Day three of our Nepal adventure kicked off with a brutal 2 AM wake-up call. After the previous day’s complete lack of sleep, this was precisely what we didn’t need but something we had planned for. It still did not make it easy to accept! Our grand plan was to catch up on some much-needed rest during the anticipated six-to-eight-hour drive to the airport. Oh, how incredibly wrong we were!
The road to Manthali Airport is, to put it mildly, an absolute challenge. We are used to some rough roads having travelled on many; however, this road was a relentless roller coaster of unpaved dirt tracks that shock every bone in your body, interspersed with winding tarmac sections full of hairpin turns. “Bumpy” doesn’t even begin to cover it. This was all down to the floods that had affected Nepal the year before with most of the road washed away. Our guides informed us that in previous years this was a 2-hour journey max before the floods! Sleep became an impossible dream. To make matters worse, John, who has never had a significant issue with motion sickness before, found himself in a truly dire situation. The constant jarring and twisting of the journey took its toll, making him actually sick! It was a rough start to an already exhausting day.
Upon arrival at the airport, the air was thick with anticipation and a sense of impending trouble. We’d already been warned that delays were highly probable, as very few flights had managed to depart over the last four days. The priority, we were told, would be given to those long-stranded passengers before we could even hope to fly. Our estimated departure time was around 10 AM.
By 8 AM, a glimmer of hope appeared. Six planes on the tarmac roared to life, their engines cutting through the morning stillness, and one by one, they lifted off, disappearing into the distance with heir payload of passengers and gear. Our excitement surged as they returned about 40 minutes later, ready to pick up their next load of passengers. Then, our names were called, and we were ushered through customs. We settled into the waiting room, watching as the planes returned once more, but this time, they stayed stubbornly on the tarmac.
Our guides, ever the problem solvers, went to investigate. The news wasn’t good: while Lukla airport itself was open, the valleys we needed to fly through were shrouded in thick smog from fires that were being burnt by the locals to cook and heat their homes. The weather was almost too good as there was no wind to move the smog on and away from the valley. Visibility was simply too low for safe passage. We waited, and we waited, and we waited some more. Some planes did take off, heading to a different airport, an option that would have meant another gruelling seven-hour jeep ride followed by an extended six-hour hike. It was an option, yes, but certainly not one we wanted to take on our first official day of trekking! We thankfully built in an extra three days into our itinerary precisely for this type of unforeseen issue, but using a day on day one was far from ideal.
After a lunch of fried rice, our vigil continued until 3 PM. Five hours after our initial estimated departure, the inevitable announcement came: no more flights for the day! We were instructed to return at 6 AM tomorrow. The disappointment was palpable. Our guides, resilient as ever, escorted us to a local hotel. It even boasted a pool, though we, of course, had no swimsuits. The boys, ever resourceful, managed a quick dip in their undies before we all gratefully snatched a short nap.
Dinner was a welcome buffet with a wide array of delicious choices, a comforting end to a frustrating day. We headed to bed early, embracing the one true advantage of this flight delay: the chance to get a normal, decent night’s sleep before the trekking hopefully begins tomorrow.
Family Russell-Smith Travel 