Nosey

Home for 5 weeks now and just logging on to see if anyone's left any more comments.

They think it's all over...

…and it will be when SuperBen picks us up at Heathrow tomorrow evening. The end of a seven and a half month adventure neither of us will ever forget.

Almost impossible to select the highlights, but if forced, here are our top 5s:

Wend’s:

• Diving with Humpback whales in the Cook Islands. Those with a long memory will recall I chose that particular day to stay in my room reading a nice book.
• A moonlight swim at a lagoon near El Nido in the Philippines.
• Staring up at the Petronis Towers at midnight in Kuala Lumpar. “Big, aren’t they Dave?”
• Dawn at the Taj Mahal. “Nice, isn’t it Dave?”
• Dwarfed by mountains at Annapurna base camp. “Massive, aren’t they Dave?”

And mine:

• Picking up our little campervan in Christchurch with a 50 day hire and 7000 kilometres ahead of us.
• The trip up Palawan’s subterranean river in the Philippines. Even the Bat poo seemed exciting.
• Tubing down a lazy river in Laos. Mindless, pointless, endless fun.
• Visiting the temples at Angkor in Cambodia and the Taj in India. Sorry, can’t decide which made my jaw drop the furthest so I’m having both.
• Annapurna base camp. A Himalayan high to end on.

Of course, these are just things. Mightily impressive things, but things nevertheless, and ultimately it will be the people we encountered along the way who will live longest in the memory.

Characters like Daniel and Katrin who we met on the first week of the trip, who are travelling from Hamburg to help us celebrate our birthdays in two week’s time. Fabien and Cindy, who taught us how to yodel Swiss-style after one bottle of Pinot too many. Boon, the retired seaman from Singapore who drank like a fish and laughed like a drain. Lars, the Danish welder who had 2 philosophies on life: “Dave man, I’ve been” and “Dave man, I’m going”. Colm and Nicole, who kept us amused for the best part of a week in Cambodia with their Irish take on some seriously addictive Israeli card games.

Then there was Uwe, the German jeweller who works half the year, every year, so he can spend the other half visiting new countries, “I travel, because work is bullshit”. Matt, the Canadian who helped out at Air's Pad Thai stall on Tonsai beach, “I live in a cave, it’s cool and, like cool, at the same time”. Dubey, our delightfully deranged driver in Delhi. John, the Mike Gatting look-a-like who liked to point and hurl abuse at Himalayan rainclouds.

And so on, and so on.

What about all those Aussie's we kept bumping into wherever we went in Southeast Asia? not one of them mentioned the Ashes, and if I raised the painful topic, they invariably put a hand on my shoulder and ordered some more beer. Still can't work out if I was being patronised or placated, but cheers anyway - Rob, Dave, Rod, Sue, Dennis and Pru. Revenge will be sweet when we get your boys back to Lords, Headingly and Edgebaston.

Hanging out with old friends in New Zealand was a bit special too. John, Brandi and Jasmine in Wellington. Paul and Matt in Auckland. Steve, Dorota, Kaya and Zolly in Titirangi. It was an absolute pleasure drinking your wine, eating your food and borrowing your friends.

The Philippines leg of the trip was brightened immeasurably by the presence of Mr Jan Mintowt, who’d managed to wrangle a month off work to join us.

Jan: “I’d like four weeks off please boss”
Jan: “OK son, fine by me"

Having a beer with Grubby and his girlfriend Jo in Bangkok was a giggle. As was meeting Rich in the same town 2 months later when he was en route to Oz.

Then there was the Big Chill posse who dragged their bums all the way to Goa for what turned out to be a pretty shoddy festival. Dave, Juliette, Sarah and Steve; you were the difference between us merely liking India and bloody loving it.

Finally, a name-check to a couple of blokes in London who’ve been with us every step of the way. Stuey and Keith, who between them must have spent days poring over our digital snaps and inserting them wherever appropriate on the blog.

Thanks a billion chaps, you’ve brightened up many a dull entry. Beers and curry on us when we get back.

I suppose all that’s left to do now is start saving our pennies so we can do it all over again. So…if anyone requires the services of a highly attractive, vastly experienced, super efficient Senior Account Manager or a moderately competent Copywriter, our phones will be switched on from Wednesday.

Thanks for reading.

D & W xxx

Day 214. Kathmandu, Nepal. Almost homeward bound.

Mixed emotions on the last full day of the trip.

Sad that it's finally coming to an end, but genuinely chuffed that we'll be seeing family and friends again so soon.

A lovely sunny morning as it happens, and after blowing the last of our budget on some last minute gifts we spend much of the day loafing in the hotel garden reading our books.

Don't get too excited about these gifts by the way, there's so little left in the kitty that if Ben hadn't kindly offered to meet us at the airport tomorrow we'd have been walking back from Heathrow.

Day 213. Kathmandu, Nepal. Mayday, Mayday.

All seats to Kathmandu on Yeti Airways had been snapped up so we had no choice this morning but to take our chances with Nepal's dodgiest carrier, Ghurka Air.

Confidence wasn't high, and plummeted further when we caught a glimpse of our 16 seat jalopy sitting on the tarmac. Resembling something I'd knocked together in a Metalwork lesson 30 years ago, it looked like it would struggle to reach the end of the runway, never mind lift us above the Himalayas.

Then, when half a dozen blokes appeared beneath the cockpit scratching heads and stroking chins, the alarm bells really started ringing.

A burst tyre turned out to be the problem, and Nepal being Nepal, it took 2 and a half hours to change. Not to worry, we reasoned, it'll still be quicker and safer than taking a bus.

Probably. But when we finally boarded the aircraft I was allocated the seat next to the Tyre Technician (his job description, not mine) and what did he do as we built up speed for take off?

Closed his eyes, put a flat palm to his forehead and muttered a prayer.

Call us a couple of old drama queens, but 3 seconds before leaving the ground, this wasn't what we wanted to see.

Day 212. Pokhara, Nepal. Super duper Stupa.

Our last day here and we finally muster up the gumption to do what we've been threatening to do since arriving.

Take a boat out on the lake.

Predictably, we're as inept in a paddleboat as we are in a Kayak or Canoe, spending a good half hour aimlessly looping a liquid loop instead of taking the direct route to the far shore.

Dyed in the wool landlubbers me hearties, that's the Smiths.

Aim #2 of the day was to climb the hill overlooking the lake so we could visit the Peace Stupa that dominates the Pokhara skyline. Our big trek had put us in fine fettle for this one and we clambered up with relative ease - the only hindrance being the proliferation of leeches on the trail, out in serious numbers following yesterday's heavy rain.

We've encountered these little bleeders a few times on the trip, in New Zealand, the Philippines and now here. And although it's generally me who they end up getting their teeth into (teeth? fangs? suckers?) it's Wend who freaks at the thought of them.

This can slow things significantly on a walk like this morning's, stopping every 20 yards or so for yet another leech inspection.

Great views from the top though, tempered slightly by clouds obscuring the mountains on the horizon.

Day 211. Pokhara, Nepal. Cats and dogs.

Didn't think it would stop raining today. Absolutely threw it down for hours which reminded us that the monsoon will be hitting Nepal any time soon.

Bloody inconvenient really, as this is supposed to be our last bit of sunshine before heading back to tropical N16.

Can't help thinking however, that we were extremely lucky with the weather on the trek. Supposedly always iffy at this time of the year, yet the worst we experienced was a soggy morning or two and the odd afternoon shower.


(just read that back, and there's a danger it might be the most boring entry I've made in 7 months).

I think we're ready to come home.

Day 210. Pokhara, Nepal. New heights of culture.

Met up with Graham and Catherine, a Kiwi father and daughter combo we'd shared a lodge with on the trek, and headed off to Pokhara's Mountaineering Museum.

A curious place this. The exterior looked promising enough - all stainless steel cladding and angular smoked glazing - presumably to mimic one of the nearby Himalayan peaks. Moments after entering though, it becomes obvious that they've been beholden to other hilly nations for the majority of their exhibits.

Fair enough, but unfortunately only a handful of countries have bothered sending anything in. So there's loads of stuff from minor league minnows such as Slovenia and absolutely nothing from Africa or North America. No reference to Kilimanjaro then, no Rockies and due to Franco-Italian apathy no mention of Mont Blanc either.

Japan had sent in some dodgy watercolours of Mount Fuji, there was a pen once used by Austria's most famous explorer (can't remember his name) and the Swiss had contributed some old sleeping bags from the 1960's.

Funniest of all was a fibre-glass mini Mount Everest that, from what we could gather, was knocked together locally. The model itself was unremarkable, it was the 'please do not climb' sign that tickled us.

But it's not all rubbish, and to be fair, there are some real gems on show in the museum too.

I didn't realise, for example, that Hillary was such a dab hand with a camera. Some of his photography from the famous 1953 Everest expedition was outstanding. Then there was an interesting section dedicated to his sidekick Tensing. A right hard little bugger by all accounts and a much loved character among his peers. Born into extreme poverty he was illiterate yet sharp enough to become fluent in 4 languages. Oh, and he got to the top first in case you didn't know.

Also found out I was wrong to refer to the porters we came across on the Annapurna trail as Sherpas. Your genuine Sherpa (Tensing included) are actually Tibetan, the name translates as 'Man of the East' in Sanskrit.

Day 209. Pokhara, Nepal. Write on...

Spend most of the day in an internet cafe writing up the notes from our trip to the mountains.

I've just read them back and realise they go on a bit.

Sorry about that. It'll be easier on the eye once Stuey or Keith drop in the pic's...honest.

Days 198 to 208. The Annapurna trail, Himalayas. Nepal

We’re back. And in a word: Wow. But enough about Glen Roeder’s dismissal, I’ve 12 days of blog to catch up on.

What a fantastic high to end our trip on. We’re knackered, spent, absolutely finished, but we’re also half a stone lighter, totally exhilarated and a whole lot richer for the experience of our walk in the hills.

Before I launch into our day to day account, here are a few Himalayan facts to whet your appetite:

• They’re big.

• No, I mean they’re outlandishly, ridiculously, stupidly big. Nepal alone is home to 10 of the world’s 14 tallest mountains.

• The naming committee showed a distinct lack of imagination when they elected to call 5 of them: Annapurna 1, Annapurna 2, Annapurna 3, Annapurna 4 and, in a radical flash of inspiration, Annapurna South.

• The Kali Gandanki valley is the deepest gorge on the planet with a vertical gain of 7km spaced between 20 km (I copied that from a book and don’t actually know what it means).

• Himalaya means ‘abode of the snows’ in Sanskrit.

• At just over 29,000 ft, Everest is the daddy.

• But you knew that already.

SATURDAY

Lulled into thinking this trekking lark might be a doddle by a fairly easy morning’s walk from our starting point at Nayapal. The only tricky bit was negotiating a route around some water buffalo blocking the path.

A nice spot of lunch then reality kicked in as we started clambering up the first major incline on the trail. We only covered a couple of kilometres in 2 hours and man it was tough going, probably as demanding as anything we’ve tackled in the past 6 months.

Not a problem though, a hot shower and a cold drink at the top of the valley and everything was fine and dandy.

Then, right at the end of the afternoon, the clouds cleared and we caught our first glimpse of Annarpurna South. A relative tiddler in Himalayan terms but still a stonking 7200 metres, which is about 3K higher than Mont Blanc.

Suddenly, fine and dandy became fab and fantastic. Yes. I think we’re going to like it up here.

SUNDAY

No messing about this morning, a quick bite for brekko then straight onto a brutal climb.

The morning went like this: tough bit, easy bit, tough bit, not-so-tough bit.

Some scoff.

Then it was tough bit, tough bit, and tough bit.

The toughness might have been easier to take if we’d hired someone to carry our gear. 9 out of 10 hikers seem to have a little Nepalese bloke following in their footsteps laden with a couple of unfeasibly large backpacks.

These porters – or sherpas, to give them their more exotic name – must be the rockiest blighters on earth. They’re carrying half their body weight up the hairiest hills in the Himalayas, day in day out, yet nothing is too much bother and there’s always a smile as they pass.

Of course, me and Wend were too tight-arsed to rent a human mule, opting instead to lug our not unsubstantial bags ourselves. Which I suppose, in theory, makes us a couple of the rockiest blighters on earth too.

So there.

MONDAY

As if our itinerary isn’t arduous enough, we take a side trek this morning to the top of nearby Poon Hill. Not the highest, but possibly one of the most spectacular views on the range, thanks to it’s prime location smack in the middle of the Annapurnan basin.

Could have done without the 4.30 start mind, especially as a big group of Japanese teenagers had been making a racket in our lodge until the electricity went off last night.

I was on for disemboweling one of the noisy gits until Wend diplomatically stuck her head out of the bedroom door, eyeballed the ringleader and told him to S.T.F.U.

And there you were thinking she was a lady.

TUESDAY

There’s been a noticeable decline in hiker numbers the higher and further we’ve traveled along the trail. It seemed like there were hundreds of us when we set off, but now we’re getting towards the big stuff we’re down to a hardcore handful.

Two of these stalwarts are John and Silvi, an Anglo-French combo we met on day one who are working to exactly the same itinerary as us.

This is good news on a couple of counts. Firstly, they’re excellent company. And secondly, they’ve hired a guide – the trusty Pasang – so as long as we tag along, there’s a better than evens chance we won’t get lost.

They also have a porter who goes by the unfortunate name of Leppa, but I think it might be stretching our new friendship a little too far if we start using him for free as well.

WEDNESDAY

Blimey this is fun. Totally knackering but as exhilarating and rewarding as anything either of us can remember doing before.

We crawl into bed each night at 8pm and sleep like a couple of newborn babies having walked across some of the trickiest terrain imaginable for most of the day.

Yet at no time has it seemed like hard work. The scenery is way too special for that – changing remarkably from hour to hour and becoming more breathtaking with each passing day.

It’s greener than we imagined it would be, in fact from day 1 we’ve pretty much been walking through forest. Keep your eyes beneath the tree-line and you’d think you were in Scotland or Wales. Look up, however, and it quickly becomes apparent that you’re somewhere a little more magical.

Apologies to our Scottish readers, but come on…the Himalayas vs the Grampians? No contest I’m afraid. (I’m not saying sorry to the Welsh, that would go against my principles).

We’ve a regular card school on the go each evening and tonight when I was writing the names down to keep score we discovered Leppa’s not called Leppa at all – he’s Lepka, which came as a relief to us all. Especially him I would imagine.

THURSDAY

Six days in and there’s been a worrying development – I’ve acquired a real liking for our water purification tablets. They taste a bit like a hospital smells, but I love ‘em, I’m hopelessly hooked. The concern now, is that once we’re home I’ll not be able to enjoy a glass of water unless there’s a few drops of iodine swilling about in the bottom.

Very strange.

Anyway, today turned out to be our most stringent test yet, climbing slowly but surely to 3200 metres.

We’re finally up among the white stuff now, and unsurprisingly it’s noticeably nippier.

Deciding what to wear is becoming a bugger of chore. You’re cold if you stop for more than 2 minutes, yet as soon as you get going again the layers have to come off. It feels like we’ve spent as much of the day fannying about unpacking and repacking our rucksacks as we have on the march.

We end up at Machapuchhre base camp where the lack of electricity and hot water tells us we’re now at the business end of the trail. Despite the absence of these creature comforts, it has to be said that the lodges we’ve used have been absolutely superb. Basic, but spotlessly clean and providing everything a tired and hungry hiker could wish for.

Brilliant value too. Market forces dictate that they become pricier the higher up you go, but a room at 10.000 ft, 2 big evening meals and a couple of hearty breakfasts for under a tenner can’t be sniffed at.

Spectacular thunder and lightening in the evening. Lovely to look at from our lofty vantage point, but it doesn’t bode well for our final push up to Annurpurna base camp in the morning.

FRIDAY

We’ve noticed that John has more than a hint of the Mike Gattings about him. This was in evidence this morning when our worst fears were realised and we woke to leaden skies and thick drizzle.

He pointed to the clouds, just like fat Gat used to stick his finger at hapless Pakistani umpires, and bellowed:

“You bastards…every single morning we’ve had clear blue skies and uninterrupted views of the hills. Then today… (he starts wagging his finger at this point)… today, when we’re almost at the most drop-dead-gorgeous spot on earth, you come along and ruin everything. You absolute bastards”

A great comedy moment for his audience, and all that pent up anger obviously rubbed off on him upstairs, because half an hour later the drizzle stopped, the clouds trudged back to the pavilion and we were standing in the considerable shadows of Annapurna South (7219 metres), Machapachhre (6993 metres) and the big boss of the neighbourhood, Annapurna 1 (8091 metres).

Annapurna base camp sits at 4100 metres and is about as far as the layman can go without digging out his crampons and oxygen mask.

For most people this is the end of the line, and to a certain extent we were all feeling the effects of the rarified atmosphere. Mild headaches, lethargy and shortness of breath were symptoms hitting us all. Mind you, loss of appetite is also supposed to kick in at altitude, and the amount of troughing going on at the dinner table that night suggested we’d all made a remarkable recovery.

Curry for mains, Snickers for dessert. Lovely.

SATURDAY

Made an encouraging discovery today. It’s easier coming down a mountain than it is climbing up.

SUNDAY

High drama this afternoon when one of Wend’s boots became wedged in a crevice and gave way at the seams. Keen followers of this journal may recall a resourceful Vietnamese shoeshine boy mending the boot in Hanoi with his needle and thread. Well, today his efforts came unstuck on the long climb up to the hilltop town of Chomrong.

Call it fate, or just bloody good luck, but moments later we happened across the only convenience store we’ve seen since leaving Pokhara 9 days ago. Right in the middle of nowhere, and right across our path. And yes folks, the ‘Trekkers Shopping Centre’ did sell emergency footwear, so she’s now the proud owner of a rather natty pair of camouflaged plimsols.

Hopeless in the wet of course, but with luck we’ve seen the last of the severe weather.

MONDAY

A long slog today and a definite feeling of anti-climax as we edge away from the mountains toward the foothills.

We stay overnight in Ghandruk, a lovely spot in a valley largely given over to farming. No corrugated iron roofs or garish lodges here, as they’ve nominated it as a heritage site and are attempting to retain its traditional village feel.

It works too. The prettiest place we’ve stayed by a country mile.

TUESDAY

The final stretch on our long walk back to civilisation, and after 12 days without a shave I’m literally itching to get back.

Only half a day’s walking today, which is a real bonus, as we’re all flagging badly.

We celebrate in the evening with a big steak dinner and – for the first time in a fortnight – a few beers (alcohol not recommended at altitude). It’s been an absolute blast, a thrill from beginning to end and we indulge ourselves with a big old dollop of self-satisfaction as we toast the end of a trip none of us will ever forget.

Off to climb a mountain - back in 10 days.

No cyber cafes at altitude so we won't be online for a while. Wish us luck!

Day 197. Pokhara, Nepal. Preperation, preparation, preparation.

If all goes swimmingly, this time next week we'll be sitting 4000 metres up admiring the view and congratulating ourselves on half a job well done (we'll have to come back down remember).

This is going to be no Sunday stroll along the South Downs however, so today we wrote about 15 lists detailing all those boring but important things we'll need to take. Diarrhea pills, water purification tablets, chocolate, torch batteries, long-johns, chocolate, woolly hats, vests, chocolate and so on.

Of course, deciding what not to take is the tricky part. We'll be lugging our bags for up to 7 hours each day, so the lighter they are, the better. Pack, discard half of what's in your bag, then pack again is the serious hiker's mantra and that's pretty much what we did today.

I still might sneak in some more chocolate when Wend's not looking mind.

Day 196. Pokhara, Nepal. Sensible Fokker.

Another flight vs bus dilemma this morning.

We opted to fly, but this time it wasn't time or monetary considerations that swung it. It was the fact that the roads in Nepal are among the most treacherous in the world. 30 times more dangerous than those in the UK according to our book, with buses particularly vulnerable on the narrow mountain passes.

So we took the 30 quid air fare on the chin and boarded our Yeti Airlines (sic) Fokker (snigger) and were lakeside in the gorgeous little town of Pokhara half an hour later.

Not a great deal of time to enjoy the scenery mind, as we've lots of planning and sorting to get through before we set off on our 10-12 day hike.

Day 195. Kathmandu, Nepal. A walk in the Himalayas.

Took a self-guided walking tour of the city this morning. And despite the bamboozling layout and complete lack of any legible street signs we pulled it off admirably.

Well, I should say Wend pulled it off, I just kind of tagged along really.

Loads to see along the way - the obligatory temples and pagodas, some unusual stupas adorned with prayer flag bunting and all-seeing Om eyes, and lots of little market squares.

These were rammed with folk peddling everything from pashminas and yak apparel to saris, copper urns and weird musical instruments. At one point a bloke even walked by with a wardrobe on his back, no idea how much he was asking, but as Wend pointed out, it'd never have fitted in our hand luggage anyway.

We also passed countless outdoor adventure type places, all advertising the ultimate Himalayan high. I'm sure they'd deliver, but a bit of originality with their names wouldn't go amiss. We saw 'Ultimate Everest', 'Everest Trek', 'Go Everest' and 'Everest Expeditions'.

Tempted to call in and see what kind of packages they were offering but a couple of things put us off.

For starters, we're not going to Everest. The trek up to base camp is only gets interesting after 2 or 3 days trudging across non-descript tundra, and, from what other hikers have told us, it can also become very crowded on the trail which kind of defeats the object really. More importantly though, these places all want ludicrous amounts of money for organising straightforward stuff like flights, accommodation and guides.

So instead, we've invested in a decent travel-book and a good map. If we need a guide there's bound to be a retired Ghurka hanging about who we can hire.

The Annapurna sanctuary, high in the Himalayan foothills is to be our final destination, and as long as we can avoid any unpleasant encounters with Maoist insurgents, it should be well within the capabilities of a couple of codgers like us.

Very excited, can't flippin' wait.

Day 194. Kathmandu, Nepal. Hopelessly unprepared.

So, 20 minutes after landing in Nepal we realise we've made a big mistake mailing home our waterproofs and warm clothing from Bangkok 3 months ago.

Kathmandu is about a kilometre above sea level and there's a definite nip in the air, especially noticeable when you've been sweltering in India for a few weeks.

We're planning to do some hardcore hiking while here and without the right gear there's a chance this could become more of an ordeal than a pleasure. Fortunately, the enterprising Nepalese have ripped off every reputable outdoor clothing manufacturer known to mankind. So we tog ourselves up with four hundred quid's worth of North Face clobber and haggle the price down to a fifth of that for the privilege.

Quite novel this cool mountain air mind, we're loving it already.

Day 193. Agra, India. Ridiculous to sublime.

A horrible, horrible start to the the day when we witnessed Dubey running across the hotel carpark in his loincloth.

"Oh my god sir, I am oversleeping"

My god indeed, Dubey, out thoughts exactly.

20 minutes later this apparition was but a foul memory as we were feasting our eyes on something far more wholesome - the Taj Mahal.

A few Taj tidbits:

* Built between 1631 and 1653 by Emperor Shah Jahan as a memorial to his second wife Mumtaz Mahal who died giving birth to their fourteenth child.

* 20,000 artisans knocked it together, some travelling from as far as Europe for the prestigious gig.

* They'll have wished they hadn't bothered though if there's any truth in the story that Jahan ordered their hands to be chopped off when the job was finished. He reasoned (and he was obviously a reasonable man) that without the availability of such a skilled workforce, no-one else could recreate a building to equal the Taj's beauty.

* The construction bill ran to over 3 million rupees, equivalent to about 40 million quid today.

* The four minarets, which are purely decorative, lean slightly outwards so that in the event of an earthquake they would fall away from the precious Taj.

* There are thought to be more Taj Mahal curry houses in the UK than Red Lion pubs.

* None of them are a patch on the original.


The place fair takes your breath away. We arrived at dawn to beat the crowds and for a full three hours just stood and gawped like a couple of love-struck teenagers. A seminal, life-affirming morning if ever there was one.

Later, we took in Agra's huge Red Fort and Akbar's mausoleum, which ordinarily would've had us running for our dictionaries to dig out some new superlatives. Not today though, today was all about the Taj Mahal.

Dubey was back on form and managed to steer us through Delhi's diabolical rush hour traffic in time for our final vindaloo before heading north to Nepal. We had three days in his company that we'll never forget. An unflappable and genuine character, he's one of the nicest blokes we've met on our entire trip.

We'll be adding a link to his agency on our homepage, if ever you're in Delhi give them a call and put a request in for Dubey the driver - you certainly won't regret it.

Day 192. Fatehpur Sikri, India. Lost.

While we were quick to sing Dubey's praises yesterday, i'm affraid the bugger had a shocker today.

We were supposed to be visiting the ancient abandoned city of Fatehpur Sikri, and although we did eventually get there it was a long and painful process, taking in every road, village and field in the entire northern province.

From Delhi the journey should have taken 3 hours, maybe 3 and a half during monsoon or if there happened to be more livestock than usual grazing the central reservation.

Well, pathfinder Dubey managed to pull it off in just under 6 today.

100km out of Delhi he swerved off the highway and started heading across what can only be described a dirt track. Great we thought, he knows a short cut, we'll be there by lunchtime.

An hour later he was stopping to ask directions, an hour after that he was scratching his head and looking to the miniature Shiva on his dashboard for inspiration.

"We're lost aren't we Dubey?"
"No sir, not lost"

Another hour passes, now we're in a tractor traffic jam.

"You don't know where you're going do you Dubey"
"Oh yes sir, just crazy traffic today sir, we'll be there soon"

Another hour.

"Howay Dubey, admit it man, we're rudderless"

And so forth and so on, until eventually, by some freakish good fortune, we found our destination.

The upside to this protracted trawl, was that we got to see a big old chunk of rural India. The real India you could say, where the nobby bars of Mumbai and Delhi are a million miles away. We drove through small, remote communities where the living is simple, and to our eyes anyway, very tough indeed.

Fatehpur Sikri, when we finally arrived, was a fascinating place. A ghost town that was the short-lived capital of the Mughal empire between 1571 and 1585 during the reign of Emperor Akbar. It's main palace and mosque buildings remaining impressively intact to this day.

Unfortunately they didn't quite think things through when constructing this mighty citadel, as the nearest sizable water supply lay over 20 miles to the north. Once Akbar popped his clogs it only took a couple of blistering summers before everyone hot footed it up to Agra to start the building work all over again.

Day 191. Delhi, India. Magical mystery tour.

Rather than fanny about with trains and tuk-tuks we hired the services of the redoubtable Dubey for the next 3 days, who, with the help of his trusty Austin Ambassador will act as our guide and driver.

Today he pulled off the herculean feat of carting us around all Delhi's major sites in under 7 hours. Some achievement this, given the ludicrous traffic and lunacy of some of the drivers.

One by one we ticked off: The Indian War memorial, the Parliament buildings, the former residency of Indira Ghandhi (poignant this one - some fantastic black & white photo's of her as a young girl playing with dad and a touching memorial at the section of garden where she was assassinated), the Jama Masjid mosque (largest in India), Humayun's Tomb, the multi-faith Lotus temple and finally, the spot where Ghandhi was cremated in Raj Ghat park back in 1948.

It was a brilliant day, and overall I have to say we've been pleasantly surprised by Delhi. My brother Gordon visited three years ago and had painted a pretty grim picture on his return to the UK. So the last thing we expected were the green open spaces, imposing civic buildings and - perhaps the biggest shock of all - the complete lack of any litter. The ubiquitous discarded plastic bags and bottles that we've seen all over the rest of Asia (including Goa) being gloriously conspicuous by their absence.

Shattered by the time Dubey dropped us at our hotel, but did muster the energy to stagger to the nearest curry house. And here's something me and Gordon definitely will agree on; you've never had a Mutton Dahnsak until you've had one in Delhi.

Day 190. Delhi, India. Hot, hot, hot.

A few days ago the searing heat finally wore us down and we took the executive decision to abandon our plan to end the travelling with a stint in the southern Indian state of Kerala.

A great shame, not least because Perry's brother Brian had kindly arranged to let us stay at his firm's sumptuous holiday accommodation and we'd invested some serious time researching the places we particularly wanted to see.

Fourteen days in a furnace is quite sufficient for the Smiths these days though, so the revised idea is to spend a few days taking in the sites of Delhi and Agra before heading up to the cooler Himalayan climate of Nepal.

A hectic morning then, rushing about trying to get ourselves photographed and visa'd before the Nepalese embassy closed for the weekend at noon. How come these places all work a 15 hour week? Where the hell does all this visa money we keep handing over actually go? And is there a more cushy job in Christendom? Dunno, but I quite fancy coming back as a diplomat or ambassador in the next life.

Explored our hotel's immediate neighbourhood in the afternoon. Connaught Place is something of a hub in New Delhi. Seven major roads radiating out from its large central park where there's also a terminal for the city's spanking new underground system.

Lots of swanky shops and restaurants too, all giving the impression that this is a metropolis on the way up.

Wend warned me that I'll see a seedier side of the town tomorrow when we venture further afield, but on first impressions we're liking Delhi very much.

Day 189. Delhi, India. Scaryplane.

A last swim and we were on our way to Goa airport where a tearful farewell saw us boarding 3 different planes.

Me and Wend heading to Jaipur then Delhi in what turned out to be the scariest flight either of us had ever experienced (heavy winds on the approach to Jaipur, enough said). Dave and Juliette to North Carolina via Mumbai, London, Manchester and New York (ouch) and Steve to London via Mumbai and Milan.

Confused? We were.

Day 188. Mandrem beach, Goa, India. And then there were five.

Said goodbye to Sarah this morning as she left to catch an early flight home to London.

Nothing else of significance happened today. We swam, ate too much and sat around remarking on how ludicrously hot it is in Goa.

38C obviously isn't quite hot enough for me and Wend though, because we've now decided our next destination will be the Taj Mahal via Delhi and Agra, where temperatures rarely fall below 40 at this time of the year.