Pokhara is effectively the capital of the Annapurna Region and usually has the most unbelievable views from the picture perfect lake which surrounds the town. When we arrived however, it was a bit cloudy so we got stuck in to some beers before heading to the 'Ultimate Descents' office to meet our fellow rafters and for a deep and detailed risk briefing and equipment check (not!). At 6pm we met the other muppets who had signed up and discussed the most important subject of how much rum we would need as a group to get us through. The next day we were off in the company's corporate vehicle, a local bus which had just finished, it seemed, dropping off some goats.

As we drove, the rain started to fall but we took no notice as we started to get to know everyone on the bus. When we arrived at the drop in point, I was roped into pumping up the raft as the Nepalis had a cup of tea and laughed at me and was then given a helmet too small for my head. School years came flooding back as we split into two groups (we avoided the 60 year old American and his Thai girlfriend (puny arms) and also the overweight ones (although in retrospect they would have made good emergency rafts) and got a strong team together with Atko and I in key seats…

It was still raining when we got onto the river and undertook the three minute safety drill which effectively was 'when I shout at you paddle really hard either forward or back - although I may not make it clear which' and the classic 'when you fall out, save yourself as the river is running the fastest I have seen it'.

So, we were off and working as a well oiled machine, hitting every rock and being abused regularly by a gorkha drop out who had clearly been drinking. After two rapids which (travel k*** alert) were certainly not as hairy as the Zambezi - our guide decided that it was time to pitch our first camp. We carried all the stuff to a rock hard sand beach and created a wondrous place to spend the first night (still raining) and began to tuck into the rum on a tarpaulin on the floor. Pushing the boat out, we stayed up till after 9pm before retiring to our tent and relaxing onto our 2mm thick foam roll mat.

At 10pm we woke up for the first time, then again every perhaps 30mins for the rest of the night due to the sheer luxuriousness of our sleeping arrangements. At 2am the clouds opened and literally the monsoon came. I was asleep again in about a minute but according to Kate it didn't stop that night and when we woke up, the river that had been 30ft away was lapping at our tent door.

We decided to get in the rafts (after a lot of scared Nepalis let us know that they hadn't seen the river rise so fast in their long and illustrious river careers). Nevertheless, following another competent rafting company camped just down river, we set off again on what was quickly becoming a raging torrent. After about 20 minutes of inching down the side of the river we stopped again on the other side of the bank, realized we had a sprung a leak (quality equipment) and it was decided that we should pitch our camp again (now 10am) for the night until the river level dropped. This involved pulling all the gear up a 5 metre cliff to be sure we would be clear of the rising river. It was still raining hard.

We finished off the rum and sat in the rain wondering what to do for the rest of the day when I had an idea to walk to the waterfall I had seen from camp. On the way, the guy that was following me slipped over and slit his knee cap open which was a nice touch. We asked for the company first aid kit and were given some plasters for the 3 inch gash. After a lot of shouting from the guys wife, another guy on the trip pulled out a needle and thread and stitched him back together. Turns out he was a surgeon/doctor/legend which was lucky and we went to bed. At 5am the next day we woke again to find the river (by now a full on raging brown torrent) at our doors - apparently it had risen to the highest level in about 21 years.

Our company decided there was no way we would be able to raft our way out so we got up to walk out of the ravine (via raging waterfalls and leeched padi fields) in flip flops (the only other shoe choice I brought were the Paul Smith suede shoes). We trekked for 6 hours carrying all our stuff in the rain to the same goat stinking bus and then home to Pokhara. So, not quite the rafting experience we had hoped for but certainly an experience. Kept expecting Michael Burke to jump out to the theme of the 1990s classic show '999' as we human chained across the raging waterfalls… We later found out (from the local press who interviewed us in our wet finery) that 80 people had died in the floods and landslides so lucky we have a tale to tell…

Back in Pokhara it finally stopped raining so we went boating on the lake (still no views of the Annapurnas though), rented a moped (and got a flat tyre), did a paraglide jump (absolutely amazing) and sat in bakeries eating cake. We also got caught up in a visit by the ever popular prime minister which involved a curfew which is what I call power.

On our last day, heading back to Kathmandu, the fog finally lifted from the mountains and we got our first sight of the mountains and what was to some in the Everest region!