After the blinding, over-stimulated haze of Kathmandu Ofer and I were more than ready for our trip to Chitwan National Park where we would get some much needed R&R. We packed our bags and loaded ourselves the car with our Nepalese non-English speaking driver. We had heard that it was a 115 mile drive that would take between 6-8 hours. We settled in the backseat, laid our heads on each other and prepared for the calm lullaby of the car engine and the gentle rolling of the tires on the road.

Not so much. Our drives to and from Chitwan have continued to be the most life-threatening, shocking, teeth grinding, fingernail gripping, heart pounding, dirty experiences on our trip so far. Do I have your attention now?

We quickly remembered that the car barely had use of its air conditioning system. No air conditioning, no seat belts, no communication with the driver. Ok, no problem, we can do this. With windows down we rolled along. My faulty thinking was assuring me that once we were out of Kathmandu the streets would become less busy and paved making for a more comfortable ride. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

After driving though the city and through some country roads we entered the mountainous section of our trip. Let me first say how happy we were to not have been doing this drive at night. I assure you, had we done this ride at night I would not be here writing this blog.


The road to Chitwan, or the ‘Road to Hades’ which was what I was calling it, consists of steep mountain climbs, sudden jarring turns and very, very narrow roads. One wrong turn and you either crash directly into the mountain or the ditches dug on the side of the road (that is if you are lucky to miss a roaming human or animal), or straight down the side of the mountain, considering you missed one of the rickety metal or wood ‘barriers’.

Our little 1970, manual sedan was even more dwarfed on the road by the hundreds of cargo trucks that we passed. Each truck was highly decorated with colorful paint, dolls and slogans. They reminded me of Mardi Gras party busses. Not only were the busses full of whatever cargo they were shipping they also had people heaped on top. Sometimes we would see up to 20 people all piled on the roof of the bus holding onto whatever they could to keep their balance as the bus veered up and down the mountains.

If I, or any reasonable person, were driving on this road I would be taking the entire trip at around 20-30 miles per hour stopping to ensure that no one was around the blind curve that we were approaching. But that’s just not the Nepalese style. We must have been going 50-60 miles per hour whenever our driver saw the opportunity. He would speed up and take turns as if he were on a race track and promptly pull on the brake and stop us moments before slamming into the car, truck or bus in front of us.

As if this wasn’t frightening enough the driver saw it necessary to pass every vehicle we came into contact with. Every vehicle. He would honk incessantly at the driver in front of us and they would either nudge over or stay put and we would become now three cars wide on a street fit for one vehicle. Then as a car approached us in the opposite direction he would hold his ground until the very last second when he would pull in front of the car we had passed. The first 10-15 times he did this Ofer and I held hands so tightly as if it was going to be our final moment together. Not only this but he would speed up and take turns directly in the middle of the road hoping his odds were good that another car wouldn’t be doing the same thing barreling in our direction.

Is this guy nuts!?? The more we paid attention we saw it wasn’t just our driver who was approaching the road as if it were a test of manhood presented by mother nature; pretty much every driver was the same way. We had some terrible drivers in China but compared to this those were 4 star rides. To make matters worse we saw about 4 vehicles that had crashed, flipped over or fell completely over the edge.

As we sped up and stalled to halts, veered right and slid left the dirt from the road poured in the window. Our eyes burned and we blew our noses to clear the black dirt before more entered our lungs. We had planned a rafting trip in the middle of the drive, something I had not been too excited about, but the more we drove the more I silently begged to be thrown into the river that was raging below us, anything would be better than this.

Then I got my wish. Our diver stopped and pointed to a group of people sitting in a hut. This was where we would begin the rafting portion of the trip. We bounded out of the car eager to get ourselves further down this road in any other means possible.

As we all know, swimming, rafting, boating anything water related really isn’t my forte. But my fiance loves it, so I tried to suck up my fear and just hoist myself into the raft. There were two rafts heading out in our group. The first raft was made up of more athletic looking young adults and our raft had us, a few others around our age and a family with two young sons. If they could do it, I could do it.

That confidence lasted about a minute and a half. Right as we were leaving the shore and pointing ourselves down the river the first raft just ahead of us took on what seemed to be a medium sized patch of rough water. One moment they were up and the next moment the raft was completely flipped over . One by one the rafters bobbed to the surface. They were being violently swept in all directions, some looked like they were having the time of their lives and other looked like they believed they were halfway into the white light.

We were headed to the same falls, woop di doo. Luckilly we came through it fine. Our guide was yelling commands and we tried our best to collect each rafter before they were carried down the river, into the mountain rocks or into the whirlpools surrounding them. The next few hours were made up of swallowing brown water, being tossed in the air by rough waves, yelling at the drunk passengers to pull their weight and praying that we wouldn’t flip. Sadly the car was looking better and better.

More than halfway through the trip the waters calmed and our guides suggested taking the opportunity for a plunge into the river. Obviously I was not interested. I turned my head to check Ofer’s response and caught a quick glimpse of his feet as they were the last of him to enter the water. Ofer was the only one out of the 16 or so in our group to get into the water. He floated on his back and free-styled his way along the river keeping up with our raft. Just as we were hoisting him back into the raft we spotted a few river snakes swimming nearby. I started having Princess Bride flashbacks (they always get louder when they are about to feast on human flesh!!). Some of you know what I’m talking about.

Most people on the rafting trip loved the experience and were dying to do more. I guess these are the times when we all learn what we do and don’t like. Rafting in freezing cold, brown, treacherous water? Check! Done it and don’t need to do it again. After we reached the end of the rafting experience I promptly informed Ofer that he needs to invest more time in his male relationships so I can stay at home and knit instead.

We got back into the car, wet, brown, smelling of river water and looking like drowned rats. I’m sure our driver was happy to see us waddling down the road to him. After finally completing 6 hours on the road Ofer and I finally it to our Chitwan Resort. It was the oasis that we had been hoping for and we were definitely ready for some relaxation.