Posted on Thursday, 30 October 2014

To me, Kathmandu is perhaps one of the most exotic-sounding cities on the planet, so my expectations were very high as my taxi trundled over the pot-holed roads from the airport and made its way into the bustling traveller district of Thamel in the city's heart.

Kathmandu, Nepal (Aleksandar Todorovic/Bigstock.com)

These narrow, crooked streets were filled with tuk-tuks, motorbikes, souvenir sellers and lots of tourists in search of adventure.

Streets of Thamel (Zzvet/Bigstock.com)

The main reason people come to Nepal is to climb one of the many mountains (Everest being the most famous, although most tourists only get to Everest basecamp), but also to experience a range of other outdoor activities.

After checking into my hotel – staffed by some very friendly Nepalese guys – I soon got chatting to some Irish trekkers. They told me they were planning an excursion – two days one night – that would include white water rafting and canyoning, with the option of a bungee jump afterwards.

They invited me to join and I accepted.

The trip was organised by a firm called The Last Resort – an adventure sports resort located next to a very steep gorge high in the mountains. Accommodation was to be in a ‘deluxe tent'.

The next day we were picked up in a rickety old bus and driven into the mountains. Instead of checking into the Last Resort first, we went straight to the river. After some time we parked next to one of the wildest looking stretches of water I've ever seen – called Bhote Koshi.

I have to admit, as I stood among my new friends gazing at the rafts, that I was a little scared. We were each given a lifevest, helmet and paddle, and then a guide talked about safety precautions and general procedures on the river. This did nothing for my nerves since I realised that I was completely responsible for myself – if I didn't do what the guide said quickly enough, or if I failed to hold on tightly enough when a rapid loomed, I could be overboard.

We strained to hear every last piece of safety advice over the roaring water.

Finally, the instructor told us this was a grade 4 river in some places – on a scale that went up to 6, which apparently was ‘near suicide'.

And then it was time to get in the raft.

I was pretty edgy as I gingerly took my position in the rubbery yellow vessel – perched on the edge, fingers gripping the paddle. I quickly acquainted myself with the little rope handle; a very, very important feature of the raft.

And we were off.

The initial stretch of water was fairly straightforward and given the adrenaline in our systems from the scary safety talk, we were all pretty alert, rowing (or not rowing) when the guide said so.

But then the first rapids slid into view and in a flash our guide screamed, "Down!"

We all slid off our slippery perches and pressed our bodies to the deck of the raft. For a second we were at a steep angle and the rubber of the raft squeaked over some rocks –which was an unsettling experience because we could not see outside the boat and had no idea which direction we were going in – or where we would end up!

But after a second we were safe again, cruising down a calmer stretch. It was kind of like a rollercoaster – but a very random and perilous one. If you didn't watch out, you could easily find yourself in the water, or worse, slamming into a rock.

And so we continued down the river and came to another rapid, then another. I found myself becoming less tense as we went on – although still alert to the dangers.

Russian Overboard!

After perhaps an hour we came to a very steep rapid indeed, at this point a large Russian man on the opposite side of the boat was flipped into the river; if it wasn't so dangerous it would be funny, such was the speed of his departure.

But the Russian managed to hold on to the safety rope while the guide manoeuvred himself over to help. However, the man was heavy, and the slight Nepalese guide could not haul him back onboard. The situation was made suddenly worse when we got stuck on a large angled rock in the middle of the rapid. We were stuck at a sharp 45 degree angle, roaring water gushing over us making it difficult to see or hear properly. The guide screamed at us to shift our bulk this way or that in order to dislodge the boat.

As we did so the Russian almost got sucked under the raft – in what would be a very bad situation indeed – but the guide held on to him. Finally the Russian managed to pull himself back on board, with the guide's assistance, but not without losing a little dignity when his shorts were pulled down by the rushing water.

Unfortunately for the Russian there were three other rafts behind us waiting to take the rapid – all of whom got a glimpse of his behind!

After this, thankfully, the river became calmer, and we made it to the end of the run without serious injury.

Exhausted but happy, we clambered out of our boats and re-boarded the old bus, talking excitedly about our experiences.

The Russian took his ignominious catapulting from the raft with good humour, but kept going on and on about drinking a strawberry daiquiri when he got back to the resort – to settle his nerves, he said.

Back at the resort we checked in to our deluxe tents – and discovered that they were indeed quite deluxe. There were no strawberry daiquiris for the Russian however, but there was lots of food and beer.

We all sat around the bar in The Last Resort and chatted about the day – and even met the owner of the resort, a wily old Australian who seemed to be a kind of adventure sports junkie.

What happened to the Russian was very dangerous, he told us, but there were more daunting challenges ahead, he said; the next day we would go canyoning, and if we had the nerve, bungee jumping down a 160m high tropical gorge!

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