The information in this section was contirbuted by Daz Clarkson. The write up is as it appeared
in Canoeist magazine (UK). The photos are reproduced with Daz's permission.
The Budhi Ganga is in the far west of Nepal and feeds the (Karnali) Seti. This is not the
Seti that's near Pokhara. The river is covered in Slime'book, Whitewater Nepal - map on page
231. Daz did the first descent (solo) and is the only current source of accurate information
on the river.
BUDHI GANGA - THE OLD RIVER First descent: solo.
WEST NEPAL, FALL 2000
We have fine recreational adventurous activities but we rarely get the chance for genuine
new discovery that qualifies as adventure, as Columbus did.
So there I was stocking up on medical supplies in Nepalgunj all the time thinking about my
impending trip to this uncharted river. As a matter of fact it felt like I was in the backend
of no place, heading for a solo self support trip (not even porters) further up the backside
of the back end of no place. And all the time there is the possibility that it might have
bugger all water in or perhaps too much water.
It was a strange turn of events that lead me wandering the streets of Nepalgunj between my meals
at Hotel Batika in the first place…I suppose its all about personal goals and one upmanship.
Perhaps things weren't good back home? Whatever the reasons and the consequences I was mission
bound.
Even with the supposed political (terrorist) trouble in the area, that Unicef had warned me
about, I had bought the bus ticket so was gonna get to the river. For those not coerced in the
modes of transport in Nepal, It was yet another bus ride on a road that was not complete.
This was a night bus, a groggy, smelly 18 hour ride that shook all the bones in my body.
A bus ride, which you know, is bad since there was only one driver and I never remember
stopping for him to sleep.
The bus crawled sleepily into Saphe Baggar at lunchtime the following day and I wasted no
time in untying my kayak and walking towards the river. I am the first to admit that I could
have walked upstream for a further 2 days to a village called Martadi, but to honest I
didn't fancy being alone in a strange land with all this political upheaval all around.
Anyway it seemed flat. So I think I must be content with the descent from Saphe down to
the Seti and hence forth into the Karnali. Perhaps later I will do the walk in.
Putting on in Saphe was a surreal experience and unique even for Nepalese standards. It
seemed as I walked through narrow streets that I was the main attraction of the millennium.
Launching into the meandering flow the villagers, men, women and children raced down the
banks watching until I was out of sight or they could not keep up. Just then, as the last
remnants of Saphe's community faded into the distance, further villagers came to watch the
show. Then suddenly without warning it was all over, the groups of villagers were gone,
and the river had closed in. I was about to enter a gorge; a rock filled gutter of
concentrated white water. As luck would prove it was only a class 4, technical and remote
(some might say a 5) but honestly it was only a 4.
Performing boof after boof, pour-over dodging and siphon avoiding this technical adventure
flowed on. First to appear on the horizon line was a presumed river wide rock choke.
It looked, without a second glance, that the river had beaten me so soon. Upon closer
inspection I found a little sneak on the river left just where the water squeezed through
a break in the rocks. From this sneak the water refracted off more house size boulders.
It was a boulder maze, the likes of which I had never seen before.
Flowing on through the tiny enclosed walls of the gorge, eddies became less frequent whilst
the river vanished off the face of the earth. A steep fall on river left and a series of
boulders hiding blind rapids on river right. The choice had to be made, no portage was
available. Skirting the first boulder on the right I was forced into a pinion, a miss
placed boof making me land sideways on a shallow rock shelf. Whilst greater rock slaloms
showed up all along the section. It was tight and heavily boulder infested; yet in or
just after monsoon I fear that I would be full of the greatest stopper and be completely
unnavigable.
On the flatter section of the river, when I had time to slow down and take a breath, I saw
animals that I think even Darwin forgot to catalogue. Small hamlets few very infrequent
and the sense of loneliness was always paramount. In front of me was the final section of
the Budhi Ganga its steep creekiness receding as it joined the placid Seti Karnali. The
descent was over. Other days (no matter how many) spent on this river were nothing new to
the paddling community, although they were new to me.
So there I was on this confluence beach, huddled under a rock cooking my first meal of the
day. I had paddled the river faster than expected but I knew that I still had a fair few river
miles to go until I could reach the take out at Chisipani on the banks of the Karnali. Tucking
into the smash and the noodles made of concentrated monosodium glutamate, I though about my
little achievement, sure it wasn't the biggest, wildest or most dangerous river in Nepal.
Although perhaps it could have been if things were different, nature had done me proud, she
had been gentle. Then it dawned on me. Unlike the mighty Sun Kosi or the wide Seti (that the
Budhi Ganga joins) and Karnali all great rivers but they had seem literally thousands of
paddle strokes over the years, but the Budhi Ganga had only seen mine.
For the following 2 days I descended the Seti and Karnali. Resting one night by the village
of Bijora. As the stars hung in the full moon sky, I lay half-asleep alone on this beach
listening to the flow of the mighty river…Suddenly without notice shouts prevailed from
across the river. In the darkness I couldn't quite make out the sources of the voices, but
the shouts were violent and my heart missed a few beats. 'Was this my end,' a little voice
in my head said 'these guys are Maoist's, they are the bloody terrorists, you know,' it
continued. All the time I comforted myself with the fact that these people whoever they
were appeared to be on the far side of the river and with me on this side there was little
chance of any involvement. But then it happened, I saw from the corner of my eye a ripple
in the water…a dunga was making its way across the river and it was aimed directly for me.
As sleep over took me there was nothing I could have done should they want to kill me.
The voices were quiet, but they managed to wake me from my half-sleeping state. Peering over
the edge of the bivvy bag they were not 10 feet away. Chatting in front of a fire these figures
from the darkness seemed oblivious to the bright yellow piece of plastic and the kayaker
sleeping beside it. Then again sleep over took me and I drifted into the land of nod. Only
to wake at the crack of dawn by the shouts and cheers of the local village kids who were
attending to the fire that had been left.
Who were the strange visitors, I still don't know? But I doubt that they would have harmed
me since in all probability they were perhaps fishermen. Embarking into the flow again I
arrived at Chisipani on the banks of the Karnali pulling out where expected I jumped on a
bus back to Kathmandu. 'It had been a long strange trip,' I though as I sat down on the
small seat, but the journey was not over yet…
Many thanx go to Vagabond, Nookie, System X, Paddle. To. and the Hotel Batika for all their
help.
If you have details of a first descent, interesting trip or amusing experience
e-mail me and
I'll credit any entries on the site to you
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