A 4-day family trek last month was vivid proof of the truth in the old adage: it is the journey and the people that truly matter, not just the destination. It was word-of-mouth recommendation that brought us to the sustainable tourism company Three Sisters, owned and run by women. The guides assured us our children would be well taken care of and our group of novice trekkers would not be rushed. As we negotiated the uphill steps, passing gushing waterfalls and forests ablaze with rhododendron, we had plenty of time to get to know our two experienced guides and the eight support staff. Their life stories highlighted the transformative power of sustainable, ethical, and empowering tourism in shaping lives and journeys. THE GUIDES Yasudhara is literally a trailblazer. A mother of a 7-year-old, she has had to seamlessly blend her caring role at home with her professional responsibilities as a guide in a male dominated and uncertain industry. Besides leading the pack, Yasudhara kept our children motivated and entertained, leaving an indelible mark on them. By the journey’s end, the little ones of our foreign friends soaked Nepali phrases. “जाम जाम” became their spirited rallying cry as we moved up and down the trails. Even as Yasudhara sometimes told them to slow down with “बिस्तारै बिस्तारै” it was the rhythmic chant of “जाम जाम” that followed.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427020412_b57170cc61b35c07e370e48b7e93d916e4cd9bfa72d7230b93a39eedd8e5a48e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20240427020412_b57170cc61b35c07e370e48b7e93d916e4cd9bfa72d7230b93a39eedd8e5a48e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Sustainable tourism in Annapurna"> </figure>  When she first became a guide, Yasudhara recalled she had to defy her family’s wishes. They were skeptical of her choice of career to lead foreigners through Nepal’s remote, rural landscapes. The workplace was equally challenging. At that time, no one was accustomed to female guides, and accommodations were scarce. Yasudhara slept in dining rooms and outdoors, keeping her distance from male guides who often drank and indulged in unwelcome behaviour. But times have changed. Female-led teams from Three Sisters now guide trekkers all over Nepal. But now, Yasudhara grapples with the guilt of leaving her child behind, even though she is shaping a future where her son will understand the power of gender equality and women’s economic empowerment. “I want to earn my keep, without having to rely on my brothers and husband,” Yasudhara tells us during a rest stop. Tila is in her mid-30s, and thrived as a guide before the pandemic, navigating and overcoming many gender stereotypes and challenges in her profession. Starting as an assistant at the agency, she steadily climbed the ranks to become a permanent guide, earning a modest base salary and commissions. She enjoys preferential access to trips involving foreign visitors. During peak seasons, work flows steadily, allowing her to hibernate during quieter times. She also seized learning opportunities provided by her employer. She participated in courses on the ecosystems of trekking regions, cultural sensitivity, first aid and emergency response, navigation and route knowledge, and sharpening her English proficiency.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427020412_5fbd0826aaa69f65f3872bf89fce702ad6391fec4fb2e51bb101101ce3a9225d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20240427020412_5fbd0826aaa69f65f3872bf89fce702ad6391fec4fb2e51bb101101ce3a9225d" data-rendition-name="original" width="1125" height="1500" loading="lazy" alt="Sustainable tourism in Annapurna"> </figure>  Then, the pandemic struck. Trekkers vanished. Tila’s gratitude for finally returning to work is tempered by the reality that Nepal’s trekking industry has not fully recovered. This was her fourth consecutive trek, leaving her cautiously optimistic. Yet the trail ahead remains uncertain. &nbsp;THE ASSISTANTS The eight assistants who accompanied us, three women and five men, were more than ‘porters’. This was a group of eight remarkable individuals, distinct from traditional porters found on trekking trails and their significance extended far beyond carrying our gear. Kusum, 19, harbours dreams of being the first in her family to pursue a Bachelor’s degree in Commerce from a college in Pokhara. Her motivation for joining the trek was twofold: to earn enough to pay for her accommodation expenses, and eventually to earn the experience to be a guide herself one day. With every step she took, she carried not only her backpack but also her aspiration for a brighter future. Sita, 36, is a single mother with three children. She is from a landless Dalit family, and lives in a rented house by the highway. Entrusting her 17-year-old to care for younger siblings, she works for Three Sisters during peak trekking season and returns to her village to take up the odd agricultural work with meagre wages. Despite challenges, she finds solace in the decent work provided by the trekking company. For women like her from disadvantaged backgrounds, these opportunities are lifelines. “There is so little work in my village, and the money I earn on these treks helps educate and feed my children,” she says. Yogesh, like many young Nepali men, wants to migrate abroad. He is at the crossroads of his past and an unwritten future. “Our villages are empty, there are few young people left,” he says. “All my friends have gone overseas for work. I am thinking of doing the same.” For Yogesh, this trek symbolised a bridge between two worlds, a chance to bear the costs of recruitment fees for a job overseas instead of his family having to pay. Khem is an older migrant returnee. His weathered hands bear the calluses of hard labour, each crease etched with memories from 15 years at a construction site in Dubai and two years in Qatar. He recounts how limited opportunities in Nepal drove him out, and his experience in the Gulf: “It was backbreaking work, so far away from my loved ones.” Dhak Bahadur is in his late-40s and carries the weight of responsibility for his Dalit family back home. His two sons and daughter, on the cusp of adulthood, look up to him. “I want my children to have a better life, they should not endure the hardship I have known,” he says. His broad shoulders carry not only our rucksack, but dreams of education, stability and dignity for the next generation.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20240427020412_3e8f08df5ed34e991aebd9e314c3903b90fbc80c2d146694493608e31d42c0a7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20240427020412_3e8f08df5ed34e991aebd9e314c3903b90fbc80c2d146694493608e31d42c0a7" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1125" loading="lazy" alt="Sustainable tourism in Annapurna"> <figcaption>Bimbika Sijapati Basnett (far left) with Three Sisters trekking guide. Sijapati is a researcher and practitioner working on gender and social development.</figcaption> </figure>  Three Sisters upholds a strict rule: Assistants carry no more than 10-12kg each. As customers, we also left a small space in our own rucksacks for their belongings. However, this essential work practice remains far from universal. Despite laws against heavy loads, most ‘porters’ are made to carry 30kg or more of trekking gear. After decades of carrying heavy loads up and down mountains, many have chronic spinal problems and headaches. At rest stops, the men conversed among themselves, and I glimpsed the value they embraced: women led the way. The Three Sisters are leaving a legacy. Dhak Bahadur confides, “I want my daughter to be fluent in English and become part of a women-led tourism company too.” A Nepal trek gives visitors a glimpse of the impact of migration and remittance on rural areas. Nearly half of the households have at least one family member working abroad, or someone who has returned from overseas or India. They are predominantly men aged 20-44, and form the backbone of the country’s most productive workforce. Along the trail, we can see evidence of newfound prosperity from remittances, allowing many families to break free from poverty and deprivation. Yet migration is far from being a seamless journey. It begins with the challenge of pooling resources to cover direct and indirect costs. Upon return, a lingering question returns, 'what next?' as migrant returnees grapple with reintegration. Migrants, dreamers, carriers of hope shuffle along with silent footsteps along stone steps amidst a stunning backdrop of Annapurna and Machapuchre suffused in the golden light of sunrise. Each step is a promise that every ascent, every descent, is a collective endeavour towards a world where equality, opportunity and compassion bloom brightly like the rhododendron.

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

What sustainable tourism means in practice

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcaWYJSU5y4&amp;feature=youtu.be&amp;fbclid=IwAR2Qnf8iXarhb9omsTAfo3FB-fITc8Z9i8Snve_1T9mfrPCF2_9p5KMvgUgEver since trekking became the mainstay of tourism in Nepal, guidebooks have decreed that hiking in the Himalaya is only advisable in spring and autumn. What nonsense.As we saw this past week, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=15649#.XFLWtlUzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Nepal becomes a winter wonderland</a> during January. The mountains emerge with a fresh coating of snow, the air is crisp and the sun blindingly bright. And the best thing about it is that there are very few other tourists.Winter trekking is now possible not just because of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/on-thin-ice-in-the-khumbu/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">global warming</a>, but also because there are new roads, guest houses, homestays and facilities along the trails. And while the high passes like Thorung La and Kang La in Manang, the Mardi and Khopra Treks, or Cho La in the Everest region may be completely snowed under, the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/annapurna-base-camp,3697" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Annapurna Base Camp</a> trek is do-able.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101144/636a25379c7e80680e0439b8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"/><figcaption>Hikers on their way from Machapuchre Base Camp (3,700m) to Annapurna Base Camp (4,130m). This part of the trail is closed due to heavy snowfall this week, and may reopen in about 10 days. All photos: MONIKA DEUPALA</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101144/636a253a9c7e80680e0439b9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1200" height="900"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>A recent trek to ABC showed that the trail is mostly occupied by Nepalis and Koreans who are more adventurous and no longer satisfied with throwing around snowballs on Pulchoki or Chandragiri.“It is hard to describe the pleasure of walk on a snowy trail with just the sound of your heavy breath, friction of your jacket, or boots crunching through the snow,” says Lee Chul from Korea, at Machapuchre Base Camp.After Kathmandu Valley did not meet his expectations about Nepal, Chul headed off to Pokhara and the ABC trek despite the snowfall. He went without a guide, and says that although he had to rough it, the adventure was worth every minute. He adds bravely: “The cold cannot keep us away from the Himalaya.”At the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/municipalities-want-to-manage-annapurna/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Annapurna Conservation Project</a> checkpoint in Chomrong (2,177m) Sarita Pun shows us the entries for January which have numbers that are almost the same as for December.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101144/636a253d9c7e80680e0439bajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1067"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101144/636a253f9c7e80680e0439bbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="1050"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101144/636a25439c7e80680e0439bcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1400" height="933"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“After this week’s snowfall, some trekkers have turned back because of ice on the trails,” she tells us, while many trekkers are waiting it out in Ghandruk for the snow to start melting on the trails above Bamboo, which is at 2,340m.Unique Gurung, 21, is a cook at the Annapurna Sanctuary Lodge at ABC (4,130 m) and says the temperature hit -20 this week. He has headed down to Deurali (3,200 m) along with his team to shovel the snow to keep the trail open for trekkers.Gurung says October is the peak season at ABC with 70 guests a day, and although the number is lower in winter, there has been an unusual surge of Nepali trekkers venturing up through the snow.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221108101144/636a25479c7e80680e0439bdjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="495" height="706">Almost as adventurous as the Nepalis are Koreans, and tourists from China have started arriving for the Chinese New Year Holiday. Some 50 of them had to be evacuated by helicopter from Deurali after heavy snow blocked the path down this weekend.Nabin Balla from Bhaktapur is a new breed of Nepali trekker who has been exploring different parts of Nepal. Although he finds October the best time for treks in Nepal, he is always open to adventure and was in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=2701#.XFLV81UzaUk" target="_blank" rel="noopener">ABC</a> in mid-January.“It is actually more expensive to trek in winter because you need extra heavy-duty gear to keep warm, but it has its rewards in mountains that are crystal clear and empty trails,” he says.Rana Roka of the Eastern Light Trek in Pokhara recommends Poon Hill and Jomsom as the best bet for winter, although he does not rule out ABC once the snow on the trails has thinned.Says Roka: “You have to be careful about avalanches and sickness, but trekking in winter is challenging and exciting at the same time."

Monika Deupala

The ABCs of a winter trek in Nepal

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Who9k1JGrgsEver since it was launched in 1984 the Annapurna Conservation Area Project (<a href="http://www.ntnc.org.np/project/annapurna-conservation-area-project">ACA</a>P) has been a successful model for using <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/Conserving-conservation,151">eco-tourism income to lift living standards</a>, not just in Nepal but in other parts of the world. Now, as Nepal decentralises under a federal system, local governments in the very place where ACAP was born are calling for it to be scrapped.On 22 December, locals of Ghandruk removed the ACA signboard and padlocked its checkpost to protest the decision by Nepal Trust for Nature Conservation (NTNC) which manages the project to charge fees also for Nepali tourists. But the dispute has now escalated to a demand for ACA to be handed over for local municipalities to manage.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171152/636937ef9c7e80680e03fe6ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="700" height="513"/>A banner in Ghandruk demanding Annapurna Conservation Area Project be scrapped.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171152/636937f29c7e80680e03fe6bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="700" height="513">Locals padlocking an ACA checkopint in Birethanti on Saturday.Despite its success in balancing a local economy based on agro-forestry with the need to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=5974#.XCYBItIza70">protect nature</a>, there has been growing resentment against ACA’s restrictions on harvesting fodder and grass, grazing and exploiting natural resources. There are also complaints that ACA does not share revenue from tourism fees with local governments.“They charge trekkers fees, but we never know where they spend it, and they give us the runaround to get permission for even small things,” said Bishnu Gurung, after padlocking the project checkpost at Birethanti on Saturday.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171152/636937f49c7e80680e03fe6cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125">The agitation has now spread beyond Ghandruk to other parts of ACA like Manang, Mustang, and Lamjung. The original agreement in 1985 stipulated that the project would hand over management of the conservation area to local councils, but 30 years later it is still being managed by the NTNC. Project officials say the handover was delayed by the war, during which ACAP’s offices were <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=1711#.XCYBi9Iza70">attacked and set on fire</a>.Head of ACA in Ghandruk Bidur Kuikel underplayed the seriousness of the agitation, blaming it on local hotheads. “All this can be resolved with just one meeting of local elected representatives and ACAP’s local committees,” he said.However, locals from Lwang Ghalel have gone to Pokhara with their grievances which includes lifting ACAP’s restrictions on local development and infrastructure projects, to allocating tourism revenue in proportion to where income is highest, and to remove the bureaucratic hurdles in harnessing forest and water resources.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171152/636937f89c7e80680e03fe6djpeg.jpg" alt="" width="213" height="300">ACA map“We are giving them one last chance to address our demands, otherwise we will also take action,” said Ram Gurung of Lwang Ghalel. Representatives of this scenic village below Machapuchre sent a petition to the federal government in Kathmandu last week demanding that the management of ACA be handed over to local governments.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171152/636937f99c7e80680e03fe6ejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>The Annapurna massif stretches nearly 7,700sq km from Marsyangdi in the east to the Kali Gandaki, and is Nepal’s biggest nature reserve spanning 16 rural municipalities. It has some of the greatest altitudinal variation on the land surface of the earth. From below1,000m above sea level, the terrain rises to more than 8,500m, giving the region its rich biodiversity.Nepal’s conservation pioneers like <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/conflict-and-conservation/">Hemanta Mishra</a>, <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=16569#.XCYAg9Iza70">Chandra Gurung</a> and <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18587#.XCYAVtIza70">Mingma Sherpa</a> together with experts like Kathryn Fuller of WWF-US put together the concept of a ‘conservation area’ – as distinct from a national park so that locals could use tourism revenue for nature conservation. ACA was proof that Nepal did not have to deploy the Army, like it did in national parks, to successfully conserve nature – the job could be done by local communities.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171152/636937fc9c7e80680e03fe6fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125">Now, it looks like the Annapurna Conservation Area is the victim of its own success. Nepal’s central, provincial and federal governments are competing to take control over it. There are already signs that this will be a three-way tug-o-war.Yubaraj Kunwar, head of Annapurna Rural Municipality said the constitution grants jurisdiction over natural resource and environment management to local governments. “This means it is now our responsibility to collect fees from tourists and invest it in local conservation and development,” he said.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171152/636937ff9c7e80680e03fe70jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="999" height="1500"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>However, in Pokhara, Gandaki Province Chief Minister Prithvi Subba Gurung said that since the conservation area spans the boundaries of many rural municipalities, ACA management should go to the provincial government. “The responsibility for management and conservation of the Annapurna Conservation Area should be the purview of the provincial government,” Gurung told us.Head of ACA Rajkumar Gurung says it is not important who controls the project as long as its model of community-managed conservation is preserved.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221107171152/636938029c7e80680e03fe71jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1502" height="1000"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>

Municipalities want to manage Annapurna

<img width="640" height="374" src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022110714114/636903259c7e80680e037ca5jpeg.jpg" alt=""/>Himalkhabar.comHelicopter companies now flying to Annapurna and Machhapuchre Base Camps will be limited to rescue operations, after locals complained of environmental degradation and noise pollution caused by frequent tourist sightseeing flights."Constant noise and vibrations from flights is disturbing bird and wildlife species in protected areas and affecting our biodiversity, which is why we have decided to restrict helicopters," said the Chairperson of Annapurna Village Yuvaraj Kunwar.The regulation will come into effect from mid-August and violators will reportedly be punished. The Annapurna Conservation Area Project (ACAP), which manages ecotourism in the region, had earlier  tried to restrict helicopers without permits but helicopter companies openly flouted the rules. The National Parks and Wildlife Conservation Act also prohibits unregulated helicopter operations.Lately, Prabhu Helicopters had started taking sightseers on day trips to Annapurna Base Camp (ABC), and there were dozens of flights a day.The Village Assembly has also decided to operate new trekking routes in the area for the autumn season.

Choppers to ABC banned

Typhoid is just another part of Nepal’s adventure tourism package<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221104141144/6365176d9c7e80680e02c277jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="1203"/>There is never a good moment to contract typhoid, and I’ve had it three times in Nepal. With a two-week incubation period, many different strains, and highly contagious through shit and spit, I never did work out where I picked it up each time.The first was on a 1985 recce, a trek that turned out to be the nascence of the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/annapurna-base-camp,3697">Annapurna</a> Conservation Area Project (ACAP). It is humbling to find that you cannot put one foot in front of another, especially when hiking with super-scientists Roger Payne (whales), Iain Douglas Hamilton (elephants) and Bruce Bunting (WWFUS).We had been despatched on our mission by Nepali conservationist Hemanta Mishra who went on with others to push through the ground-breaking ACAP idea. Nepal’s conservation areas and especially Annapurna are still cited as a world model of how a nationally protected park managed by local communities can become self-supporting through tourism.Iain and I were climbing the Landrung hill through sunny terraced fields when the fever hit. One minute I was fine, and the next I was shuddering with sweat and dazed with weakness. Every step was an effort and the afternoon sun sheered into my eyes.“If this was Kenya I would suspect bilharzia or yellow fever,” Iain declared unhelpfully. He supported me safely home, peering with puzzled concern through heavy horn-rimmed glasses. Despite a variety of antibiotics the fever lasted 16 days, debilitating limbs, sapping the soul, the mind teetering on the edge of delirium. It took me weeks to find the strength to walk across my tiny garden, and many months before I recovered normal energy levels.Nearly ten years later I caught a lighter bout in Kathmandu and lay shivering in our Maharajganj house trying to get better quicker by enforced rest, gripped by the first Poldark video series about glamorous smugglers along the Cornish coast. It was 1994 and I needed to regain my strength fast as I was due in Kyrgyzstan -- tourism colleague Oliver Bennett of Deloittes was relying on me for a government tourism marketing strategy.Oliver was an old school consultant, always dressing as though in his native city of London -- to my certain knowledge wearing pinstriped suits on every mountain, lake and beach assignments.The shortage of fuel in post-Soviet Kyrgyzstan meant the Bishkek airport was closed. Instead, battling weakness, I flew to Tashkent and was driven 12 hours through breathtakingly remote country by a couple of nuclear physicists who needed to make a buck – the economy was a shambles and I never met a single Kyrgyz who did not long to be back in the USSR.Nurturing my strength and thanks to Oliver’s protection, I managed to struggle through. Part of our brief was ecotourism training sessions with the budding Kyrgyz private sector. Emerging from the Soviet system, they had trouble with the concept of capitalism, enquiring with all seriousness whether their companies were permitted to make a profit.Exploring the historic Silk Route attractions of Kyrgyzstan, the hooves of Genghis Khan’s invaders could be readily imagined hammering across the open grasslands. We sampled Issikul Lake mineral treatments, formerly reserved for the communist elite, pummelled by fierce ladies in white coats with strong fingers.In woodland dachas, as guests of friendly mountaineers trying to start adventure travel businesses, we drank vodka in fragrant saunas.We marvelled at ancient engraved marker stones and discussed snow leopard viewing with Elburz mountain smugglers. I galloped knee to knee down a verdant valley with the gallant EBRD client Khalid after milking mares with yurt-dwelling nomads. At the evening feast Oliver, squatting in his crumpled suit, had to cope with the prized sheep’s eyes. I was disdained having asked one brightly clad nomad lady how long her child had been riding horses -- since birth, of course.By the third attack I thought I was getting used to typhoid. This time was in <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Mustang-in-march,2108">Mustang</a> with a group of down-under friends on a 2008 circuit of the trans-Himalayan high spots around Lo Manthang. We had hoped to circumambulate Mount Kailash so it was a compromise, defeated by the fluctuating vagaries of Tibetan visa policy.They were an experienced bunch, and loved the rugged walking and splashed ochres of Mustang’s grandiose scenery (photo, left). We had happily negotiated sheer drops to view prehistoric paintings, explored ancient stupas within a cliff-face cave, avoided charging thar on a steep hillside, and even glimpsed a pair of snow leopards on a distant ridge – or so the excited horsemen assured us.I was zigzagging up the dusty trail to Tsarang, having linked arms to cross the flooded river in our boots, and couldn’t understand why my unwilling feet suddenly had no energy. Highland Doctor Jamie was waiting for me at the top. “I’m all right,” I protested.“No you’re not.” Jamie’s Scottish lilt was emphatic. “Looks like typhoid to me and we can’t risk waiting for a helicopter.” For the next three days back to <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/going-to-jomsom-in-the-off-season,3878">Jomosom</a> he followed my pony closely as I swayed precariously in the saddle, helping me stagger into my tent at night. Haggard, dusty and sweat stained I remember little of the flight to Kathmandu, and this time was hospitalised on a drip, and instructed to stay in bed for days. I did not demur, and can confirm first hand that compulsory rest is the best road to recovery.Read also:<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/annapurna-base-camp,3697">Fully booked in the sanctuary</a> ,  Shreejana Shrestha<a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Mustang-in-march,2108">Mustang in March</a>,  Cynthia Choo and Kenji Kwok

Lisa Choegyal

Infectious enthusiasm for travel

This is the 91st episode of Diaspora Diaries, a Nepali Times series in collaboration with Migration Lab providing a platform to share experiences of living, working and studying abroad. I have still not come to terms with the reality that my daughter Ruby Thakur is now the Deputy Speaker of Nepal’s Parliament. Sometimes, when I am walking, the thought hits me, and I cannot believe it.&nbsp; Things changed for my daughter in a very short time. I had dreamt that the best my daughter could achieve was a good engineering job. Fate had bigger plans for her. She is no longer just my daughter, she is the nation’s daughter. Nepal’s daughter.&nbsp; My children’s education was always my foremost priority. That is the main reason I went overseas for employment. I realised the value of education while working in Saudi Arabia. In my office, colleagues with good education earn $8,000 per month working on computers. Those with low education toil outdoors in the heat for much lower wages. A good education or skills can change everything. I am in Nepal on vacation and will soon return to my job. Ruby is all set now. But I still have to take care of my other children's education. As the eldest son, I myself never got a chance to prioritise my own education. I dropped out in Grade 7 because I had to take care of my ageing parents and younger siblings. I have done all kinds of jobs. I worked in a landlord’s field for a share of the harvest. Even now my wife and I farm for the land owner and have to give away half of what we grow.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20260413120444_051b61e01a5189af538aa1e011acd3e2b38d5f42825116b2afd325d93d0c519b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> <figcaption>Sogarath Thakur during a break in Nepal with wife tending to his farm.</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20260413120448_8a1c3ac3fd559026bc6f981cc8dc82cb8ad09a3a4f55fb9f6f7fd5f49c3d5571" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="2268" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  Then I worked as a barber, my family’s line of occupation. I went door to door cutting people’s hair and later worked in a relative’s saloon. Hairstyles were simple back then, and I got to keep half the fee. I also worked in a brick factory where I was paid weekly. &nbsp; I married when I was 16, and my wife was a year younger. As my family and responsibilities grew, I had to migrate leaving behind my three children including Ruby who was just three months old.&nbsp; I went to Qatar where I continued working as a barber. It was a large saloon and the standards for cleanliness and professionalism were higher. I had to hand over 70% of my daily earnings to the employer. I had to rely on my colleague to translate what the customer wanted. But I slowly became fluent in Arabic. I used to jot down words in Nepali and Arabic and memorise them. In Qatar, customers even came at night for haircuts, and people stayed up late. I would work till 3AM.&nbsp; Communicating with my family was one-way. I would go to Bismillah and ask someone to type out questions to my family about their whereabouts, how the harvest was that season. I would offer very little information about my life in Qatar because it was not easy. What was the point of getting them all worried? What could they do? I never received a letter in return, so throughout my time in Qatar, I never knew how my family was faring. When I appeared in the village after five years without any advance notice, it was a bittersweet reunion, and I had no gifts. I still remember how unfamiliar my village felt when I came home after so many years. I had to ask for directions. When I came home, Ruby was already in school. I had left her in my wife’s arms five years prior. I missed her growing up, and did not even see her pictures. My wife had to introduce her to me as her father. But it took just 15 minutes for her to warm up to me.&nbsp; The Arabic skills I had picked up in Qatar came in handy when I remigrated two years later to Saudi Arabia. I worked as a labourer in the desert heat, but once my company found out I spoke Arabic, I was hired for an indoor job as an office boy. The struggle in Qatar had paid off. I worked in an air conditioned office serving tea or coffee, doing bank runs or getting documents signed and photocopied. I have worked in the same company for the past 20 years, sending money home.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20260413120448_f083fa873a6d77b19c8b0bdde623415c643a151fb550c57ff4e52b3c2431355f" data-rendition-name="original" width="5712" height="3213" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20260413120452_5ccd9a01ee05ce26b71381725108215d0f0d3806508b0cb482aabcfea09bbaef" data-rendition-name="original" width="4032" height="3024" loading="lazy" alt="DD"> </figure>  My wife is not just my children’s guardian, but also mine throughout the two decades I was away. I trust her with all my earnings, and she manages our household finances well. She makes sure that the children’s school fees and other expenses are paid on time. These days, with video calls, things have become much easier for me to stay in touch with home.&nbsp; When Ruby told me she wanted to do an engineering diploma, I was happy. Later, her friends inspired her to join politics so she started getting involved with Shram Sanskriti Party. I first found out she got the proportional representation nomination through social media while on my work duty in Saudi Arabia. I was so excited, but even more so when she was elected Deputy Speaker. I was back home in Dhanusha on my vacation at the time.&nbsp; We are overjoyed and waiting for her to come back to the village for a visit when she gets a chance so we can celebrate properly with everyone. I plan to go back to Saudi Arabia as originally planned, I have a good job and will work for maybe five more years. Ruby has taken 75% of the load off my back. She can help take care of her siblings.&nbsp; I sleep at 8PM every day and wake up at 5AM to exercise before my day in Saudi Arabia begins – I have stuck to the same routine for the last two decades and it has worked well for me and my health. I have a good rapport with my boss who is an Egyptian. My requests to resign have often been met with counter-offers to stay on. My honesty and hard work have won me the company's trust. I will go back and resume working as I have, despite my daughter’s huge achievements. I am still a farmer’s son, a simple man who has to fulfil his family responsibilities. My colleagues in Saudi Arabia are aware that Ruby is Deputy Speaker in Nepal’s Parliament, they are all happy for me and have congratulated me. This time, when I go back, I have promised them that I will throw a bakhri party to celebrate my daughter’s achievement.

The nation’s daughter

At 6 feet and one inch, Hira Bahadur Ghalan was exceptionally tall for a Nepali. In 1936, when people came to his Tamang village near Tistung looking for porters, they recruited him on the spot. This was no ordinary job, Hira Bahadur would lead gangs of 30 or more porters to carry cars bought by Rana rulers from Bhimphedi to Kathmandu.&nbsp; Those were the days when the only motorable roads in Nepal were in Kathmandu, but the capital was not connected to anywhere else by road. So, before cars could carry people, people had to carry cars. More Nepalis had carried cars than ridden in one. The porters were paid Rs5 for the job, and sometimes the Rana owners gave Hira Bahadur a Rs25 baksheesh. One of the cars his community helped carry was a 1939 Daimler Benz gifted by Adolf Hitler to King Tribhuvan to woo Nepal away from the British. The rusted dusty vehicle is now in the Narayanhiti Palace Museum.&nbsp; Hira Bahadur hauled cars for 25 years until his knees gave way, he died at age 90 eight years ago — the last surviving car porters of Nepal from Chitlang Valley.&nbsp; Hira Bahadur Ghalan had three sons and three daughters, one of them is Maila Kaji Lama, who at age 68, is a chauffeur in Kathmandu. His son, Manjil Lama is a pilot with Summit Air, flying to remote Himalayan airstrips. Three generations of one family worked in professions that followed a century of transportation history in Nepal. &nbsp; After the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-long-and-winding-road-to-india">Tribhuvan Rajpath was finished in 1957</a> and the ropeway upgraded, Hira Bahadur was out of a job. He tilled the family farm, watching trucks and buses headed to and from Kathmandu on the hairpins.&nbsp; As a child, Maila Kaji was fascinated by cars and wished one day to be able to drive one. After he failed Grade 8, he came to Kathmandu in 1975 and got a Rs20/month job at a petrol station in Maiti Devi. “I watched King Birendra’s coronation and was impressed by the glamour of Kathmandu, and decided to stay here,” Maila Kaji says.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041816040_a1a41e47dec8500727702f700e43af625f059043cbcd283f13b247344b3a20aa.png" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026041816040_a1a41e47dec8500727702f700e43af625f059043cbcd283f13b247344b3a20aa" data-rendition-name="original" width="1974" height="1608" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> <figcaption>Maila Kaji</figcaption> </figure>  Former minister Ramesh Nath Pandey used to bring his Volkswagen Beetle to the station, and Maila Kaji started taking care of his car. Later, he drove a Russian Jeep for former minister and geographer Harka Gurung. Along the way, he fell in love with the daughter of a Brahmin colleague, and married her. “My father back in Tistung did not approve of our inter-ethnic marriage, and not speak to me for five years,” Maila Kaji recalls. Manjil Lama grew up in Kathmandu, and did well in science in school. He had wanted to go the US to become a pilot like his friends, but was denied a visa.&nbsp; “The visa officer told him I did not earn enough,” says Maila Kaji, “so I sold some property and sent Manjil to flying school in the Philippines.”  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041816040_e9091162840baa6d182de2d7cc6f09e43ec9cfd9a9b6e71e7e7b14bc72da3537.png" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026041816040_e9091162840baa6d182de2d7cc6f09e43ec9cfd9a9b6e71e7e7b14bc72da3537" data-rendition-name="original" width="1434" height="1754" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> <figcaption>Manjil Lama</figcaption> </figure>  After returning to Nepal, Manjil Lama now flies Let 410s of Summit Air to difficult air strips like Lukla and Simkot, and has logged over 2,000 hours. He has to go to the Czech Republic regularly for simulator training. Says Maila Kaji Lama: “My father worked hard carrying cars to raise us, I started from scratch to become a driver to support my family, and my son is now a pilot with experience in flying in the world’s toughest terrain.” &nbsp; Watch <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvT3iTi8yw4" target="_blank">video clip from S Dillon Ripley here</a>.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260419020448_40f8b1bdaace08106ca5c24819b6e7a34fb2109a9a3ec5c6ac179b3309e686ed.png" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20260419020448_40f8b1bdaace08106ca5c24819b6e7a34fb2109a9a3ec5c6ac179b3309e686ed" data-rendition-name="original" width="900" height="1582" loading="lazy" alt="car carriers"> </figure>

Grandfather carried cars, son drives cars, grandson flies planes

Nepalis are insured but not covered

Only 70 years ago, Kathmandu was the isolated capital of a country that had no modern surface transport link with the rest of the world.&nbsp; The idea of building a road to connect Nepal with India actually first came up during the last years of the Rana regime, after the British had left India. Construction actually began in 1952, and the serpentine route took five years to complete.&nbsp; Named Tribhuvan Rajpath, after the reigning king who initiated it, the alignment was from Thankot (1,301 m) at the western edge of the Kathmandu Valley to Nagdunga, Naubise, Tistung, Palung, Daman, Sim Bhanjyang (2,504m), Lamidanda, and Bhainse.&nbsp; At Bhainse, the highway joined the existing road to Bhimphedi and it was another 31km to Hetauda and Amlekhganj. There was a railway line between Amlekhganj and Birganj.&nbsp; After regular bus and truck service from Raxaul to Kathmandu began in 1961, the entire road popularly became known as the Tribhuvan Rajpath.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_a11b48a75c7877a0f68634f8be07d26a3f354e78ebd9adddc7d17252fddf1d1b.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2026041610044_a11b48a75c7877a0f68634f8be07d26a3f354e78ebd9adddc7d17252fddf1d1b" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="3072" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>The village of Chitlang on the main route to Kathmandu before the Rajpath was built. In the distance is the Chandragiri ridge above Thankot. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  <h2>Chronology&nbsp;</h2> (Based on US State Department cables and media reports) November 1945: Gen Bahadur SJB Rana asked an American official if a road could be constructed from the Indian border to Kathmandu. Nepal wanted such a road built across the mountains after first constructing an East-West artery road in the Tarai, and the government was interested in purchasing US surplus war equipment. Gen Rana inquired if there were US firms who could conduct a survey. April 1947: The Nepal government told a US official it was important to upgrade the 20-mile trail from Bhimphedi over the mountains to the Kathmandu Valley into an all-weather road and sought an estimate from the US for doing so. May 1948: Bijaya SJB Rana informed a US official that a survey for a one-lane motor road between Kathmandu and the Tarai had been completed. The road was to follow the Bagmati River to Makwanpur, then connect at Bhimphedi with the road to Amlekhgunj. The road from Tripureswor to Bhainse along the Bagmati River and via Bhimphedi would have been about 60km. (The distance from Kathmandu on the Tribhuvan Rajpath is 122 km.)  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_bb531baf5d73e00d2032814ac8abb86979a87d781abc066fcb984997aad930e6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2026041610044_bb531baf5d73e00d2032814ac8abb86979a87d781abc066fcb984997aad930e6" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="3072" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>The road climbing the hills toward its destination of Kathmandu. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  July 1948: The government decided to go ahead and build a motorable road from Amlekhganj to Thankot and complete it in two years. December 1948: Construction of the motor road from Kathmandu to Amlekhgunj via the Bagmati River corridor was started. April 1949: Gen Singha SJB Rana told a US official that the motor road from Kathmandu to the Tarai and the Indo-Nepal border would be completed by the spring of 1950. February 1950: Nepal sanctioned Rs300,000 to make the 6-foot-wide road from Kathmandu along the Bagmati River to Hetauda. Of this, Rs100,000 was allocated for road-building material and machinery. Subsequently, the road would be developed into a broader motorable road at a cost of Rs7.5 million. February 1952: Nepal’s budget speech noted that a plan was underway for a road between Bhainse and Kathmandu. PM Matrika Prasad Koirala laid a foundation stone near Teku for construction of the ‘Kathmandu Hetauda Roadway’.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_e66d3b81848ec19da48be8b41cacfa8b8e2bad093719b39eda27755c9616ea9a.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2026041610044_e66d3b81848ec19da48be8b41cacfa8b8e2bad093719b39eda27755c9616ea9a" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="3072" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Rajpath winding its way north of Bhainse. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  February 1952: A party of Indian engineers came to Nepal to determine the best route for a road from Raxaul to Kathmandu. March 1952: Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru told Parliament: “So far as India’s security is concerned, we consider the Himalayan mountains as our border.” Ministry of External Affairs official (S.N. Hakar) told a US official that the Indian government was willing to proceed with constructing the Raxaul-Kathmandu road and had sent a survey party to determine the most suitable mountain route. May 1952: Swiss experts had made surveys for a proposed new road between Bhimphedi and Thankot. Nepal government requested financial help to build the road, and India was considering the project.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_35e390c1a4812f45af7892d681230e04c63727d9006b6614ed79aaa7c22c1ece.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2026041610044_35e390c1a4812f45af7892d681230e04c63727d9006b6614ed79aaa7c22c1ece" data-rendition-name="original" width="4608" height="3072" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>With a constant stream of trucks, buses and jeeps, the narrow Rajpath once was Nepal's busiest highway. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  Summer 1952: Work on a new road was at a standstill, so Nepal asked India for assistance. Indian engineers surveyed two routes: one following the Bagmati River, the other road through Daman that was later adopted. July 1952: Nepal’s Ministry of Planning decided to construct a road between Kathmandu and Raxaul, awaiting Cabinet approval soon. Prime Minister Matrika Koirala said the proposed road was longer than necessary, but it was a better route ‘for strategic reasons’, because it did not require many bridges. August 1952: King Tribhuvan said road construction from Kathmandu to Bhimphedi would “begin soon”. September 1952: An Indian Military Team began construction of the Kathmandu-Bhainse road without a formal agreement being signed with the Nepal government.&nbsp; February 1953: The Indian Ambassador said the road would be hard surfaced within a year. September 1953: Prime Minister Matrika Koirala inspected the completion of a ‘jeepable track’. December 1953: The road was named ‘Tribhuvan Rajpath’. April 1954: Reports circulated that Swiss engineers criticised the alignment, arguing it would have been easier, faster, and cheaper to build over the existing foot trail between Bhimphedi and Thankot through Kulekhani. July 1954: Heavy monsoon rain damaged much of the roadway that had been built.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_b5b2a1833f1366e532f1629f47c124d877df7b6f8a34b6c83f6c21ec3e4415dd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2026041610044_b5b2a1833f1366e532f1629f47c124d877df7b6f8a34b6c83f6c21ec3e4415dd" data-rendition-name="original" width="855" height="1123" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Crown Prince Mahendra inspecting construction progress on the Tribhuvan Rajpath in October 1954. Photo: ROYAL PALACE</figcaption> </figure>  November 1954: The Indian ambassador said flood damage was so great that the road would be delayed by two years. May 1955: Twenty military trucks brought rice from Amlekhganj to Kathmandu on the Tribhuvan Rajpath. King Tribhuvan died in Zurich. December 1956: A gravel road was completed, with trucks and buses plying between Amlekhganj and Kathmandu. December 1956: Nepal government abolished regulations that required Nepali nationals to carry permits for travel within Nepal, except for women below the age of 45. 1957: Reduction in price of goods carried to Kathmandu by truck: Sugar, Rs0.13 per kg. Wheat flour Rs0.13 per kg. Kerosene Rs0.25 per litre. February 1957: An article in The Motherland newspaper in Kathmandu noted urgent action was needed to avoid Kathmandu being cut off from the Tarai during the monsoon. The correspondent wrote, ‘In a recent journey from Amlekhganj I found that almost all the bridges are in a very bad state…Now, because of the dry rivers the scores of vehicles that ply the road cross the rivers on the water level. But during monsoons… these rivers will be impossible to cross without bridges. On the road itself, landslides and big holes have made the journey a great undertaking.” April 1957: The first regular passenger bus left Amlekhganj at 12:30PM and arrived in Kathmandu completing a journey of 14 hours.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_60807e067f2d0b80bdc5e59860e9bc240b495ef606efc9301ef54ea5731d42df.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2026041610044_60807e067f2d0b80bdc5e59860e9bc240b495ef606efc9301ef54ea5731d42df" data-rendition-name="original" width="5211" height="4000" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Daman, one of the highest points on the Rajpath, often saw snow in winter. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_baac4747267c751ab7b0e5ef24697fb5001c4c55e04a82d92c89282bd01a325c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="2026041610044_baac4747267c751ab7b0e5ef24697fb5001c4c55e04a82d92c89282bd01a325c" data-rendition-name="original" width="648" height="960" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Travelers could view the Himalayas from a view tower at Daman. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  June 1957: Eight thousand Nepali workers and about 500 Indian Army personnel were at work on the road.&nbsp; 30 June 1957: India officially handed the road over to Nepal. India had spent INR32.5 million on the project.&nbsp; January 1958: The road from Amlekhganj to Bhainse was upgraded. July 1961: The gravel road from Raxaul to Birganj was blacktopped. Trucks began transporting goods from Raxaul directly to Kathmandu, avoiding the need for transshipment from train to truck in Amlekhganj, or use the ropeway from Bhimphedi. 1961: Passengers could travel from Raxaul to Kathmandu in a day, whereas it took a week by train to Amlekhganj, bus to Bhimphedi and then on foot. September 1962: Nepal’s 3-Year Plan aimed at broadening and black-topping the road between Bhainse and Raxaul, bypassing the Chure tunnel, and constructing several bridges along the route. 1963: Travelers going to Kathmandu by land: Road, 158,000, Nepal Government Railway, 66,500. Railway passenger service ended in June 1965.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_2a95eb144dad74271a0fa3a27fab6b45bbab0a1c4be59d21120ad14c08e258fd.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2026041610044_2a95eb144dad74271a0fa3a27fab6b45bbab0a1c4be59d21120ad14c08e258fd" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1344" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>A bus providing ‘deluxe service’ in 1963 is ready to leave Amlekhganj for Kathmandu. Note the railway tracks of the Nepal Government Railway. Photo: RON ELLIOTT</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_d02013692e84d6add7a6e0ce66c2b552cd53bb084db2aa8df0593bbcf84c2c04.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="2026041610044_d02013692e84d6add7a6e0ce66c2b552cd53bb084db2aa8df0593bbcf84c2c04" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1352" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Vehicles found it difficult to pass on many parts of the Rajpath in 1963. Photo: RON ELLIOTT</figcaption> </figure>  1965: Tribhuvan Highway was considered a useful addition to Nepal’s economic infrastructure, but it could not act as a prime mover in the nation’s economic development. It did play a major role in the 1960s in transporting material and equipment needed to implement development projects in the Kathmandu Valley. September 1966: Nepal took over maintenance of the Tribhuvan Rajpath from the Indian Aid Mission.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_5488ba1e92f6395ff882392ccbaef2270622632682eccb412d8de7b128f6f397.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2026041610044_5488ba1e92f6395ff882392ccbaef2270622632682eccb412d8de7b128f6f397" data-rendition-name="original" width="1764" height="1184" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Trees still lined the Rajpath near Thankot in 1967. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>  1971: A UN-Nepal study said the best alignment for an alternative road was from Kathmandu, Pharping, Kulekhani, Bhimphedi to Bhainse. 1975: Nepal's Department of Roads’ engineer concluded: ‘The Tribhuvan Rajpath has been built without design speed consideration… The pavement was not constructed to any designed standard… irrespective of quality of material, and later the road was black topped without consideration of traffic intensity and load-bearing capacity of sub-base… utilisation of low-quality material in the Bhainse-Thankot section… Quality control was neither maintained in Bhainse-Thankot nor the Bhainse-Raxaul section. Local materials were used irrespective of their quality to complete the work in the earliest possible time and in the cheapest possible manner. Brick work was done in negligible quantity. Cement used was ordinary portland cement…’ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2026041610044_26c74f45991efb3dc29d616e8acafb3163661ae6573c5314538e59c54d5ca0a5.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="2026041610044_26c74f45991efb3dc29d616e8acafb3163661ae6573c5314538e59c54d5ca0a5" data-rendition-name="original" width="2368" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Highways NT"> <figcaption>Bhainse in 2017. The road divided here, one going to Bhimphedi on the right, the main road proceeding to Kathmandu on the left. Photo: DAN EDWARDS</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20260416100416_4d9321abf4d912796842fe963a493501e1aceff462300ecdd9bd5e0b8ba7f294.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20260416100416_4d9321abf4d912796842fe963a493501e1aceff462300ecdd9bd5e0b8ba7f294" data-rendition-name="original" width="649" height="1667" loading="lazy" alt="Highway info NT"> </figure>  Even 70 years after it was built, there is still speculation about India's security concerns vis-a-vis China, and how Indian Army engineers purposely made the road longer than it needed to be over the 2,500 Sim Bhanjyang pass instead of following the river route.&nbsp; There is also some evidence that although the Rana regime had first requested the US for help with the highway, Nehru did not want the Americans involved in Nepal. Which is why the Tribhuvan Highway became an Indian military project.&nbsp; There was similar concern from India about the Kodari Highway linking Kathmandu to China, and King Mahednra is famously supposed to have said: "Communism will not come here in a taxi."&nbsp; Geopolitics still affects Nepal's strategic highways. After decades, links to China are still rough and often blocked. Kathmandu-Tarai Fast Track is delayed by years, and not expected to be completed during this decade. Trucks and buses still bypass the Tribuvan Highway with a 200km detour via Mugling because the other alternative routes like the Tika Bhairav or Chhaimale routes are not suitable for heavy vehicles.&nbsp; The shortcut through Chitlang that the Swiss proposed in the 1950s is still too difficult. And a 25km section of the Japanese-built BP Highway to the eastern Tarai has been knocked out by the 202 flood. Dan Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal. This is the fourth instalment in a new limited series in Nepali Times on the historic transportation infrastructures of Nepal.

abc