Bet you all thought we'd be in Tibet by now.....so did we! Unfortunately, while Hamish's "risk assessment" (yes, he actually made a risk assessment solely for this trip - clearly this consulting thing isn't just a day job!!!) included every form of sickness, inability to obtain visas, equipment failure, accidental death (isn't it always) and a whole host of other calamities, it did NOT include encounters with terrorist extremists....so of course that's what we did get, which just goes to show how useful risk assessments actually are.
We left Kathmandu, as planned, on the 7th, and had a nice short (20K) day to Bhaktapur. This was useful as let us sort out our panniers and general bits and bobs ("no Hamish, it doesn't fit!" "yes small child, it does if you turn it around" etc.). Due to the general strike the roads were nearly silent - cows, dogs, and small children were plentiful, but no vehicles anywhere. It did make finding food, water, etc. a little interesting, because no shops were open - or at least not unless you looked pretty hard. Still, we managed to find a place to stay the first night, and in truth were a very long way from starving (despite what Hamish the "human stomach" might think sometimes!) Next day we rode on from this lovely little medieval walled city toward the border. Again, a nice, quiet (i.e. roads deserted!) day, with a lovely 1100 meter descent built in (boy was I glad I wasn't going to have to ride up that with 30-odd kgs of bike + gear!), but regular police checkpoints made us think all was right with the world. We managed to track down lunch at the absolute bottom-point of our altimeter - at Dholagaut, which is on the river at approx. 550 meters. From there, we planned to begin the longest uphill in the world, 160km of it.
On from lunch, and up a 200 meter climb and descent to start off our last 30K's for the day. We noticed that we really hadn't seen a police checkpoint in quite a while - also the roads, which had been quiet all the way, were getting positively eerie - no bikes, no kids, hardly any people. And suddenly folks, who had been "namaste"-ing us all day with smiles, were looking distinctly unfriendly. Then, we came to our first felled tree - with a little red flag sticking out of the branches. Hmm. We rode on. More trees, and a banner (in English!) with the words "Maoist" and "imperialist" on it. Curiouser and curiouser. Round another curve in the road, and we see big, and here I mean really large, piles of stones rolled onto the road with red flags sticking out of the little piles - and no one anywhere. Frankly, this is starting to freak me out completely, but Hamish looks his usual calm self so I don't say anything and we keep riding. (I could see the worry on Leah face, and thought if we can just get through the next 15km we have a bed and will be out of Nepal in 2 days. -H). We see old tires, more trees, more rocks, more flags. We come to a couple of manned roadblocks, but no one moves to actively stop us, so we decide that should they, we will play the stupid tourists and try to get through it that way (after all, we have to give it the old school try for all you back home!). Finally, we're 1K from the turn-off to the Jiri road (which we, in our infinite wisdom, have decided will get us out of this slightly weird area) when we come to a bunch of little men, and 3ft tall stone wall that they are erecting right across the middle of the road. Hmmm, this won't be quite as easy to ride around.
One little man (who fortunately spoke enough english to make himself pretty clear) stops us and asks us in no uncertain terms what we're doing there. Big smiles "riding to Tibet" we answer naturally. "Don't you know the rode is closed?" "Yes, but we are on bicycles - bicycles are OK, yes?" Apparently not, despite what everyone INCLUDING the agency organizing our truck told us in Kathmandu ("don't worry, they never bother tourists, and bikes are fine" direct quote). All his friends stand up and cluster round - about 20 underemployed guys in flip-flops, who suddenly seem pretty daunting - and heated discussion ensues. He tells us to open our bags (luckily, I pull out a pair of shorts, a pair of shoes, and a pair of bright pink underwear - not exactly super-spy material!). He asks for passports - fortunately quick-thinking Hamish pulls out his, as at the mo Americans are not super-welcome with this particular group. He tells us if we ride on the road "fire, explosion" (I'm thinking "right, does this mean something will blow up, or that you'll shoot us?")
More heated discussion ("what's your problem" he asks at one stage, clearly unhappy to have us there - no problem we say with huge smiles, and a few people have grabbed our bikes - OK, we really are getting a little worried in a friendly smiling sort of way.) Our little friend says "do you know who I am?" Nope, of course not, no idea. He says "I am xxx" (no idea his name, not Sam at any rate). Lovely, pleased to meet you, we introduce ourselves. "I am Nepalese Maoist." Ah, that clears that up nicely, thank you. Our new friend proceeds to tell us that this is our only warning ?we can retreat? (We will let you off this time were his words. The Maoist in this area cut the hands off of a bus driver for driving during the general strike. We found this out afterwards thank goodness, otherwise we might have had brown stuff running down our legs by this time. -H). We negotiate where we can "retreat" to, Dholaghat being the last and only habitation NOT flying a red flag in 30K's. We ask when we can come back - tomorrow? When the strike is over? He mulls this over - "maybe tomorrow afternoon, evening. Tomorrow explosion." O--K--.
Note: this all sounds funny now, but it is hard to convey how really worrying it was at the time. A whole range of scenarios I won't even go into were flashing through our thoughts, not the least of which was that they were going to make us stay there "as their guests".
Nothing for it, we turn round and ride back the way we came. (Too scared to look back in case they called us back ?H). As we go back past the roadblocks, we see the tire...with a detonator and a bag. (This was not the time for photos too scared. ). In the rock piles - more wires. This is really not funny anymore, I decide, and am happy to hear Hamish say "that is the scariest thing that has ever happened to me." Anyway, nothing for it, we re-climb the 200 meter hill, and arrive back at Dholaghat, swearing not to venture onto the road the next day until there are trucks - not one, but multiple, coming through from both sides.
Except that this doesn't happen. The next morning there is not a soul on the road. And still, nothing open. We ascertain that the Maoists have extended the strike for another 3 days in this district. There are military helicopters overhead, but that is the only motor we hear. Meanwhile, we are the town attraction - it's a pretty little place and I can't imagine many foreigners have ever actually stayed there, certainly not on purpose! Luckily, the kids were friendly and the "guesthouse" (pretty scary room, but had a lock and not on the floor so all good) dal baht was good. But not really a happening place! Calling the agency in Kathmandu, we nearly gave the poor man a heart attack when we explained what happened ("uh Shiva, I don't think we're going to make the border today"). Apparently no one there knew anything about what was going on here - only 70K's outside Kathmandu! All they knew was that the army wasn't letting buses leave (lovely to be able to enlighten them a little.) However, Tourism Nepal was arranging a convoy (a convoy!) to get people to the border which was tentatively meant to leave the 11th (today) so we agreed that we would ride back to Kathmandu to get places on it.
Later in the day, a British woman turned up looking very out of place. Apparently a group of 18 had been at the border coming across from Tibet, and had gotten a truck to take them as far as the checkpoint where we got turned back - when some people stopped their drivers and "talked to them", at which point the drivers kicked them off and high-tailed it back to the border. So they were walking to Kathmandu. A little later, a small convoy of vehicles came tearing through Dholaghat from the border - the only vehicles we'd seen all day, but going the wrong direction! Some very worried-looking tourists were in these (we assume those stuck at the border for the last however many days), and we watched them grab the others who'd trickled in to town, and drive away full tilt (land cruisers with a soldier escort, with license plates papered over, and posters reading "tourists only" stuck to the windshield). We'd been told there were now more trees down going back toward Kathmandu, but at that stage we decided we didn't care - we'd be better off going back.
So yesterday, we started off at 6:30 - remember that 1100 meter, 27K descent I was so glad I wouldn't have to go up? Well, we managed it fully loaded on biscuits and water (nothing open, remember) in a little over 2 hours, and were very glad to get back in the direction of civilization. We did in fact pass some blocked sections, but someone had taken to them with a big chainsaw, which made the going a little easier. Our first police check post elicited a hearty cheer, and we rolled into Kathmandu around noon - where we are now. As of this writing we have been told the bus might go today, tomorrow, or the 13th (sorry, we've decided that since we had to do the out and back and climb, we can satisfy our conscience on the "riding to the border" front, and are prepared to get out of this country any way we possibly can!!) - as the strike was meant to end the 12th, we're pulling for the 13th. Our Tibet visas are ticking, and our truck and stuff are stuck at the border, but luckily we do have the time to sit it out a bit if we have to.
So back to Kathmandu - we had the bikes out for a short day today, and have a route picked out to ride in the valley tomorrow, but will be very glad when we can finally bid it farewell. And unfortunately I think I speak for both of us when I say that it will be a long time before I come back to Nepal - the country is frankly a mess. Outside the Kathmandu valley it is difficult to tell who is in control (there are reports coming in of really disturbing incidents every day). Inside, the demonstrations continue. There is little choice - bad representatives who have lost power, a worse king with a tainted and bloody history who people hate, and the Maoists who don't really represent anyone's interests but their own. It is absolutely tragic, and you can't help but feel - pity doesn't quite sum it up - for the very decent people who are trapped in the middle of this mess and are trying to make their way through it as best they can.
Anyway, that's it for us from Kathmandu - we'll drop you all a note when we've finally confirmed how we are actually going to get out of here!!!!
Leah and Hamish (written by Leah, amended by Hamish)
(Drinking beers and eating chocolate cake to get fat for Tibet! )