This will be the last update for a few days. Tomorrow Chris and I will go to one of those rare places beyond the reach of global communications. Our next destination will be the Annapurna Sanctuary, a natural amphitheatre of Himalayan peaks, including Annapurna I, the tenth highest mountain in the world. The only way in or out, except by helicopter, is on foot: it'll take us up to twelve days, and we'll gain and lose more than three vertical kilometres.

A man at our hotel told us today, 'Nepal has two governments: one in the cities, another in the hills'. At the moment, the second of the two seems to have the upper hand: the Maoists' grip on the countryside is surprisingly strong, strong enough to strictly enforce an indefinite strike and blockade of Nepal's cities. Faced with this impasse, we decided that as we wanted more than anything to trek, and as we couldn't afford to be stuck in Nepal for too long afterwards, we'd have to book flights for the remainder of our travels in the country. We've therefore allowed ourselves twelve days' trekking in the Annapurna region before flying back to Kathmandu, and from there to Varanasi, in India.

Perhaps it's the lack of any other reliable way of getting around the country, or perhaps odd things happen in Nepal, but when we arrived at Kathmandu airport yesterday morning for our flight to Pokhara, we saw some of the strangest luggage I've ever seen at an airport: large plastic barrels, televisions, and mysterious things wrapped in sacking. One man was even checking in four large sacks of garlic. The flight itself was every bit as good as the flight from Bhairahawa, and all the more spectacular because we flew in a tiny, boxy, 18-seater Dornier. Getting on such a small plane made us feel we were really going somewhere remote.

Arriving in Pokhara was worth every rupee. To be fair, it's an average place, but in a truly beautiful setting. From Pokhara, the mountains, particularly Machhapuchhare, sacred to local people, seem almost close enough to reach out and touch. Set along the shores of a lake, Pokhara has a surprisingly low altitude, so it's pleasantly warm here: warm enough for bamboo and bananas to grow here in the shadow of snow-capped peaks.

It's an odd place, too. There is plenty of tourist infrastructure here, almost as much as in Thailand, but almost no tourists: certainly much fewer than in Kathmandu. Nepal's civil strife has hit Pokhara hard, economically at least. We're fairly certain we're the only guests at our hotel. We rented out some thermal jackets and sleeping bags at a trekking shop in Pokhara today. The very pleasant owner, himself a part-time trekking guide, talked with us for a few minutes and gave us some excellent advice on the Sanctuary trek, before coolly telling us we were his second and third customers of the season. His business hasn't made a profit since 2001, and this year is the worst of all. Another shopkeeper we met came here from Kashmir a decade ago, after much worse violence there drove the tourists away and him out of business. Five years ago, he told us, if you threw a stone in Pokhara it would probably hit a tourist. Tourism in Kashmir has since started to pick up, and he'll go home as soon as he can clear his stock. The only people in the Nepali travel industry who seem to be making money are the airlines.

Now is as good a time as any to announce the sad departure of a trusted and esteemed travelling companion: my backpack. One of its straps has frayed beyond repair and I can't risk it breaking on me on the trek, so I've bought a new one. I know it's only a bag, but I have an odd sentimental attachment to it, and it's been with me to lots of countries around the world. I'll give it a suitable send-off on my return to Pokhara.