The Dordi Khola

Standard…. nothing less than this for the next 12km

“Would you say this road is Class 4+?” Tom did not need to answer, the bus did it for him, violently jarring from side to side desperately following the irregular track, which hung oh so close to nothing! Abrupt halt. Sure enough we had met the end of our track, cut short some time ago by a landslide. Within an hour of shoulder hugging our boats we had made it to Hillaire; the apparent put in. We knew very little about the river, other than Ram had ran it a couple of years ago, he was very hazy on the details but seemed to think it was low volume class 3 – 4.

Chicken shoot - nice boof

Hilliaire is a quaint village, tucked out of view from most tourists. They seemed only to pleased to see us, and gathered around to see who these two strange folk were that brought such brightly colored, obscure items to their homes. By the time we had kitted up I could no longer see Tom, each of us had grown a ring, three or four deep of local Nepali, all coming to see what the fuss was about. They were an audience blessed with a sense of humor, which is just as well; my river shorts have seen better days, and put on display more than intended. The view of my backside was greeted by comical childish laughing.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, you would find me..

It was clear this was going to be no class 3 – 4 run. The Dordi Khola held the evidence of several days rainfall. Powerful water crashed its way down the steep river bed, littered with fresh boulders. Two hours of kayaking sore us down continuous class 5. We had only managed 2 km before getting stuck on an island, with no means of inspecting the line for the upcoming rapid. After much thought I made a tight ferry glide, into an even tighter eddie. On inspection, I’m very glad I got that eddie.

In life I often look for things that will give me an adrenaline buzz. I love that anxious feeling before a big rapid, in-fact I find myself actively searching for that feeling. However I have come to realize that the feeling I was experiencing right then was very different. Scared. I wont lie, this river at these flows was scary, it had so much power; it was relentless, class 5 on a continuum. With enough time we could of perhaps made it down, but chicken lines would be taken all to often, and the fun would have left the game. So I made the call. We left our boats where they were and walked the 2km back to Hilliaire.

Greeted by the same kind faces that had seen us off, in the same welcoming manor, we were made to feel at home. That night we chatted with the local lads, one of whom spoke good English, and was training as an accountant in India. Only here on holiday to visit his young wife. Cultures are funny things, but I will ramble on about them some other time.

Tom on an easier rapid

So the next morning sore us back to the river, some point in the night the rain had ceased, and with it so had the mighty torrent; or at least to an extent!  Unlike the day before, we could no longer here the terrifying rumble of rocks shifting along the rivers belly; my confidence no longer felt rattled, instead I felt excited. An easy put in was found and the journey continued. For the next 12km the river never dropped bellow class 4, in fact it barley dropped bellow class 4+ we made only three portages, all of which are run able, but committing.

Tom - Photo Jake

Eventually we met the Marsyandi. In an eddy just above the main flow I highlighted my next move to Tom – like a game of chess, it was all planned. It was a simple move, like moving that first pawn. However, I was playing a grandmaster! As soon as I left the safety of our nice calm eddie, I realized it was a mistake, raw power sat bellow me. That eddie in the distance, so defiant, was nothing more than a series of backed up rocks, giving little in the way of slack water. Stretched out in-front of me for the next kilometer was something I never want to be involved with, something not designed to be kayaked. And with this in mind I was damned if I’d be going down it! A rock was sought, a lucky wedge, and an incredibly fast exit to relative safety.

Photo Jake Holland

Forty five minuets of heavy boat carrying was worth it, anything was worth it. So we battled through the hot sun to a near by village. Ironically on the way we walked through dug in Nepali troops, who held steady gazes out over their even steadier machine guns. Sure signs of an unsettled past, stale protection for the dam left over from the civil war.

After some negotiation over the fee we found two porters who carried our boats the remaining thirty minuets over a bridge, and to the road that could take us home.

Porters - Photo Jake Holland

It’s not in Pete Knowles guide book, however I’m sure its been paddled by at least a few other teams. A real classic & a must do if your out in the early season. Judging by how quickly it dropped from peak flows, I would say it needs to have rained a little in the past couple of days to make it amazing. I could Imagine it being a fun class 3 in lower flows, perhaps a week or so after rain.

Enjoying the fun stuff

It would be well worth exploring above Hilliaire, it looked slightly steeper, so would be ace in medium to low flows. I really hope others check this river out, its ace! “Defiantly in my top 10” – Tom (a well paddled individual)