Nepal: Rappelling & Rafting
- Lauren Smith
- Apr 14, 2022
- 7 min read
Spent a few days exploring yet another new and exciting side of Nepal!
For my final weekend in Nepal, I had one last adventure planned. On Saturday morning, I boarded a bus with friends Molly and Santosh and headed for Jalbire, a village in Chitwan. About four bouncy hours later, we hopped off at the Jalbire bridge, where we met our guide and two Nepali women who would be joining us for some canyoning (which I really didn’t know anything about until now). Fitted into wetsuits, helmets and harnesses, we began a hot and sweaty 20 minute walk up to the top of Lamo Jharana, a long waterfall that feeds into a series of falls and pools that carves a canyon into the lush greenery of the jungle hillside. The goal now was to descend the cascades.
By whatever means necessary.
Starting at the bottom of the 330 foot Long Waterfall that marked the beginning of the Jalbire Canyon (I guess we weren’t qualified to rappel down that one), we began our descent with a natural water slide that dropped into a small pool. From there, we were hooked into the first set of rappelling ropes and sent to the edge of an 80 foot drop. With guides watching the ropes at the top and bottom, I had nothing to fear, but that didn’t eliminate the doubt as I peeked over the cliff of gushing water.
Leaning my full body weight back against the harness, right hand in front, left in back, I cautiously dropped myself over the edge of the rocky wall and began to shuffle my feet down the slick stone. Water rushed over my feet, falling into the pool of water far below— my supposed destination. As I got the hang of the rappelling technique, my pace quickened, and soon I was dropping into the spray at the base of the falls.
Pulling ourselves out of the pool, we proceeded to climb and hop our way down the slippery rocks to a small cliff, where the water dropped into free-fall— well, the only way forward was down. Launching ourselves off of the edge, we dropped maybe 15 feet, landing in a deep pool of water that fed into another ~80 foot waterfall.
Hooking up two ropes this time, Molly and I descended together over the smooth rock wall, our chacos struggling to find purchase on the mossy stone that was buried beneath the gushing streams of the falls. There was a moment where my feet lost traction all together and I had to dangle for a second to regain my balance (it was a very smooth recovery, if I must say). We weren’t out of the woods yet, though, because about 10 feet above the safety of the pool, our rappelling wall ended. The rock just… cut out. The only way past the huge gap was to launch ourselves off of the wall and drop into the pool from our current height.
And so we did.
After surviving this daring feat, we took a break on the rocks and enjoyed some fruit, planning our final descent. Hiking and climbing across the rocky terrain and through streams of water, we arrived at a steeply slanted slide of water that dropped off 10 feet above the next pool. Hooking us up to our rappelling ropes, the plan was not to walk down this wall, but to slide. Controlled from above, we slid on our backs down the rushing waterfall and were flung into the well below. A bit of rock hopping further took us to end of our route— a 25-foot cliff jump into the final pool. After rappelling down about 15 feet to the best jumping point, I unhooked, turned, and launched.
As we laughed and cheered in celebration, preparing to hike the rest of the way down, our guide peaked over the edge of the next falls and spontaneously offered us one more slide. Of course we wanted to— that is, until he sent the other guide down to the pool below to check for depth and rocks. Apparently, this last slide would be new for everyone. Treading water below us, the guide gave a thumbs up, and that was all the reassurance we need, I guess. One at a time we laid down flat in the rushing water, tucked our elbows, and got pushed down the smooth rock slide, dropping quickly and jerking with the natural curves of the stream until falling several feet into the pool (safe landing!).
It wasn’t until we began the hike back down to the village that I started to process how crazy that whole experience was. Over the last four hours, we had just rappelled, climbed, slid, swam and jumped down through a canyon of several hundred feet, all while following a cascade of falls and pools hidden in the jungles of Chitwan. The experience was absolutely exhilarating— I felt like Tarzan. We all enjoyed a meal of dal bhat together before Santosh, Molly and I caught a local bus (or, in our case, little white van) to the River Fun Resort in Ghorka, where we would be staying the night.
Just as we crossed the suspension bridge over the Trisuli River to reach our riverside lodging, we were hit with a sudden torrential downpour— the first rain I had experienced in my past 2 months in the valley! Sheets of water whipped through the covered pavilion of the resort, and we were confined to the dry corners of shelter while we passed the night with cards, carrom , beers, and a dal bhat dinner. I suppose our water sports-themed weekend extended to the weather as well.
The next morning we were greeted with clear skies, and began to prepare for part 2 of our water adventure: rafting. Hopping in a truck (Molly straddling the stick shift next to the driver), we drove 25 minutes down the river to catch our rafts, which we would then take all the way back to the resort over the course of the next 4 hours. Our group of twelve was divided between 2 rafts, each manned by a guide. Molly and I claimed the front row seats, oblivious to the chaos that awaited us.
Not 5 minutes into our float, we hit our first rapids: the Ladies Delight. The next 500 meters of river consisted of a sea of white-capped waves thrashing in all directions. Our raft was flooded, dropped and thrown violently as our team fought desperately against the swells until finally, after what felt like 20 minutes (but was probably only like 4), we hit calm waters.
This was just the beginning.
We proceeded to soldier through 6 more sections of rapids, 3 of which were by far most aggressive waters I had ever experienced on a raft (Some rapid names included Landslide, Monsoon, and Electric City). Even so, there was still one portion of rapids that the guides deemed too dangerous to even attempt, so we climbed out and hiked along the rocky shores beyond the worst of the turbulence. From the steep banks of the river, we watched our guides take the 2 rafts through the frothy, sloshing, whirlpool of waves, thanking god that they didn’t make us brave that nightmare. Given that 6 of the last 20 rafts to attempt the section had flipped (and all had lost several people), it was certainly a wise decision to skip on the day after a heavy rainstorm.
However, I don’t want to downplay the absolutely wild rapids we did power through— all of which were probably made more intense by the rainfall of the night before. Under constant threat of capsizing or swimming, the echo of our guide’s intensely shouted instructions will live on in my memory for quite some time. Miraculously, we made it through each one with no casualties, celebrating every completion with a paddle high-five (often well before I felt like we were actually in safe waters).
Halfway through our ride, we came across a tall cliff along the river, which our river guides promised was a safe jump point. Running the raft into the sandy banks, we scaled the hill of boulders up to the point, still clad in our life jackets and helmets. From there, we leapt, one after the other, into the rushing river water below. I bobbed up to the surface to find myself floating quickly down stream, accompanied by the 10 other floating faces who had jumped, all scattered across the murky river. In no rush to climb back into the raft after our bodies numbed to the frigid water, we floated comfortably down the river for about 15 minutes, enjoying some peace after fighting for our life over the last couple hours. Our river guides kept pace with us in the rafts, ready to pull us in when the next rapids came. And come, they did.
After one boulder collision, one near-flip, and 2 near falls (on my part), we coasted up to the River Resort, all in one piece. A quick change of clothes later, we ate lunch overlooking the river and reminisced about every moment in which we thought we were going to die. My perception of rafting has certainly changed forever.
But our adventure was not yet over.
That afternoon, we headed back to the road and flagged down a local bus bound for Kathmandu (supposedly a 3 hour drive). Knees pressed to the seat in front of me, I did my best to rest for the first 2 hours of the bouncy, winding drive, but hour 3 brought new excitement.
It began with some stalling on the steep inclines, then some shuttering after each big pothole. Eventually, the bus pulled over to the side of the narrow, dirt road, and we realized that we were stranded in the steep hills surrounding Kathmandu. In the dark.
And it was raining.
The packed occupants of the bus poured out into the street and began to flag down the passing vehicles. 10 minutes later, another local bus approached and we piled on, standing in the aisle for the last 30 minutes of bumpy hills to our destination. Of course, this bus couldn’t take us to the city center (where we needed to go), so we then had to call a patouw (Like Nepali Uber) to cover the final 15 minute drive to Thamel. Finally, 5 hours since leaving Ghorka, we arrived in Thamel wet, tired and hungry. We enjoyed some hot tea and dinner at a local restaurant and began to laugh over the experience. Our “adventurous weekend” had really overdelivered.
Everything about the past few days (the long delays, the happy-go-lucky risk-taking, the questionable local transport, the friendly people) was just so quintessential Nepal— I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better send-off!
Lauren! That is absolutely amazing! I am so happy for you that you are living life large. You are an inspiration!