Life of Wry

Trip Day #19, Trek Day #13

Today we will complete the Everest Base Camp loop.  From Namche, we’ll drop about 2800 feet to our day’s low elevation in Phakding (8563′)–the village where we spent our first night–and then climb another 800 feet back to Lukla, where, fifteen miles later, our trek will end.  Those funny trail designers–ending on an uphill.  (Of course, this has nothing at all to do with masochistic trail designers, and everything to do with the location of villages, mountain ridges and river flow, but still.) It will feel like a long day, mostly because our legs are weary (mine are) and the downhill will feel crushing on stressed knees.

Believe it or not, as tired as I was, I’d had a fitful night; I was too hot under my electric blanket (but, damn, I was going to use it) and too conflicted about the trip’s end. As pooped as I was, and as eager as I was to punctuate the sentence “I trekked to the base of Mt. Everest and back” with a huge and definitive exclamation point, I was extraordinarily sad to be leaving, to be ending this amazing, life-changing adventure. I didn’t even know how life-changing it was (yet), but I knew the experience had penetrated. I knew it was going to be one huge, key reference point for any number of things that I would experience hereafter.

It was a remote corner of the world that, in two weeks, I couldn’t possibly begin to fully understand, nor would I be back any time soon, and I had a strong and anxious sense that I wasn’t ready to be done with it. It was bigger, vaster, and more primitive than anything I’d ever experienced.  Two weeks in the Solo-Khumbu region of Nepal was not enough. And photos and words could not begin to capture enough of the experience. I didn’t have the capacity–intellectual, emotional–to really take it all in. And now I was leaving, and I was quite bummed.

I felt deeply committed to returning, this time focusing on the culture, people, and what inspired them about buddhism and prayer and meditation.  For sure I was missing certain modern comforts, but I was also drawn to a simpler, subsistent life.

I was also desperate to bring Peter and Jim to these mountains. Peter’s long-time obsession with Everest brought me to tears so many times, as I thought about how well he knew the facts of Everest and the Himalayan range, and really, really needed to experience it first hand. And here I was, while he was home.

Sigh. Many thoughts swirling.

Nevertheless, we got up early, packed quickly (we really had this drill down) and headed to breakfast in that very cozy dining room, overseen by that very calm, competent and gracias proprietress.

At breakfast we heard the full story of the Malaysian man who’d been airlifted out, whose HACE was a little more under control, but whose blood ox was still only 70%.  We had shaken our heads at the numerous stories we’d heard about evacuations, hearing and/or seeing helicopters flying up and down the canyons daily.  You really gotta wonder.. not as easy as it all seems, this trekking at high altitude. A mere 75-100 miles is the total distance we covered, over 14 days–hardly challenging by Sierra standards.  But add ten thousand feet of net elevation gain and loss (and gain and loss dozens and dozens of times throughout the days and weeks), gnarly terrain, sub-freezing temperatures and thin air, and it becomes a more rigorous affair.  Pro tip: do your training.

So we got off at about 8:00, early enough to enjoy a quiet Sunday morning in Namche Bazaar.  Here are a few shots of folks in town, doing what they do on Sunday mornings.

Women gabbing and enjoying tea before the first shoppers…

kids playing…

and shops opening all over town..

Here’s a shot Leslie took of Laura meandering down (and down) narrow, cobbled streets on the way out of town:

Before we got too far into our day’s journey, we stopped again at the army/police gate on Namche’s outskirts and spent 300 rupees on “Achievement Certificates.” Kind of hokey, but for a good cause. That is, the money raised by the folks issuing these very non-official “Achievement Certificates” gets routed back into the region to help maintain the Sagarmatha National Park, its historical and religious sites, and generally the standards of living for those who live there.

And then the downhill began with a vengeance. The trail between Namche and the Hillary Bridge was far more intense going down than it had been going up (of course). I wanted to take advantage of freshness and gravity and took off quickly. There is nothing to explain this, but I’d decided not to bother with poles. Fatal error, but I just wanted to hike fast and unencumbered, and figured, heck, it’s the last day and I’m not saving my legs for anything now.

I also wanted to hike alone, as I had a severe case of melancholy.  My impulse was to turn right around and head back into the mountains. And at the same time, I was missing Peter and Jim and ready to tell them a million stories.  I was emotionally committed to returning to the Everest region with them.. (and physically committed to training more!).

I have no idea where all the people went, but I saw nearly nobody for the next hour.  In fact, I wondered if, in my enthusiasm for the river and warmth and solitude, I’d somehow missed the trail, which made for some interesting thoughts.. but, I hadn’t, of course, and soon came upon a village where I stopped to pee.  Found a nice shack (with a window feature!) and a bark-covered hole-in-the-ground.  I had become quite the connoisseur of pee spots in the Solo-Khumbu.

This was that village.. it’s either Larja Dobhan or Jorsale.  It was very picturesque.

After another long while I caught up to Rick and Hom, who were waiting at the official entrance point to Sagarmatha National Park, whereupon Rick took off again and Hom and I waited for the others.  It was quite the international fest.. suddenly, there were dozens of international trekkers in shorts and sleeveless tops, applying sunscreen, talking eagerly about citing Everest.  Felt like culture shock after a couple weeks of feeling like we were on some other planet.  Maybe a half an hour later, the others rolled in, and shortly after that I moved out, wanting to take advantage of whatever energy I had left, which wasn’t much. Everyone (minus Rick) managed to reconvene for lunch in Benkar, at the restaurant we’d stopped at to pee when we’d passed through this area the first time (second day of our trek). We were only an hour out of Phakding and, according to Hom, would have only four more hours to go after lunch.

That’s great, because we were pooped.

The deck was sunny and we sat near some French trekkers.  So strange.. the warmer temps, the bustle of people, the flowers, greenery.. things were feeling so.. civilized the closer we got to the starting line.

Again, in an effort to make hay while the sun shone, I bolted.  I hiked mostly alone, and a bit with Leslie.  Looking pretty spry here… must have been the dal bhat!

At one point, I met up with a Nepalese lawyer, who’d been up at Khumjung (the town way above Namche) for a couple days. He was part of a group meeting to discuss hydro-electric power options for the region. His english was good enough to communicate all that, but barely. He told me that this was his first trip into the Everest region and his first time seeing Mt. Everest.  He said, typically, the only Nepali people who ever get to see Everest are trekking and climbing guides, that most Nepali folks never get into these mountains, nor see the mountain for which they are famous. It struck me, too, that here was a professional, educated man who was taking two days to walk to a meeting, and two days to walk out. I imagine he could have hired a helicopter, but it didn’t even come up in our conversation. He was wearing street shoes (!) and carrying a camera around his neck. He did have a backpack, and I suppose his briefcase was in there.  I was able to introduce him to Hom and hoped that maybe they could establish a mutually beneficial relationship.

At another point, I met up with a young girl, maybe six, who was carrying a broken glass in her hand.  I tried to explain to her that this wasn’t safe.  She seemed fascinated, but didn’t get at all what I was trying to say.  I was sure her mom would have appreciated it, wherever she was; we were not near any homes or a village at this moment.  This area, however–lower and warmer–is far more populated, with more frequent settlements and villages. I think people who graze their animals over the summer at the higher elevations, or otherwise live and conduct business in villages at high elevation, come down to the lower elevations during the winter.

By and by, I passed through Phakding, and later the place where we’d had lunch on our first day, two weeks earlier. It was so interesting to retrace steps. I was seeing things in a completely different way–different views of course, and, actually a completely different perspective. It was only two weeks, but we knew a whole lot more about the life and people of the region, and things we’d seen on our first day were now seen in a wholly different context. And there was just a whole lot of it that seemed new; stuff I’d not observed the first time through. Plus, after two weeks, and it being the middle of April, it had become very springlike. Lots of flowers, new growth and lots of green.

But, here’s the thing: I was now really hurting. I was totally, totally spent. My achilles tendons ached like crazy, my toes were seriously jammed from all the downhill in very light boots, and my knees were shot. It turned into a very grueling finish for me. It was a 15-mile day–challenging enough under normal circumstances–brutal on tired, hurt legs. We were covering a distance in one day, that had taken two on the front end of the trip. I had to summon a lot of will to walk with purpose, to keep moving.  I realized I had no other option; if I sat down, I’d probably not get up. I just needed to grit it out. I walked with Hom for a while, and Leslie, then fell behind.  It was a grind!

Nearly the entire day was spent on stone trails, with lots and lots of stairs as we passed through villages. Lots of hard, uneven and unforgiving surfaces along the way, on top of fatigue and soreness. Ouch.

A bit hard to make out, but check out this trail!  Steep, cobbled, full of pack animals. Brutal.

I experienced my only real ankle twist of the whole trip on this day when I took my eye off the road for just a moment, and while I didn’t tear anything, it hurt like hell.  Sigh. Just tired, I guess.

At the end, I actually did catch up to Leslie, and she and I finished together.  Steady, gentle uphill for the last three miles or so!  She felt great, like she could have gone much longer.  I think that’s the training difference right there. So after seven hours of hiking and an hour for lunch, we both passed through the Lukla gate at 4:00pm. And shortly, Hom came along! Hugs and tears. It felt exhilarating and sad.

(Hardly the worse for wear, huh?)

We hobbled (well, I hobbled) through Lukla, which was bustling–yaks, people, open shops, music everywhere. We even passed a Starbucks (yes, a Starbucks).

It’s still all very primitive, truly, but there are signs of modern life. We decided to just get to our tea house (The North Face Resort, they called it, which was, yes, an overstatement) and get settled.  We saw Rick and Reggy sitting on a wall talking.  He’d probably been there for at least a couple hours, and I’m not sure when Reggy arrived, but it was nice to see her.

Leslie and I were roommates that night. We moved into what was a beautiful, if smelly (mold), room, with an incredible shower!  We got cleaned up and then had our last-night-of-the-trek celebration dinner (there would be yet another celebration dinner once we were back in Kathmandu).  Here’s the entire gang, left to right: Hom, Pradip, Karen, Laura, Leslie, me, Rick, Pemba, Rincha and Asaman.

Rick got out his Nepal flags, and we drank beer and ate pretty heartily (that’s a yak steak).

Somebody, I think Rick, had a collection of music that we were able to play on the restaurant’s sound system, and then those who could play instruments played, while we all danced (if you can believe that) The videos of this are great. Thanks, Rick!

Earlier, we had figured out how much we wanted to tip Hom, Pradip and our porters, so after dinner we presented the tips with spontaneous ceremonial speeches (which I delivered, funnily enough).

And then we crashed.