On a 6-week trekking stint in Nepal in 2001. Basically I did three treks, met up with my brother who took the liberty of joining us from Australia. On each one I was violently ill at some point, but soon recovered to take on the misty giants.
The final hike I did by myself, although with a sherper as it was rare for westeners to go this way, and you needed someone to show the way and barter with the locals to put you up. Here I really was ill. I remember being in bed upstairs in this hut in this little mountain top hamlet, whilst the children would take it in turns tocome up and stare at the sick westener. Outside a heated political debate developed with about 40 locals – I thought the Maoists had come back to shoot us all.
Having survived that, and struggling down low enough to hitch hike a lift on a Nepali 1940’s lorry negotiating the most precarious high moutain track you could possibly imagine – finally got back to Pokhara.
