Chapter 8

The following new character appears in this chapter:

Pema

Hotel owner in Hilsa, 5’-4’’ tall, 65 years old, wrinkled skin, gray hair

On arriving at the airport, we were surprised when we didn’t go to the Domestic Terminal. Instead, our car drove to the remote parking apron for domestic flights. There were eight small planes parked there currently. They didn’t fill-up the parking apron which was easily large enough for several more planes. We were driven over to one of the planes, which I recognized as a Dornier 228. I had seen pictures of it on the internet. Like the other small planes parked there, it was a high wing, two engine, short takeoff and landing plane. The Dornier has a rather narrow fuselage. It is normally set up for 19 passengers. The seats are in two rows, one on either side of the plane with a narrow aisle between them. At this time, the only thing near the plane was a small yellow starter unit. As we exited the car, I had a question for Tsomo.

“Shouldn’t we have gone to the terminal?” I asked.

“Normally, passengers check-in at the Domestic Terminal. However, airline employees and their guests go directly to the plane,” he explained.

“Are you an employee of Sita Air?” I asked in surprise.

“Technically, no, I’m not an employee. Several years ago, when the airline was in financial trouble, several of the Lamas here in Kathmandu got together and purchased half of the company. Since I work for their holding company, we are able to obtain seats easily. You two are actually paying passengers but are also our guests. We will be sitting in the back of the plane. The baggage and the other passengers will be arriving shortly,” he finished.

A short time later, baggage arrived on a small wagon and was stowed. Following that, the other 12 passengers arrived on a small bus. Jorani, Tsomo, and I were the last ones to load on the plane. It appeared that they were flying with a reduced passenger load. Since we hadn’t gone through the terminal, it was possible that no one knew that we were leaving Kathmandu, or where we were going.

The flight to Simikot Airport took just a bit over an hour. It is located in the far northwestern part of the country. The airport is at an elevation of 9,246 feet (2818 meters). Tribhuvan airport at Kathmandu was at 4,390 feet (1330 meters). We had gained 4,856 feet (1488 meters) in altitude, and the mountains around us still looked a lot taller. Jorani and I didn’t notice any difficulty breathing at this altitude.

There is not a lot to see at Simikot airport or its town. There were a lot of empty blue fuel drums in evidence at the airport. Most of the visible buildings there are of masonry construction. Many were built of the local rock that had been part of the glacial moraine in the area. Following unloading, all of the passengers moved up to the area where a local bus was waiting.

“Once we land, how will you continue to travel to Mount Kailash?” Tsomo had inquired on the plane. “There are helicopters available. The trip is very quick to Hilsa where you can cross the border into Tibet. Now, there is also a bus since the road has been completed between Simikot and Hilsa. It takes about an hour to travel the 32 miles (51 km). It is much less expensive than the helicopters,” he told us.

After arriving in Kathmandu, I had considered several ways to get to Mount Kailash and Lake Manasarovar. Several of them involved the use of helicopters. The most extreme one had us jumping out of a helicopter in our Human form and changing into our Dragon form in the air and flying away. After checking the stringent regulations, it would have gone very badly for whoever was piloting the helicopter for us to do that. Even if he just touched down in Tibet somewhere, the pilot could have been in a lot of trouble with both the Chinese and Nepalese authorities. On arriving here, however, Jorani and I had decided that the simplest solution was the best.

We would travel to Hilsa with the other pilgrims on the bus. We would be as anonymous as they were. In Hilsa, we would find a place to stay for the day. Near sundown, we would move away from the village, change to our Dragon forms and simply fly over the border and into Tibet. There was no way that we were going to allow the Chinese authorities to know that we were there. WE were on Dragon business, and it was no one else’s concern what we did.

As it turned out, the bus was a Chinese product and not the deluxe version, as it was very basic. It would hold about 35 pilgrims and their baggage. The cost was 2,000 NPR a person, or about $10.00 each. Tsomo told us that it was always full in both directions at this time of the year. There were always pilgrims going to Hilsa and the mountain and others returning.

We hadn’t seen much of Simikot before boarding the bus. The airport appeared to have been built in a valley between two mountains. The village was built on the lower slopes of both mountains. The buildings appeared to be built on terraces cut into the mountains with very narrow streets in front of them. There were no hangars or other facilities at the airport. The control tower was the lone exception, and it was on the street above the airport’s runway. There was just the runway and a large parking apron where passengers were discharged from both the planes and helicopters, once they had landed. There were no provisions for planes to remain there longer than to discharge their passengers and to load any that were returning to Kathmandu or other locations. There wasn’t even a refueling facility. On the plane, Tsomo had told us that there were no direct return flights to Kathmandu, as planes needed to land at another airport at a lower elevation to refuel.

The bus to Hilsa was parked near the control tower. There were steps going from the runway to the street above. Fortunately, we were just able to catch the bus as those on our flight filled all of the remaining seats. If we had needed to wait, it would have been over two hours before the bus returned as there was only the one.

Once out of Simikot, the road, such as it was, was a rather rough one. It was about 12 feet wide (3.6 meters). Most of the large rocks and boulders had been removed. It had been partiality graded and crushed rock had been spread on the surface and probably rolled to compact it. With all of the rain and snow the area received, the road was rutted from vehicles passing over it. There were potholes, pits and washouts along it. Additionally, there was evidence of landslides or mud slides in various places on the route. The 32-mile ride was neither smooth nor quick.

Eventually, we did arrive in Hilsa. The bus stopped near the only hotel in the village. It was also the area where the many of the helicopters landed to discharge their passengers. There were people there to direct the pilgrims to the bridge that crossed the Karnali River to where the Chinese immigration office was located on the other side to obtain their visas and other documents.

Jorani and I got off the bus and looked around. Tsomo had remained on the bus, because as soon as those arriving had claimed their luggage and departed, those returning from their pilgrimage quickly loaded their baggage and boarded the bus. There were more of them than there were seats on the bus.

On the way here, Tsomo had handed me a folded piece of paper. The writing on it was in Nepalese, which is totally unreadable to both of us, and looks like chicken scratching.

“Give this to the woman who runs the hotel. She will provide you with a room until you leave. Don’t tell her what you intend to do,” he warned us.

Hilsa at 3640 meters (11,940 feet) was very cold with a chilly wind blowing. Jorani and I were glad that we had on our traveling clothes and quickly made our way to the only hotel in this tiny village. There was a rather old local woman in the very nice reception area. She must have been at least 65 years old with wrinkled skin and gray hair.

“Welcome,” she said in greeting in passable English.

“Good morning,” we answered before I handed her the letter. She read it, apparently several times before looking up at us.

“The room is 4,000 Rupees,” she told us. That was a bit under $40.00. It seemed excessive, but this was the only hotel in town, and it was the busy travel time. We definitely needed a room for the remainder of the day. We would also need to eat while we were here. Perhaps, she could point us to a decent restaurant. After counting out the money, I handed it to her.

“Come with me,” she told us leading the way out of the reception area. The hotel was in three single story interconnected buildings. To our surprise, there were quite a number of rooms. The room that we were shown to was quite a pleasant surprise. It was a decent size, had a double or queen size bed with sheets and several large warm blankets. There was a small desk and a space for luggage. A small electric lamp sat on the desk. It was a low wattage LED lamp that was powered by the solar panels on the roofs of the buildings. There were also candles, matches, and a holder for two candles. Presumably, these were for times when there was little or no sunshine. The room was much nicer than we had expected.

“Water-room in door eleven,” the older woman, who we had learned was named Pema, told us. She was also the owner of the hotel. It was obvious that the ‘facility’ was a shared one. We also learned that drinking water was scarce and not to be wasted. The river water had been polluted by the Chinese upstream and was not to be used for drinking and only a little for washing.

After dropping our backpacks in our room and warding it, we checked with Pema about someplace to eat. It had been many hours since we had breakfast. She was a bit frustrated giving us directions in English, but called in a boy of about ten or twelve years of age. She spoke to him before turning back to us.

“Boy take to eating place,” she told us. We followed the youngster to a small but clean restaurant, where Jorani selected several dishes for us from what they had available. There was even some meat in one of the dishes. Following our meal, we returned to the room for a nap. We had been up since very early that morning and a nap seemed appropriate.

Later that afternoon, we went out for a hike to acclimatize ourselves to the lower air pressure and less oxygen in the air. We walked for over an hour and a half along the lower slopes of the mountains near Hilsa. On returning close to sundown, we went to the restaurant that we had visited previously for a larger than usual evening meal. Returning to our room, we waited for darkness and the moon to rise. Before leaving, we changed into the warm local clothes that we had bought in Kathmandu.