Post 10: Saturday 13th

The downhill run to the Tibet/Nepal border was wickedly fun. It was cold and wet and the visibility was dangerously low but I loved it. The potholed tarmac plunged on one side into the depths of a gorge whose bottom was often obscured by mist, and came up hard on the other side against black rock fringed by dense greenery. The rock wall was carved by occasional waterfalls, the biggest of which crashed down upon concrete bunkers crudely built to protect passing traffic and grinning cyclists. The water being squeezed through the bottom of the gorge boiled ferociously and Anil looked smug as he explained the rapids were classed at the highest level of difficulty. "If you can kayak those, you can kayak any river in the World", he said.

The road is a controlled fall from the rooftop of the World. It chases the tumbling water clumsily through mountains and forest, through the heart of sleazy townships where we outran chasing dogs and avoided toddlers defecating in the middle of the road, and ends at the border where trucks are parked in lines up to two kms long. And just as Russell used to service the needs of the old-time whalers and earned its name as the 'Hell Hole of the Pacific', those roadside towns service the men who are waiting for their cargos to be cleared by the border officials.

In a situation reminiscent of Cold War movies, once you have passed through the Chinese check point it is necessary to cross a reasonably short bridge before entering Nepal on the far side. On the one side are crisp uniforms, erect postures and even mannequin-like soldiers standing to attention inside bullet proof glass cages, machine guns to hand. On the other, carelessly worn uniforms on men slouching in chairs or engaged in casual conversations. We sat in the open in the rain while porters moved our chairs and luggage on their backs and piled them in the wet with our sleeping mats until the buses could be brought up. We were wet and cold and happy to be back in the chaotic jubilance of Nepal. As Anil said to me, "I am looking forward to getting back to civilisation".  Tibet, by any standard, is hard work, let alone from a chair but I'll be happy to return ...just as soon as the cow jumps over the moon.

Then a scary bus ride along a cliff edge road that might have qualified for 'World's Most Dangerous Roads', and long story short we arrived back at the Kathmandu Guest House feeling like we were home. Almost.

And in ones and twos the team left, generally with some relief it can be said. Until we were five. And in a few hours we'll be home...thank God.