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!