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uncomfortable, perched on the far edge of the pickup truck’s bench seat, his head out of the window, partly to avert the nausea, but also because the windscreen wipers weren’t coping well with the mix of heavy rain and mud splashing up from the road. Indeed, one of the wipers was completely dysfunctional and obstructing the view, although luckily not on the driver’s side. All the while, Bhagwan pointed out various features of the landscape that they would have been able to see in clear conditions, but for now Dan had to take his word for it that it was beautiful. They’d been on the road for five hours, which would, again in clear conditions, have put them well past the halfway point, but they had at least another five hours ahead of them, so would soon need to stop for a rest and something to eat. There was a village more or less midway to their destination where they could normally buy local food; however, today there was a wedding and all the villagers were celebrating. It seemed a little ironic that they couldn’t get any food when they were transporting catering equipment, although they were invited to share in the wedding feast. Andy refused; Bhagwan accepted. Dan hadn’t eaten since his meal on the plane from Istanbul, but took up their offer of tea and was very pleased with himself for keeping it down.
    Soon they were back on the road again, which was busier than before their rest stop, when they had only passed two other vehicles. It was also much narrower now, and manoeuvring around the other cars was a real and dangerous art. Bhagwan knew the route well and stopped in advance of particularly narrow passages, giving way to oncoming traffic, whilst feeling compelled to repeatedly point out that he wouldn’t usually be this cautious. Andy still kept up the pretence of laughing at this justification, even though it was starting to grate on him. Dan napped on and off, drifting into a light sleep for a few minutes, then awakening if they swerved or hit a rock.
    Further up the pass, a wagon was engaged in clearing a landslide, an operation that appeared to consist of scooping up a couple of tons of rocks and mud and throwing it over the side of the mountain. Bhagwan explained that the road was being improved by the Chinese authorities, whereas the wagon clearing the landslide was Nepali and ‘unofficial’. Further on still, they came across a herdsman moving his very small herd of buffalo to new pasture. Bhagwan stopped the truck right in the middle of the road and waited until the lumbering beasts had passed before setting off again. After that there were a few other motorists, including two English motorcyclists, who had stopped to fix a puncture and were having a problem getting one of the bikes started again. While Bhagwan worked on the bike, Andy chatted with the men about where they’d been, sharing his own stories of locations they had in common. Dan stayed in the truck, rubbing his side, where there was a dull ache that coincided with the position of the handle on the inside of the door. He was feeling worse than ever and was desperate to get to the village. Fortunately, Bhagwan, who was a whizz with all things mechanical, had the bike up and running in fifteen minutes, and with less than an hour of travelling ahead of them.
    Dan’s head had slumped onto his chest and he had slid sideways so that he was leaning on his brother, the heat radiating through his jacket. He’d evidently been underplaying how unwell he felt, and it made Andy angry. They were now at an altitude of around two thousand metres, which was easy to cope with for most people of a good fitness level, but not a westerner used to living at sea level, and with a fever to boot. He knew that whatever he suggested, Dan would refuse to go along with his advice, and the sensible thing would be to return to Kathmandu as soon as possible. They had planned to stay in the village until morning, to ensure that everything was correctly installed