Nepal and the Sun Kosi - Impressions of a rafting virgin.
Declan Brennan January 1999.
This is an article that I wrote for the Adrift site, shortly after returning from a rafting trip with their company.
Foreplanning is not my strong suit, so the decision to go on this rafting trip with Adrift took place only weeks before departure. Luckily there was a vacancy. From books and documentaries, I had acquired a rather romantic view of Nepal - home of the Ghurkhas and the Sherpas, location of the Himalayas and maybe even the Yeti, the gateway to Tibet - a remote and mysterious place on the rooftop of the world.
Being a programmer, I have a pretty sedentary life style. With the exception of a two week sailing holiday off the west coast of Scotland one Autumn, most of my holidays have involved nothing more strenuous than walking around the centre of some European city. Thus I must admit to some trepidation as to whether my fitness was up to ten days of rafting. Lest you think I am exaggerating, I had a go at jogging in the weeks before departure, something I had never done before - this resulted in frequent stops, ringing in my ears and a heart that appeared to be trying to jump out of my chest on a pogo stick.
When I confessed my worries to Sandra Quiggin from Adrift, she told me that, although there were occasional bouts of activity to adjust the course of the raft, she found the most strenuous part of the day to be unloading the barrels from the raft, before relaxing with a pre-dinner gin and tonic. This was a masterful piece of psychology. Any residual fear of eking out a survival on emergency rations supplemented with flame grilled worms, was immediately replaced by the image of a well-equipped colonial style expedition straight out of the empire period. And indeed as it transpired, this was not too far from the truth, although dressing up for dinner was optional and I did indeed get a bit of exercise.
Looking back on the holiday, I appear to have an awful lot of memories for so short a time. Even leaving aside the rafting, Kathmandu on the runup to the festival of Desain was an amazing experience - the streets awash with people, rickshaws and cows. The markets were a riot of colour, and the temples - both Hindu and Buddhist, in and around the city, exhibited some exquisite architecture. We took a short flight to have a close view of Mount Everest, when we saw the Himalayas spread out in all their splendour with Tibet in the distance. In some ways even more impressive was the rest of Nepal, with its many great rivers cutting deep ravines through hill sides that looked like their own contour maps. It must have taken millennia of back breaking work to cover virtually the whole country in terraces. Chasing rhino around in Chitwan National Park, while atop a ten foot tall male elephant called Ramu, is also something that will remain with me, while there are still neurones firing in my head.
These experiences, which were more than sufficient for a holiday in their own right, in this case merely formed the frills around a core, consisting of nine days rafting down the Sun-Kosi river. One of the most delightful things about Nepal is the pace of life or lack of it, although it can take a little while for over-stressed westerners to become acclimatised. This became apparent at our insertion point where the bus carrying all our gear became mired down while trying to cross a river. Many attempts were made to free the bus and as the time rolled by, some of the rafters became a little impatient. However this impatience rapidly changed to mirth, when a tractor arrived to help extricate the bus, towing a trailer filled with locals who didn't want to miss the show.
The initial safety lecture was informative without being dull. Indeed humour made it easy to remember the salient points. However one problem with the modern diet of virtual reality, including films and computer games, is that it erodes respect for the real thing, which doesn't come equipped with a restart button, once the game over sign comes up. Nevertheless any residual complacency quickly dissipated in the face of the awesome power of some of the rapids, which were capable of tossing our substantial rafts about as if they were merely corks. As time went on, we gradually got a feel for the way the water currents moved in three dimensions. However just as we thought we were getting the measure of the river, we came across Hakapur and boy was it scary! When this was scouted in advance, the initial part looked more like a waterfall to me. When we went over, we lost one of our number overboard and she was sucked into the air pocket under the raft. Our unflappable guide- Sammy, in a seemingly impossible feat, kept the raft apparently stationary half way through the rapid, while the girl was retrieved. Despite this drama we got through all the rapids to our take out, with only a few minor scratches - a small price to pay for some great experiences.
I confess that I found the first two days rafting a bit strenuous, although later my much abused body appeared to get used to the pace and even to enjoy the exercise. I hope I managed to pull my weight; but if I didn't, my fellow rafters, many of whom were far fitter than me, were too polite to mention it. Strangely the holiday, combined with some recent changes to my diet, appears to have tripped some kind of metabolic switch. When I bought a pair of trousers on my return, I found I had dropped 4 inches from my waist. This was definitely not due to a starvation diet. One of the most impressive aspects of the campsites was the never ending variety of very enjoyable cuisine, particularly when you consider that all the food and other facilities for thirteen people had to be carried on two rafts and one small catamaran. Since returning my heart appears to have put away its pogo stick. Now I can jog five miles without it hurting too badly, much to the surprise and amusement of my work colleagues, who had me figured for a permanent computer potato (a couch potato who gets paid for it). Apparently adrenaline promoted by fear of imminent demise is a good encouragement to an uninterrupted exercise regimen.
The campsites were very well organised with good hygiene and minimal environmental impact. There were lots of neat touches like using the rafts as shelters, using a sack in the river as a beer cooler and making a night light with a plastic bag, a candle, four twigs and some sand. The guides had a great sense of fun and there was plenty to do, including frisbee and beach ball. In due course, we discovered that a raft in addition to being an impressive floatation device, was also an invaluable party game accessory.
One of the nice things about camping was that it was mild enough to sleep outside with just a sheet for a cover. One of my recurring memories is of relaxing in bed, becoming accustomed to the background lullaby of grasshoppers stridulating, looking up at an amazingly vivid night sky with the Milky Way spread out in all its splendour, my attention being drawn to the occasional shooting star or satellite passing overhead. Indeed for a few weeks afterwards, when I woke up in a dark room, I would experience a delightful sense of dislocation, thinking that the night sky had clouded over and looking around for evidence of the campsite.
Almost without exception, everybody we met was very friendly. Children perched seemingly precariously on the gorge sides would shout down "Hello" or "Namaste", as the rafts drifted past. When we camped, local villagers would come down to see us and show great curiosity at every aspect of camp-life. And who could blame them? With only two thousand people rafting the Sun-Kosi each year and the local technology limited to dugout canoes, our high-tech rafts must have seemed like something out of the space program to them.
One night I awakened to the sound of strange singing. I got up and saw some lights approaching from the distance. A group of villagers converged on the campsite, their faces illuminated only by the reed torches they were burning. At the time only one of the guides and I were up and we were treated to a singing session that appeared to my uneducated ears to come straight out of history. They were then persuaded to come back the following morning, when we gave them a contribution towards the building of a local school. Although only a small amount by Western standards, their elder was effusive in his thanks. The villagers gave us all flower necklaces and waved to us as we departed. There were some great rapids that morning, including one which punched me right out of the front of the raft, oblivious to the fact that I was braced in an apparently immovable position. We stopped that lunchtime at one of the ubiquitous beaches, with only a selection of brightly coloured butterflies for company. However best of all, just up from the beach, there was an incredibly invigorating Waterfall. Standing in it was like being bombarded by ball bearings.
I have scarcely scratched the surface of the many memories I have from the trip, during which I saw one wedding, one funeral and a sacrifice (sounds like the title of a new film). As many people have said travel need not be just a physical journey, but can be a spiritual voyage also. Certainly I rediscovered something I had lost in recent years due to high pressure work and personal problems- the sheer joy of living each moment for its own sake, without worrying about the past or the future. And let's face it, when paddling down a large rapid, there is little choice of doing anything else.
This was close to a perfect holiday. It mixed culture, nature and carousing with the sheer exhilaration of rafting some impressive rapids in a heady combination that will be hard for me to ever beat. The group of us started strangers and ended friends. I have caught the rafting bug now and undoubtedly I shall have another go in some other corner of the planet. However as with many things, the first time is special and I shall always treasure my memories of the time I lost my rafting virginity in a magical and friendly land in the foothills of the Himalayas.
Nepal is a great place for trekking as well as river running. The Royal Chitwan National Park is definitely worth a visit if you can afford it. Guides and some people in the major towns will speak English. However it is worth learning a couple of words of Nepali, so you can at least say hello in the more remote areas. My rafting trip was organised by Adrift. However there are many companies that organise such trips, so it's worth shopping around. You may find it cheaper to organise your own travel and book on a river-only excursion. If you do this, you should take out appropriate travel insurance. If you want to find out more about rafting or kayaking in Nepal, get a copy of White Water Nepal, ISBN:095194133X. To find out about Nepal in general, get a guide from Lonely Planet. It is now possible to visit Tibet from Nepal, but only as an organised group.
Rafting, depending as it does on river levels, is very seasonal. So if you choose your country, be prepared to restrict your holiday dates to a couple of months. If you are less flexible, you should be able to find a country somewhere on the planet that has high water at a time that suits you.
