Goodbye India, hello Nepal

Arriving at 4 in the morning really isn't such a good idea. Tanakpur is well of the beaten tourist trail, crawling from the bus half awake then wandering around lost with stupid big red plastic things on our shoulders we soon acquire a crowd of drunk and somewhat undesirable locals.

After a bit of argibargy and a suspiciously long and expensive taxi ride we get to a hotel just 2 minutes walk around the corner.

The next morning we're on route for our last river trip in India.

The Makali forms the border between western Nepal and the east bit of the Indian Himalaya. In late November with low water its a 4/5 day wilderness float trip. With the monsoon just petering out we're banking on a bit more action and a bit less time.

Borders seem to be a sensitive area in this part of the world and we hear a permit is required to get on the river. We opt for for a discrete undercover mission. Hopping off the bus in the nearest town, anything but the word discrete could be used as we blunder down the main street followed by a gang of screaming children. The next day a jeep takes us to a small village by the river. On arrival some bloke appears from a chi house and starts saying police - passport - police - passport. We leg it for the river.

Excitement reaches hysteria for a gang of local kids as we kit up. James decides to give a kayak lesson. Soon his boat, loaded with all his food and kit is transporting 3 kids rapidly towards the edge of the eddy. Out in the main current the swollen Makali races by and the words to that song "when will I be seeing you again" play through my mind.

The Makali is a fine fine river. From the village its 115km to the next road. The right bank is India and the left Nepal. Of course we don't set foot on the left bank as that would be highly illegal. Fast water and big wave trains race us down through alpine woodland then lush jungle. Small villages bud from the banks, local kids hurl themselves into the racing water and swim towards us as we drift by. Lots of the villages have large fishing boats moored high on the banks. As we pull up to a clear side stream a school of huge fish jump over our boats and scatter.

That evening after watching a couple of enormous black wasps dig holes then fight I cook up tinned fish on a driftwood fire before dossing down. During the night the clear sky flashes as if lightning is discharging somehow. Kind of weird.

In the next day we're not really sure where we are as I lost the map. The river picks up again into huge wave trains. Fun fun fun. A praying mantis lands on my paddle and the banks are alive with, err well, living things. Just as we start to look for camp no 2 the Makali flows through one final gorge and spills us out onto the open plains. We've covered the 115km trip in just 1.5 days on the water.

A mere 3.5 hrs of border post paperwork, 20hours of the most awful bus ride yet (a goat weed and pooed on the seats and the only decent break was for the driver to drink whisky at 2 in the morning) and we make Kathmandu.

Now here we are, hanging out at the Holy Lodge waiting for more people to arrive whilst eating fresh vegetables, numerous salad items and the odd cake.

India - a fantastic place to paddle, but really really hard work. We managed just 13 river days in 5 weeks (clocking up 800kms of paddling!). Id go back for sure but next time Ill take enough cash to hire a jeep and probably avoid the monsoon.

The Indus. in retrospect very large

Got a few pics off James from our time in Ladakh. Its not my imagination, it really was huge.

Heading east across the himilaya

After Phil and Chester fly home we get stuck in Leh for a few days. Unseasonal rain washes the road out and the snow creeps ever lower. Eventually we get into the long journey East. 4 days of rattling local bus rides later where in Rishikesh in the foothills of the Great Himalya range and on the banks of the Ganges. Although still in the Himilayas we may as well be on another planet. High altitude deserts, monks and nomadic goat herders have been replaced by sticky monsoon heat, jungle, monkeys, orange hindu robes, holy cows, holy men and beggars.

Im still on the bus roof tying down boats as it pulls off. Were on route for the mountains again.
The plan is to spend 5 days paddling the Mandikini, Alakandra and Ganges rivers 200km back to Rishikesh.

After a brief rest to excavate the road from a landslip we arrive just before dark. At the confluence of the Mandikini and Alakandra rivers Rudraprayag isnt exactly a tourist trap. With a bit of effort were soon nodding off to the dulcet tones of a generator (right out side the bloody window) and a cacophony of truck horns.

We order breakfast by sitting and shrugging until something edible is plonked in front of us. No one seems to speak english in this town and the locals either look at us like where odd (?!) or ignore us.

Looking at the raging brown mess belching from the Mandikini valley it takes me only a small amount of imagination and very little time to amend our plan. We were hoping for a couple of days creeking on clear blue waters, clearly the monsoon hasnt finished with us yet.

We opt to put straight onto the Alakandra. We kit up on the river bank next to a bloke doing the laundry and another one attending to, well, a more pressing matter.

Straight out of the eddy and into the first move of the day. A hard ferry across river to avoid some nasty holes. Added interest comes from dangling overhead powercables forming a sort of slalom gate.

The river is in a hurry, where riding on the monsoon and tick off 70km in just 5hrs paddling. Hanging from a footbridge school children wave at james and throw stones at me.

Submerged railings on the temple steps form a tricky obstacle as the eddy boils around them. We climb from the river, Devprayag, home for the night. James hunts for a room with a view. I entertain some children whilst watching the different coloured waters of the Bagarathy and Alakandra surge and fold together. From this point they flow onwards as the Ganges.

Flat at first the Ganges flows away from the road through fantastic jungle clad hills, huge butterfly's flicker around and exotic noises float from the trees. Slowly the mighty Ganga cranks up into a series of massive house sized wave trains.

Crumbling palaces and old temples spring from the the riverbanks, prayer bells and incense drift across the water towards us as pilgrims and sweaty western hippies chuck themselves into the holy brown water. Where back in Rishikesh, another 70km day. From here the Ganges leaves the Himalayas, matures and spews forth into the vast Indian plains. Our destiny, however, lies with a nice cup of mint tea and a large slab of cake. Ohmmmm.

Motoring on the upper Indus

On the last day of paddling before Chester and Phil flew home we thought it would be a good idea to aquire an inner line permit and go and explore the upper reaches of the Indus. And it was, sort of.

Close to the Chinease border the upper valley of this infamous river is a mixture of bleak desert and fantastic little green vilages. Jeep acess and scouting is nice and easy as the road runs alongside the river for most its length. We found a very continuous section of river with levels running rarther high... high enough to for the powerlines to be in the middle of the river at least.

In the 2 hours I was on the water we covered 40kms. My day of paddling came to a fairly abrupt end on one of the few blind corners hidden away from the road. Cruising out into a steep rapid I managed to blunder into one of the more playful holes the indus had on offer. After my eyes popped out of there sockets and my boat jumped through a few interesting moves I was heading for the green room and my first rescue round in India. Swimming at altitude is quite hard work.

On the up side the rest of the afternoon chasing the others down river in the jeep gave me plenty to point my camera at. Bimbiling into a river wide hole Chester was almost number 2 to have an early exit, but unfortunatly got lucky after a fine display of old school rodeo moves.

Super sizing in Ladakh

After a sweltering day tiptoeing through the buzzing turd piled bazaars of old Delhi were on route for the mountains. 40hrs of nail biting bus antics later and after crossing the 2nd highest road (err dirt track) in the world where in Leh, the capital of Ladakh. Arriving after dark, the power is out from recent flooding, generator fumes and packs of manged dogs fill the pitch black and crumbling alleyways. Hurrah for petzl.

A couple of days spent acclimatising, finding Phil (who flew in... wuss) sorting supplies and a Jeep were on track for the Tarap Chu. Where intending to paddle the successive Tarap / Zanskar / Indus rivers over 8 days. Putting on is a nervous moment. The river begins at 4200mtrs above sea in the middle of a vast unpopulated desert and is running very high.

Day 1 on the water and we put on late, only paddling a few hot dusty km before camping for the night. As we feast upon out-of-date tinned chicken salami the river creeps ever higher. Staring at the vast star scape from my little bivibag it takes me a long time to nod off. I'm furthest from the campfire, thoughts of wolves, vicious mountain marmots and the ever rising river entertain me.

Day 2 and my assumption that the Tarap Chu is an easy river gets corrected early. Big water levels squeezing through box canyons make us adapt to our loaded boats quickly. We huddle in a eddy on the lip of a blind corner, after scouting James reapers and in his laidback kiwi accent "aww its just a narrow channel and a bit boily for 100mtrs". 1km of frantic paddling later we regroup, eyes on stalks. 'James canyon'... a 1km non stop, pumping, undercut, boxed in gorge complete with boat gobbling boils and holes.
The river must be running way high. This bit is supposed to be easy.

After 10hrs in the saddle, just at dusk, we pull up below Phew Tah, a medieval buddest monkery cleft from the gorge walls high above the river. Rice, Chi and a room with a view await.

Day 3. We awake to more Chi and get a monkish blessing for delivering some bow saw blades. Another 10hr day on the high and rising river sees the blessing coming in handy more than once. Chunky nasty rapids wake us up then were into the big portage of Reru falls. Midday heat and altitude sees the team flagging but James the portage machine gets amongst it and almost jogs along the horrendous, mobile landslip with each of our boats.

Below the falls the 'easy' Tasarp cranks it up big. Glacial melt streams pump the river into a non-stop 20km romper stomper. Like the upper Oetz on a big day but 20x the volume and with a loaded boat. Thoughts of wolves don't bother me as i collapse in the sand, the stars sillueted by the barren jagged peaks of the Zanskar range.

Day 4 and the Tarap gorge opens out to reveal the snow capped peaks of Nun and Cun. The Tarap braids with the Doda river and becomes the Zanskar. Mostly flat to begin with we clock up 40+ km in a morning. Before the canyon walls begin to close again we camp early. Chowing down on watery paster the conversations of cake, sausage and beer soon degenerate to sleep. Tomorrow we enter the gorge.

Day 5 and where up early and on the move. We nail the 80km gorge in a day. The river is shifting at 15km an hour. Canyon walls of twisted rock sheer straight from the river. In places the canyon narrows and several hundred cms ploughs through 15ft wide gaps. The twisting metamorphosed bedrock of the grand canyon of Asia folds back, turns into volcanic Mordorish basalt, a road appears, a few interesting moves in the mhoosive whirlies and.... whooo.... we hit the mighty Indus. 300km in just 4 days and an hour.

Day 6. After a night of eat all you can and 8% beer at Shalbs raft camp we team up with some Irish paddlers, Shalab and Nepali paddler Babu to head off down the Indus. Super sizing everything so far the Indus is running big and brown. The rapids just get bigger and bigger as 700cms forges its way toward Pakistan. Easily the biggest volume paddling I've done.

Only a mere 60km today. We reach the line of control, the border with Pakistan is just down the road. Its time to crawl from the river one last time, watch Babu make a comedy pyramid of 11 boats on top of one jeep then head for more and more and more food at the raft camp. 360km of paddling over 5.5 days. Job done.

Just got given a disk of paddling pics from when I was down on South island, so here you go (all photos courtesy of Honza Lasko)....

Setting off on the Perth, its quite nice here, but just around that next corner...

... it turns into this,

... then this,

and this.

Carnage paparazzi.


Dando cranking up the Hughes 300 for another shuttle with style.

Walking on volcanoes

I went for a walk on some volcanoes, in the sunshine. It was nice. And also, just for fun, here is a picture of some ducks.

Evnin sunshine

A delightful pair of dried Lemons enjoy the late afternoon sun by the lake in Rotorua.

Wiroa Teva race

Well its late summer here, and I'm working now... saving hard for my increasingly silly sounding trip to India in a few months.... so just a few pic's of my last weekend of freedom at the Teva extreme race... held on the Wiroa's rollercoaster rapid, a tight boiling set of drops that just seemed to keep the carnage coming. During the week I work just down the road from Full James (site of the 98 worlds) and the mighty Huka falls , but so far the water levels have been wrong for both, Ah well.

Well somehow I've ended up on North Island... lots of wide open space, sheep, volcanoes, and a couple of decent rivers.

Im just hanging around the Bliss Stick factory sorting out my all new bright orange toy before I head to Rotorua at the top of the island to aquire some form of job for hard cash and start saving pennies for my next big paddling trip...

Rotorua is a fine place to base myself for a while. Although it smells all sulpherous and eggy, just down the road is the Kituna river with a rarther nice waterfall to plop off followed by an even nicer playwave and to top things off the water is bathtub warm... even mid winter. Ideal for after work fun fun fun. (1st river pic)

The 2nd river pic shows the Wiroa, A dam release river that runs every sunday.... kind of the NZ Treweren, except it is actually quite good and dosnt cost 14 lousy quid.