I cannot believe it but this is the penultimate blog post of
this leg of the world travels. I shall not dwell on it as I can do that in the
final post and I have much to tell you of our trek in to the Himalayas; Mt
Everest Base Camp the destination.
Ps. I am typing this from my beach hut on the Thai island of
Koh Samet. Surely you can’t begrudge me some r&r after such a trek???
I am well aware that the last post was far too long and I am
afraid this one is quite long as well. You had better make a pot of tea before
you begin.
After the negative experiences of China it was nice to be
back in familiar territory but before I could truly relax and enjoy being back
in the surroundings of Nepal I had to go through one more ‘Chinese’ test as a
man leaned over the top of me to change his currency in to Nepalese rupees.
Following a verbal blast of expletives he tried to tell me that he didn’t know
that I was changing my money. It seems funny now but at the time I was
seriously over it and their liberty taking.
Once in the taxi the sounds, sights and smells of the
organised chaos that is Nepali life mixed with a hint of the Indian
sub-continent immediately set us both at ease; we were both back in our
favourite of countries.
We got the driver to drop us off in the touristy area of
Thamel and we set about finding some accommodation for the next couple of days
whilst we made ready for our trek.
I was somewhat disappointed to see so many white faces
milling around but April and October are the peak trekking months so it was to
be expected.
On our third attempt of trying we found a suitable place to
stay which happened to be just a few doors up the road from where myself and
Arancha had stayed with the other girls in December 2010 / January 2011.
Before venturing out for some food and to shop for some
trekking gear a shower was required and it was then that Nepal’s inconsistent
power problems came flooding back. I had totally forgotten that in Nepal
different areas are allocated power at different times of the day and our
particular area would be without electricity and therefore hot water until
later on so we would have to remain stinky for the immediate future.
When you have had a great time on a previous visit to a
destination you are always apprehensive about going back in case that place has
changed and your memories are tarnished; well in the case of Kathmandu we could
take a deep sigh of relief. Nothing had changed at all, the restaurants and
cafes are still the same, the same staff still work within and the same hawkers
are still selling the same of crap on the streets – it was like we had never
left. The only change was that my longer hair and somewhat shabbier appearance
made me even more of a target for the local drug dealers and I was offered
something at every turn!
After some lunch at a ‘local’ place we spent the afternoon
shopping for the little bits that we needed in order to get on our way and back
in to the mountains. We are both travelling with 65 litre backpacks so our main
task was to find smaller packs and we wanted to be travelling as lightly as
possible. It seemed like we had visited every mountaineering shop in Thamel but
as usual it was the final shop that had all that we needed and by buying in
bulk we were able to barter him down to what he claimed was his cost price –
yeah right! We were happy with the deal and we were now the proud owners of his
and her bags as well as some new trekking socks, gloves and water bottles.
With little else to do with the rest of our day we went for
dinner at another local for a seriously good Mexican burrito and then went out
to one of our favourite bars in Kathmandu to get quite drunk and take in the
local band scene which is really good in Nepal.
Whilst supping on Ghurka Beer and shots of Sambucca everyone
had a laugh at the expense of a very drunk Indian girl who made the band sing
‘I want to break free’ by Queen, twice in a matter of minutes as to quote her
“I am getting married tomorrow and instead of being free I will be in prison!”.
Trust me, it was very funny in her strong Indian English accent, but maybe you
had to be there?
I was awoken the next morning by Arancha asking me what I
was doing? Confused, I sat up to find that I had been asleep across the foot of
the bed like a pet dog and like an untrained puppy the floor beyond the bed was
suspiciously wet. Not again!!!!!! Arancha was cool about it and I think you
have to be when the last time was on the mattress in the back of a van that you
are both sharing. Don’t you agree?
We had planned to leave on our trek the following day, so
day 2 in Kathmandu was all about getting our TIMS card, a sort of permit card
that also acts as identification and your details are taken down at various
army checkpoints along the trekking route to assist in locating you if you happen
to disappear.
Breakfast was taken in the ‘Feed and Read’ café at the back
of one of the best bookstores in the world (if you are in to that sort of
thing) and then it was a short taxi ride out to the TIMS office.
Getting the card was easy enough but we would also need an
actual permit to accompany this, which we would need to remember to purchase
along the actual route as the office was working on Asian time ie. Come 2pm it
is too late to work!!!
Next we purchased our bus tickets for the most painful part
of our journey, a 7-hour bus trip to our starting point, the village of Jiri.
Most normal trekkers choose to take the 45 minute flight
from Kathmandu airport into Lukla, the world’s most dangerous airport, and
begin their walk from here. We had time on our hands, we love being in the
mountains and so why not take the 7 hours bumpy bus ride to Jiri and then walk
for 5 days just to get to the same point as those who flew for 45 minutes?
There were actually some bonuses to be had for our choice:
1)
We would be trekking for 5 days over pretty much
deserted terrain in regards to white people
2)
Our route would take us up and down over 3,000
metres twice before we reached Lukla meaning that whereas the ‘fliers’ would
need to spend 3 nights in the town of Namche acclimatising we could just spend
1 night and forget a rest day if we wished
3)
It would assist on our overall fitness for
walking at altitude – which is bloody hard work
With everything packed and ready to go and the tickets and
permits in our pockets the rest of day idled by in Kathmandu’s first ever pub
for lunch, trading completed books for new ones (I love this about travelling
in Asia) and then dinner at another fine restaurant.
The next day began far too early as we made our way over to
the bus station. To gain an extra hour in bed we chose to take the later bus
that was not in fact a bus but a minivan and we had 2 seats at the back, which
were situated over the wheels that didn’t have any suspension. To add to our
discomfort we had no leg room as we insisted on keeping our bags with us inside
the vehicle and not tied to the roof where anybody could explore their contents
(I had learnt from the last time that I trekked in Nepal). There were 16 of us
squeezed inside the minivan including 1 other westerner who was also trekking
from Jiri and he spent no time befriending us and would become the bane of our
next 4 days!
10 minutes into a very bumpy ride at the back of the bus and
re-reading the same line in my book 6 times I knew it was going to be a very
long and painful journey.
In truth the day spent getting to Jiri was hard but we’ve
both experienced worst. Driving up through the foothills was easy on the eye
and the rare glimpses of the white peaks beyond were enough to quicken our
pulses and raise the levels of expectation. I had even forgotten how much I
enjoyed a good Dhal Bhat (the
Nepalese national dish taken 3 times a day, perfect fuel for trekking and worth
it because it is cheap and they refill as many times as you like).
During this lunch we got to sit down with Andy for the first
time and continue our chatting from the broken conversations had during the
journey so far. At this point we liked Andy!
By late afternoon we had arrived and I gingerly stepped out
of the bus in to the clean and crisp Himalayan air because my arse had slowly
died over the harsh rattling of the wheel arch.
The only guesthouse owner sharp enough to come and advertise
to those getting off the bus won our patronage and within 10 minutes of
arriving we had a comfortable room and so had Andy just down the hallway from
us.
With nothing else to do myself, Arancha and Andy sat in the communal
area and rested ahead of the beginning of the trek the following morning.
And so we get to Andy and if by any chance you read this,
sorry mate but it is what it is!
In our first few hours talking I discovered that Andy is a
40 year old Brit from Scunthorpe who moved to Canada in his early twenties and
is a computer programmer with a Masters degree in Mathematics and has a very
posh accent for a northerner. He loves tea way beyond what any person should
and when the tea approaches he gets very excited and continually says “oh tea,
tea, tea, milk tea” as it is being served, rubbing his hands in glee. The same
can be said with his obsession of fried eggs. He is trekking in this region for
the fifth time and had also been to every place that I mentioned during our
chat and far more to add to that and seemed to have done it bigger and better
than anyone else.
At this point we still both liked him and even though he
talked a lot about what HE had done I put this down to our first meeting and
just ‘setting out your stall’. I already got the impression that we would be
seeing more of Andy than just this evening and that was fine apart from the
fact he was too straight for me. His personality fit with his job and his
qualifications – it was all about the rules and the logic and this attitude to
‘the rules’ was overwhelming when it came to his guidebook. He had read it
cover to cover during the bus journey and continued to survey it relentlessly
over our next 4 days together, relying on it completely to guide him to Namche
(the first milestone of the trek). He observed where to lunch and where to
sleep never wanting to venture away from its written truth.
We on the other hand had a map, we hadn’t researched a thing
and figured that if we were hungry we would stop at a village for food and when
we were knackered we would stop at a village to sleep.
Also, if this is his fifth time then why the need for a
guidebook?
I thought of ourselves as quite maverick compared to Andy
until Aydin arrived at the guesthouse. If Andy is at one end of the adventure
scale then Aydin is at the opposite end with us two right of centre.
Aydin, a Turk national living in New York breezed in to the
guesthouse on his mountain bike and plonked himself down at our table. There
are many free spirits in this world but Aydin was the real deal – an artist, an
author, a philosopher, a political fighter and one mad and crazy bastard. He
had cycled 75 kilometres that day and do you know why he was here? Having
cycled from Amsterdam across Europe and Asia he figured that the only place
left to take his bicycle was to the top of Mt Everest and after 2 months of
fighting the Nepalese authorities, involving the Nepalese and US embassies with
claims of corruption and $50,000 later (the price for a permit to climb
Everest) he was at the start of his epic battle to get to the top of the world.
To date I have no idea how he is getting on but having lifted his bike and gear
up (40kg) it will near enough kill him to climb without the aid of any
Sherpa’s. Anyway, if he succeeds he will be the first man and bicycle to get to
the summit and we were there at the beginning!!!
You couldn’t help but be swept over by the enthusiasm and
completely different attitude to life that Aydin had and it was a pleasure to
spend the evening conversing with him as it is very rare to meet people of this
nature. However, he was too much for Andy and his encounter with Aydin was the
first warning signs that maybe he was not for us.
Every mad thing that Aydin said, Andy’s face clouded with
scorn. Andy had told us of his recent bicycle ride of 2,000kms around Cuba,
Aydin has cycled over 10,000+kms. Andy has a Masters in Mathematics, Aydin has
published a book on algorithms and chaos theory and applying them to real life.
Andy had his Himalayan guidebook, Aydin has no book for his life but he will
still go and try it.
In the end Andy got up abruptly and left the room with just
a “good night”.
And so the trek
begins:
Day 1: Jiri – Derauli
The day began perfectly at 3:30am with a sharp gut pain that
awoke me from my slumber and the next few hours confirmed that I probably had
mild food poisoning.
We all ate breakfast together and prepared to leave on our
separate routes. As we collected our bags I said to Andy “Are you leaving now?”
and he said “Yes, are you ready?” I was too polite to say that what I meant was
are you leaving now because if so we will hang on for a few minutes and let you
get on your way.
I tried again by saying that I still had a bad tummy and
needed to go to the loo but he assured me that it was ok and that he could
wait.
We all wished Aydin the best of British and at 7:40am our
fellowship of 3 was on the trail and heading up!
Being in the Himalayas is quite special for myself and
Arancha as these mountains were where we first met and became friends. I was so
happy that we had Andy to stand in the middle and hold both of our hands as we skipped
merrily on our way.
It didn’t take long to come across another trekker with his
guide and this Aussie dude would be a regular sight on our trek as we played
cat and mouse over the next 3 days until we broke away.
It is hard to talk about the distances and altitudes we made
because we walked east for the first 4 days before turning north to head
towards Everest on day 5 and these first 5 days were all about climbing up to
then head down before climbing back to swear and curse as we had to head down
yet again.
I found the first day hard. I had to squat in a bush and had
terrible stomach cramps all day that did not lend themselves well to trekking
up and down the hills.
We stopped for lunch where our guide and guidebook told us
to and then made a steep ascent up to 2,710 metres from 1,770 metres to stay on
a pass between 2 mountains in the village of Derauli.
It was great to be back in the mountains and the incredible
sense of freedom that they give you came flooding back. The only negative aside
from our companion, who to be fair was absolutely fine at this point, were the
new bags that we had both brought. They were cheap and badly made and the metal
frame at the back of the bag has now appeared from nowhere to cause us both a
large amount of grief and discomfort. Fortunately, in 5 days time we would be
in Namche, the launch pad for all treks in to the Everest region and we would
be able to trade and buy new bags here.
At Derauli I tried to negotiate over the room price and was
shocked to find that the villagers would not budge and were just plain rude
about it. I would later find out that the Everest region is so populated with
tourists that the villagers take you completely for granted and charge
astronomical prices when compared to other trekking regions in Nepal such as
Annapurna.
We soon found a more willing and smiley landlady and passed
a very enjoyable evening in the lodge kitchen eating freshly cooked food along
with the entire family and Elka, a German lady who has taken 3 years off to
travel and was to spend 3 months in the mountains completing the trek in an
almost horizontal fashion ie. On our way down after 2 weeks she had made it to
a point that we had passed after only 5 days.
We were only at 2,710 metres but Andy already had his first
‘altitude’ headache but he soon felt better once the ‘tea, tea, ooohh milk tea’
had turned up.
Day2: Derauli – Dakachu
It rained quite heavily during the night but come morning
the sun made a spectacular appearance at it broke through the clouds over the
top of the distant mountains. Upon entering the kitchen Andy was sat there with
a cup of milk tea, guidebook in hand confirming with the owner where WE would
lunch today.
It had only been 24 hours but his nanny ways were grating on
us.
The first part of the day was a 600 metre descent to the
village of Bandar and on the way down I managed to slip over in the mud at the
worst possible moment - in front
of a group of Nepalese guys. It was not a graceful slip and Arancha said that I
missed a rock with my head by inches but my only concern was scrambling to my
feet and laughing it off so as not to look like too much of a tourist in front
of the locals.
From this village we veered off to the left and took a 2
hour walk along the narrow edge of a huge ravine and it was here that we made a
conscious decision that we needed to ditch Andy and have some ‘us’ time. It
came about because he got into a panic as the guidebook had told us to take a
right and the locals had told us to take a left because this was the better
route. Slowly but surely he became more agitated and his voice rose in pitch as
he convinced himself that we were lost and I think it was at this moment that
we also named him ‘The Oracle’ because he knew best at all times. I told him
that I was much more inclined to follow the advice of the locals and not the
book and the fact that we were following a Nepalese family to the village that we
wanted to go to should suffice.
2.5 hours later following a tough and steep descent down
into the base of the ravine we were closing in on OUR lunch destination.
Just before the village we heard a disturbance up to our
right and before we knew what was happening we all stood there open mouthed as
a rare Himalayan wild cat sprang along the side of the hill to snare a chicken,
killed it and then drag it off to its lair. It was brilliant, my first witnessing
of a ‘wild’ kill. The Oracle then pipes up, “Did you see that fox?”
Me: “It wasn’t a fox, it looked like a cat of sorts and it
was brown with a black and white tail”
Oracle: “My eyes aren’t great but I am sure it was a fox”
Me: “It wasn’t a fox”
Oracle: “I think it was”
Me: “It wasn’t”, I muttered
When I had previously trekked in the Himalayas I liked to
order a quick lunch such as egg, chilli and noodle soup with some Tibetan bread
and waste no more than 45 minutes before getting on my way to cover as much
ground as possible before late afternoon.
The Oracle did things differently from me, which is his
prerogative, but I really did not want to sit down for 1.5+hours drinking tea,
gulping coke (and making sexual noises as you swallow it) and waiting for my
food to be served because you chose a time consuming dish to eat and want to
sit down and enjoy lunch like an ‘adult’.
We had a bitch of an afternoon ahead of us as we would need
to ascend by 1,300 metres and I was still feeling the effects of my dodgy
stomach. As The Oracle set the pace (I will give him his due, he is a bloody
fit guy) we slowly began to let him widen the gap between us hoping that he
would continue to walk on and away from us. No such luck! He would sit and wait
for us and it became apparent that he was actually very nervous to be trekking
alone. The guy that has been everywhere and trekked through this region 4 times
previously was letting his nanny ways dictate him and so we now swung between
The Oracle and The Leech as pet names.
I am aware that we are sounding cruel and petty but you were
not there, you do not know what it was like!
Because Plan A has not succeeded I came up with Plan B, to
push on an extra 300 metres, about an extra hours hard walking uphill to the
next village, which was not part of the ‘schedule’ in the book.
I told Andy that we were going to climb on, he thought about
it, nodded his head and declared that this was a great idea to get some of
tomorrow’s climb out of the way. Sh*t!
So the 3 of us stayed in a run down little village on the
side of the mountain in a small little guesthouse run by a very young but very
polite family of mum and dad who were in their very early twenties and 2 kids.
I had forgotten how young people in Nepal and India marry.
Myself and Arancha were still in the habit of showering
every day (this would soon stop as we got into higher and colder territory) and
it was at this village that we had our most memorable one.
Essentially we had to carry a bucket of hot water down a
hill to a stone cavern and then whilst stood there naked and shivering we took
it in turns to use a jug to pour the water over us, all the time being aware
that the goats and a calf wanted to get in to have a peek.
Back in the kitchen The Oracle still hadn’t washed for 3
days, he told us he couldn’t believe how badly his feet were beginning to smell
and so I wondered to myself why he persisted in keeping his boots off?
Day 3: Dakachu – Junbesi
It was raining when we awoke meaning that it would be
snowing at the 3,500 metre pass that we would need to cross after an immediate
tough 2 hour walk up. The Oracle was worried and declared that he couldn’t walk
in the rain and get wet so he would wait for it to stop.
I shook my head at his gayness but was elated that we may
break away.
However, it didn’t matter that we packed as quickly as we
could to get on our way as by the time we had the sun was shining and the 3 of
us were walking!!
We also did our good deed for the day and left some
medication behind for the son who had a chest infection. See, we aren’t all
bad!
The morning was quite warm so I found myself walking in just
a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, which did strike me as quite odd when at 3,500
metres I found myself trudging through 4 inches of snow!
The Oracle was dressed for an expedition to the South Pole.
There were a few guesthouse and lodges along the pass and
all of the local kids were out either sledging in the snow with plastic bags on
their bare feet for protection or chasing around the many newborn kids, calves
and chicks that littered the trek.
Arancha was loving the amount of baby animals along the
route and I lost count of the number of times I had to stop and wait for her to
pick them up and squeeze them half to death. On one occasion she scratched the
chin of a calf so well that we didn’t know what to do when it then began to
follow her like a puppy and was bucking up and down all excitedly wanting more
attention. I felt a little guilty when I directed it into an open doorway to
then see it bolt out when chased away by the family inside!
If Arancha and the baby animals was cute then The Oracle and
the baby animals was not! Fair enough if you like baby animals but do not walk
up to each one and say “Hello doggy” or “Hello puppy” in a Yogi the Bear voice.
Coming down from the pass I fell over on the ice and it
hurt. A little further down I fell over again. Once we had descended below the
snow line and hit the sludge and mud I fell over again and this time I was
covered in wet mud down my bag, shorts and legs. Arancha laughed a lot and I
did not.
At the bottom of the mountain we found a lodge to lunch in
and whilst Arancha assisted me in cleaning myself up The Oracle enquired
within. We knew that Andy was hell bent on staying in the village of Junbesi
that night and to this day I am still convinced that he manipulated us to his
will so that he would get his own way and stop where he wanted to. He came out
to tell us that the Dhal Bhat could be easily made and was the best option for
us all to have.
Being assured that it was going to be easy we agreed to go
with his decision.
After washing my shorts in a stream The Oracle told me where
I should sit and how I should dry my shorts and then I sat and waited for my
lunch, and waited.
After 2 hours it was ready! 2 f*cking hours to wait for
Dhal, rice and some potato curry! I was fuming at this point and told him that
this was a complete waste of our time and I would never be sitting down for
that long at lunch again.
Still very annoyed we walked on for 1.5 hours to reach the
village of Junbesi and by the time we had arrived our total walking time for
that day had been only 4 hours – as far as I was concerned we had lost at least
2 to 3 hours of good walking and the next 2 days would be even harder as a
result of The Oracle wanting to do things ‘by the book’.
Although I didn’t want to stay there Junbesi was in an
idyllic location and was a lovely place to stay.
Once I has calmed down we went to sit outside with Andy who
was chatting to a lady from Portugal who would every now and then completely
forget herself and slip into a meditative state and chant!
It was at this table that my mind was made up and tomorrow
would be the day that we left The Leech once and for all. I was thinking back
on the discussions that we had both had with Andy and there was not one
occasion when I could recall him making us laugh, every chat had been serious
and dull and that is not have I roll.
I couldn’t help but snigger as Andy asked the Portuguese
lady, “Do you drink tea in Portugal?”
Lady: “Yes”
Andy: “What type?”
Lady: “I like Earl Grey”
Me to Arancha: “Are they talking about tea when we are in
Nepal in the Himalayas?”
After dinner that evening I asked a guide about the wild cat
that we had seen the day before to find out what it actually was. The guide
said that it was a jackal (Google confirmed it was a wild cat) and all I heard
was the loud clap of hands, a click of the fingers and Andy pointing at me with
a knowing look on his face declaring, “A jackal, of course!”
I just rolled my eyes and remembered him swearing it was a
fox.
That night we made a plan – we would get up extra early
because he spent every morning mincing around and we would get on our way.
Day 4: Junbesi – Kharikola
Up earlier than usual we rushed down to get breakfast and
couldn’t believe it when we saw Andy sitting there with his bag waiting for us!
Had he been listening at our door the night before?
He was ready to go but it was raining so nature had come to
save the day. Like the wicked witch of the west Andy could not get water on
him.
Wouldn’t you know it, just as we left the sun came out again
and the 3 of us were back on the road. Joy of joys.
20 minutes into the walk Arancha was taking a photo of the
steam rising up from out of the mountains when The Oracle told her that she was
using her camera in the wrong way. I had to turn my face away as Arancha
exploded on him telling him that she did a degree in photography and knew “how
to use my own f*cking camera.”
Come 10:30pm Andy was desperate for some milk tea and
declared that he was stopping for 10 minutes at a particular lodge. This was the
opening that we were after and we were finally going to break free.
We told him to catch us up and we made a mad dash around the
mountain and tried to make as much distance as possible.
For the next 3 hours we enjoyed a strenuous but fun walk/jog
as we covered the kilometres always looking behind us for The Leech.
We pushed ourselves as hard as we could and made it in good
time up to the next 3,000 metre pass. As I stood waiting for Arancha to finish
her lady’s business in the bushes I heard some seriously heavy breathing from
behind. I was absolutely gutted to see The Oracle coming up the mountain at a
ferocious pace and he had undoubtedly climbed as fast as he could possibly go
in order to catch us. It was obvious that we now had a battle on our hands – we
wanted to get rid of him, he knew it but he wanted to use us for company until
we would part ways at Namche in 2 days time.
But, we were still holding the joker in the pack!!
It had been a long morning and come early afternoon we were
nearing the ‘designated’ lunch spot. The Oracle eats more than any man should
and we knew that he needed his lunch and we were prepared to skip food for
freedom.
As we approached the village we ran in to a really nice
couple heading the same way and I was so proud of Arancha when she purposely
slowed us all down to ensure that we would enter the village as a group of 5 people
chatting and not a 2 and a 3. We all stopped outside a lodge together and let
the other 3 declare their need for lunch to which we replied that Arancha still
had stomach issues and we would walk on and they should catch us up.
Arancha, you are a devious woman and I like it!
It was the 4th day of our trek and like the 4th
day of July it was going to be remembered as ‘Independence Day’.
We skipped down the mountain feeling very sorry for Dan and
Angela and laughing at the fact that we were so hungry but had refused to stop
for food. It was 2pm and we hadn’t eaten since 6:30pm – half a Bounty each
would suffice.
I was still annoyed with The Oracle because of our
previously short walking day and by the time this day ended we had walked for
over 9 hours. We were shattered but it didn’t matter because finally it was
just the 2 of us.
We staggered in to the fairly large village of Kharikola and
no sooner had we found a suitable place to stay my bag decided to destroy
itself. I couldn’t believe that it had only lasted for 4 days of trekking but
at the same time I couldn’t believe my good fortune that it broke in my room
and not out on the mountains during the previous 9 hours of that day and I was
in the only village to date that had a shop with backpacks for sale!
It soon became apparent that the bag couldn’t be fixed by
the local seamstress so I was left with no choice but to purchase a new bag and
was content to trade my own sh*tty bag in for a value of only £2.50 less than
what it was bought for!
With comfy new bag (Arancha was unimpressed as hers was
still hurting her) I enjoyed the evening watching classic WWF with some
Nepalese porters in the guesthouse dining room.
Day 5: Kharikola – Chaurikharka
How sweet the bird song sounded and how warm the sun was on
our faces as we set out. It was Adam, Arancha and nobody else. It was day 5 of
the trek and we were very happy! It is amazing how the presence of somebody
else can completely alter your experiences if that somebody is not you ‘cup of
milk tea, oooh milk tea’!
The day was another 9 hour walking day but today would be
different. Apart from the obvious it was also the first day we would be walking
due north and heading towards the real mountains.
Once again we found ourselves climbing above 3,000 metres to
only descend again but it was a boost to find ourselves standing at eye-level
with the planes that were approaching Lukla airport, only 1 day walk away.
This day was also a reminder of how large these mountains
actually are. At one point we looked out over an abyss to the village on the
other side knowing that a linking suspension bride would see us there in 15
minutes but instead it took us over 2 hours to walk along the ridge of one
mountain to the point where it met the other and back around.
Later that afternoon we witnessed the first of many
sightseeing helicopters that ferry the rich around the Everest region and
knowing what I had to look at I can only imagine how good it looked from their
perspective. There was a great moment when I was stood in the middle of a
suspension bridge with a huge glacial waterfall cascading down to my right and
the helicopter hovering directly above. All of a sudden it titled its nose and
dived down over my head giving the tourists in the back a great view of my
dumfounded expression.
This day was also another day of endless mule and yak
trains. The human porters in Nepal have so much strength and you can often find
them marching along the trekking route carrying loads of soft drinks and beer
to huge lengths of timber for building. When there is too much for the humans
it is left to the mules and yaks to carry the load and quite often you find
yourself scrambling up the side of the cliffs to avoid a 20 strong team
trotting at you head on and it is either move the right way or slip off the
edge. It is always a welcome break from the walking when you hear the telltale
bells of the train but the stench of mule urine and the uncontrollably gagging
it causes me is something that I wont forget in a hurry.
After passing through the very scary village of Muse with
its dark caverns and people seemingly moving in the rain amongst the shadows we
arrived at the village of Chaurikharka and our final night on the less popular
Jiri to Namche trek. Tomorrow we would join with the Lukla trail and it would
be tour group hell. So far the most tourists we had seen on the trail in any
one day was 1 or 2 on their way home.
Dinner was had on a valley edge with views down to the river
a thousand or so metres below and jagged mountains on all sides.
Day 6: Chauikharka to Namche
We knew today would be frustrating as we had been conditioning
ourselves for 5 days for mountain life and we would now be sharing the trail
with tour groups fresh from the easy life of Kathmandu.
The first hour was fine and we passed through an amazing
little village called Cheplung that was home to a monastery built into the
cliff face and an arrangement of Buddhist monuments and prayer wheels all set
off with the mountainous backdrop.
Come 8:30am our worst fears were confirmed and it was
terrible. There were hundreds of people littering the beautiful trails and
quaint villages and it looked as though the mountain was sponsored by The North
Face. Everyone was dressed in the same gear and they looked the same as each
other as they followed the guide in single file moving in unison with their
walking poles; that I do not see the point of using on flat terrain. If you
have ever wondered where the French and American’s are in April then look no
further than Mount Everest – every tour group seemed to be of these 2
nationalities. We were stuck between a rock and a hard place – it was either
French arrogance or rudeness to your right or over enthusiastic “Oh my god,
that’s amazing, that’s so cool, high five” because there was a bridge, to your
left.
Ha ha, how miserable do I sound? I can’t help it, after 5
days on empty paths being confronted by the masses and hearing such tripe gets
to you and we encountered groups that were 30 people strong!!! Where is the
adventure in being told where to walk, where to sit, where to eat and where to
sleep?
Hmm, maybe The Oracle should be a guide?
Also I do not agree with the way the porters are treated. I
carry my own bag and always will do. I have no problem with people having
someone to carry their bags for them but don’t load one guy up with 3 people’s
bags because you are too tight to pay for one porter each.
With pushed on and overtook every group before getting to
the army checkpoint to enter the last climb up to Namche and enter in to real Sherpa
territory.
Remember earlier when I said that we would need to purchase
our permit on the trek, well we forgot and found ourselves stuck at the
checkpoint and they would not take a bribe. Annoyed and gutted that the tour
groups were closing on us I had no choice but to drop my bag and run 2kms back
to the permit office.
This day happened to be the day of the Everest Ultimate Race
where a lot of crazy Nepalese and even crazier westerners complete a 65km race
from Everest Base Camp down to Lukla – an absolutely crazy distance to run at
altitude and over rough terrain.
Embarrassingly, as I ran back to the permit office a table
of westerners at a café stood up to applaud me as I passed by. They were still
there when I ran back 20 minutes later!
With the permits approved we made a difficult 2 hour climb
up the Namche Bazar, a supposed rest day location for us to acclimatise and a 3
night stay for the tour groups!
Namche is a city in the sky and it is located in the basin
of a valley 3,500 metres above sea level. It has everything you would expect of
a normal city and is a cool place to acclimatise before climbing or relax in
relative luxury after returning.
We had decided against taking a rest day in Namche as we had
already climbed above 3,500 metres twice on the walk from Jiri, so we would be
content with an afternoon of relaxing and eating fatty food before setting off
again in the morning.
We had also decided that once finished we could not face the
5 day walk back to Jiri and subsequent 7 hour bus journey back to Kathmandu so
instead we booked a flight out of Lukla whilst we were here.
Everything was going swimmingly until I heard “Adam!”
shouted across the street. I will give him his due the guy is fast! Andy was in
Namche and he wanted some company!!!
We said hello and then were sort of blunt and told him we
were going to get some food so would see him around. 10 minutes later we were
eating pizza and Andy was sat next to me on our table ordering his own! Jesus,
can’t this guy take a hint?
All that was left to do was for Arancha to buy a comfy new
backpack and to avoid a wandering yak in a market street; as you do.
Day 7: Namche – Phortse Thanga
This day started badly and it would get a lot worse before
it got better.
Arancha had left her camera battery charging in the hallway
overnight and come morning it had gone. We knew that the owners had taken it as
you are supposed to pay for charging your stuff.
We went downstairs to collect it and begrudgingly pay but
for some reason the battery had been taken offsite. The questioning of why it
wasn’t on the premises soon turned into us being told that we were electricity
thieves and it all got a little heated. I refrained from going into the reasons
why they were the thieves such as charging for hot showers that run on solar
power, charging for electricity when they are on the power grid and charging 3
times the normal cost for boiled eggs (eggs are an important trekking fuel
which is why I mention them).
In the end we paid for the battery charging and left without
having to buy breakfast from them – a condition of such a cheap room – so we
won!
After avoiding Andy in the streets and having our breakfast
we decided to make tracks and get out on to the ‘real’ trek. Because of the
endless groups that were predominantly heading up to Everest Base Camp we
decided that we would trek up to Gokyo Peak and then cross over the Cho La pass
and down onto the Everest trail one village before base camp, therefore
avoiding the crowds.
An hour in to a very tiring walk we came across a day
tourist with his guide and we got talking about where we were headed. The guide
looked confused and told us that we had been walking the wrong way and
confirmed where we were on my map. We were gutted! We rushed back towards
Namche really frustrated that we had just wasted 90 minutes there and back.
Imagine our frustration when we get to the fringes of Namche
and the locals tell us the way is path we had just walked back along! At this
point we were seething and when that particular guide came strolling along only
to tell us that he had been mistaken and we had been going the correct way I
had to tell him to keep on walking by me because I was really, really angry.
3 hours after leaving Namche we were back in a place that we
had been in 2 hours earlier!
After that debacle the rest of what should have been a
relatively short walking day ran smoothly except for a massively tough climb up
to 4,000 metres before descending 600 metres to our destination. It was worth
the climb though as we walked through Arancha’s home village of Mong!
We stayed in a nice little guesthouse, which was fairly busy
by our standards. We got talking to a really nice Swiss couple who would we
would hang out with over the next 3 days and there was also a fat, lazy pair of
early twenty something English girls that were doing us proud. They continually
moaned, apparently wouldn’t get out of bed until 10am every day (that’s 2 hours
of good trekking time) and an Aussie woman who was in her late 50’s decided not
to walk with them because of how ridiculously slow they were.
Day 8: Phortse Thanga – Lhabharma
As we had decided not to take a rest day this day and the
next would be short 3 hour days so as not to ascend by too much too quickly.
As we left the skies were blue and the sun was shining down
and by the time we had completed the first climb of the day the views told us
that we were definitely on our way in to the heart of the mountains. It is
amazing how you think that you remember how fantastic the towering rock peaks
are but when you are looking at them with your own eyes you realise that you
didn’t remember a thing – they are breathtaking and you are just a little ant
in comparison.
After 2 hours we had reached the ‘major’ village of Dole,
the recommended stopping point but we decided to walk on to the next little dot
on the map. Aside from getting some more distance out of the way we also get to
help out the smaller guesthouses that do not usually get the business and so we
were doing a good thing in my eyes plus the added bonus of usually having the
place to ourselves.
Along the way we passed an English couple coming back down
and they told us of a solitary guesthouse sitting alone and facing out over the
valley, so we decided that this would be our place. Just as we arrived the
temperature dropped dramatically and the first flakes of snow began to fall.
Throughout that afternoon we sat in the cold dining room
under our sleeping bags, drinking hot lemon tea watching everything outside
including the resident yaks slowly turn white.
These guesthouses are always fascinating places because
these people are the original Sherpa’s and the real mountain climbers. At this
particular guesthouse there were pictures covering the walls of the husband on
the summit of many mountains including Mt Everest itself.
Day 9: Lhabharma – Phang
There is nothing worse than waking up at 3am needing the loo
and it being outside. The mountains are bloody cold at night and the last thing
that you want to do it clamber out in to the freezing night for a wee. However,
the bonus of doing this is that you once again get to witness what a real
starry sky looks like at night and this also cheers you up because you know
that the snow has now cleared.
We awoke to a gloriously warm sunny morning that lit up the
pristine white landscape for as far as we could see.
Once again we would have a short day and we would bypass the
popular stopover and walk on to a more reclusive location.
Our choice of guesthouse was in Phang and it was the only
place at the foot of a mountain with its own fields for the grazing yaks. Phang
was the location of an avalanche that occurred in 1995 and killed 24 people but
luckily for us the hills were clear of any heavy snow at this time of year.
We had a whole afternoon and evening to waste and we shared
our time with the father and young son who ran the guesthouse as well as the
odd descending trekkers.
In the evening we sat around the yak dung fire to warm
ourselves up, whilst we talked to the young boy about his schooling and the
father about his life, Nepal in general and the avalanche – something you don’t
really get the opportunity to do when in a busy place.
Day 10 – Phang – Gokyo
Today we would get to our second real target following
Namche.
We left Phang after a good breakfast with a message in our
pockets for the guesthouse owner’s wife who runs another of their places up in
Gokyo.
Gokyo is a village sitting prettily by it 5 sacred glacial
lakes at 4,790 metres and has a huge glacier running behind it separating it
from the daunting Cho La pass on the other side.
The reason that trekkers visit Gokyo is to climb to the peak
of Gokyo Re, which tops out at 5,485 metres for the commanding views of Mt
Everest and surrounding ranges.
It was a tough walk up but after 2 hours we had reached lake
number 1 and then it was just a case of ambling along for another hour, passing
2 other lakes to reach the village and stopping every 5 minutes to marvel at
what we were seeing.
We had seen the Swiss couple on our walk every day for the previous
3 so we decided to stay at the same guesthouse as we all seemed to get along
really well.
We took an early lunch and had the pleasure of sitting with
and talking to Barney, an English doctor who was living out here as part of a
team of 4 doctors treating foolish trekkers who get themselves into trouble and
using that money to treat the locals for free. He was a great bloke and some of
the stories he told about trekkers dying and getting sick were really scary in
regards to how stupid some people actually are. It seems that even the educated
one are dumb such as a French doctor who couldn’t find any research on the
affects of altitude on an unborn foetus/baby so insisted that his pregnant wife
join him on the Gokyo trek!!
Later that afternoon we took a walk north of the village up
to the 4th lake and it was here that I came face to face with my first glacier.
I have been close to glaciers before but this was the first time that I could
stand on the side of the moraine and look out over one of nature’s most awesome
sights. It was huge, the sheer size of it stretching down from the mountains in
the distance, bypassing Gokyo and carrying on as far as we could see down in to
the valley is quite indescribable. As far as I was concerned, at that point in time
the view in front of me was the best thing I had ever seen and we sat for an
hour just looking and listening as the glacier groaned and creaked as it
shifted down the valley causing minor rock falls along the way.
Day 11: Gokyo – Gokyo Re – Thangnag
“F*ck me, will this ever end?” was how we began day 11 as we
climbed almost 600 metres vertically up breaking through the 5,500 metre
altitude barrier, that's over 18,000 feet and fighting for breath at every foot step.
After 1 hour and 45 minutes of very hard work I turned
around to face out on a view that would eclipse the previous days tenfold and
become the greatest sight I am ever likely to see. I am not ashamed to admit
that it was so overwhelming that a couple of tears escaped from my eyes as I
stood in absolute silence and smiled at being so fortunate to be here.
My 360 degree panorama took in the Ranjo La pass, a 5,500+
metre pass over to the next valley (heading away from Mt Everest), slowly
turning to my right a collection of mountains that formed the origins of the
glacier described yesterday that stretched out below us from the far left to
the far right of this view and above this and straight ahead was an
archetypical jagged razor sharp pointed mountain range that housed the Cho La
pass that we would attempt to pass over the following morning and above this proudly
rising up through the middle of it all was the highest point on our entire
planet – my first real view of Mount Everest, the top of the world. We were
stood at 5,500+ metres and it was hard to gauge what it must be like at the
summit of Everest given that it was still a further 3,000 metres up from where
we were and being acutely aware of our laboured breathing.
To complete my best ever view the mountain carried on in a
circular manner around to the right with the village of Gokyo directly below
next to its glacial lake that was showing the first signs of the spring melt
revealing a sapphire blue pool of water.
There were approximately 30 people on the summit of Gokyo Re
when we arrived and we all stood there and shared this very special place in
our own way, but it was only myself, Arancha, Karen and Stefan (the Swiss
couple) that remained long after the rest had descended.
Finally tearing ourselves away we descended for some well
earned breakfast back at the guesthouse and continued to revel in what we had
seen with everybody else.
We knew that we had to make tracks and get over the glacier
to the next village to that we could make the pass the following day but the
early morning climb had sucked all the energy from us.
Eventually we got ourselves sorted, said our goodbyes to the
Swiss and Doc Barney and set out for the village of Thangnag. Just when I
thought this best ever day could not improve it did! To get over to Thangnag we
had to take a 2 hour zig-zagging route over the actual glacier and it was
better than Bill and Ted’s excellent adventure. Crossing over the moraines and
down into the glacial rock field was a little hairy as a glacier is in constant
motion and it wasn’t long before we had to take care to avoid some falling dirt
and rubble. There was one moment where we looked back at where we had come from
as a boulder as big as a TV came hurtling down and over the path we had just
taken!!
As we continued into the heart of the glacier it just got
better and better as we confronted huge crevasses, ice cliffs and ice pools whilst
all the time listening out for the deep groaning of this slowly waking beast.
After a couple of hours we had successfully crossed and we had
made it to our very basic base for the night after an incredible day.
Apart from the day that I was born I can safely state that
this was without doubt the greatest day of my existence so far. It was a good
day to die – although I’m glad that I didn’t!
Day 12 – Thangnag – Cho La Pass – Lebouche
If the day before was the greatest day of my life then this
day was physically the hardest. (Well this day and the last 5kms of the
Melbourne Marathon – they both hurt, a lot)
After the worst breakfast so far we both set out with empty
stomachs, which was not ideal on a day such as this. At least I had had a good
nights sleep but poor Arancha had only managed to get a couple of hours in and
it would take its toll over the next 10 hours of intense exercise.
Sleeping at altitude is hard. Some people wake up in a panic
at the lack of oxygen, some do not sleep at all and must eventually descend. I
can sleep at altitude but like many others I have some seriously messed up
dreams and I think that I committed over 10 murders during my 2 week trek. It
was happening so often that I became quite blasé about murder – how messed up
is that?
So to the pass.
The day began with a steep ascent up to a plateau from which
it was still difficult to see the actual pass. I was excited about the prospect
of tackling the pass but still aware of the dangers it posed. All over the trek
route there were missing posters for Igor, a guy that it was suspected
disappeared when crossing the snow and ice fields of this particular pass but
we cautious and there were enough people crossing over with us on this fine and
sunny day to feel safe.
From the plateau we climbed another slope and it was then that
we came face to face with what we were expected to climb and it was not pretty.
Someone has told us that it was easier to cross from the other side and this
was an understatement – we would literally be scrambling up a vertical wall for
300 metres. 300 metres does not sound like a lot but I can assure you that at
altitude and with a 10kg bag on your back it is going to take you at best 1hr
20mins of brutal effort.
As usual there would be a steep descent to begin with and
then we had to carefully negotiate a 20 minute clamber through a boulder field
that was quite treacherous and I am sure many people have slipped and broken
bones if not concentrating on what they are doing.
We were then at the base of the wall and looking straight up
we cursed it with a volley of expletives.
By this stage in the trip we were well conditioned to
trekking but this was all together different. The slope was so steep that we
were using our hands and feet to climb up and when the rocks start to move out
from under you it was really scary.
Fortunately, there were a number of porters shipping goods
over the pass so for the price of a gulp of water one of them showed us the
best path up to the top.
Eventually we made it and from the top we had commanding
views back over the barren earth from which we had come and in front of us a
massive snow field covering a dangerous glacier below littered with crevasses
with ice sheets hanging precariously above.
We sat down to catch our breath, rest and gorge ourselves on
some bread, eggs and yak cheese (we live it up!) before another gruelling walk
over the ice and snow, all the time aware that if I slipped I would be in trouble,
to the other side of the pass and the way down.
The way down was much easier than the way up and the views
on this side were also out of this world. We took a lot of time in this area to
stop, stare, take photos and absorb as much as we could as we gently strolled
down and over some much needed flat ground. We also passed a camp where the real
mountaineers were attempting to scale one of the peaks as training for an
Everest attempt that would happen in mid May.
We decided we would push on to the village of Lebouche, one
village before the Everest Base Camp ‘base village’ but we did not realise how
far and tiring this would be. The problem was that once we had taken our particular
route we had no choice but to reach our target or be stuck on the mountain.
After 10 gruelling hours since setting off that morning we arrived in the
desolate, mist infested village of Lebouche and we ate and drank as much as we
could to replace the lost calories.
Day 13: Lebouche – Gorak Shep – EBC
Crossing the Cho La Pass took more out of us than we
realised. Arancha had picked up a nasty chest infection for her efforts and our
energy levels were low; but we pushed on the next morning and by 11am we made
it to Gorak Shep, the base village from which you can make the pilgrimage to
Everest Base Camp and here Mount Everest itself looms large over you.
This would be my first ever night spent sleeping over 5,000
metres and I wasn’t looking forward to it. We really were spent from the Cho La
and every step was an effort. It was with blessed relief that after dumping our
bags and setting out to visit base camp we had to stop abruptly so that Andy
would not see us!!
We couldn’t believe it, he had told us that he definitely
would not coming back to EBC as he had done it before but he later told us that
on his route over a different pass he had made up some time – obviously I had
to run into him later on in such a small place as the Himalayas.
And so after another 90 minutes of effort I laid eyes on
Everest Base Camp – we had made it! From Jiri I worked out that to this point
because of the up and down nature of the trek we had actually climbed over
10,500 metres, 2000 metres above the summit of Everest as well as also descending
over 5,000 metres – no wonder we were knackered!
I am not sure what I expected to see but it was not this.
Base camp is huge and littered with tents sporting flags from all over the
world (of course the USA camp is at the highest point and dead centre) and do
you know what the most disappointing this is about MT EVEREST base camp? You
can actually see Mt Everest from it, it is hidden from view, although behind a
much more impressive mountain.
We took our photos but we were both knackered and wanted to
go and lie down. However, I saw that a gallery was being advertised and it was
situated at the far end of base camp so whilst Arancha went back to the
guesthouse for some well earned rest I decided to push on and explore and I am
really happy that I did.
Walking through base camp was a surreal experience. The entire
camp is situated upon a glacier and there were so many ice spikes and columns
poking up between tents that I felt as though I was walking through Superman’s
house in the North Pole. Unfortunately all of the climbers were up on the
mountain for acclimatisation, which takes 2 months a steady climbing before
they are ready to attempt the summit, so I was left to wonder through a
deserted camp except for the odd Sherpa.
As for the gallery it was sh*t and a waste of time but at least
they had free biscuits and if it wasn’t there I never would’ve been able to say
that I have explored Mt Everest Base Camp.
By the time I got back to the guesthouse it was mid
afternoon and it was nice just to sit back and do nothing for a few hours.
The only problem with this place was the guests.
1)
Everybody was coughing – it was a symphony of
coughs
2)
When you are in such a special place why would
you sit there on your i-phones on the internet and concern yourself with the
weather?
Day 14: Gorak
Shep – Kalar Pathar – Periche
Another early start and another bloody climb. Today we set
out to get to the top of Kalar Pattar, a 300 metre peak that dominates the
Gorek Shep area and delivers the closest possible view of Mt Everest without
actually attempting to climb it. Still tired and irritable we climbed for an
hour and did get some magnificent views before the cloud came in and obscured
our view of Everest so we gave up and descended back to the guesthouse.
Regrettably now, we were over the altitude, Arancha sounded
terrible and would have long coughing fits and we just wanted to get down the
mountain and have a shower and wash our hair – it had so far been 7 days and I
was getting dreadlocks.
We decided to push through and get half way back to Namche
in one afternoon and I have to say that we had a great walk. After lunch at
Lebouche we ran in to a couple we had met in China – we knew that they were
coming here but it was still odd to see them, and then as we set out for our
long walk down the temperature dropped again and for 4 hours we were walking
snowmen (or snowpeople). It snowed and snowed and never before have I walked in
a thunderstorm, heard the thunder and seen the lightning but be snowed on – it
was very weird.
By 4pm we had made it to Periche and the guesthouse we
stayed in was complete luxury. Laptops in a warm dining room, great food and
carpet in the bedrooms – it is amazing what carpet means to you when you are in
the mountains. It was still too expensive for a shower but we knew that
tomorrow we would be in Namche so all was well.
Day 15: Periche – Namche
We left early knowing that a pizza and a hot shower was only
a few hours walk away.
The regret of not hanging out at Everest for longer was
already getting to me but it was what it was so I just focused on the walking.
Weather wise it was a splendid day and the previous days
snow was glistening on the surrounding hills and mountains – a perfect world.
We had a choice of 2 routes and took the one that would take
us via the village of Tengbouche, home to the most important monastery in the
region.
We ran in to Karen and Stefan along the way and traded
stories of our ‘pass’ experiences before making the arduous climb up.
If there is an ideal place to live in the Himalayas then
Tengboche could be it. Set upon a lush green plateau with dramatic drops to the
valleys below on all sides, it oozes charm and has views that although do not
match that of Gokyo are spectacular in their own but much less raw way.
From the bakery we looked north up to the south face of Mt
Everest as we sat down to devour some much needed chocolate cake.
Afterwards we explored the village and the monastery before
standing in awe and watched as an avalanche occurred on a distant mountain to
our left.
From Tengboche is was a 600 metre descent followed by a 300
metre ascent before a tiring 2 hour walk back in to the promised land of Namche.
Along the way we passed a male Himalayan pheasant and I do not think that I
have seen a more beautiful coloured bird. (Check it out Kim Matts)
The first thing we needed to do in Namche was to change our
flight back to Kathmandu as we had been much quicker than anticipated and once
this had been successfully done it was time for that long anticipated shower in
the lovely $20 room that we treated ourselves to. I can’t tell you how good it
was to wash in hot water after 8 days of sweat and tears!
Dinner was a very enjoyable affair that evening.
Day 16: Namche – Lukla
Tomorrow we would be back in the luxurious surrounding of
Kathmandu so all that was for left for us to do was to descend from Namche
before yet another tough but final climb to Lukla and its infamous airport.
Not much to tell you about the day except that we blitzed it
and we cursed every slow virgin tourist in their massive groups who got in our
way!
Once in Lukla I had to fight amongst the Nepalese guides to
get us a decent flight out. The system for flights is ridiculous and given that
so many people use this airport I would’ve thought that a paper and pencil
system would have been long superseded by a computer system but I was wrong.
Still, if it was not a paper system then how could the tour group leaders bribe
the administrators to get their clients on the earliest flights? I guess this
is one advantage to being in a tour group.
Along with a couple of Canadian women we left the office
exasperated but assured that we would fly out in the morning – at some point.
What else to do but drink beer and eat?
I am not sure why we were so quick but we had completed our
trek in 16 days from Jiri to Lukla whereas it takes a tour group 23 days
including 3 rest days plus countless thousands of pounds more.
Day 17: Lukla – Kathmandu
It is 7am and all hell is breaking loose in Lukla airport.
The Canadian’s have their bags on the scales and insist on checking in first as
the law of queuing dictates. The Nepalese tour guide tries to remove their bags
to put his own group’s bags on, which does not go down well with the Canadians.
The tour guide gives up and so dumps the bags right up the back of my legs as
though I am not there. What choice is there but to kick them away and have a
word that I am not invisible?
Some obnoxious Englishman who has forgotten his manners and
the fact that if he wasn’t in the tour group would be defending the laws of the
queue decides to get involved and insults me. Arancha gets involved and the
look on his face worries me for a split second – this guy is a wife beater. He
tells Arancha to “F*ck off” and looks very angry.
I know I am dealing with an absolute tool when he comes back
up to me pulls a spaz face and in a country accent insults me again by calling
my “Curly!”.
I look shocked and pretend to cry, “I have curly hair? Oh
no, nobody told me, please help me” is my response. Do people not think that if
I have girly long hair that is curly that I may in fact like it? It is not an insult
to me!
He then offers to meet me at Kathmandu airport for a fight.
I laugh and give him some intelligent response. He doesn’t seem to like big
words and proves this when he replies to Arancha’s well articulated insult,
“Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, is that English?”
I couldn’t quite believe this guy was in his late forties
and how bad he was making the English look in front of us, the Canadians and a
couple of other Europeans.
Anyway, that was check in at Lukla airport. Maybe it is the
most dangerous for other reasons?
Lukla airport is the world’s most dangerous because its lies
2,800 metres up in the Himalayas, the clouds can descend in 30 seconds which is
as a problem as landing is made on sight on a ridiculously short and steep
runway – you land quickly and stop or else you hit a mountain face, you speed
down the slope and take off or you plummet off the edge to your death.
We squeezed into the 16 seater biplane and as the engines
revved up to maximum velocity preparing to release us at full speed I was caught
between fear and the feeling that I was wheel spinning like Marty McFly hoping
to hit 88mph to take me back to the future!
Before we knew it we were off and we were up, and before I
knew it we were flying over 5 days of bitch-ass walking from Jiri to Lukla in
about 15 minutes!
So that is why people choose to fly in?
Within 45 minutes we had touched down in a hot and humid Kathmandu
with the memories of those raw and perilous mountains fading but certainly
never to be forgotten.
What a truly memorable trek and once again Nepal had
delivered where so many other countries fail – all you want to do is go back
for more and more punishment.
What a very special place Nepal is and visiting Mt Everest
can now be ticked off my very long list list of to do’s.
There was little left to do in Kathmandu but get onto Google
and search out a final destination before England. So I leave you here because
myself and Arancha need to get on to the Thai beach to break the 50 barrier at
Bat ‘n’ Ball before we can have another beer!
