Earthquake

I hate waiting. I feel so useless just sitting around waiting. I feel like I should be doing something right now. So many people lives are literally falling apart right now and I’m just sitting here drinking tea as if it was just another day in Kathmandu. Except no one has showered or slept in days and every time there is a loud noise everyone jumps. We all sit outside in the driveway because no one wants to go back into the house.

Luckily our house is sturdy and withstood the earthquake well, but as one friend points out it doesn’t matter if your house is strong if the house next to you is weak…There is a 7 storey hotel next door that has disconcerting cracks all over the bottom floor and some of the interior has collapsed. I’m not worried about our house but I keep eyeing the hotel next door every time we feel a rumble under our feet (which is every few minutes). Some houses fell over at both ends of our street but the most buildings all around us are still standing. We were extremely lucky. Other areas of Kathmandu have been flattened. Ten minutes away, my friend and his family are camped outside. Their house is still standing but unsafe to move back into. Most of his neighbourhood have lost their homes. We camped with them on the first night in someone’s vegetable field. The raised beds made it terribly uncomfortable and impossible to sleep. I huddled with my friends – 5 of us - under one blanket. One friend beside me was shivering uncontrollably. “I’m so cold!! I think I have hypothermia,” he tells me. I don’t think so. I think he probably is just in shock.

My friend, Natasha, and I were very lucky. We were at the house when the earthquake happened. We didn’t see any of the devastation. Our friends however, were not as sheltered as us. They were at Swayambunath when the earthquake hit. Many people were gathering there that day for a special cultural program that was supposed to start that afternoon. Natasha and I were supposed to go meet them there, but a miscommunication delayed us at the house. Luckily our friends were in the parking lot when a side of the temple collapsed. That night, huddled in the dark under the blanket my friend whispers to me “We saw lots of things. One little girl couldn’t find her father. Another woman was searching for her husband and children.” Coming back down the hill they passed several houses that had fallen down. In one house a family had gathered for puja when the house came down on them; no one survived. Describing the scene my friend says “The blood was just running out.” (A few days later a rescue team from India dug under the rubble of that house and found a little girl who was badly injured but still alive).

Throughout the night we are shaken by aftershocks. Each time, a panic rises in the camp. People start to scream, cry and pray. We all watch the buildings around us for any sign of potential danger. In the morning people start to roll up their blankets and head home when we are hit by yet another big aftershock. Everyone came running back in a panic. We drink some tea and eat some biscuits before heading back to our home. During the day we stay at our house, it is better than being in the camps. At least here we have water, an outside kitchen were we can cook food, and proper toilets (no water for flushing but it’s still more sanitary than the makeshift toilets in the camps). We stock up on rice, lentils and drinking water. Most water tanks (which are on the rooftops in Nepal) were knocked down, broken and emptied during the earthquake so we can already predict that there will be a water shortage soon in Kathmandu and the prices for food will skyrocket in the next few days.

At night we pack up our valuables, some snacks and water, blankets and sleeping bags and head for an open field to spend the night in. We lock up the house but the neighbourhood has organised a watch because with everyone out of their houses the likelihood of theft has increased. Already on the first night, neighbours caught a thief in our area. On the second night, they break up a fight between a couple of drunks. One man brags, “we are better than the Nepali police!” Indeed, their level of organisation and ability to work together and look out for each other in these difficult times amazes and humbles me.  The second night, we go to another camp in a field. At least here the ground is flat and soft so we can lie down comfortably. However, minutes after arriving someone tells us that thunderstorms are expected that night. We don’t have a tarp, tent or even a plastic sheet to cover ourselves with. We try to find some shelter but if another shock comes there is the risk that our shelter could collapse or someone could get crushed in the rush to try to get out (we aren’t the only ones looking for shelter). In the end we decide to tough it out in the rain. In the rain we might get wet but at least we will still be alive…We spent a miserable night wet and cold.

Part of what makes the waiting intolerable is that the networks are down so I can’t reach any of my friends. Other than my friends at Green Soldiers, I haven’t heard from any of the girls at Himalayan Adventure Girls or from any of my paddling friends or friends outside of Kathmandu. I want to look for people, but I have no idea where to look, all of them have either left Kathmandu or are staying in camps. I have no idea where they are. I rationalize that at least if I stay put at GS eventually they will come looking for me here. Indeed, on the fourth day, some of the boys from GRG show up at the gate. I am so relieved to see them. The building they stay in is sketchy at the best of times; A tall 6 storey building with a narrow cement staircase without sides on the inside so it often feels like I am going to miss my step and step into the void. The building is in a back alley and surrounded by other tall buildings, there are no open spaces nearby and the whole thing looks incredibly unstable. The boys were on the top floor and when the earthquake started they ran to the rooftop and held on. They rationalized that if the building collapsed at least they would be on top. As soon as the initial shock passed they ran downstairs and towards the big intersection. That day we find Sita on the way to the boat house. She is shook up and afraid but otherwise alright. Her family lives in Pokhara so they are safe. Sita and the boys are all going to leave the next day to return to their families. It isn’t safe in Kathmandu; buildings that have been weakened by the tremors could still fall at any moment and the threat of an epidemic looms over us. The boys ask me to come with them, but I don’t want to leave my friends behind especially since they stuck by me and looked after me throughout the whole ordeal. We have a plan to do some fundraising to buy supplies from the Indian border to help people close to us who have been affected by the earthquake. I decide to stay.

The following day Anu and Radha come to GS. It’s a tearful reunion. The girls have been through so much and I can’t even fathom what it has been like for them. I thank my lucky stars and my army of angels a million times. Anu had to walk 2 hours to get to my guesthouse because the roads are blocked to get to her village so no vehicles can pass. Anu was in Thamel when the earthquake hit and her first thought was that she had to get back to her daughter who was staying with her family on the outskirts of Kathmandu. Her family is safe but everyone in the village has lost their house. The whole community is currently living communally under tarps. They organized themselves to build proper latrines and a cooking space where they all contribute and cook food for everyone. Radha was in Fishling when the earthquake hit. Despite being close to the epicentre of the earthquake, no houses fell down in Fishling and all of our friends there are safe. However, as soon as the first wave hit, Radha got on a bus to try to get back to her family in Kathmandu. On her way back, she narrowly missed being buried under a landslide. She said they saw the rocks fall and if they had passed two minutes later they would have been buried. Like Anu, Radha’s family lost their home but they were able to get out alive. However, Radha’s relatives from her village in Sindupalchowk are still stuck under the rubble and they don’t know if they are dead or alive. No aid or rescue teams have reached that area yet and the fact that the village is very remote makes it difficult to get any help there (there is no road access). We are trying to get food and supplies together to bring to her village as soon as possible. 

I haven’t heard from Kamala yet but somehow amidst all the chaos she managed to catch her flight and go to Japan where she has a job working as a raft guide for the summer. Kamala’s village like Radha’s is also in Sindupalchowk and has been destroyed. Her grandparents and one of her uncles died. We have been unable to contact her family and find out what their situation is but we are planning to go find them when we bring supplies to Radha’s village. Aid started arriving in Sukute near Kamala’s village yesterday so hopefully some of that aid has reached her family.

Update on where I am staying, some of my friend’s relatives who lost their home have come to live with us. Luckily, the people who had been staying at the guesthouse (partyers who had come for a trance festival and didn’t stop partying despite the humanitarian crisis happening around them) have left for Pokhara so we have enough space for everybody. Electricity and internet came back yesterday and today we should get running water again and hopefully we will be able to shower (we are all getting a bit smelly). We have enough food and drinking water. We eat two full meals of dahl bhat (rice and lentils) every day and yesterday we were even able to get a bit of chicken. We rarely stop to think about how privileged we really are, but right now none of us can take anything for granted. So many of our friends and neighbours have lost everything they had. I cannot even tell you how grateful I am for all the abundance in my life. I have been blessed with so much and I hope that I will never take that for granted.

No pain No gain

No pain no gain. I think that statement needs to be reevaluated. Why should something have to hurt in order for it to be considered an achievement? I practice a risky sport and to me success means making it down the river with as little pain as possible- preferably all in one piece and still smiling. Like many people, I have been known to brag about injuries and scars obtained while attempting some crazy (and cool) feat. We celebrate pain as a measure of strength, toughness and ability. Tales of accidents, endurance and determination might make the stories we tell when we go home more exciting and adventurous, but really, wouldn’t it be way cooler to say we took on some incredible challenge and everything went amazingly well and we had no problems? I guess the goal, particularly in adventure sports, would be to perform a particular stunt without it causing you any pain but I guess once you reach that level than it no longer presents a challenge any more because you have mastered that ability.
 

The reason behind these ponderings on pain and gain is that I just came off an 8 day paddle bruised and battered with a bump on my head and achy muscles everywhere all to be able to say I paddled the Sun Koshi river. Hours of paddling on flat water in the wind and rain for a few short minutes of adrenaline and white water. By the time we reached Harkapur – the biggest rapid on the river – we had already been paddling for four days. The first few days we drifted in the hot sun, layering on sun screen and having water fights to cool down. At camp on the 3^rd day we were hit by a small sandstorm. The wind picked up and sand blew everywhere. Despite this, the guides still managed to cook the best meal ever of “lasagna” (butterfly pasta cooked with veggies and cheese in a dutch oven) and fish. The fish was a big fatty that the boys managed to catch with the help of a local fisherboy who also supplied them with weed and roxy for the long journey. The wind continued to blow throughout the night and I woke up a few times with increasing amounts of sand in my ears, face and sleeping bag. How does sand manage to get EVERYWHERE??!! Even with the zippers all done up on the tent, the sand was still managing to sneak its way into every crack and corner!!

“I would rather have rain than sand” says one of my rafting companions. Words spoken too soon. The next day we were hit by a storm that lasted most of the afternoon and into the night. Head down under the pouring rain, I paddled to stay warm. Occasionally a bolt of lightning would strike a bit too close for comfort but we kept moving. At one point, we stopped in a village to “refuel” (ie: get more roxy). We warmed up in a local tea house and enjoyed the quaintness of village life. At one point, I thought it would be a good idea to go for a walk out on the bridge – I
was almost at the bridge when I realized that standing on a giant metal structure in a storm probably wasn’t the brightest idea…I went to check out the pigs instead because pigs are cool. When the rain let up a bit we continued on. We were lucky enough to be able to set up our camp and take down our camp in relative dryness but the rain continued for the next couple of days. I don’t mind rain while I am on the water so long as I can sleep in a dry tent at night. The guides on the other hand slept under a shelter which they made by propping up the raft. One really windy night, the raft was knocked down on them…twice then it started to rain...

Each day I would ask “when are we going to get some real whitewater?” and every day the guides would tell me “tomorrow”. When we finally reached Harkapur we had already been paddling hard all day and I could feel every muscle in my body ache (even my toes were getting a workout). I have never paddled this much in my life and after a few months of being stationary after my car accident, my body just isn’t used to this much exercise. I scouted the rapid from atop a giant rock (that I wasn’t able to get down from afterwards and hurt my foot jumping down). One of the guides points to a big sticky hole at the bottom of the rapid: “that’s what you want to avoid. You go in there and you’ll have a hard time getting out.” I was a little bit nervous so naturally I flipped ABOVE the big hole.  I still made it out okay only to make the exact same mistake on the next rapid, Harkapur 2. I finished the day exhausted and disappointed. Four days (or was it 5??) of hard paddling to get to this one big rapid and I messed it up! Luckily the rapids didn’t end there. The next morning we had a great run through the Jungle Corridor with lots of big waves. I corrected the mistake I had made the day before and had a great ol’ time on that section without rolling once. That evening, the rain let up and the sun came out for a few hours before giving way to a clear night sky. The boys joined a soccer game with the locals and I sat around with my new friends watching the entertainment and eating popcorn. Some adorable little girls hung around us, curious about the strangers camped on their beach. My friend took animated videos of me on her phone with spiders eating my head and dragons burning me to a crisp. The kids were very amused.

By the time we arrived at the last campsite, I was sunburnt, sore all over, bruised and downright exhausted. So when one of the guides suggested that we run the lower Tamur (a technical class IV+ river) on the last day, my answer was naturally “Yeah! Let’s do it!” That night, a local villager went to catch us a wild chicken for dinner. When he didn’t come back after dark, we sent another villager to go find him. He strapped on a lifejacket and expertly swam across the river using the current to his advantage then disappeared into darkness on the other side. About an hour later, we heard shouting on the other shore. One of the guides hopped in a kayak to go recuperate the chicken and another one of our kayaks that was stranded on the other side. “You know you are in Nepal when you paddle across a river in the dark with a squawking chicken between your legs freaking out.” While the locals kill, clean and chop up the chicken for dinner, we put on some traditional Nepali music and have a dance party. Another rafting company, who just finished a trip on the Tamur and are camped just down the beach from us, come to check out the action because we are clearly having more fun than them! The chicken tastes delicious!

The next morning, I wake up at 4am and with my guide and a porter carrying my kayak, we walk half an hour along a little mountain goat trail then ferry across the river to where our vehicle is waiting to take us to our put in point. The truck that is going to take us to the river is an antique – rusted and shaking like the doors might fall off at any moment. The drive to the put in is about 3 hours along an unpaved narrow steep sketchy road that curves around the mountain side often along the edge of a cliff where we can see the river winding its way through the valley far below. The sun starts to rise, a bright red dot in front of us, illuminating the surrounding mountains in its morning glow. We brought only the bare minimum so no camera to take any pictures of the panorama in front of us. We pass through villages with houses made out of bamboo weaved together. The houses are all elevated with sleeping lofts and bamboo balconies on top. The balconies are decorated with lovely little flower pots and hanging laundry. Everyone is awake with the rising sun, and you can see people out plowing their fields. Several people try to stop our truck and catch a ride. We see a tractor and two or three other vehicles, but I can see why people would want a ride. It appears not many vehicles come by this way.

Despite the bumps in the road, I start to nod off towards the end. Before getting on the water, we stop to drink tea and eat some breakfast. It’s around 8:30am when we finally push off into the current. We warm up on a few small rapids. I can feel my body is exhausted, but I am excited to be here and feeling confident. I sit straight in my boat and take long strong strokes remembering to use my whole body and not just my arms. When the rapids start they come hard and fast. The river is technical and rocky with almost continuous rapids broken up by just short breaks in between each one to catch my breath. I started off feeling strong, but it wasn’t long before my body decided enough was enough. “Aggressive paddling! Aggressive paddling!” My guide would yell at me. I would lean forward and dig my paddle in but it felt like cutting through air. I had no power left and my legs were like dead weights in my boat. My mind and body were locked in a battle of wills and my mind was losing. I flipped and bounced my head along some rocks. I had already hit my head really hard early on and reinjured my neck and shoulder that had been recovering from whiplash. I rolled back up but I was shaking everywhere and barely holding it together. I squeezed my eyes shut, close to tears, and took some deep breaths. There was no other way out but down. I had to finish the run.

My guide was brilliant. He stuck with me, both encouraging and pushing me to continue and trying to make me laugh to ease the tension. We took a short break and when we got back into our kayaks I started singing - my foolproof method of getting over my fear and calming my nerves. It worked. My heartbeat slowed. I stopped shaking. My body was still screaming with pain and tiredness, but my mind just rose above the noise. I joked and laughed with my guide because laughing is better than crying. When we finally made it to the end of the rapids I sighed with relief then flipped once on a wave train just for good measure. But the ordeal wasn’t over we still had over an hour of flat water paddling in headwinds to get to the take out and then another 15 hours by local bus to get back to Kathmandu. I put my head down and tried to ignore the pain. Don’t stop. Just keep moving. It took every ounce of my will power to make it to the end and once I got there I had nothing left. I took a couple of pain killers before getting on the bus and hoped they would knock me out so that when I woke up we would already be in Kathmandu. My plan didn’t work and the bus ride was interminable. To add to my list of injuries, my feet became swollen and scratched from trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in on the bus.

We arrived in Kathmandu around 8am the following day, but my guesthouse where I have been living for the past four months had been booked while I was away and I had nowhere to stay. A friend walked to 4 different hotels with me helping me carry my gear in order to find me a place to stay. It wasn’t easy because the tourist season has started so prices have gone up and also because it was morning so the rooms weren’t ready in some places and I wasn’t willing to wait. The other issue was after 8 days on the river and a horrible, hot, dusty bus ride, I was in desperate need of a hot shower and most places only have solar shower which means you have to wait until the afternoon to shower when the sun has warmed up the water. We eventually settled on a place, but hopefully, I will be able to move back to my regular “home away from home” soon.

So, was the pain worth it? Without a doubt yes. And I would do it all over again in a heart beat. In particular, I hope to get a “redemption run” of the Tamur soon enough. Since I know I have the ability to run that level of river but that that day just wasn’t the right time for me to be running it. This time there was more pain and while I gained a lot from the experience, I hope that next time, I will be able to gain just as much but with half the pain. 



Photo credits to Scott, Stacey and Liam!

Marsyangdi

We scout the next big rapid from atop a giant boulder. My guide looks at me: “What do you think? It’s ok?”

I shrug: “Well, I might hit that hole.” I point at the crux of the rapid which I figure is the most likely point where I will flip. I pause thoughtfully, then add: “Well, I might hit all those holes…” I point at the rest of the rapid. That’s why they call me hole bait. (Just for the record, I didn’t hit any of the above mentioned holes and I ran that rapid perfectly).

I laugh and hop-skip my way back to my kayak, careful not to slip on any rocks. I’m surprised at how unafraid I am. I must be gaining confidence because though this is one of the most technical rivers I’ve ever run, yet none of the rapids we’ve scouted has worried me so far. I don’t even feel the slightest bit nervous, just excited.

As I approach the spot where I left my kayak, I chant: "Kayaking is fun! I love kayaking! Kayaking is fun!" The rafters sit quietly in the raft awaiting our return – they have no idea what is waiting for them around the corner and it’s better they don’t know. I look at them with a glint of mischievousness in my eyes. I don’t talk to rafters very often but I decide to make an exception this time. “You can tell how big the rapids are that are coming up by how excited I am when I get back from scouting” I tell them. They laugh nervously. I proceed to empty water from my kayak only to fill it up again when I try to sit in it and it shoots out from under me and I fall in the water sideways. This time everyone laughs – see how much fun we are having!

I messed up the first big rapid we ran and flipped twice, but still came out smiling. The next one went much smoother and by the third one I was starting to really have fun. I spent most of the day with a big smile plastered on my face and finished most rapids laughing with glee. Kayaking is the best! And Marsyangdi river is hands down the best river I have ever paddled; Technical and challenging but with a lot of really fun drops and some great moves. I am so grateful and excited to be here. This is probably the most fun I’ve had since arriving in Nepal.

We almost didn’t get the chance to run Marsyangdi. My friend who I hired to be my guide and I set out on Monday to go to Marsyangdi. I had been waiting for a long time to go run this river and kept missing out on trips going there, so I finally decided that if I was going to go I had to take matters into my own hands. I talked one of my friends into taking me for a couple of days this week then talked the company that he works for into letting me “borrow” him for few days. By the time we arrived on Monday, it was too late to do any runs that day – we would have to wait for tomorrow. We found a local “hotel” to stay in (the only one in town) owned by a lovely woman who took it upon herself to overfeed me for the next few days. She also taught me quite a few new Nepali words as she didn’t speak any English but was super pleased to hear me speak a few words in Nepali.

That evening while we were feasting on dahl bhat with some other guests and drinking roxy (everyone but me), someone informed us that a strike had been called for the next 3 days which means no buses, no shops, no work, no nothing. We were stuck there. At first, I thought it really isn’t a bad place to be stuck so long as I can still go kayaking, but I was told that there would be no kayaking. With the strike on, there is no transport so we have no way of shuttling back from the river. We could run the lower section, but we would have no way to get back to our hotel after. I thought we might be able to hire a private car to take us but it would be expensive and anyway, we couldn’t find any one who was willing to take us…I was crushed. I came all this way and now I wouldn’t even get to paddle. What a waste of time and money! And who knows when I might get another chance to come back here!!! What a disaster!

The next day, my friend and I went for a walk along the quiet deserted road closed down by the strike. After lunch, I was napping in a dahl bhat coma when my friend shook me awake: “Put your gear on. We’re going kayaking!” Like music to my ears, a rafting company had just arrived with some clients to do 2 days of paddling on Marsyangdi river and they have their own private transport! It turns out the guides from that company didn’t have much experience on this particular river and they were uncertain which lines to take so they seized the chance to have my guide and I come along so long as my guide (who has more experience and knowledge of the river) agreed to lead the way. Everybody wins!

We ran the lower section the first day which was fun but not particularly challenging and the upper section the following day which was where the real action took place. At the end of the day, the company even gave us a ride back to Fishling where we started. One friend told me that Marsyangdi is the nicest river in Nepal with the exception of the Tamba Koshi. He tried to talk me into doing a trip to the Tamba Koshi, but I think it will have to wait a bit. The Tamba has continuous class 5 rapids for 3 km and is still a bit above my skill level. I may need a bit more practice before I tackle that one, but I am getting there.