Singing, Dancing & Shaka-Laka BOOMing!

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Crawling out of the tent this morning, the beautiful atmospheric view momentarily stole my attention from the sky, which was once again threatening to rain. Over night there had been a tropical storm which had left the atmosphere humid and unstable. Cloud hovered over the mountain tops and mist crept up the river like a silent, deathly plague. Unforgettable, yes, although not the most ideal conditions to complete the second leg of a rafting journey.

Bandare is the small village across the river from the Trisuli Tented Camp, and is home of The Big Fig. Walking over the bridge, I noticed a group of people on the road not far from the village, who appeared to be moving a lot of rusty metal and attracting a lot of attention. The road was again blocked for the removal of the remains of a truck which had collided with a bus about one month ago. I shook my head in wonder.

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Our morning orientation took us through lane ways of Bandare and into some new houses, then to The Big Fig, about 10 minutes' from the village.

Again our departure was delayed, this time due to another group who was joining us. It began to rain as we waited. Warm, heavy drops fell from the sky. We waited, until through the rain they appeared, rather large senior citizens dressed in bathers, making their way single file along the swinging bridge.

Tropical rains make for a rather unique rafting experience, not to mention a vision impaired one. The river was cold, so Dil, using his expert rafting techniques, steered the raft around the grunt of the rapid as no one was in the mood for swimming.

To my surprise, we suddenly pulled up on a small beach, directly below a straight drop from the road above. Unbeknown to me, I was about to maroon someone for the first time in my life. The entire Oldies' group had brought alcoholic drinks with them as if they didn't understand what white water rafting was, and thought it would be similar to a five-star luxurious cruise. I was angry at them and felt a sense of superiority as we left them stranded on the small beach.

The bus to Bandipur

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Four rapids, an underwater cave and 20 of Dil's 'big fishes' later, we arrived at the end of the route for lunch.

The journey to the next town of Bandipur, situated in a mountain saddle at 1030 metres, would be completed in the back of a ute. Its a two hour drive up a steep and winding road to get to Bandipur, which claims to be a rich reward for your senses. Of course, providing you follow your sixth sense and visit.

Originally established as a resting place for traders from Kathmandu to Pokhara, Bandipur today is fast coming to the attention of tourism. Unfortunately during my visit the mountain was entirely surrounded in cloud, depriving of the outstanding Himalayan views.