Unwinding at The Last Resort

Trip Start Sep 05, 2010
Trip End Jul 25, 2011

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Flag of Nepal  ,
Sunday, October 24, 2010

We spent one night in sleepy Tatopani then went out to the twisty mountain road to hitch a ride. After reading random blogs about the route we were on, we decided we had to make a stop at The Last Resort. We hitched a ride there with a father and his two daughters, who knew the place simply as "jumping". It was obvious when we drove up that the bungy and canyon swing is something of a sightseeing spot for locals and Nepali tourists, with many people hanging off the bridge to watch the next victim hurl themselves off

 God knows how long it took them to build this place. For starters it's on the wrong side of the river, the side with no roads or natural landscaping, so to get there you must cross a long suspension bridge, towering 200m above the wild waters of the Bhote Kosi river.

 It is a masterstroke of design, with luxurious safari-style tents sympathetically worked into the steep terraces, a beautiful bar/restaurant with floor cushions, ornate wooden carved tables and chairs, looking out to wonderful vistas of Nepalese hillsides. Coupled with gorgeous, leafy, landscaped gardens and a plunge pool and spa hut, this really is a special place. The food was awesome too: buffet style, with well cooked meat and heaps of fresh vegetables which we devoured, having eaten mainly crisps and chocolate for weeks. 

Now, canyon swinging and bungy jumping was never going to happen (Stef used his bad back excuse; I just admitted I was too scared), but we decided we would have a go at white water rafting. How hard could it be? You stayed in the boat and if you fell in, the water would cushion your blow. Nice, cushiony, all-embracing water. 


I guess I had forgotten about the "white water" part of the deal, and this river really was wild. We also had a guide who was intent on getting everyone wet as much and as frequently as possible. I made the unfortunate decision of sitting right at his feet and he revelled in taking an oar and using it to transfer gallons of river water over my head at just-dried-off intervals. I kept a smiling face, but it started to grate after the first hour and a half.

Despite the guy's attempts to make me fall in, I managed to stay in the raft. Stef wasn't so lucky and at one particularly sharp rapid, he flew clean off the raft and disappeared into the whirlpool. After about 10 long seconds and my face turning a deathly pale, ready to shriek, he popped back up like a cork and we all hauled him back in.

It was certainly a splendid way to see the country though. Kids washing in the river would swim after us and follow us as far as they could swim. We'd pass women washing their children's clothes, slapping them against the side of the rocks and waving to us as we rocketed past. We'd shoot below big spidery footbridges that connected the mountainside communities. So much to see in this land of green hillsides and rushing blue waters.

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