'Is that all!' I had only been on the road an hour. I had decided to split the 190km to Kathmandu into two days, stopping at the small hill station of Bandipur.
'Yes, its very nice there. make sure you visit the cave'. The roadside chai shop owner was large, jolly and friendly. 'Its about an hours walk form the village'.
I had taken my time in the morning, enjoying a large breakfast in a cafe overlooking Lake Pokhara. I was slightly nervous about hitting the road again after a few days break, and was delaying departure by writing postcards.
But I needn't have worried. Ambliss was fresh from her service, and was roaring to get going. The road was clear and ran through some gorgeous valleys thick with tropical foliage, occasionally crossing wide rivers, the mountains ever present in the background.
Just before Bandipur I was stopped at a toll booth. 'Five rupees, for the bike', the guard asked. I paid, and headed up the road about fifty metres. But I could get no further, The road through the village was out of bounds to motor vehicles.
Bandipur turned out to be a delightful street of old victorian brick built buildings. The village wasn't large, five minutes and I was already at the end.
It reminded me a little of Shimla, a European feel to the place, but with a distinctly Nepalese flavour. The street had some interesting looking shops, and two small temples that reminded of the God houses in Himachel Pradesh.
I found a hotel, got my stuff from the bike, and went out for a longer look round.
At the end of the market street a path led up to a temple, where a sword blessed by Shiva is housed. Apparently any mortal who looks apon it will immediately perish.
It was locked, and kids were playing in the yard, so I couldn't put it to the test.. A sign pointed to the cave though so on the recommendation of the chai shop owner, I carried on.
The path crested the hill, and then descended the mountainside, paving stones and steps, slick with moss, through the sub tropical foliage.
I passed a couple of other tourists. 'Its huge!' one said. 'Have you got a torch?' another asked. 'Take the guide', the third said.
When I got to the cave, a young and friendly girl took me in. Lighting the way with a bright handheld lamp we clambered over the rocks in the entrance, and turned a corner, and then descended.
The cave was huge. Underfoot slippery limestone, on each side, fantastically carved stalactites and stalagmites, and the ceiling vaulting away into the darkness, sometimes over fifty metres high.
Chamber after chamber led on deep into the hillside. Sometimes we had to climb up, sometimes we had to scramble down slopes. Eventually we came to a ladder leading deep into the darkness.
'This is the Cobra, this is the Tiger, this is the King Crown'. My guide pointed out different stalagmite foundations. It was eery and spooky and not for the faint hearted.
Back at the entrance, I chatted to the Manager. 'There are two stories to the cave. 'The Polar Bear who Loved Oranges too Much' and 'Gupta and the Sword that No One Sees'. My English is not good, but I will try to tell you'. I cannot vouch for their veracity.
I climbed back up the long and winding stair, and got to the top just in time for sunset.
No comments:
Post a Comment