Well, it's all over. The barley has been planted, has grown, been picked and been worn and the remains have been thrown into a river. Countless goats and buffalo have given their lives (been beheaded is more to the point). Many people have been seen walking round with a large lump of red rice pudding on their forehead. Buses have gone back to being busy rather than standing room only (on the roof). The Maoists and the Government have held talks today(at last)as they were postponed (again)during the holiday. The office was open and the few people there expected to meet the new boss - perhaps like our section leader (also absent) he has had to travel some distance back from his home - or perhaps if you're a DEO you don't count holidays.
Yes, Dashain is finished for this year, all fifteen days of it- only 13 days until the next holiday!
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(I've just discovered that if you go to the enlarged version of the photos and keep clicking 'next' the missing photos from last week are there - it's like magic. Also, if you click on the little number box, there's another photo there)

These pictures tell a bit of the story of how I spent the second week of Dashain (when the office was closed). I tried to keep a diary of the events that happened on our Royal trek ('in the footsteps of Prince Charles' as it says on the official map)but in retelling they lose a lot of the humour and spontaneity. My companions were Lucy Hunt(an IT volunteer who hails from Huddersfied) and the husband and wife pair, Chris and Rohini Corfield - education and IT volunteers working at the Department of Education. The Corfields were in the same intake as me, so I know them well, but I didn't really know Lucy, though sharing a small tent for two was soon to change all that.
We met on Friday 29th September at a hotel in Pokhara and I immediately set the tone for the week by sitting on a wet black chair - no 'FRESH PAINT' signs! The hotel management were very good and washed my trousers and t-shirt and the paint came out - I had to put up with noisy air conditioning during the night though, while the clothes dried.
Saturday morning, I drew back the curtain (sounds like something from 'Joseph')and there was Mt Fishtail gleaming white against a bright blue sky. I've had a sudden realisation about why pictures like this are used in toothpaste adverts - it really is a cool, clean sight. Anyway, it was as if to say 'the mountains are here, but you've seen enough' - by 10.30 we had seen the last of the himal (except for 'is it a cloud, no it's a mountain top' moments very occasionaly on our route).
Lose one himal, gain another - our chief guide was Himal Tamang, an experienced climber ( he accompanied Chris Bonnington on the unsuccessful attempt to climb Kanchenjunga in 2000, when his uncle, also a guide, was killed) who was having a few days 'rest' before taking a party to Everest Base Camp. The other guide, Lakpa Sherpa, was young, scared of cows and called me 'amaa'. Both they and the rest of the 'crew' - porters (including one local woman who carried all four of our bags in one cone shaped wicker basket - 35 - 40 kgs) and cooks (who carried food and equipment - no fun when one of them tripped and a large container of cooking oil split)were very friendly and seemed to enjoy their work. At times we felt guilty they were working for us,but then we realised that was their work, but we did try to help as much as possible.
So, with the party altogether we left for our starting point - in a bus. We were expecting a mini-bus,but no, a full size single decker with equipment and luggage on the top and us and hand luggage inside.
We knew we were 'there' when our driver started to do a 30 point turn towards a paddy field.
The objective on the first day was to walk from the valley floor up on to the ridge. Having watched our luggage disappear up the hill at great speed, we set off following Lakpa through the very muddy paddy fields until we reached our first challenge - crossing the river. The water felt cool and fresh, but was very fast flowing. Fortunately we made it across with no big splashes. Then we set off up a stoney track until 45 minutes later we reached a shady level clearing where the cooks were waiting for us with lemon drinks and lunch already being prepared. Sitting on a big blue ground sheet, I was reminded of the Manet(?) painting of a picnic on the grass - the clothes were somewhat different, but it was really gracious living!
After an hour or so we were ready for sardines and salad sandwiches with spicy caulflower - sounds a strange mixture, but was very tasty.
After walking along the 'Nepali flat - little bit up, little bit down' as a t-shirt in Pokhara said, through some villages where people were obviously dressed in their new clothes celebrating Dashain (this was animal sacrifice day, so there were plenty of parties going to happen)and finally after a short climb we came to a flat ridge with views over valleys to either side, where the guys were putting up the tents. They finished this task quickly in order to settle down to their daily game of cards (a Dashain tradition, which they weren't going to miss out on even though most of them were Buddhist).
Responding to an invitation to the tea tent, we found a table and four chairs, a kettle of hot water and one of hot milk and a choice of tea, coffee and chocolate. We settled down to the first of many games of Scrabble, while taking turns to be on 'mountain watch'- Fishtail was appearing and disappearing under a magician's cloak of clouds and we didn't want to miss it.
At 5.30 I wrote 'It's dropping cooler and the sky ranges from bright blue through white and peach, to the grey hills and green of the nearby fields. Himal says we should have mountain views at dawn (5.45am)'.
We were up at 5.30, expectant as children on Christmas morning, but no joy. A cup of tea served at 6.30 was very welcome and so were the porridge, boiled eggs and toast half an hour later.
Once the camp was cleared away, we set off just after 8am down a road (?)where the previous evening we had seen a bus. We had a rest by one of the regular stopping points - a paved area round a shady tree - along the way and talked to some of the women coming and going to and from the local temple. We carried on for almost an hour and then arrived at our lunch stop-pasta, chips, tuna and coleslaw. We were growing used to being 'on TV' as Chris said and happily entertained quite a few people over the next hour - a group of women going to cut grass for fodder, including a 20-year-old who spoke very good English and said she had been married for a year and these were her sisters (lots of giggles), an elderly man with a carrier bag who said he was going 'to the office' (we thought everyone was on holiday), a dog who eyed us for ages then decided we weren't going to leave any food, a man carrying a large horn shaped instrument (in two bits, one inside the other to make it longer) which was traditional for calling villagers to celebrations and finally two children who crept nearer and nearer to us over a period of about ten minutes and then proceeded to race ahead so that they could wait for us at the top of the first slope.
The afternoon walk took us along a narrow path high above a steep sided jungle covered gorge and then up a short steep brick red scree to a village where children were enjoying themselves very noisily on a roti-ping.
The evening was marred by a heavy downpour, but again Himal tried to tell us there would be views in the morning. When there weren't, he gave up the pretence and said there probably wouldn't be as it was still early in the season. We'd already decided it didn't matter as we were having such a good time and someone said we couldn't watch mountains and walk safely on narrow paths, so perhaps it was a good thing.
Day three was all the way through the jungle down to the valley floor and then all the way back up - 4000 steps, Himal said. Someone had chalked up to 1800 on the first leg (before lunch) but after that it was hard to know what counted as steps as they were mostly cobbles and natural steps.
Our camp site overlooked a broad valley and the mountains would have been behind us, but it didn't matter in the morning because we were completely enclosed in the mist. This was the day we heard 'Oh the mist's lifting, I can see the toilet tent'.
Soon after we set off we walked through a village where children and grown ups were gathering round another roti-ping (it's a small wooden 'big wheel' with four or six seats which is specially constructed each year at Dashain, particularly in the Pokhara area).
We looked at each other and Himal asked if we could have a go. Once we were on ( a real job in itself) the villagers started to get us moving. It didn't feel safe, it didn't feel comfortable, but it was great fun. I'm not sure whether that comes under 'dangerous sports' for insurance purposes, but I think it should.
Himal is obviously very good at his job, because he'd put us in a good mood before we started on what I accidentally called the 'sleep, stippy slope'. You wouldnt dare go sleep walking down there! For the first time I made use of my walking pole - an anchored third leg was very necessary at times. Of course a group of local lads had to come racing down in their flip-flops just to show how it could be done and a very elegant woman in a beautiful sari, wearing shoes with small pointed heels and carrying an open umbrella also gave us a lesson.
When we made it to the valley floor and the paddy fields all in one piece, we were really pleased with ourselves. By the time we had climbed back out of the valley we weren't pleased with anything-Lakpa kept saying '10 minutes' but after nearly an hour we stopped believing him. Just as Lucy announced she was about to lose her sense of humour for good we arrived at a small village called Sundari Danda (Beautiful Hill). We emptied Fanta bottles in double quick time and then went 5 minutes down a slope to discover our final camp site on a headland sticking out into the Begnas Lake.
We flopped down on the grass and only moved when rain drove us into our tents.
Our evening meal was rounded off not with the usual fruit salad,but with an iced sponge cake with the words 'Happy Royal Trek'in melted marmalade. That really summed up the thoughtfulness of our whole crew, they were such fun to be with (even the one who wore a t-shirt with a large picture of Britney Spears on the front and the back every day).
During the night, the crew were temporariy washed out of their lean-to tent (this site had no building for them to use as the others had)by another torrential downpour, but they were still up bright and early. We were up (just) when a local lady came and offered us a trip on the lake in her rowing boat. It was interesting to learn about the fish farming and the resort which had been empty for some time because the owners would not pay the Maoist 'tax' whch led to a bomb being planted there. It was also interesting to see some people making their way by boat to the bus park at the other end of the lake, on their way to work in Pokhara.
Our crew took this option when it was time to leave, but we walked the final hour along the ridge between two lakes. Our bus was waiting and by lunchtime we were back in our hotels in Pokhara.
Oh the joy of a hot bath, an aromatherapy massage (I fell asleep)and a fresh-smelling bed.
We'd arranged to meet up the following evening, by which time I'd had a day with Janet by a rather swish hotel swimming pool, Chris and Rohini had met several other volunteers who were passing through and Lucy had had a leech-free day for the first time that week.
So the week came to a close. After a 7-hour journey back to Hetauda on Saturday morning I felt more sore than at any time during the previous week, but that's worn off and I am left with lots of hapy memories. We're already e-mailing about when and where we can do something similar - a bit higher? a bit longer? but for now it's back to the day job (well it will be when the new DEO turns up).