Camps are selected for convenience and location on the path. Once we reach camp. There is inevitably an audience that gathers as soon as we come into camp. They stare at us as if we were museum pieces. Soon, the word gets out that we crave cold drinks. Inevitably, an enterprising villager comes with a plastic crate of Coca-Cola, Miranda (orange drink) and Pepsi. For the beer drinkers, there is St. George's or Dashen, if we are lucky. Here is an image of the gallery.
This audience remains until sunset and then disperses. We are serenaded by a motley array of donkeys, dogs, and roosters. The night sky emerges as people erect their tents and riders retire early or, if they have energy to burn, they linger around the coffe or tea urn and chat until sleep beckons them.