She presented herself at reception at eight o’clock sharp. Sujay was waiting for her, in a dark green shirt, the pockets and sleeves adorned with several badges denoting Nepal, the Himalayas and the logo of his employer, Everest Tours. He wore khaki cargo trousers that had pockets in each leg, over well-worn boots that looked to Jess more like trainers. He held a grey floppy hat that looked familiar.
“Morning, Sujay,” she said, excited but apprehensive, laying her bulging rucksack on the floor.
“Good morning, Jess. I hope you had a good evening.”
“The food was wonderful, but I confess I didn’t sleep much, thinking about the trip.”
“Well today you don’t have to do much except sit on the bus. You can maybe sleep some. Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Have you checked out?”
“They said I don’t need to. They’ll move my big bag out of the room and keep it till I get back and then I’ll check out the day I leave.” He looked at her rucksack and gestured towards it with his hat.
“May I?”
“Yes, of course.” Sujay picked it up, then set it back down on the floor. She looked at him.
“This is too heavy.”
“What do you mean? It’s perfectly okay. You don’t have to carry it. I can manage.”
“I’m sorry but when you are walking up a steep hill at four thousand metres you will say ‘thank you, Sujay, for making me bring a lighter bag’.”
“But I need everything in there.” She didn’t want to argue with him before they’d even set off, but she’d taken great care in choosing her inventory and even greater care packing it.
“You don’t need the mattress. We’ll be staying in village teahouses. They have beds. That’s two kilogrammes.”
“Oh, okay,” she said. News to her.
“How many clothes do you have?”
“Er, I have a change of clothes for just about every day, that’s about twelve of everything,” she said, satisfied with her forward planning.
“You only need two or three at the most.” She looked at him as if he were mad.
“But am I going to be able to do any washing?”
He laughed.
“You won’t. Trust me, you won’t want to and you won’t need to.”
“Will I get a shower?”
He made a rocking gesture with his hand. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
She could tell he was beginning to enjoy this and felt her frustration growing. “What else do you have? Snacks, energy bars, cutlery, extra shoes …?” She looked increasingly uncomfortable as he continued to reel off the list. “Evening wear, pyjamas, hats, Swiss army knife, tin cup, head torch, extra batteries, medicines, toiletries?”
He stopped and she lifted her head to look at him.
“You forgot the gas bottle and burner,” she said, and they both laughed. “Oh, Sujay!” She felt such an idiot, such an amateur, but she knew he knew best.
“Trust me, Jess. You are going somewhere where you need very little other than warm clothing and water. Everything else we can get along the way. How much water do you have?”
“I brought two bottles from the room and got a third from reception.”
“Two litres is enough. We can buy in villages along the way. Water is very heavy. If you carry too much weight, it will be very difficult for you.”
“What about these sticks?” she said, pointing to the two light alloy telescopic poles strapped to her rucksack.
“Yes. You will need these.”
She gave in. She asked reception for a laundry bag and decanted most of the contents of her rucksack into it while he watched. He almost bent over double laughing when he saw her lift out a brightly coloured kimono style garment. “You have a dressing gown?”
“It’s silk!” she shot back, “It doesn’t take up any space!” but then snorted and threw it into the laundry bag in mock rage.
“Can I keep my toothbrush?” She held it up as if threatening to strike him with it.
“Toothbrush is okay.”
“Towel?”
“Towel is okay.”
She tied down the straps and handed the rucksack to him.
“Satisfied?” He took it and smiled. He was satisfied.
She handed the laundry bag to the man at reception and Sujay led her through the hotel courtyard and out of the large oak doors. She felt a little conspicuous in her brand new white artificial fibre trekking shirt, black cargo pants and shiny new boots, but no more so than any other European trekker ready to set off on their first journey. She now had only one change of trousers and two changes of shirt and underwear. As well as these, her red hiking jacket, a micro fleece and one set of thermals, rolled up and stuffed in the top of the rucksack, completed her wardrobe.
She looked at the front of her shirt, which already had a small dirty streak on it near the waistline. She tried to rub it off but just made it worse and she wished now that she hadn’t picked white. She wondered how bedraggled she’d look the day she got back.
Mitesh was waiting for them in the minibus. They climbed aboard and she watched out of the grubby, dusty window as paradise receded into the distance and they were swallowed up in the madness and mayhem of Kathmandu.
***
The journey out of the city centre was slow and tedious such that within the first hour they’d only travelled twelve kilometres, the endless streams of traffic and the inevitable jams severely hampering progress.
Between animated bursts of conversation with Mitesh, Sujay tried to draw her attention to various points of interest, but Jess was taking little notice of him, captivated instead by the sights and sounds and smells of the city as viewed through the minibus windows. The relentless human activity on this alien urban landscape fascinated her, and at every turn, junction or stopping point, some unusual ritual was acted out, people going about their business, as they did everywhere else in the world, in the name of survival.
The traffic began to ease as the density of buildings decreased and soon she caught glimpses of greenery and open fields. They turned onto the Prithvi Highway and as the road twisted and turned and they gradually gained altitude, dense forest appeared on either side, the air wafting in through the open window becoming noticeably cleaner and cooler.
Jess stretched out on the bench seat with her head on her rucksack and tried to doze, but as the road was bumpy and the minibus noisy, she couldn’t get any sleep. Sujay and Mitesh kept up their relentless chatter and she wondered how they could find so much to talk about for so long. But she managed to filter out most of the noise, and as the bus rattled and the road swung her left and right and left again, she thought of Chalton, the green fields of England and wondered how her girls were doing five thousand miles away.
After three hours, they’d covered more than half the distance, but as Sujay had explained, the further they travelled, the worse the road became and the rougher the journey would be. An hour later, they reached the Betrawoti river where it met and joined the Trishuli river at Betrawoti Bazaar.
“We will take a break now and have some lunch,” said Sujay. Mitesh pulled the bus into a roadside café where other larger buses had stopped, and she could see many passengers milling around the car park. Nepalese, old and young alike, carrying bags and children, trekkers with rucksacks and walking poles accompanied by porters in tee shirts, tracksuits and soft trainers. Brightly coloured but dilapidated old buses, luggage piled high on their roofs, were parked haphazardly around the broken concrete ground that served as a car park.
They went indoors and queued cafeteria-style for steaming hot food; noodles, rice, vegetables, and the ubiquitous dal bhat slopped out with ladles into large plastic bowls. They seated themselves amidst the transient throng and deafening chatter that echoed around this most basic of restaurants, and Sujay and Mitesh gorged on a huge plate of noodles. Jess did her best to join in but was not particularly hungry and she left half of hers for the boys to finish.
That afternoon, the bus zigzagged its way steadily up the increasingly narrow and precipitous road, engine screaming and gears crunching, both men shouting and gesticulating to other drivers on either side of the road. And amidst the cacophony of horns and plumes of black smoke, the seemingly endless convoy of buses meandered and crawled their way up the mountain towards their mutual destination.
The road quickly worsened, degenerating into a single track strewn with small rocks and potholes. Jess looked out of the right-hand window. With mounting fear she realised they were travelling along a cliff edge with no barriers and, despite Mitesh’s constant wrestling with the wheel in an attempt to find a smooth path, the bus rolled and pitched alarmingly, throwing its occupants from side to side, forcing her to grip anything she could to steady herself.
Finally, by four o’clock they reached their destination: Syapru Besi, 1,500 metres above sea level and the starting point for trekkers to the Langtang Valley. The bus pulled into a parking area alongside three others and Sujay helped her down.
“This is where we start,” he said, and she stretched her aching back and legs. Mitesh passed down their rucksacks, jabbered something to Sujay in Nepali and got back behind the wheel.
“Where’s he going?” asked Jess, suddenly anxious.
“He has to go back to Kathmandu.”
“What, now?”
“Yes. He has work there tomorrow.”
Jess couldn’t hide her astonishment and was immediately concerned for him.
“But it’ll be after midnight when he gets back. And along that road, he’ll kill himself!”
“No. No. He is a good driver. He has two or three hours of light, and remember, it’s all downhill.” Sujay laughed. “He’ll be back by nine thirty.” Jess looked at him and shook her head. Maniacs. She noticed one or two buses continuing on up the road.
“Where are they going?”
“Border is just fifteen kilometres. Chinese migrant workers returning home. Are you ready to go?” She lifted her rucksack over one shoulder.
“Where’s the hotel? I really need a shower.”
“We don’t stay here tonight. We start the walk now. We have time to get to the Vishna Lodge before dark. It’s about two hours from here.” Jess groaned.
“Must we?”
“You want to be back as soon as possible, then best we don’t waste time.” He pulled his grey floppy hat out of his pocket and put it on his head. She recognised it immediately. It was the same one Peter wore when they were on the boat. She thought of him standing here with Sujay, five years ago, in the same hat, ready to go off in search of Lisa. Could he ever have imagined that one day, a strange girl bearing an impossible likeness to his missing daughter would be here now, retracing his steps? The difference was that, unlike Peter, Jess knew Lisa was alive and where she was.
The air was noticeably cooler now and the combination of altitude and the weakening afternoon sun made her shiver. She pulled a red micro fleece out of her rucksack and put it on. To the west, she looked out across the valley at the terraced rice fields that stretched down the steep slopes in front of her and out of sight. The mountains on the other side were dark apart from their tips, which still glowed from the last rays of the setting sun, and large black birds of prey circled lazily above them, silhouetted against the darkening sky. They were already higher than the highest point in the UK and still had much higher to climb.
Another group of trekkers had set off ahead. The start of an adventure for them, but for her, it wasn’t just an adventure. It was a mission.