To the Back of Beyond.... Surkhet and Tallo Dungaswor

Homestay 1.

I sat waiting in the dusty bus stop after ringing Miguel to let him know I'd arrived from Tiger Tops. His friend arrived 15 minutes later. His friend was a Tharu Nepali man with an old bicycle, a big smile and a nice hat. Miguel told me I'd have to carry nothing, but there was no way this man and his bicycle were going to accommodate both my bags. He took the bigger of the two and popped it on the back of his bicycle. I kept the little densely packed electronics and photographic equipment bag thinking we'd be there in no time. Forty minutes later having passed along many tracks and little farm houses we arrived. I have to stop assuming I short distances.

'Hello my friend! How are you?' Miguel welcomed me smile and big hand shake.... I was past warm.... I was roasting. 'I'm good Miguel, quite a walk that, wasn't really expecting it to be honest. Nice to see the surrounding area though.' I remarked.

This was Miguel's 'Homestay'. He helped this family build a house some 5 years ago whilst he stayed with them. Miguel is fluent in Nepali, and although the Tharu mainly speak Tharu, they also speak Nepali. The house as you'd expect for a Nepali farm house consists of a mud floor with white painted mud plastered brick walls. The house runs over two floors. The floor above the ground floor is the living area.

The kids....

Farm from the barn window...

Relatives son and daughter....

Our beds were basic. There was electricity for lighting provided by solar lights and a little generator when necessary. It was basic, but it should be, as these people live simply. Everything they eat they grow. When Miguel's friend had to travel to India with Miguel for a couple of days he ate nothing. He didn't trust it. He eats only fresh foods, be them meat, vegetables, pulses or beans.

The Man of The House....
told you he had a nice hat!

Me in the barn window....

As I sit in the glass-less window on the first floor of the farmhouse looking on to the yard below four little girls play at jumping over one another. Two form the 'high jump bar' with their legs, two jump. Then they switch. Shortly afterwards they play with handfuls of stones, performing a little throw up, pick up and catch. Whilst this goes on their little brother plays with an old
bicycle tyre and a stick. It's back to the old days, and it is so beautiful to see. All the children constangly interacting with one another, no sitting tucked away in a bedroom cyber chatting or playing games consoles, it's real life. They know nothing more therefore desire nothing more. They smile beautiful white smiles, laugh the innocent laugh of children and shriek with joy as they play together. I watch for an hour. In the background, lost in a sea of green the ladies of the families work slowly and steadily, either making repeated journeys to water the vegetables with large head carried pots of water, or harvesting the fields, returning with large bundles carried on their backs via a strap running across their foreheads.

The Pig.

Miguel calls me. We are going to find a pig.

After 20 minutes of walking we come to the next tiny hamlet. A hairy black little pig is eating and snuffling around, blissfully unaware of his impending doom. Most people who choose to eat meat don't get to see how it's done. To be honest it's pretty cold, clinical and automated in most of Western Europe these days. The animals have been plied with various antibiotics along the way and fed loads of nutritionally empty grain to build them up so they appear all meaty and lovely. The nutritional levels of our meat back home is low and unbalanced. The animals meat contains what they eat. All the animals here on these little farms are grass fed. No grains required. The meat here is totally organic. The cows escape becoming beef....Like India the lucky beggars are sacred here in Nepal too. The animals live good lives and are well taken care of. The families want their meat to be healthy meat and they understand how to achieve this.

The pictures are small as some folks may find them disturbing. Click if you want to see them larger.

Miguel translates (no one speaks English here in deep West Nepal) that they have asked how I'd like them to dispatch 'Peppa'..... 'What are the options? 'Actually I just want the fastest most painless way for the pig please.' I said before Miguel had a chance to provide options. As it happens the options where as follows, slit throat and bleed out, or back of the axe head to the pig's head. They assured me one blow of the hammer like axe head would do the business. I agreed this was the kindest way to dispatch the little fella if there was going to be meat on the menu. One blow and it was done.

Oh Dad.... What have you done to Percy?
Ribs?

Next was the removal of the pigs hair using burning grass and inverted metal cups, followed by a body rinse.

For frying.....

The throat was cut and bled in to large tray. The pig was then gutted from mouth to anus. It was interesting to see it done. The flies found it very interesting too as you can see from the images.

Next the pig was chopped up, not in the way a professional butcher might do it, more the way a fella whose chopping up a pig for his mates might do it. No snazzy cutting, sorting out ribs from hind quarters and all that sort of thing.

Portions of 'Peppa' were weighed out and Miguel took what he wanted.

That Pig had real guts....

What was left....

It was 10am. I was sat outside on a plastic chair with the butcher family and many children from various local families. It wasn't long before I had a tumbler of local booze placed in front of me. It tasted like the Tumbah, but a tiny bit more palatable. Miguel surprisingly suggested one would be plenty. He wasn't lying. I could feel it's effects within minutes!

Family Event....

Local Boy Home from School...

As the pig cooked I was given a 'Tharu beer', once again it turned out to be similarly unpleasant. I swigged it down always wanting to experience the culture in full. Thank heavens they brought out beer proper for the next instalment of booze. The flavour complemented the dish of spice fried pigs blood with pig body parts.... I'm pretty sure there was an 'I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here' camera stashed somewhere, because I'm pretty sure there was a pig's anus in my dish. I was chewing on rubber, and although I didn't want to offend anyone I eventually removed the offending anal inner tube, before moving on to the next slightly more tender section of rubber.... That too was eventually removed from my mouth. I must have eaten quite a bit as the butcher's wife slopped some more pork offal delights, along with a few chunks of pig fat this time in to my bowl. I thanked her smiling gratefully as I frowned sadly inside. I ate a tiny bit more then did the universal signal for being full, the classic pat of the belly accompanied with bulging eyes and contented smile. I swigged back the rest of the beer.

The Village Butcher gets to work on a piece of sugar cane....
No blood, no guts.... Nice.

The afternoon was spent relaxing, finished off with an evening walk.

Later in the afternoon at 2.30pm as both Miguel and I were resting out of the heat of the sun, we were served a pile of rice with more pig. This time there was more meat present... But I still didn't want it. I polished off a fair chunk as the spicing took my mind off the constant chewing.

That night I was blessed with more pork based food..... with more Nepali booze. I drank two tumblers to assist with chewing and lubriction. The conversation turned to the production of brewing proper beer. The farmer and land owner offered me a year stay free of charge if I could show him how to brew beer. He said he'd forgo the rice crops for barley if necessary. There was much laughing and planning.

'Oink, oink, snort' I whispered before dropping off to sleep..

Miguel and I woke at dawn for a half hour walk, then got our stuff together to catch to go catch a bus to Surkhet before heading onwards to Talo Dungasar. The walk back to the main road felt hot, cumbersome and difficult. It was through beautiful fields, but every step had to be judged with perfection due to the narrow width of the raised paths between the crops.

Rays of Sunshine...

We arrived in Surkhet a couple of hours later, and I was gutted to find I'd left Amanda's red scarf behind. Miguel called them, and they promised to get it to us. A bus delivery to Surkhet.... It will need to coincide with my wait in Surkhet to catch the bus to Pokhara, I'm not sure how this will work.... I know to everyone it's just a scarf, and no doubt they all think I'm insane, but I really want it back.... I hope Miguel can sort this out for me.

Miguel had a meeting with a some West Bardia Tourism folks that evening. He returned with news that as an 'international journalist' they'd like to invite me to a two day rafting session, all expenses paid for (both of us). It pushed my time to the limits as far as returning to Pokhara to complete the Annapurna Circuit, but I was easy and this would also be very good for Miguel too.

Miguel said we could put bags on the bus to Talo Dungasar and ride pillion passenger with the guys heading up to see Miguel's hotel. I wasn't keen, but this is an adventure I suppose so I agreed.

Miguel returned after speaking to the bus company. They wouldn't take bags with no one to accompany them. This was a problem. I offered up my services for the 4 hour bus trip the next day. Perfect.

Miguel's Place.

Miguel sorted everything (I paid for my bus ticket) as far as logistics went, I loaded up all his bags and mine and embarked on the bus journey to Tallo Dungaswor.

The scenery was stunning. The bus climbed high in to the mountains overlooking beautiful lush valleys and terraced crops. The drops to the edge were precipitous. Literally hundreds of metres. I'd heard a story about one going over the edge last year where the driver and all 34 passengers were killed. This particular occasion was a night bus. They have since stopped night buses along this pass. The road is a little more than single track width, with vehicular encounters involving much reversing and manouevering, being careful not to get too close to the edge. The bus drivers take it pretty easy. The final 5 miles of road was some of the roughest, in fact it was the roughest I have ever experienced. I couldn't believer the bus's suspension and axle survived. The driver was forced to do no more than 10 mph for many sections. It was brutal!

When I arrived in TD I called Miguel (who'd arrived a couple of hours before having left and hour earlier and had travelled pillion passenger on a motorcycle with the West Bardia tourism guys). He sent a guy to help carry all his bags, whilst I was left to carry mine plus a bag of fresh vegetables. Once again I was told I'd have nothing to carry. A pattern was forming! The walk was a tough one. It was 2.30pm and almost 30 degrees. The walk took us along a road for approximately a kilometre (the bus had kicked me off a kilometre too early) and then a narrow rocky path to bridge across the river. The next seven minutes where spent twisting turning and climbing, before I dumped the bags and said 'REST'. Miguel's porter seemed relieved. He was carrying more than me and sweating just as much.

A few minutes later we embarked on the steep natural stepped rise to Miguel's hotel.

I was absolutely soaked and knackered by the time I arrived.

The team of tourism and Miguel were comfortably chatty having downed two bottles of whiskey between the six of them. I swigged a gallon of water, then ate some fish curry which Miguel had kept back for me. I headed for a wash in the outdoor washing area which consisted of a half height concrete cubile with a cold tap. I stripped off and started washing. Brrrrr the water was invigorating! Shortly after starting Miguel came out, shouting to me that I have to cover my parts with shorts or something, 'I don't have anything, I'll crouch down. It's the best I can do I'm afraid.'

'They don't like.' He said..... Who doesn't like I thought? And if they don't like why the bloody hell are they watching me taking a wash in the washing area? For a 39 year old man I'm in pretty decent shape, what's not to like I remarked!? Ha ha!

I returned to the table where the chat was pretty much all Nepalese. I got offered a few nuggets of English here and there. Everyone was comfortably lashed, but holding it together along with their sense and dignity.

They talked about their promotion based proposal asking about my plans, hugged me a lot before they left, then told me they were looking forward to seeing me the day after tomorrow for the rafting. I too was looking forward to it. They then jumped on their motorcycles and took the most treacherous looking section of road I've ever come across whilst travelling. I don't suppose they had much fear in them by that point. If anything a little over confident I'd say. A motorcycle was left behind for Miguel to take the both of us to Surkhet the day after tomorrow. We were being picked up in Surkhet (the 4 hour bus journey I'd done that day) at 7am, so needed to leave by 4am, the motorcycle could apparently knock an hour off the journey.

The Stars.

That night Miguel's chef and jack of all trades Ramesh cooked up some lovely food. I shared a rum and water with Miguel. We talked about the West, about losing loved ones and missing them. He told me he was getting an energy he'd never before experienced with anyone else whilst sitting sharing time with me. I'd talk about Amanda, tell stories of our lives together, Miguel kept saying, 'You really love her eh!!!' in his strong Basque accent. He'd smile and tell me that this love will be forever, and she is always in my heart, always protecting me, but I mustn't let my life stop, I must still try and enjoy. I think he spotted the old tears welling up. He said I'd taught him much about life, which surprised me. He said listening to the way I spoke about Amanda was beautiful. He told me I was very strong and full of love. He went on to say he wished all his guests were like me.

Even though it had been 6 hours since his drinking with the 'board of tourism' I think Miguel was feeling soft on whiskey, though he didn't slur his speech or stagger about. He had said so many nice things about me after we talked I assumed he must have been at least a little tipsy.

Miguel suggested I sleep on the roof of the hotel under the stars, just lie there, look at the sky and think of Amanda. Ramesh carried the rope slatted bed base up with a cushioned mattress and big cosy quilt.

Within a few minutes Miguel suggested on second thoughts lying looking at the stars reminiscing about my wife may be too much. He said I should be smiling and happy and to only think good thoughts.

I told him I'd be fine.

Stars....

When I saw the stars they blew my mind. I'd never seen a night sky like it. It was absolutely phenomenal. It was breath taking. I lay on my bed with the quilt pulled up snugly around my chin to keep the chilly night air from nipping at my skin. I didn't want to remove my specs as the stars would fade to greyness under my naked eye. The night sky is the best reason for anyone who suffers short sightedness to get glasses (that and driving.... and stopping bumping in to things and falling in to big holes!). I lay there watching for an hour, thinking about Amanda.... thinking of the time whilst we lay on the bed in the hospice on the Isle of Man watching Professor Brian Cox discussing how we all came from the stars.... 'I knew we came from the stars.' she said beaming with delight.

I rose early next morning and hit the river for a bit of fishing.

After a breakfast of porridge followed by crispy Karnali trout fillets (netted by Ramesh earlier in the morning) I headed down to the rocky gorge. It's beautiful green blue water flows from the mountains. No factories, no pollution, just fresh glacial water feeding the river. Golden Mahseer and Karnali trout are present... My full day of fishing in the sun only accounted for bites, mainly due to the lack of finesse in the fishing tackle and bait department. I also lumped on huge chunks of spiced flour paste hoping to capture a big mahseer, even though it's a few weeks early for their normal arrival. Kids fished with bamboo rods with hand lines full of much better mononfilament than I was using for the job. One local guy invited me to join him in 'his spot'. I'd politely remained downstream after spotting the likely looking haunt. I'm big of fishing etiquette. On sitting alongside he soon used chunks of my paste and asked for a couple of hooks. I fished amidst the frequent visiting goats, cattle and children. It was a lovely day.

After my Tiger Tops experience I found myself looking at the tracks in the soft sand at the edge of the river. Lots of big cat (maybe leopard, lynx and jungle cats) tracks and some other strange looking prints too.

Whilst fishing quietly from a large rock a chestnut coloured cat moved high up on the far bank. I didn't have my spec's on so couldn't really identify it due to the distance..... Nice to see though!

I returned to Miguel's hotel at 5pm absolutely starving! I'd been gone 9 hours!

I took to my sleeping quarters on the roof early on knowing that a 3am rise for the motorcycle ride to Surkhet along the mountain pass was awaiting. I wasn't looking forward to it one little bit. Matters were made worse when Miguel asked if I could ride a motorcycle stating that he wasn't overly confident..... 'Just take it easy' was my worried suggestion.

Back to Surkhet.

We rose in the middle of the night. The stars still blazing with the Milky Way casting it's chalky white shadow in the pitch black. We ate, grabbed our bags and then trudged the 12 minute walk to where the motorcycle had been stored. After much faffing around Ramesh managed to pull, push and roll the bike on to the sandy track. A couple of minutes spent finding out where the lights were and how the bike starts saw us begin our long, treacherous journey.

100 metres down the exceptional bumpy, hole ridden sandy track, with me carrying a back pack and a bag wedged between my front and Miguel's back, the bike wobbled, bumped and swerved before Miguel brought it to a halt. 'No, I can't do it. This road is no good. I'm not confident enough to ride this road with you on the back and the bags.... I don't want to risk it.' said Miguel wisely.

After only 20 seconds of experiencing how the next 40 minutes could have been before we hit a proper road surface I was elated. It was too risky. Miguel had been all over the place. He suggested I head on my own. I suggested that I don't, having never ridden a 125 Hero Honda motorcycle before. Miguel decided we should try and catch a bus.... We stepped it out another 10 minutes to the bus stand. No buses. Even if there had been we'd have never made the deadline, and only had to catch a 4 hour bus back again. It would have been a great experience and really good opportunity writing and photography wise for my portfolio to have worked with the West Nepal Tourist Board, but these things happen. That and I'd rather live another day rather than have a freebie all inclusive two day raft trip with all the trimmings.... As I've said before I'm not worried about dying, but I'm not in the habit of inviting it either!

Seeing as it was only 4.40am by the time we'd hiked back to the hotel across the river, Miguel suggested I do the two day trek with Ramesh as my porter and guide. He said he'd do me a 'friends' discount for this two day excursion, which would still hit me for £30.00.

The Trek.

After a masala omelette wrapped in two roti breads we were off. Miguel said after 3 hours we'd get food again. We hit the tracks just before 6.30am....

The first 45 minutes were challenging due to the steep rocky terrain, but things levelled out every now and again. We came across beautiful little rural hamlets of one, two or three tiny houses holding water buffalo, cow or a few goats..... Very beautiful. The fresh wheat fields were bright green in the low morning sun..... The terrain became steep again, we climbed and trekked at a good pace. Deciduous forests bordered us with flaming leaves from autumn..... Then the land opened up across the valley. I started to become very hungry and noticed that I'd slackened off the pace. I asked Ramesh the time. We'd been going 3 hours. It was 9.30am. I needed food pretty desperately. Ramesh doesn't really speak English so when he said, 'One o'clock' I hoped he'd got his numbers mixed up. There was no way I'd last over 3 hours without eating something, I was running on fumes already.

I've kept some back for my Facebook Photography Page.... They'll be uploaded at a later date.

The next half hour saw my pace slow to a heavy dawdle. On steep sections I struggling to lift one foot in front of the other. It felt as though I was trying to lift my legs from somewhere around my chest. Things weren't looking good. Ramesh stopped and waited. I sat beside him and collapsed on to my back. I was only carrying a light backpack whilst young Ramesh was carrying 5kg of camera equipment for me. I told him I needed food again, signalling by raising my hand to my mouth. We drank water. Rested for five minutes and started again.

Immediately the distance between Ramesh and I opened up.

I began to feel hatred for Nepal and a dislike for Ramesh. I decided that maybe trekking wasn't for me after all, in fact I seemed to have built up a totally aversion towards trekking. I started to become very light headed, and my legs felt crumbly. Walking the up and down terrain was becoming as much of a mental challenge as a physical one. I worried that my legs were going to collapse under me. I stopped taking photographs. I ceased to notice the stunning scenery, I was just focused on the track in front of me, focusing on keeping my feet.

I'd lost sight of Ramesh, and decided to lie down. Maybe he'd gone on ahead to get food..... I'd never experienced such a burnout.... Nothing even close. I lay on hump of rocks in the middle of the narrow track. I rested my head on my elbows. I was so uncomfortable, but didn't seem to have the energy required to rearrange my position. I started to feel very sleepy. The sun was beating down on my face. We'd walked an hour since my initial request for food.... Suddenly I thought I'd better get up as lying here was going to achieve nothing. I started to put one foot in front of another, concentrating on this normally simple process.

After 20 minutes I spotted Ramesh on a wider track with little houses. Oh my God, was there going to be food here.....? When I reached him he ushered me in to a little dark room. A lady was just putting together some fresh samosas for lunch time. It was 11am so we wouldn't be eating them. She poured us both fresh Nepalese tea and served two home made biscuits. They were magical. Two more came, then two more.... Then Ramesh ordered me four..... They were great.... Possibly the best biscuits in the world! Another cup of tea and I was ready to take on the world.

I think Ramesh was blown away by the instant recovery once refuelled.... I was walking up alongside him striding it out with my new found energy.... I was once again enjoying the scenery, enjoying trekking and liking Ramesh.... It's amazing how the body and mind react when they are lacking good fuel – or indeed a stack of homemade biscuits!

An hour later we arrived at another little eatery. There was a lady making food on a fire, and a baby goat hopping around. I ate a huge thali, of rice, curry and curd. Ramesh ate nothing. Rubbing his stomach to indicate discomfort.

Homestay 2.

An hour later we arrived at our Homestay.

The family here are lovely, though they speak no English and I speak no Nepali. The little girl seems to have taken a shine to me. She's a real little cutey.

Basic indoor swing...

Not sure?

Over the past couple of hours Ramesh's stomach turned. He is now suffering stomach cramps and galloping trots. Poor guy is really suffering.

Looks like I may well have to find my way home tomorrow with no guide or porter to carry my camera pack..... Bugger! Maybe the cost will come down....

I'm currently sat on a mattress-less wooden bed, the sun has just dipped away, and I'm somewhere in the far west Nepalese hills after being starved for half a day.... My ceiling is old large heavy plastic sheeting. Tomorrow could be very interesting!

The Next Day:

Uneventful... Miguel headed to Surkhet (4 hours on the bus) stayed overnight, then took a motorcycle ride to our homestay. He took over the return guiding leg.

The next day I did more work for photography work for Miguel, a little yoga and lots of meditation.

It's getting hot in Nepal now!

One of the tourist guys returned to pick up the motorcycle from Surkhet to Tallo Dungeswar this evening. The very motorcycle Miguel didn't feel confident enough to ride to Surkhet on the dodgy mountain pass!

Buses are not at set times from TD to Surkhet, which causes me a problem as the bus from Surkhet to Pokhara leaves at 2pm.... Which means the one from TD needs to leave by 9am to be on the safe side. There is no guarantee of this.

Ah, my friend from Surkhet has offered me a ride on the back of the very same motorcycle that I was sat on two mornings earlier, just before Miguel came to a halt. I was unsure and slightly nervous, but he assured me he was an experienced rider and would take it easy. I reluctantly agreed. This also meant there would be no concerns with regards to catching the bus for the second leg of my bus journey.

That night my new friend downed most of the contents of a good bottle of whiskey.....

I slept on the roof under the stars thinking about Amanda.

Next morning I settled up with Miguel and then jumped on the back of the bike. I was carrying the big backpack, with Gyendra carrying the smaller pack on his chest.

To cut a long story short it was wonderful!

What a fantastic way to travel along the mountain pass. My views were unlimited by the roof of a bus, I was not being tortured by awful music nor was I having to listen to people snort, hoick and spit. Only wearing a t-shirt left me feeling a little chilly at the top of the pass, it was only 7am and the side we were climbing was in the shade. For 7km the road was terrible. Twice I had to dismount to allow Gyendra to keep the bike going..... and only once did we nearly get hit by a bus. Which I thought was pretty good. On reaching the top of the pass Gyendra would knock the engine off so we could take in the silence or bird song. We freewheeled large stretches of road. The bright red rhododedron trees lit up the side of the mountain, the valleys were wide and deep and the mountains seemed to go on forever. Gyendra treated me to a milk tea and little millet snack half way through our journey. A chance to stretch our legs and sit in the sun.

An hour and a half later we reached his parents home.

They all made me feel very welcome, his mother especially, feeding me with a never ending Thali (or Dal Bhat as they call it in Nepal). The initial serving of white fluffy rice was vast, a huge glass of fresh curd accompanied it with 3 smaller side dishes. Each time I finished the dishes would refill. Even when I shook my head and smiled they refilled. In the end I had to virtually cover the whole tray and dishes to disuade her from shovelling more food at me. I was fit to explode. It was lovely to eat at a Nepali home..... at a table!

I had hoped Amanda's scarf was with Radna, a friend of Miguel's. Apparently Homestay 1 guy a few hours away had apparently popped it on the bus and Radna was on pick up duty.

We took the motorcycle to Radna's shop. He handed me a little plastic bag, inside was Amanda's red Cambodian silk scarf. I was overjoyed. I know I shouldn't be too attached to such things, but at the moment I'm allowed.

Then Gyendra took me to the ruins of an ancient Buddhist temple, destroyed by Muslims hundreds of years ago.... This boy was a legend.

Home to his parents for half and hour and then back to the bus.....

Pokhara:

I've just arrived in Pokhara after the roughest 17 hours I've ever spent on 4 wheels and no suspension. The road was dire, and that's being kind. I've not slept. It's about 9.30am here. I'm in guesthouse that I'm paying twice as much as I'd like to be paying, but I need to sort things out today. I need to access the internet, and I need a hot water shower. It's been over a week. Cold showers are great when it's hot, but you can't beat some warm water!

I'm heading in to town to grab my trekking permits for the Annapurna Circuit now.

I think I may be offline for about 17 days.... unless there is internet along the route in the tea houses. You never know. Maybe I'll bring the Tablet just in case.

The Permits:

I'm about £30 quid lighter.... the permit then the TIMS which allows them to keep track of you when you register at each point. It's a safety precaution. You don't check in on the next point they know where about you have disappeared.

I haven't slept since Saturday night, having rose at 6am for the motorcycle ride. It's Monday night... I'm shattered.

This will be the last blog update for a few weeks. I'll be offline for approximately 18 days.

Keep the love my friends.

If you have time on the 7^th April spend a few minutes thinking about that lovely lady I was lucky enough to be married too. I will be on the circuit. I have plans for that evening. Just me, my heart my mind, the Himalayas and a blanket of stars. I'll be full of Amanda.

If any of you were considering planting a fruit tree in Amanda's memory, now is a great time! x

Love you all.

Mark.

PS. This hasn't been edited and tidied up. I'm soooo shattered, and I have to sort out my things for the trek. Time is pushing on. I'm up again at 5.15am, it's almost 8pm now! Forgive the river of grammatical errors.