This is the site of our campsite on the first night:
There were 13 rafters. One was a guy who was born in Nepal but who was visiting for the first time in 20 years. There was an Estonian couple. The rest were young Israelis. They were all incredibly friendly and welcoming. They spoke English whenever I was around and, if they spoke in Hebrew, one of them would always make a point to translate or give me the gist of the conversation.
The river itself was just okay, quite frankly. The scenery was pretty, of course, but we couldn't see the mountains from the river, which was a bit odd. Rapids were Class III to Class IV, nothing too crazy. Normally I like to take a turn in the front of the raft. It's a much wetter and wilder ride up there. But the two guys in the front of my boat had no intention of sharing. The Estonian guy, in particular, didn't interact with the group at all -- even his wife -- and he was as useful in the boat as the Venus de Milo. But since the water was pretty tame I was content to let them have their fun.
The rafting company was absolutely top notch. The guides were great, the food was fantastic and plentiful, and there were all sorts of little touches that I hadn't seen even on trips in the US. Like this:
In the back is the latrine tent, which better tours in the US will provide. In the front is the latrine helmet. It's how you know whether the toilet is occupied. If you go to the tent, you take the helmet with you, then put it back when you're done. The lesson here should be obvious: Grab a helmet early in the morning or else you end up with the latrine helmet!
I've had some pretty bad luck with travel agents and tours lately, so it was such a relief to deal with professionals and to travel with good people. The rafting company is called Shai and it's right under the Everest Steak House in Pokhara.
Krishna, my boat guide and the leader of the tour, is on the left here. He became interested in becoming a river guide when he was one of the little urchins who hang around the camp and do chores in exchange for food. And a little volleyball.
And of course we helped the local economy. You have to reward the type of entrepreneurial spirit which leads a local family to set up a shop selling beer, whiskey, cigarettes, chocolate and Coke for a single river tour. On an island.
When we stopped for lunch the next day some local boys were playing cricket. A cricket pitch is usually about the size of Yosemite National Park. These kids were playing on a stretch the size of a small suburban driveway. As I understood it, the rules were simple: If you hit the ball in the river you lose.
The bowler is in white and the batsman has just hit the ball, which is barely visible in the air between them.
This is the take-out point, where the grey Kali Gandaki is joined by another river, the Modi Khola (I think). The other river flows from a mountain spring and is a bright green color, so as they mix it creates a marbled effect that made me wish I really knew how to use my camera.
Much further upstream the Kali Gandaki valley has the distinction of being the world's deepest. Yet again, the sense of proportion and distance is completely out of whack here, because the altitude of the river is at about 2,200 meters, or about 7,300 feet. This means the bottom of the world's deepest valley is quite a bit higher than the highest point on the Appalachian Trail (6,643 feet).
That's because the river runs between the seventh- and tenth-highest mountains in the world. Dhaulagiri is 8,167 meters and Annapurna I is 8,091. From the top of Annapurna to the river below is about 19,400 feet, over three times deeper than the Grand Canyon. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll have time to get up to that portion of the trail.
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