Who would want to go on safari when you could do this?
The two chaps I’m going to Nepal with are called Ben and Drew. After my occasional and subtle hints (“I want to go rafting!”), we’ve finally decided to scrap riding elephants in favour of riding crashing torrents of death-water. To somewhat counteract this astonishingly desperate grab for lashings of Hardcore Points, we’ve tagged some fishing on to the end of the trip. Although, if we’re lucky, we might catch something like this:
This is unlikely in my case, as I’m reliably informed that no Bentinck has ever caught a fish. My father hooked a pike once, even got it on the deck of the boat, but then it bit through the line and jumped back in: that’s the closest we’ve ever got to being a fishing family. Bring on the Himalayan River.
After this mini-adventure, I’ll be able to say that I learned to fish in the Himalayas; I’ll be able to say I learned to paddle furiously with no perceivable effect on the Himalayan River; I’ll even be able to say that three public school boys, when put in sodden peril, will genuinely scream in three-part harmony; but I won’t be able to say (I expect) that I caught a fish.