March '98 Newsletter

After five weeks of travel in New Zealand, Malaysia, Thailand, and Nepal; we've had our travel horizons significantly broadened. We fully appreciate the adage: too many places to go and too little time. We enjoyed it all but Nepal was a unique experience ranking right up there with last fall's Peru trip . Having written 40+ pages of observations and taken over 500 pictures, it is obvious we are not going to get all of our trip report into one newsletter or onto our home page in a few days.

When we arrived home, all hell broke loose. A daunting pile of mail about 2 feet high, a challenging 350+ e-mail messages, and a tape of pressing phone messages brought us back to Phoenix reality. We were fortunate that there were no apartment problems needing immediate attention to add further confusion. The phone messages were easy, the e-mail took a day, and hopefully the snail-mail pile will be answered by the time we mail this newsletter. Being away for 5-6 weeks is not for sissies, or people with full-time jobs. One might talk an employer into 5-6 weeks of vacation but would still need an additional 2-3 weeks to catch up with their private life. We're amazed that Charlotte and Char were able to travel for 9 months a few years ago, survive the home mayhem which must have existed when they returned, and maintain their sanity.

In the middle [muddle?], of all of this we added a visit from Susan's parents, who hadn't been here since 1978. Ever optimists, we figured we could get everything under control at home in a couple of days and be ready to welcome them 3-4 days after our return. We are going to have to start using the Thai approach when we figure how long it takes to get somewhere. In Thailand, if the train or bus schedule says a couple of hours you can figure all day will be about right. Naturally, we resolved what we could and then got on to what was important, visiting with family. If we haven't handled some issue you brought to our attention, we are relatively free in April so you might want to try us again before we go summer backpacking and rafting.

'98 Trip Reports:

New Zealand Backpack & Van (2/9-2/19):

We left for New Zealand on February 3rd on a circuitous journey, stopping briefly in Honolulu, a little longer in Fiji, and even longer in Auckland. At the Duty Free store in Fiji, we had just enough time to buy some Fijian rum and gin for the upcoming trip. Between delayed flights, stop-overs, and crossing the International Dateline, we finally arrived in Christchurch the afternoon of February 5th. Customs was not too stringent. On our last New Zealand trip, we had to roll our tent out for inspection but we had washed it after Peru, so they didn't bother to check it. They looked at a few of our food items and checked our hiking boot soles for offending soil. We found an inexpensive shuttle from the airport to Meadow Park, which was to be our base of operation before and after the trip, and cooled off in their pool before walking to the supermarket to get a jump on the food shopping. We were delighted to find the grocery shelves now stocked with American style food. We even found flour tortillas.

We didn't seem to suffer jet lag going this direction but were a little tired our first morning. We had planned to take a bus downtown to check on our van rentals and change some money but the buses were running on a slower schedule for Waitengi Day, a public holiday not mentioned in our guidebooks. Needing exercise, we elected to walk. A lot of businesses were closed but Renny Rents was open, as was a travel agency currency exchange. Christchurch was having an unusually dry and hot summer. It was running 90-95° during the day but a sea breeze cooled it off at night. We caught a bus home and returned to the pool, which became an afternoon ritual.

The museum and botanical garden captivated us for half of the next day. We also squeezed in a brief visit to the Art Centre, housed in an old Gothic style building that was formerly Canterbury University. Local artists set up their wares on the weekends. They had lots of ceramics, wool, and wood items but we refrained from buying because we didn't want to carry any extra weight. Later we picked up our first rental van from Renny and Bob made it back home only hitting the wipers instead of the turn signals once or twice. Peter and Jon had arrived and accompanied us to the grocery store, in search of beer and munchies. We received a message that day that Mona, Jean, and Lois would be arriving a day later than planned due to plane problems (but still in time for the trip). They ended up spending unplanned nights in both LA and Auckland.

Since we had to pick up the second van and Susan had not yet practiced driving, we took the first van out to Lyttelton Harbor and some of the other beach towns for a test drive. Lyttelton Harbor is Christchurch's busy commercial port and it was rife with wind surfers racing about at break neck speeds. After eating our picnic lunch, Susan tried her hand at the wheel in a quiet spot. We returned to Christchurch confident that she could get the second van back to the park. Driving on the other side of the road isn't too hard to get used to and using your left hand to shift comes fairly quickly, even though you shift towards yourself rather than away for higher gears. However, hitting the turn signals with the wrong hand seems to trouble most people. Sunny days and active wipers help the Kiwis tell who are the dangerous tourist drivers.

Back home with the second van, we joined Jon and Peter at a local tavern for dinner and made contact with the rest of our group. Everyone made it into town with their luggage and Bob arranged to pick them up at their respective hotels the next morning. Due to three last minute cancellations by the Texas crew, we had plenty of room in the vans. Mona, Jean, and Lois were pretty tired that first day because of all their travel glitches but they were in high spirits. Susan M. and Carl had some jet lag, since they had flown in directly from the East Coast. All in all, everyone was enthusiastic to get on the road. We made our way north, braving intermittent showers. The rain let up in the late afternoon when we arrived at our Lake Rotoroa camp. After setting up tents, we took a short hike along the lake before dinner and sited our first New Zealand pigeon, a huge bird compared to the variety we get in Phoenix. During dinner preparation, we were all but carried away by sand flies. It turned out to be our worst encounter of the entire trip but the good news was that in comparison to that first evening the bugs never seemed very bad at later camps. The bad news was that the bites started itching like crazy within a few days and cortisone cream was mandatory to preserve one's sanity.

After a few sprinkles during the night, our gear was damp the next morning, but at least it wasn't raining. It was a slow but beautiful drive up the valley to the coast and by the time we got our permits timing was marginal for taking the morning boat to the north end of the Abel Tasman Track. Not to worry, we arranged for the boat to pick us up at the north end a few days later and headed for Old MacDonald's Farm to park in their secure lot and get organized before starting our trek. It took a little while to sort our gear and have lunch. We emptied one van and parked the other at the trailhead. In two passes, Bob ferried the group a mile back to the start of the Abel Tasman Track. It was still quite warm and we were grunting up those hills. It wasn't long before the second half of the group caught up with the first. We were a little afraid to hike too late and get frozen out of a good campsite by people coming the other direction. We went into early camp mode at Stillwell Bay, which we had to ourselves except for one other couple who arrived late. Most of the group took beach walks and checked the tide pools. Many gathered different types of shells to showcase at dinner. The first hearts game took place during dinner prep. Fortunately, we hung our food away from varmints, as during the night Jim and Sue had possum visitation. It was a lovely beach and the sunset and rising full moon were both glorious.

Up early for our longest day on the trail, we left camp planning to stop at Falls Creek Bridge to re-group for lunch but when we arrived we couldn't find a flat spot large enough. We trudged onward eventually stopping for a late lunch on a sloped knoll. After ten miles or so, we arrived at our huge camp at Bark Bay. It was sheltered, back from the beach and had lots of amenities like a picnic table, wood and an ax, a fireplace, a clean-up sink, and a hose shower. A cool breeze discouraged us from afternoon swimming but the many tide pools, teaming with starfish, were worth a look. Jim and Sue had consulted one of the residents at the town of Torrent Bay along the trail regarding the advisability of eating the local mussels. Apparently red tide is not something New Zealand has to worry about, so before dinner they picked a 10 qt. pot full. We steamed them first and then sautéed them in margarine. We lamented the lack of garlic but they were wonderful anyway. It was a great dinner and we found that Mona has a real talent for making backpackers' cheesecakes. All of the backpack dinners turned into a challenge to serve since Susan had forgotten to pull the ladles and measuring cups out of the cookset we'd left in the vans. However, we got by and no one went hungry. The ongoing hearts games continued before and after dinner.

Before we left camp in the morning, a ranger came around and checked our trail passes. This happened once more before the trip finished. This day was a little shorter on the trail but wasn't made any easier by the fact that we had to cross a tidal bore created by an estuary at the northern end of Tonga Bay. When we arrived the taller folks who swam across told us it was still at least waist deep. Since we had to wait for the tide to go out, we decided to eat lunch. Peter, Jon, and Carl made multiple crossings to ferry packs for some of the shorter gals. We continued on, stopping for drinks and treats at Awaroa Lodge, which was fancy but not outrageously expensive. They served beer, ginger beer, and a number of desserts. We had to wait again for the tide to go out at Awaroa Bay, along with a number of other people on both sides of the 1/2 mile crossing. Eventually Bob led the charge and across we went, barefooting over sharp clam shells in 2-3 feet of water. We were the first people into the camp at Waiharakeke Bay, a couple of miles from Totaranui where the boat would pick us up the next morning. It was a small, pleasant, slightly-buggy, ten-site camp, which filled up as the afternoon wore on.

The drizzle started early the next morning and our gear was a bit soggy as we packed up. It misted on and off as we hiked the last few miles. Since our first trip, a new shelter and interpretive display had been added at Totaranui. Shortly after we arrived, it poured buckets and we welcomed the cover. Some played hearts in the shelter, while others read and wrote. The boat arrived for us shorty before noon and the tide was high enough that they were able to throw down the gangplank, so we didn't have to wade out bootless. The boat was uncrowded and we set up lunch on board. As we cruised along the coast, the run-about frequently slipped away to make drop-offs and pick-ups at various bays. The captain slowed and hovered at Awaroa Head and Tonga Island to show us colonies of fur seals who were sunning on the rocks. At Marahau, the run-about dropped Bob and Susan on the beach so they could pick up the vehicles and meet the group at Kaiteriteri. A tractor pulling a trailer picked them up on shore and dropped them at the parking area.

In Kaiteriteri, we located the crew easily, clustered in front of the ice-cream parlor. We loaded up and headed off to Motueka to re-provision for a few more days. We found a fairly deserted Holiday Park in Murchison and took turns enjoying a much appreciated hot shower. It drizzled a little during dinner, so we cooked and ate at the communal kitchen shelter. We used some of our favorite recipes for this trip but tried to sample as many of the local desserts as possible. This night of the three different cakes from the bakery department, a dense citrus cake seemed to be the favorite. Dinner was followed by another enthusiastic round of hearts.

Jon and Scott amazed us all with their pancake making talents in the morning before we went winding down through the Buller Gorge to the West Coast. Part of the way there, we started seeing teams of workers picking up discarded water bottles. Before long we were in the thick of a marathon and half marathon. It was a hot, humid day for running and volunteers were handing out wet sponges and water as the runners went by. We made our way through the sea of runners and support vehicles and soon reached the coast at Westport. We viewed the interpretive display and seal colony at Cape Foulwind. The display was very well done and seals abounded. We saw adults lounging in the sun and feeding while the pups played in a sheltered bay they referred to as the nursery. While the group hiked to the lighthouse, we drove the vans around to pick them up and set up lunch. Back in the vans, Bob sobered us all with a brief return to right side of the road driving in the face of on-coming traffic, the only lapse he suffered during the entire trip. Fortunately, the tide was close to high when we stopped at Pancake Rocks, which made the blowholes much more active and the cave waves towering. We arrived at the Greymouth camp in good time, which allowed people to walk the beach and get some laundry done. Since it wasn't raining, we cooked dinner on the picnic table at our site.

During the night, we had more showers and had to again cook breakfast in one of the communal kitchens. A New Zealander who wandered in compared our cream of wheat to concentration camp gruel he had been served during W.W.II, but it all disappeared. After packing our semi-dry gear, we drove down to the quaint, little town of Hokitika to do more grocery shopping while the rest of the group wandered around the quay and town. It was early on a Sunday morning, so not much was open. Re-supplied for a few more days, we found an impressive small town museum open and spent some time there. It had a good video presentation and featured displays from New Zealand's West Coast gold rush era.

It rained all morning as we wound our way along the coast to Franz Joseph. We heard somewhere along the way that locals often refer to this area as Wetland rather than Westland, and we could understand why. It was raining when we reached the Visitor Center, so we perused the displays for a while hoping it would stop so we could have lunch. The drizzle continued and there were no covered picnic areas to be found, so we lunched out of the back of the two vans huddling under the canopy doors when it got too bad. The hike we had planned for Franz Joseph was no longer an option as a December slide had changed the course of the river and obliterated part of the trail. We drove the Franz Joseph lookout drive for the views and then continued on to Fox Glacier.

We arrived at Fox during a brief clearing trend and hustled out to get a look at the glacier. As soon as we arrived in the parking area, we were assailed by Keas taunting us. They flew from camper to camper squawking and performing. The Kea is a large, colorful New Zealand parrot who has a reputation for both raucous and destructive behavior. They can shred a pack in seconds and are also fond of rubber molding on vehicles and even tires. The river near Fox Glacier, like the river at Franz Joseph, was running extremely high. We took a short, scenic hike to the glacier's edge but unfortunately the high mountain views were obscured by clouds. We intended an afternoon visit to Lake Matheson for reflection shots but the weather didn't cooperate. Instead, we rented a three room group cabin at Fox Holiday Park to get relief from wet tenting. We spent the late afternoon and evening socializing, watching the Winter Olympics, cooking, and playing hearts with all of our tent flies drying under the covered porch. The neighbors probably felt like the Beverly Hillbillies had moved in. It rained hard all night and we were glad to be under solid cover.

After a hearty French Toast breakfast, hoping for better weather, we drove over the Haast Pass to Wanaka at the base of Mt. Aspiring. Once over the pass, the weather was clear and we stopped at the Wanaka Visitor Center to gather some hiking information. After an hour or so on gravel washboard road, we reached the trailhead for the Rob Roy Glacier. It was a several hour hike and many of the group made it all of the way to the edge of the glacier. There were quite a few cars in the parking lot and the valley floor was covered with sheep. We camped that night at another Holiday Park near Wanaka, where we monopolized their wee kitchen baking our New Zealand meat pies. This Kiwi meal was followed by Mona's excellent cheesecake and yet another hearts game. The tents finally got good and dry that evening.

The next morning we headed for Mt. Cook, stopping in Twizel along the way for ice-cream bars and more local color. The weather was clear until we started up the Mt. Cook road. As we got closer to Mt. Cook Village, it became more dismal with each kilometer and the mountains were obscured by cloud. We escaped the drizzle for a time in the small visitor center. The forecast was bad so we decided to head for a wet tour of the Tasman Glacier and hopefully a dry lunch in the shelter there. We hiked the glacier trails but the views were extremely limited and even with raincoats, we were soon soaked. By retreating 20 kilometers down the valley we were able to escape the rains but were then over-run by fifty-five 8-9 year old school children who had also filled all of the available cabins. Since we had to prepare and eat two meals with them, we were pleasantly surprised by how well-behaved they were. Their manners were impeccable until Peter interceded and tried to teach them how to get the last bit of pudding from a bowl with fingers and tongue. While he was doing this, one of the little darlings called him a "bushman". Susan exchanged e-mail information with their school principal so he could review our son Scott's White Mountain Apache school home page and participate in their pen-pal program. After pigging out on a New Zealand carrot cake for Susan's birthday, the ubiquitous hearts game resumed.

It poured all night with estimated 40 mile per hour winds. Fortunately, it wasn't cold because Bob spent the night in a puddle. We arose early and prepared breakfast to avoid hassle with the kids. It was a gorgeous day with excellent sunrise views of Mt. Cook. We hustled back to the village and hiked the old trail to Kea Point and the new trail to the more easily reached Mountain View Lookout. After an intense period of photo taking and a quick lunch, we returned Lois and Jean to the Hermitage Hotel so they could catch an early bus to Queenstown. That afternoon we took a sunny, at-your-leisure hike on the Hooker Trail to a terminal glacial lake under Mt. Cook. The river running down the Hooker Valley was a boiling cauldron of frigid class VI whitewater. Two long suspension bridges and boardwalks in the bogs took us past fields of flowers to lake's edge where we viewed floating ice sculptures. The valley was alive with waterfalls. Not wishing to miss a thing on such a splendid day, we camped in the campground, which was quite crowded by the time we returned from our extended hike. Some close neighbors lent eating assistance that evening when we ended up with too much spaghetti. Susan had been having severe allergy problems for most of the trip and the benefits of having a doctor along were realized when Jim gave her some allergy pills which worked.

We were awakened during the night by a noise that Bob believed to be a squirrel but actually turned out to be a Kea. By the time Susan ran him off, the punch jug had a hole pecked in it and our Kea had rolled it to the other end of the table. Since this was our last night out, we felt blessed that it was a dry one. We had absolutely no rain and dry tents. The drive back was expected to take 5 hours so we had a breakaway breakfast and headed for the Hermitage to drop off Jim and Susan Lassiter, who were flying south to trek near Te Anau. After saying our good-byes, we gassed up and departed for Christchurch. It was a long but not difficult drive. The eastern side of the mountains had been parched by El Niño effects and reminded some of us of the Golden State, California, in late summer or early fall. Eventually we stopped along the way for lunch and then spent 45 minutes exploring the Canterbury Plain town of Ashburton to give everyone a chance to stretch their legs.

We arrived in Christchurch by mid-afternoon. To avoid both of us driving in town during rush hour, half waited with Susan while Bob delivered those who had downtown hotel reservations to their doorsteps. The rest of us then piled into the big van and headed for Meadow Park where we dropped all of our gear in our rooms. After some frenzied packing of group cooking gear, Scott, Susan, and Bob delivered a bag downtown to Mona to take home and returned the final van. Scott had rented a car for the next week and he was good enough to chauffeur several of us around for awhile after the trip. Five of us ended the day with dinner at Robbies, Peter's favorite restaurant. Craving some spicy food, Peter and Susan chose empañadas. The word was they were "a little unusual" but totally in keeping with the Mexican pumpkin soup and pecan pie. Scott seemed to pick up left hand side driving almost immediately and there were only a couple of minor depressions in the floor boards caused by Bob's short ride in the front seat. More surprisingly, he only hit the wipers a couple of times. Reversed turn signals and windshield wipers are the most confusing. Bob is still having problems in Phoenix as he seems to have over trained on this item.

Since we weren't staying any place long and always moving on with no return flights, we decided to really pare our stuff down for the Asian portion of our trip. The goal was to carry everything in two daypacks. We ended up with one enormous army duffle bag, which contained Bob's pack and our camping stuff, to send home with Peter and another smaller army duffle which contained Susan's pack and additional group gear, for Lois and Jean. Scott ferried the two of us along with Peter and Jon, downtown for the day. We delivered the smaller duffle to the Windsor Hotel for Jean and Lois and then went in search of Internet providers. We spent about an hour on the WWW checking our e-mail messages regarding river permits, family matters, and apartment business. We used Hotmail and found it satisfactory if we had a decent connection.

Our last full day in New Zealand was spent wandering around the downtown area. We lunched by the Avon River while watching hundreds of school kids from the flower festival. Earlier we'd seen a parade with bagpipes that was connected with this event. We again missed the Wizard, but got to watch Peter play chess with the gigantic pieces in famous Christchurch Square. He played well and had a significant advantage at one point, but his opponent was a competent end-game player who overcame a one piece disadvantage and wore him down. We had again fallen in love with the Kiwi culture and become exceedingly comfortable with the city of Christchurch, but it seemed time to move on to the challenges of a new country, foreign languages, and indecipherable writing. On a hot afternoon, we walked and bused back to Meadow Park ready to hop the plane for new adventures the next morning.

Participants:

Peter Curia, Mona Dewey, Susan Groth, Lois Kluge, Susan Lassiter, Jean Lester, Bob Marley, Scott McCollough, Carl Muller, Susan Muller, Jim Squire, Jon Trahan.

Bob & Susan's Excellent Southeast Asia Adventure (2/21-3/11):

Singapore and Malaysia in Spring of 1998:

In the airport, we spent the last of our New Zealand currency on a South East Asia phrase book and a newspaper. Our flight to Singapore was comfortable though almost 10 hours long. It took five and a half hours to fly over Australia from Sydney to Derby. Now we're certain we don't want to visit there unless we have 2 months to spend. Within half an hour we cleared Immigration and were on the City Bus headed for downtown Singapore. The bus set-up was efficient and took us within 2-3 blocks of our target, the Beach Street guest houses. It was about 85° and about 80% humidity and though it never rained, we were generally wet anyway. By the time we located a suitable room at the Lee Traveler Guest House, we were both soaked.

The next day we found the bus depot without any problem and purchased express/deluxe tickets for about $15 US per person to Kuala Lumpur for the following morning. From the bus depot, we walked slowly to Ft. Canning and up the hill for surrounding views. We rapidly learned that fast walking is not a great idea in a tropical climate. We perused the National Museum for an hour and a half, checking out Singapore history, a jade collection, and numerous other small exhibits. That evening we rested up, expecting real confusion in Kuala Lumpur. Feeling more jet lag, we awoke every few hours until 6 AM when we finally got up and showered. We quickly packed our daypacks and headed to McDonalds where we enjoyed the air-conditioning and spent the last of our Singapore money on two "Big Breakfasts." We then hopped the bus to Kuala Lumpur, breezing through customs at the border.

Kuala Lumpur was our vision of hell: hot, humid, and dirty with no street signs. We found a bank right outside the bus depot and quickly changed some money. Back on the crowded streets, we were both in agreement, we hated the place. So we found the train station and bought tickets for the sleeper train to Butterworth. The old British train station was architecturally marvelous. Our sleeper car held about 40 people but was amazingly clean and quiet. We each managed about 5 hours sleep, in our curtained bunks, with our foot woven through the straps of our pack. We were cautious but it was probably our safest ride and we arrived safely at the Butterworth station at 6:30 AM. It was less than a block from the train station to the ferry dock and the way was well lit. The ferries run often, and 24 hours a day, for about $.15 US round trip. When we arrived on Penang, it was still pre-dawn and there were no obvious street signs in the area. Since we couldn't figure out where we were and no one spoke English, we stopped in at one of the street side outdoor eateries for coffee and juice to kill some time. After a few nervous minutes, we found a few street signs and located ourselves on the guidebook map. We immediately rejected several of the hotels recommended by the guide book and chose a newer fancy looking high rise with large air-conditioned rooms, a TV, and complimentary breakfast. We needed the air-conditioning badly as it was hot even at 8 AM and we were already drenched with sweat. After a quick shower, we sampled the rooftop breakfast buffet.

Refreshed and ready to take on the town, we walked over to Fort Cornwallis. Within minutes, we were oozing sweat and pumping down cokes. Our next stop was the local museum, which we assumed would be air-conditioned. Silly us, while it was an interesting museum, the upstairs was like an oven and the only cooling was a weak breeze coming through the open doors downstairs. Our three hour afternoon tour ended up being just us and a British couple. The driver dumped us at the largest Buddhist Temple for 45 minutes, which was not enough time to see anything, only to race us up to Penang Hill so that we could sit and wait for the train for 45 minutes. We enjoyed our afternoon in spite of him. The Swiss-built funicular train has been running to the top of Penang Hill, about 2500' above Georgetown, since 1923. It was cooler on the top and the view of the island, which extended over to the mainland was spectacular.

Having seen enough of Georgetown, we hopped an express bus to Alor Setar in the morning. There we had to take a local bus to another bus station and missed the bus to the Thai border by about 10 minutes. The town seemed very traditional Muslim but the people were friendly and we felt pretty comfortable. Our bus to the border ended up being the milk run variety, though it was air-conditioned and comfortable. We walked across the border into Thailand where we had been assured we could catch another bus to Hat Yai. There were no buses in sight but we soon found a taxi who would accept our Malaysian ringgits. Since the signs were now in Sanskrit, we were traveling on hope and were relieved when the taxi driver dropped us at the Hat Yai train station. The adventure just never seemed to end.

Thailand in Spring of 1998:

Now we had no Thai baht to buy train tickets and it was the only acceptable currency. We changed our Malaysian ringgits to baht at the first bank but had to find a second bank to change traveler's checks. The only tickets available were for a second class non-sleeper car that didn't stop at Bang Krut. It was supposed to be air-conditioned and we felt lucky to find a way out of Hat Yai. Air-conditioning was a bit of a joke, the railway car finally cooled down about midnight. We took turns sleeping and reading the guide book, in addition to timing and counting the stations to keep track of where we were on the time table. In the wee hours of the morning, we found the Sanskrit name of our stop in the guide book, so we could finally show the conductor where we wanted to get off. Still unsure whether or not they would help us off the train, we nervously stayed awake, timing and counting. A little before 6 AM, we thought we were at our stop and the woman car attendant confirmed it. Once off the train, the conductor came off to shake hands and wish us well. To our surprise, the train had more than doubled in size, picking up cars at various stops during the night.

Shortly after sunrise we found the Had Thong Hotel, where we rented a deluxe room with a balcony and sea view plus air-conditioning and TV. After a shower and a two hour nap, Susan dropped off our dirty laundry and stopped in at the hotel restaurant for much needed coffee. Shortly thereafter, the head of housekeeping called the sleeping Bob and insisted on coming up to return $1000.00 in traveler's checks that we had left in the hidden pocket of his jeans. While the hotel staff began treating us like royalty, we began to wonder if we would make it out of town without being mugged once the story circulated. Our hotel sea view was great, the bay adorned with sea stacks and Chinese junks.

The next morning dawned hot and humid as usual but we were determined to see the sights. Our first stop was supposed to be a Wat on top of a hill overlooking the town and ocean, where we expected the views to be great. A series of cliffs and rocks at the base of the hill was inhabited by more monkeys than either of us had ever seem before. We checked the seemingly-friendly little critters out, took some pictures and started up the steps. About 100' up the stairs, we met the monkey from hell. He charged Bob, probably for food. Bob stamped his foot, hoping to get him to back off. Bad move. The monkey displayed a nasty set of fangs in wide open jaws and made repeated charges at Bob's bare legs. For what seemed an eternity he had us trapped on this staircase. Thoughts of monkey AIDS, the pain of being bitten, and other nasty consequences raced through our minds. Fortunately, we were eventually able to retreat. After discussing the situation, we decided that even with food for the monkeys neither of us was interested in making another try.

We arose shortly after 6 AM and had breakfast at the hotel restaurant so we could check out in time to catch the Bangkok bus. The bus was air-conditioned but certainly not express as the 200 km ride took almost 5 hours. Arriving in Bangkok, we found a metered taxi to take us to the Youth Hostel. Thrilled to have a room, we threw our stuff in it, grabbed the guide book, and went off in search of Khao San Road to find an Internet connection and a travel agent. Khao San Road was a zoo that reminded us a lot of Nogales. The sidewalks had been completely taken up by street sellers of all sorts and young tourists of all nationalities swarmed everywhere. The road is about three blocks long and littered with guest houses, tattoo parlors, Thai massage parlors, body piercing establishments, travel agents, eateries, and Internet services. It was noisy enough that we were glad to be a mile or so away at the hostel though we were a little nervous walking back in the dark.

The next morning we hopped a tuk-tuk to the Grand Palace. Neither Bob's shorts nor Susan's sarong were considered acceptable at the entry gate. Fortunately, they had a dressing room there where you could leave your driver's license or passport in exchange for the loan of proper attire. While the temples and palace inside the walls were great, we weren't impressed with the walking tour around the outside of the Grand Palace. It was so darn hot we weren't much impressed with anything that had to do with walking. We couldn't find an air-conditioned restaurant for lunch and finally ended up buying from a street vender, deep fried chicken and something else that we later decided might have been chitlins. We ate it anyway and washed it down with a big gulp from the 7-11. We spent most of our afternoon in the National Museum. By 4 PM we'd played tourist enough and wandered back to Khao San Road. We played on the Internet for a few minutes, bought some lightweight knock off Benelton pants, loaded up on cold drinks and ice-cream before walking back to the hostel. We talked the Youth Hostel managers into turning on our air-conditioning while we ate in the adjoining restaurant. Neither of us slept soundly that evening, perhaps because we didn't have an alarm and planned to be out on the street early to make sure we didn't miss our flight by being caught in the hideous traffic.

Kathmandu & Pokhara, Nepal in Spring 1998

Thai Air was one of the better airlines we've flown. The service was exceptional and food was tasty. The flight to Nepal was full and we experienced quite a bit of turbulence. Susan turned a pale shade of green and remained that way for the rest of the day. From the guidebook, we expected customs at Kathmandu to be tedious, which couldn't have been further from the truth. Other than filling out a 15 day visa which required correct change of $15 US, we simply walked through. In the visa line we met a young Australian girl who wanted to share a taxi. We quickly chose a taxi and left for Thamel. The ride was exciting, the narrow, winding streets crowded with buses, taxis, tuk-tuks, mini buses, rickshaws, motorcycles, bicycles, pedestrians, and cows. We loved it and the shopping possibilities seemed endless. Having been to Nepal before, our new friend was a wealth of information. We helped carry her luggage and she pointed us to a Tibetan-run guest house where her parents had stayed before. The polite, English speaking management ran a nice, clean inexpensive hotel.

The next morning when Bob woke up, we headed for the closest bakery where we bought delicious apple turnovers for breakfast. Next we found a travel agent and arranged for a flight to Pokhara. That done, we wandered on foot in search of Durbar Square. Durbar means palace in Nepalese and we soon discovered that there were several in the Kathmandu area. Kathmandu is a rabbit warren of crooked streets and confusing squares where several streets intersect. Street signs are non-existent and any map you have rapidly becomes useless except for generally locating things. We frequently used a compass to determine which direction we were walking. After a day's wandering, we knew the downtown area fairly well and had found the high rent district of Durbar Marg. That evening we had dinner at a rooftop restaurant, watching the busy Thamel traffic below as the sun set. We found Nepalese food to be inexpensive, varied, and tasty in the larger cities. They are obviously catering to the western palate.

On the street by 9 AM, we negotiated a taxi ride to the airport. The driver wanted 200 rupees but settled for 130 and we ended up paying 150 since neither of us had any change. The Nepal rupees are dreadful, ragged filthy notes of different sizes. They ranged from dingy to almost black from use and some notes only had the number in Sanskrit which really threw us. Arriving early at the domestic terminal for our NECON Air flight, we had plenty of time for a scrambled egg and toast breakfast. Once we took off, our right-hand side seats allowed us great views of the Himalayan Range. However, it was a little disconcerting to read on the front page of the complimentary paper that the day before NECON had a forced landing when one of their planes landing gear would not lock down properly. It seemed like a very laid back operation. Passengers walked in and out of the open cockpit to chat with the pilot during the flight. Except for pre-landing maneuvers, the flight was calm. When the pilot tight-turned to line up with the runway and rapidly descended, he pulled a couple of negative g's and Susan turned green again. A smooth landing and solid ground quickly restored her to normal color.

Kathmandu had been clear when we arrived there but the smog was oppressive the day we left. Unfortunately, the same atmospheric conditions prevailed in Pokhara. We briefly saw Machhapuchhare (Fishtail) around noon but by evening it looked like rain and the visibility was reduced to the rim of the Pokhara Valley. Because of its excellent views, we chose the Mountain Top Hotel, a 5 story building on the main drag. That night we ate dinner at a lakeside restaurant where we watched the lights twinkle around the lake as the skies darkened. By the time we returned to our rooms, both of us were suffering from stomach distress. At one in the morning, after finding no relief with ginger root, pepto-bismal, or benedryl, Susan started taking Cipro. The night did not go well. She was plagued by fever chills, stomach distress, headache, and backache. After close to a month of traveling, the inevitable tourist bug had hit. No one makes it out of Nepal unscathed.

Realizing that Susan would not be leaving the room for awhile, Bob went out and rented a bicycle. It was a one-speed model, which made the long uphill ride through Pokhara to the Baglung road somewhat exhausting but he managed to find the start of the Sarangkot hike and enjoyed the long coast back to Lakeside. By then, Susan was feeling a little better but was still not mobile. We were beginning to believe that the valley haze in these major cities was actually a winter inversion coupled with smoke pollution from field burning and motor vehicles. It rained heavily for an hour or two that night and again briefly as we were leaving for breakfast the next morning. This rain finally settled the smog and visibility increased considerably.

We found a covered open air restaurant called "the Elegant View" that had a good view of the Lake and a varied and carefully tended flower garden. It was still raining when we returned from breakfast, so we played a couple of hands of gin. By the third hand, Machhapuchhare was peeking out of the clouds. We hurriedly got ready and hailed a taxi to take us to Sarangkot junction. We had visions of Nepal's answer to Grand Canyon's El Tovar on the top. What a surprise! The mountain top was covered with tiny mom and pop restaurants, all vying for our business as we climbed. We heard every possible variation of "the view is the same up higher. You might as well stop here". The Annapurna Range was visible for short periods on the way up but clouds moved in shortly after we reached the top. We were happy for the views we'd seen.

After three days we decided to return by the bus to Kathmandu. True to our hotel clerk's word, the bus picked us up on the corner. The driver tried to move us back in the bus, for reasons that became obvious later, but Susan stuck to her guns and we kept the front seat. As we ran through town, we picked up locals, many who were obviously regulars, who rode for varying distances. Before we were even out of the Pokhara Valley, we had seen two large vehicles rolled over on the side of the basically one lane road. The day was exceptionally clear and the whole Annapurna Range was exposed as we left Pokhara. Machhapuchhare, although 1000 meters lower than some of the other mountains in this range, dominated the views because of its proximity to the city. Taking seven and a half hours, with several 5-10 minute stops as well as one extended stop at Muglung, the trip to Kathmandu was scenic but uneventful. On a clear day this is a great ride. We were dropped on the ring road and shared a taxi into Thamel with two guys who had been trekking. Even though we were a day early, our same hotel room was waiting.

We had a hearty breakfast on the patio of the New Orleans Cafe the next morning before heading down to wait for our tour bus. This valley tour was a good one. At our first stop, Pashupatinath Temple, only Hindus could go inside the main temple so the guide led the non-believers to a place on the Bagmati River where the Hindus cremate their dead. It looked somewhat like a sewer with partially burned logs floating in it. We came upon a holy man dressed in red who allowed Susan to photograph him. He posed for nicely while Susan took two shots. He wouldn't take any money but gave us his address in India and asked us to send him two copies. Our second stop at the largest Buddhist stupa was equally interesting. Prayer wheels too numerous to count adorned the walls. We made our way around it clockwise, the approved direction, always keeping the Gods on the right. The next stop, the Swayambi-bunath Monkey Temple, was a highlight. The monkeys were docile this time. They climbed in and out of the niches, eating offerings people had left. We wondered why they all seemed to have bright red butts but then realized it was from sitting in powder paint in the shrines.

Speaking of paint, we read an article in one of the local papers about the start of a month-long festival called "Holi". For a month people, especially women, are assailed with water balloons. On 3/12 in Nepal and 3/13 in India, those balloons are filled with paint and flung at people who are supposed to take it good-naturedly. A water balloon came sailing through one of our bus windows, splattering on the opposite side above Bob's head. Luckily it was only water, as the newspaper article also mentioned balloons filled with thick clay water or kerosene.

The following day, we arranged a car tour to Nagarkot for the sunset views of the Himalaya Range. It was quite a ride up there. Every possible square foot of land was terraced. One labor intensive thing we frequently noticed along all roads was large numbers of people breaking round river rocks into crushed gravel consistency, probably for road and construction fill. The Nepalese seem terribly hard working. It is a third world country and it doesn't seem likely this will change in the near future. Families are large, sometimes with 6-10 children. Nutrition seems poor and people barely scrape by. Out of necessity, everyone chases the tourist dollar. With such fierce competition, it is a cheap place to travel. Unaccountably, it seemed very safe and we had few concerns about being robbed.

After breakfast the next day, we shopped for the last of our gifts, wrote some notes, and got organized. Having nothing better to do, we arrived at the airport three hours early. The Thai Air check-in counter opened quickly and after paying our $12 US departure tax, we breezed through immigration and into the departure lounge. We spent our last 50 rupees, about a buck, on a package of mint toffee that cost only 24 in town. We were quite surprised when we walked off the plane in Bangkok to find two representatives from China Air bearing a placard with our name on it. Our afternoon flight the following day had been canceled and they had rebooked us on one that left early the next morning. To make it possible to catch our flight, they put us up in a five star hotel at the airport. We arrived in LA about six hours earlier than planned and were relieved when Southwest Airlines agreed to send us home on an earlier flight.

Whitewater Rafting Trips:

As usual, we submitted lottery applications to most of the agencies. However, we did not draw on any river this year. Fortunately a couple of our friends got permits and we are jointly planning two one-week group raft trips this summer. The two trips are in western Colorado and central Utah. For those of you who normally raft with us or have expressed interest in private rafting trips, we have included an invitation letter with this mailing which gives all of the details. There is space on these trips, so contact us if you are interested but did not receive this mailing.

We are also looking forward to some excellent Arizona rafting this year. The snow accumulation has been fairly good along the Mogollon Rim so we expect both the Verde and Salt to have raftable flows in April. Unfortunately, the Upper Salt has become so well known as an excellent March-April trip that it appears applications for each launch date are reaching ridiculous levels. It has become almost impossible to draw a permit for Wilderness section access. This means we probably won't get to do a 65 mile trip from bridge to bridge in Œ98. We hope to paddle-raft the day-run section from the bridge to Cibique several times if our free time matches up with high enough flows.

General Trip Information:

We must receive your trip deposit and a completed Q/AR form, for you to be considered for inclusion on one of our trips. If you plan to join one of our trips and you haven't done this yet, get it done now. If a trip is popular enough to require a waitlist, we will use five criteria to determine who is on it. Initial preference will be given to those who have a current mailing application on file, have paid any required trip deposit, and have promptly returned the necessary Q/AR. If this isn't sufficient, we then compare trip deposit dates and lastly Q/AR postmark dates.

We continue to send information to our travel friends using e-mail. If you want to be the first to know what's going on, send us your e-mail address. We'll also continue to communicate unique travel opportunities by Œspecial mailings' to those who travel with us frequently and who have a mailing application on file.

Best of luck in your 1998 adventures, whatever they are, and wherever they may be. We hope you can join one of our trips so we can spend some time traveling with you this year.

Susan & Bob

Updated on Thursday, December 8, 2006 @ 4:30 MST © 1995-2006 by Robert R. Marley