Mesmorising: The windtorn peak of Everest (centre) as seen from the comparative comfort of a planeBeyond the window of the tiny turbo propeller plane is the most spectacular mountain I have ever seen. Quilted in snow, it rears in pristine peaks and sheer crevasses to a superlative 8,013m peak.
Shishapangma, however, is only the stratospherically cold warm-up act to a heart-stopping finale – as our hostess is keen to point out. ‘Fourteenth highest peak in the world,’ she shrugs with genial nonchalence. ‘Entirely in Tibet.’
For a few moments, I wonder at her levity – and then am struck dumb as a mesmerising vista splays the skyline. The High Himalaya hurtle from sun-dappled clouds, an arc of starry peaks under a vault of cobalt blue.
Finally, breathtaking, is Everest, glistening and looking newly-minted in the early morning. I’ve never wanted to climb mountains but even I feel Sagarmatha’s hypnotic pull, its 8,848m summit dwarfing everything else on earth.
We descend rapidly, Kathmandu still shrouded in streamers of thick mist. Back on the ground, the bus careers past fume-fogged idols in traffic-locked shrines. Addled cows thread their holy way through the chaos. It is the festival of Indra Jatra and Durbar Square is a swirl of pink and red saris studding the steps of the brooding pagodas. Masked dancers twirl feverishly to a schizophrenic drum.
Ornate: The Kumari, the child reincarnation of a Hindu goddess, is carried around Kathmandu as part of the celebrations of Indra Jatra
The focus of this frenzy is a diminutive girl, the five-year-old incarnation of the Hindu goddess Taleju. Somewhere in the chaos, the Kumari is on peripatetic audience in her gilded three-storey carriage, a doll-like figure garlanded in jewels and prayer, eyes masked with thick kohl. Later she will be hoisted through the door of her gold-lacquered palace where the exotic rituals of worship and adoration will continue until she menstruates for the first time. She is then ‘retired’ to ordinary life and the cycle begins again.
Boudhanath Stupa, the largest stupa in Nepal, at dusk: The site attracts pilgrims from all over the worldThe current incumbent, however, has developed some stiff - and unlikely - competition for favourite kumari in town. ‘Joanna Lumley,’ our guide Lakpa says, only half-joking. ‘She is a living goddess too.’
Nepal is an epically beautiful country of endless variety. It is best known for the Himalayas – but it is the people who steal your heart. They are as diverse as the landscape, Hindus and Buddhists, Newars from the valley, Tharus from the jungle plains and Sherpas from the mountains.
Then there are the Gurkhas – whose army pension rights prompted La Lumley’s entrance stage right. Amid their unfaltering charm and warmth, it is almost impossible to believe that this tiny country of 29 million is one of the poorest in the world.
Spectacular: Annapurna as seen from Ghandruk village reached after a long trek but some very steep stepsThe next day it’s time to see the mountains up close. After a brief stop to take in Bandipur - a lovely town where the streets are lined with hibiscus and children chanting non-stop namaste - we head for the highlands.
The trek starts as a slow climb through the slopes of Annanpurna, lush paddy fields plummeting in improbable terraces down the hillside. Silvery streams ribbon the cliffs and prayer flags flap in the breeze. The last part of the journey, however, is a knee-crunching clamber up thousands of sheer mica steps. Night has come too and somewhere to the right is a precipice. The hills are alive with rushing streams, the incessant patter of raindrops on leaves and the shush of the rising wind.
But Kaji, our indefatigable Sherpa guide, who has summited Everest three times, is unphased. And so we stagger on, finally stumbling into the teahouse at Ghandruk after an hour-and-a-half of walking in the dark. We are revived by robust cups of masala tea.
In the morning, I am woken by singing porters. Washing and dressing groggily, I stumble outside to discover the skies have cleared to unveil a sublime range of peaks. Annapurna One and Fishtail, topped with snow and shining, are close enough to touch. For a time, all I can do is stand and stare.
Children enjoy elephant bath-time in Chitwan National Park: The reserve has plenty of rhino and the sharp-eyed may also see a tigerWe leave the mountains behind, lured by the promise of tigers. The road is clogged with a kamikaze convoy of resplendent Tata lorries painted brilliant jewel colours, decked with tinsel and branded with bumper slogans which range from the obvious ‘Slow drive, long life’ to the simply obscure ‘Mom says, no girls.’
We zig-zag valleys pregnant with monsoon rains and pass tiny villages clinging defiant to inhospitable hillsides. At Mugling, buses are besieged by hordes of tray-touting tradesmen who peddle their wares through dirt-encrusted windows. We eat lunch by the fast-flowing Trisulli, the reeds molten silver in the sunlight.
Night falls but we drive on, through settlements slung low alongside the roadway, shabby cafes where truckers devour daal bhaat under bare bulbs suspended from single strings. Finally, darting foxes are our only companions and we jolt down a dirt track to come to rest at Narayani safari lodge.
A short time later, as we sit sipping gin and tonic on the terrace, a waiter dashes from the restaurant. ‘Rhino,’ he says and plunges towards the perimeter fence. We stand silent under the stars as he spotlights the creature with a torch. It grazes slowly and contently on the vast river plain below, eventually lumbering off into the night.
Streets lined with hibiscus: Liz Hazelton in Bandipur, NepalThere are 407 rhino in Chitwan and 125 tigers, as well as man-eating crocodiles and a stunning array of birds. We track game on foot, by canoe and on a towering compliment of elephants. In the early morning murk, I clamber on to Lucky and cling tight to the basket as she lumbers off into the long grass, swiping succulent stems with her trunk. Masked by her scent, we are able to edge closer to tiny deer and rhino wallowing contentedly in the water.
We do not see any tigers but a trail of deep paw prints on a muddy track prove they are not far away. Later I get to bathe one of the elephants in the river – and am then soaked in turn after clambering on her leathery back. In the soft light of early evening as we head back to the hotel, the youngest elephant - 17 and beginning her working life - begins to rumble loudly. ‘She’s happy,’ her trainer says. ‘She knows she’s going back to see her friends’. So the day ends perfectly with the purr of a pachyderm.
Travel facts
Liz Hazelton travelled with Exodus (www.exodus.co.uk or call 0845 863 9601). A 14 night Annapurna and Chitwan itinerary costs from £1,499 per person, the trip includes flights, accommodation, transfers, activities and breakfasts.
Costumed figures dance in Durbar Square, Kathmandu, during the Indra Jatra festival: Thousands congregate to celebrate
source: dailymail
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