Time to leave Upper Mustang

Good beds for the night...

The way back? Not as simple as it sounds. There were two complications:

1. Horses. I had met two lovely British women as I travelled north. They had decided to return from Lo Mantang quite fast, so had hired three horses, one for luggage, two for them. On the second day, they offered me the chance to travel with them and ride on a horse when I wanted, as neither wanted to ride full-time. What bliss: on horseback I could look around, nonchalantly admiring the countryside, the horse's efforts to climb the steep paths, and the whistling and singing of the horseman as he gently encouraged his horse. The three of us shared the two horses with no problems.

BUT - there were troubles ahead.

Right at the start, they had refused to carry my rucsac on horseback: problem solved - Nurbu and a friend took turns. however, this highlighted the reluctance of the horsemen to carry a third woman. According to Ram, they were saying in Nepali, "If she wants to come then she must pay.

Alternative transport?

She is mean."

They clearly hadn't realised that I would give them a handsome tip at the end of the day.

After lunch, the situation worsened. Susan & friend had gone on ahead and I thought I'd quite like to ride. I asked Ram to stop one of the horses. The men carried on, brushing him out of the way. Ram shouted at them - they shouted back, It seemed that a major incident was starting. We caught up with Susan and her friend and the horseman shouted at her in Nepali; neither of us knew what he said but it clearly wasn't pleasant. In the end, furious, he started to unload all of their bags, threatening to return to Lo Mantang. Susan had to back down; I said that we would simply walk on to avoid anything worse happening. Things then simmered down but when I saw Susan much later, she said that she was worried that one of them might have been a political activist, looking for trouble with foreigners. I walked the rest of the way, with no problems at all; in fact, we made it back to Kagbeni in record time - 3 days. I must have been super-fit!

2. Weather. Behind us, clouds were getting thicker and snowlines becoming lower; we felt we were moving south just ahead of the snow. It was good to return to Kagbeni, back to my warm, comfortable room and the delights of an en-suite. We were lower here and it was more likely to rain than snow. We had a rest-day; Ram foolishly washed almost his entire wardrobe, hanging it on the line to dry and wandering around in shorts and flip-flops. Then the clouds came in and his washing stayed wet. He spent the rest of the day anxiously watching the weather. Luckily, he managed to dry his clothes, finishing them off in the kitchen.

We were due to take a plane from the nearby town, Jomson, at about 7am two days hence.A little about this plane journey. It takes 20 minutes, replacing a difficult journey over a mountain track (sorry, road) linking Jomson with Pokhara, which takes about 9 hours. BUT - weather has to be good as the landing/take-off is visual and the approach difficult.

So, we made our way to Jomson the next day. Clouds were thickening fast and, of course, down came the rain. It was cold, depressing rain, the sort that seeps into your clothes and makes you miserable - and the sort that means planes can't fly. Through the day we watched the clouds as they lowered themselves comfortably around Jomson. And we tried to keep warm; our lovely hotel proprietor lit a small stove under the table. I also remember a boy aged about ten, who worked there and jumped around with the liveliness of a firecracker. Towards the end of the evening we held arm-wrestling competitions and he and I were evenly matched. Not sure whether that was good or not...?

The next morning we were up at 5.30, packed and ready to go by 6 for the 7am flight. The airport, its entrance just across the way, was shut. 6.30- shut. 7.00 - shut. Finally, at 7,30, the gates opened and we were allowed in. The clouds had lightened slightly - we could actually see the mountains. Hopes were high. 8.30 - engine sounds - a plane was arriving from Pokhara! We rushed to the windows - it was a plane from the other airline, Buddha. People flying on that plane tried not to look smug as they boarded. We waited. And waited. Another plane! We rushed to the window. Another Buddha plane - in fact, the same one, which had flown to Pokhara, picked up more passengers and returned. Word came in that our plane was leaving Pokhara. We waited. And waited. Then there was an announcement in Nepali; people looked fed-up, stood up and left the room. All planes from Pokhara had been cancelled for the day because of bad weather.

Our options? We could wait for another day, with our names at the bottom of the list, and take a chance. This would involve a long wait in this cold, boring place, with nothing other to do than watch the clouds either lift or descend further. And the rain was very, very cold. And I'd finished my book.OR: we could take a 4wd to Pokhara, along a narrow, winding, rocky road. It would take 9 hours and be very expensive. And Ram had run out of money.

But I lent him the money, he pushed through crowds to organise a 4wd and an hour later we set off.

It was quite a journey; in places streams cascaded over the road, giving the vehicle a much-needed wash and us an interesting dampening experience. Progress was slow, but very beautiful. The route is the southern part of the Annapurna Circuit and was once favoured by trekkers, with enticing trails leading from the main route and small, intriguing villages. Nowadays people prefer to fly so that they reach the more remote areas more speedily.

We bumped and lurched along, slowly completing the circuit - and eventually returned to 'civilisation'.

Ah, Pokhara - forever dear to me. We drove down the high street. It was about 8.00pm. There were lights, shops were open, people were eating outside. It was warm. It was lively. It had an ATM. My hotel was clean, with a large room and a balcony. It had a restaurant with a menu. It had tea with milk. I didn't have to wear a down jacket any longer.

Aaaah, Pokhara.

The one great sadness was saying goodbye to Ram and Nurbu, my companions through pain, torment and delight for the last 25 days. They had been magical days, so intense and strangely wonderful despite the suffering. I had pushed myself harder than I ever thought I'd have to and the two men had always been cheerful and encouraging. Tomorrow would be strangely empty, with no walking, no feeling that I had to keep going - and no Nurbu and Ram.

We had a last meal together. Both were really looking forward to returning to Kathmandu. Nurbu's son was there and Ram's girlfriend was waiting for him. they were leaving on the first bus tomorrow.

"What will you do tomorrow, then?" Ram asked me.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," I answered.

And it WAS good.