Shanti Stupa and Sangkott
From our balcony you can see a wonderfully white shining stupa high up on a mountain and I really want to take a closer look at it.
In principle, there are several ways to get to the object of desire. First: You rent a boat, row to the other side of the lake and then hike uphill in one Nepalese hour. In European time this means about 3 hours of agony and a gradient of at least 50%.
Option number two: Walk around the outside and take the less steep climb. The way should be possible in about 5 Nepalese hours back and forth. But as we want to have something to eat before sunset and be back in the hotel, option 2 also drops out.
Variant 3 is more to our taste, because the lazy European can simply take a taxi and walk up the mountain up to 10 Nepalese walking minutes.
Finding a taxi in Pokhara, however, is not as easy as expected. On the one hand, today is Saturday, the day when almost everyone has a day off in Nepal and gets in a taxi to drive somewhere, and on the other hand most taxis are not recognisable as such. Often there is not even a taxi sign on the roof of the car and the designated taxi ranks are empty today.
For a long time we walk up and down the street helpless. There’s gotta be a damn cab driver somewhere who wants to make some money. We quickly find someone who wants to earn a little more money. At the cutthroat price of 2,000 rupees without wanting to negotiate with us, the thought of walking up the mountain is suddenly very inviting again. After a short thought I fortunately come to my senses and quickly reject the hike again.
So we have no choice but to stand around and look at the passing cars seeking help. Even the blindest taxi driver should not be able to miss a desperate European looking for a ride. It takes a beaten 30 minutes, a real marriage crisis and then it actually happens: A sun-brillated driver of a completely unroadworthy small car carefully makes eye contact with us.
After turning around us three times to make sure we are really looking for a taxi, he stops and we bargain him down to 1,500 rupees. There you go!
If I thought the car looked unsuitable for driving from the outside, then the interior design impresses me even more, because it is actually no longer there. Well, admittedly, we have seats, a steering wheel and an engine. But that’s about it.
The speedometer certainly worked sometime and 10 years ago our vehicle was surely equipped with shock absorbers. Moreover, I am not sure whether we still have an axis at all, but why is that needed? It’s just ballast!
On the positive side, however, the rear-view mirror has been replaced by a brand new monitor on which our driver may watch the latest Bollywood movies while driving. Luckily, he’s concentrating on the street today. At least partially, because as in every other Asian taxi, the phone rings every 3 minutes and even a narrow serpentine road would not prevent a Nepalese from answering the phone.
By the way, the interior captivates with glued advertising posters and a charming plastic covering above. The only thing worth anything in this car is our driver’s golden watch. So it doesn’t seem to be going so badly in the taxi business.
At full speed we board through the serpentines and almost have a rear-end collision before the first traffic jam. There are no seatbelts either. Why should there even some? In the Nepalese road traffic you are wounded more expensive than dead. When the golden clock then speeds through a crater-deep pothole with at least 70 km/h, I think that at least now is the time when we continue with only one axle.
When the clutch starts to stink in the next turn and we almost slide down the mountain again on the gravel, the time has come for Mirko to open the bottle self mixed Rum-Cola. You should actually always have this with you for certain emergencies. And our emergency has been going on for a long time.
When we reach the top, half an hour later unharmed, I firmly believe that Buddha personally accompanied our carriage up the mountain. It’s like a miracle.
Before we can take a look at the stupa, however, the 10 Nepalese walking minutes or the 7,000 steps to hell await us. And that’s really not an understatement. With another 3 billion pilgrims celebrating New Year’s today, we drag ourselves up the stairs and every time I think we’re right there, we’re still going up after the next turn. Meanwhile I‘ m panting and it’s at least 100 degrees and the sun is burning down on me with 12.000 watts.
For the last 4 stairs there is divine support through Buddhist drum music and I try to stumble up the last steps to the beat of heat death. Fortunately, an approximately 90-year-old lady is walking in front of me and I can adapt wonderfully to her pace. If it looks like I can’t overtake, it might not even be noticeable how unfit I really am. It’s sad that the old lady, despite her old age, still sets a pace at which I could get jealous.
At the top we are greeted with a happy Happy new year and a nice sticker. Then we mingle with the other hundred pilgrims and walk around the pagoda. To the left, of course. From up here we have a super nice view into the valley and I am once again surprised how many mountains there are in this country! By the way, the pagoda is getting fuller and fuller.
Pilgrims crowd into pilgrims and selfistick into selfistick. In between you always have to be careful not to fall over picnicking locals and the sign “ Silence “ which hangs in large letters in front of the pagoda, nobody has noticed for a long time.
Soon we make our way back to the golden clock, our driver, and I’m really not sure if it’s better to walk up or down the steps to hell. More dangerous’s probably down. The situation is similar for the downhill drive.
Because downhill the gold watch has no pity at all for the small rusty vehicle and rushes like mad through the serpentines. As we drive through another pothole, which finally becomes a ski jump, Mirko decides to drink the whole bottle of rum and cola at once.
Also this time we reach the bottom in one piece and I can hardly believe our luck! It must have been because I turned so many prayer wheels.
Panoramaview in Sarangkott
In the afternoon we want to go up another mountain to watch the sunset. The best point for this is Srangkott, a tiny village at an altitude of about 1,600 metres. But again we have a driver, who also has a vehicle, which comes at least from hell. Well, I’m glad when we have seats.
Unfortunately I have to say that this trip tops the last one in really all points. The essential handbrake, which you always need when starting off on the 80 percent gradient and backwater if you don’t want to cause a mass collision, works – let’s say moderately or not at all. Unfortunately the Rum-Cola bottle is already empty and Mirko tries to hold on to the handlebar, which unfortunately no longer exists. The potholes are much deeper than at the last mountain and the road is even narrower. Of course, this does not prevent the moped drivers from simply overtaking in oncoming traffic and giving us at least 3 times an almost frontal collision. Where would we be if anyone here would even obey the rules of the road! But I seriously doubt that there are any at all.
Since a car has stopped on a very steep slope with a lot of gravel and we discover it much too late due to the sharp bend, we now have to back down the hill to take a turn. Of course we can’t stop, because as already mentioned our handbrake doesn’t work.
In the existing rear-view mirror I see the slope without crash barrier getting closer and closer and I sincerely hope that our driver knows at what moment he has to accelerate and clutch. With the engine howling, tyres spinning and boulders flying sideways, we now race past the one that was stranded and I am sure that we have seriously injured at least one of the passengers standing around with a larger stone on the head. I wonder if we’ll roll backwards again to run over the injured man completely. I’m not sure about that right now. Fortunately, however, we are still speeding up the serpentines. Either none was injured or our driver is simply happy that we have passed the scree and avoided the falling death. I can’t say for sure.
When we finally get to the top, I’m close to a nervous breakdown. If I even think about going back down there, I could cry. Fortunately, the 7,000 more steps to hell distract me from my thoughts. In Nepal, nothing works without stairs. They should get some advice in Myanmar, because they let extra escalators into mountains for lazy tourists. Would do very well here, too.
When we arrive at the top, completely wet and sweaty, we are rewarded with a wonderful view into the valley. I don’t know where to look first, because on one side the sun is just setting and on the other the cloud cover rips open and we can see a breath of the huge, snow-covered mountain tops.
One of them is Machapuchare or Fishtail Mountain with about 7.000 meters. Since the Machapuchare is a holy mountain, it must not be climbed and as it looks from down here it is not even possible in my eyes.
In the meantime Mirko has another rage attack because I can’t take the photo of him and the mountains in the background according to his ideas. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help that 12,000 photos of him are taken due to a lack of competence. However, when I look at my work, it could be turned into a wonderful short film entitled „Anger in Sarangkott“.
Much too fast the sun sets and it gets dark slowly, time to go back down. And while we’re in the dark, I wonder if our car has any light at all. That is by no means a matter of fact here!
Luckily I am positively surprised and since the traffic at this time is not so strong any more, we manage it with only one nervous breakdown downward. By the way, I got it when a moped driver with 3 co-drivers comes towards us without lights on the wrong side of the road. Expect the unexpected seems to apply not only in Africa, but also in Nepal. Who would have thought that two continents so far away could be so similar?
Continue: From Pokhara to Chittwan