drew in my scrapbook
We waited under a shelter because the rain was still pelting down, and everyone was soaked to the bone and shivering.

Suddenly, a voice cried out. From beyond the veil of rain a Nepali man came rocketing down the path, yelling something in Nepalese and throwing his finger at the river wildly. The look in his eyes was a look I will never forget. It was so desperate. Still shouting and throwing crazy jestures at the river, he and more men ran along the banks of the water that was now so great.

When the others arrived, all of them had their arms around an almost convulsing Jacques. And we wondered: what on earth happened? But more alarmingly, why are men still running along the riverbank?

Obviously Jacques had been in the river. The story was that he slipped off the end of the suspension bridge and caught himself on a rock in the surging river. One of the porters then rushed down to help him. The porter jumped in, not knowing how to swim. If you saw how big the river was that day, you'd know, he was gone in a fleeting moment. I don't think they ever found him; and it was truly a sad, bewildering night that began our journey through the Annapurnas.
Chelsea says:
Yep, he is!
Posted on: Sep 29, 2007
Clarafina says:
is jacques one of your old school mates or something chels? wow, amazing story...
Posted on: Sep 28, 2007
Ghostboy says:
But what happened to the porter is truely a sad story. I experienced a lot of unselfish helping hands in Nepal, but this one really beats any other.
Posted on: Jul 31, 2007
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A postcard of Pokhara in my scrapb…
A postcard of Pokhara in my scrap…
A map of the Annapurna region that…
A map of the Annapurna region tha…
We walked up the wrong side of the…
We walked up the wrong side of th…
photo by: Makkattack