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Crystal Water Beach | |
| Nepal and the Karnali River | ||
Karnali Bheri Integrated Rural Development Project or ‘KBIRD'
by: Bob Culbert June 2007
The Karnali River is one of the largest tributaries of the of the Ganges. It rises in the southern slopes of the Himalayas in Tibet, at an altitude of 13,000 feet, flows south through the Himalayas in Nepal and joins the sacred Ganges River in Northern India at an elevation of 2,000 feet.
The Kingdom of Nepal was mostly closed to the outside world until the climbing of Mount Everest in the early 1950s. The Nepalese are Hindus in the south near India and Buddhists in the north towards Tibet. They are unfailingly polite, cheerful, and respectful of their lands, rivers and animals, which are thought to be reincarnations of their ancestors. Because Nepal the country was never colonized, they are quietly independent and initially reserved with outsiders.
In the spring 1978 the Canadian government sent a team to Far west Nepal to explore the Karnali and its major tributary the Bheri River. The expedition was called the Karnali Bheri Integrated Rural Development Project or ‘KBIRD' . I was picked as one of the five member team as the water resources engineer (or 'engineer ko panni' in Nepali). One of the conditions of my participation was to be in top physical condition.
My journey began in Nigeria in February of that year where I had been working for two months. I decided to travel to Nepal via northern Italy where I skied and purchased a pair of climbing boots. But on the day before my scheduled departure for Nepal, (March 4th) I fell and broke the small bone in my right leg. So I hobbled back to Vancouver, waited two weeks, removed the cast and flew on to Kathmandu by the end of March, two weeks late and decidedly not in top physical shape.
At first the Nepalese were concerned that I was damaged goods and suspicious of my background in Nigeria - a former colonized country. After stumbling for a few days my leg recovered and I quickly rounded into shape. At first I was called ‘Bob Sahib’ a formal greeting, but soon the greeting changed to ‘Bobbiji’ informality reserved for friends. I realized that I was accepted by the Nepalese and ready for the long trek north towards the Himalayas and our goal, the tiny kingdom of Jumla at 8,000 feet elevation near the Tibet border.
From the Indian border we followed the Karnali and its tributaries for over two hundred kilometers through plains, foothills and mountains to Jumla. We traveled on foot like the local people with no roads, vehicles or any outside conveniences. Dhalugari, at over 8000 meters one of the highest mountains in the world, is located to the east of the Karnali, feeding the streams and tributaries from its everlasting snows. There were no phones, internet, or satellite photos, plastic bottles or bags - and no contact with the outside world for two months. We ate local food - 'dhal bhatt' (lentil soup and rice) and 'chapatis' (flat bread) twice daily every day. We drank endless cups of tea and took water from underground springs.
Each of five Canadians traveled one week apart to avoid overloading the villages and food supply. I had my Nepalese partner Mohan Thapa, three porters and a cook. Each day began at five in the morning and finished a six in the afternoon. A good distance was 15 kilometer on the map, which was deceiving because of the steepness of the trails and many stream crossings. Mid-day break was for eating our first meal of the day and for washing both body and clothes.
There was one very remote village, Taranaghat, on our route that could only be reached by way of a steep cliff above the river. I followed the nimble porters quickly up the slope, but Thapa panicked and needed assistance from the porters using a climbing rope. We were welcomed with a special tea ceremony as the first outsiders to have reach Teranaghat.
I learned much from these people and their simple life. They patiently helped me learn Nepali, a language much like Hindi. We stopped often at trail side tea stands for a break while the porters and Thapa smoked. Some times we hired extra porters for particularly tough days. I learned to enjoy the simple repetitive food, none of which was wasted.
On one occasion my party agreed to travel two days in one to reach a hot springs (‘Tatopani’) high in the mountains near Jumla. We made thirty kilometers that day, arriving after dark. The next day I was the spectacle in the hot springs while the porters and Thapa rested and the villagers looked on with amazement at my tender hide.
I arrived in Jumla mid-May, just before the start of the monsoon rains. All too soon we flew back to Katmandu which seemed terribly crowded and complicated - we missed the people and their simple life on the Karnali journey.
In the mid-eighties, the Canadian government sent me back to report on progress. Not much had changed in the lowlands and nobody had trekked to Jumla or Taranaghat. I walked up the trail for a few days where I met one of my porters who asked ‘where I had been and when are we going to start out again?’
Today, Far west Nepal is the home of Maoist insurgents in the high country and river rafting tourists near the Indian border. The Karnali River flows eternally into the sacred Ganges and the mighty Dhalugri looks down from above.
What did I learn from the Karnali journey? Never let a broken leg stop you; enjoy the local food and water, travel light, speak the local language and leave nothing behind.
But my epiphany came one night and when the porters said to me: ' Bobbiji you can walk with sandals (‘chapples’), no need for boots, socks or shoes'. They were right; I could and did walk in my chapples all the way to Jumla and beyond! It was their way of bringing me closer to them and their way of life. I have never forgotten this expression of simplicity, camaraderie and acceptance