Escaping An Unfolding Tragedy

April 25th was a beautiful spring day. We were in the foothills of the Great Himalayas, at the culmination of a ten-day trekking holiday to Annapurna Base Camp. Our large (28 people) and disparate group had members ranging from the mid-twenties to late fifties.  However, the cohesion and bonds that had developed over the last 10 days had overcome disparities in age, fitness, health and other issues. We had made it comfortably to Naya Pul, the roadhead where the trek began and ended.

We sat at a tea stall, lazing in the bright sunshine that followed the morning squall, when the earth began shaking. And Boy, did it shake! We ran out of the tea stall towards the other side of the road, where the sherpas shouted at us to stay away from the mountainside. Again we darted away, and finally stood in the middle of the road looking at our bus swaying unbelievably in front of us. After what seemed like several minutes the tremors finally came to an end. Everyone stood in stunned silence till someone shouted, "Let's get the hell out of here!"

We threw our bags into the bus and sped off towards Pokhra. Waving goodbye to our team of kindly porters and guides I felt a stab of pain…we were off, leaving them to face the devastation in their homeland. It seemed we missed more aftershocks during the bus journey, but Pokhra appeared absolutely normal when we got there. It was once we switched on the TVs that we realised the extent of devastation around Kathmandu and EBC.

The next morning our worst fears were confirmed. Kathmandu airport was shut, all flights cancelled for an indefinite period of time. It was clear that air transport was out…we were going to have to drive back to India. We gathered around maps and debated various entry points into India. The final decision was taken – we would drive towards Uttrakhand and cross the border at Banbasa. After much persuasion and paying a lot of extra money we managed to hire a bus and crew to take us across the length of Nepal towards India. We stocked up on food, water and other essentials and left Pokhra at 12. An hour later a friend managed to get through to me from Delhi – there had been another powerful aftershock – 6.7 in magnitude, and this time it was in Pokhra. We sat ashen faced as we realised that we had escaped danger a second time…this time by the skin of our teeth.

The adventure was yet far from over. Few hours into the drive the bus broke down. After three hours of waiting by the roadside we realised that the plan was now in jeopardy… Several phone calls later we decided to now head towards the border at Sonauli, and cross into Utter Pradesh from there. The bus drive was exhausting and endless but what tore at our souls was the sight of hundreds of people sleeping on pavements and parks, afraid of stepping into their homes for fear of aftershocks.

After 12 hours of hurtling along broken mountain roads in darkness we were at the Indian border. The relief of walking across into Indian land was palpable on all our faces. However, the respite was short-lived. The refugee camp atmosphere, ramshackle immigration office and pitch-dark streets were scary to say the least. No one failed to note that we were a group of hapless tourists in Utter Pradesh at 2am. We collected our passports and hurriedly boarded a rickety local transport bus that would take us to Gorakhpur. Luckily, without any further incident we made it there in a few hours and checked into the only decent looking hotel to rest our wearied bodies and minds.

In the light of day we observed our surroundings more clearly – stained sheets, cockroach embossed towels and hanging underwear. We decided to have a hasty breakfast and head for the local airport. Luckily, we managed to get airlifted by helicopter to Varanasi and from there a quick flight brought us to Delhi and we were home.

Looking back at the tragedy that is still unfolding I can still feel a shiver of dread at having managed such a close escape. But my heart and soul ache for the beautiful mountains, the warm, happy people and the absolute joy that is the hill Kingdom of Nepal. I know I’ll go back…in better, happier times. Meanwhile, I pray for that most beautiful land.