CHAPTER 13 - NEPAL PART III

We 4/7/99 - Everest Base Camp (5300m), Day 9

The night was cold which was bad, but hearing avalanches through the night was good, exciting. I was up at 6am and waited for the expedition people to rise so I could pig out. I seem to be able to eat an infinite amount. We had Sherpa tea (tea, milk, yak butter, mint) and loved it. Eventually the food bell rang and people filed in for a breakfast of porridge and toast with simply wonderful toppings such as real butter! and edible appearing marmalade! and honey, a real change and treat.

The agenda for the day was simple, relax until afternoon, then John and I would decide to stay another night. Yesterday Henry had said Namche was easily done in a day and a half. We wanted to return to Namche for a break of a couple of days, a weekend off in our trekking, and to see Namche's Saturday Market and the Everest Marathon. John sounded very interested to return for these events, which surprised me, the market wasn't a John type event. I believe he really wanted to schedule our descent to escape the cooler temperatures that caused him to wrap in a sleeping bag while we sat around the dining table.

John jumped back into trying to solve the computer and satellite dilemma.

Lauri, Henry, Dave, Dave#2 geared up in harnesses and trooped to the icefall. I followed behind. We all walked through the tent city, past a Puja, a Sherpa blessing ceremony of an expedition, and reached the first section of ice. Here Henry declared, "Well, I am sorry Bob, but there isn't more for you to see here, I really sorry". The line of a trekking permit and an expedition permit was here, so what he meant was that he didn't want to assume any responsibility for me in the icefall. If a park inspector caught me with Henry, Henry could be fined.

Henry then added I was free to do anything I wanted. I waited and watched while the four of them climbed over the first ice ridge and at the bottom put their crampons (spiked ice soles) on. When they past the second ridge I went ahead, slipping and sliding through the ice. I used crampon made footsteps to climb the second ridge and the next. On the forth I was a little nervous of getting caught on the icefall and Henry potentially being fined. I went no further. Instead, I found a little incline on the ice, pulled my jacket as far over my butt as possible and laid.

I wanted to see the small contingent crossing the icefall. I relaxed comfortably, bundled enough to stay warm on the ice, and gazed up at the Khumbu Icefall. I repeated to myself, I reminded myself, I couldn't believe I was here, on the base of the Khumbu Icefall, at the base of Everest.

A month earlier fifteen sherpas came to "wire" the Khumbu Icefall. They spent the month climbing in the icefall, finding good routes, and laying and anchoring ladders across the crevasses, then setting guide wires for handrails. When they have finished this chore to the top where Camp One is, two remain as the "Ice Doctors" for maintenance.

The icefall moves five centimeters per day and yesterday two sets of ladders fell and were hanging from their anchors into their crevasse.

The Khumbu Icefall is famous because it is both dangerous and beautiful. When mountaineers attempt Everest they make many ascents up and descents back down to Base Camp. It's part of acclimatization and moving supplies. They cross the icefall many times and it is dangerous. Across the crevasses ladders are laid with guide ropes. Wider crevasses may take two or three ladders wired together. The crevasses can be bottomless. Crossing the swaying and shaking ladders with crampons is nerve wrenching, but the real danger is in falling ice. It supposed to sound scary and the pictures look it and it is, but oh, I would love to do it!

The beauty of the icefall is in the shapes and figures of the huge blocks of ice, the splintered shapes rising upward and sideward, the deep crevasses, the cold color, the immensity of the icefall. Of course I would love to climb it!

I laid in the bright sun, under the dark blue sky, and relished this famous, beautiful, massive sight. I stretched my arms out to try to encompass it. I was overjoyed and feeling relaxed and just happy to be able to be there.

I took a self portrait by setting the Nikon on the ice pack to my left and then running back and resuming my position. I took a picture as I laid there, my legs in the foreground, Kumbu Icefall the attention center .I stuck Blacky on my foot and held my leg out straight for a pic.

I heard the crunching of crampons coming toward me and felt slightly nervous. It is a sound I am not too familiar with, over the ridge in front of me came a being in a one piece bright green suit. I said hello, "namaste!", and didn't receive a reply. I guess I then expected to be reprimanded but the Nepali? walked by. I had had my enjoyment and decided to walk back for pics of Base Camp. I walked carefully across the ice, but going down the ice ridges was beyond my feet, and instead I slid on my rear. Where a rope was available I used it.

I didn't see the four climbing the icefall until I was walking back to the camp, and then they looked like ants. I pointed the four out to John, Graham, and Ray.

John and I decided to stay another night. I wanted to get more of a feel for the expedition and members. This was Everest!

John was still working on the computer problem and I joined him for a trip to the Mexican's camp to search for installation files. They had a nice setup in a dark blue tarpaulin tent where the greenhouse effect worked too well. Back at Todd's communication tent, John was fiddling and fiddling and when he started modifying the installation file, I had enough. I wasn't in Base Camp to play with computers and instead went to socialize.

I was sitting outside the mess tent, a Nepali sat nearby, and Henry called me into the tent. I felt I was a schoolboy in trouble, but he explained the man sitting next to me was a park inspector (actually working for the Sagarmartha Pollution Control Committee (SPCC)), and said I should be careful about talking of the computer and satellite telephone problem. A satellite phone fee is $US2300, computer $1000, and fax machine $800.

I sat outside the tent again, watched the inspector check expedition permits, then asked him questions of the expeditions. There are currently seven at Base Camp, four to five more are coming. Two expeditions are for Lhotse, one for Nuptse.

I had missed the four o'clock tea bell when I was with John, but not the dinner bell. Again dinner was a festive occasion, people talking lightheartedly, food going down well, and I was enjoying it all. The mess tent has stone walls, stone seats around the inside perimeter covered by carpets, and in the center a large stone table covered with a plastic red checkered table cloth. Dinner was of soup of an unknown type, fried rhines, fried rice, pasta, and tomato canned fish sauce. For dessert, canned fruit! yum!

Th 4/8/99 - Everest Base Camp (5300m) to Deboche (3900m), Day 10

It was another frosty morning atop the glacier, a good bit below freezing, but temperature unknown. Sadly, we were leaving Base Camp, but that was life. So often I get to a spot and don't want to leave, but the curiosity of what will happen to Henry, Lauri, and the rest of expedition. I wish I could get daily updates but that will be impossible under the circumstances. If anyone is interested, following are related websites...

www.bbc.co.uk/everest

- graham web page

www.sportsya.com/elsecarsolio

- Else's site, maybe just in Spanish

www.moon-bounce.com

- last years expedition to Ama Dablan w/ Henry

I sat outside mess tent while Andy, Nick, and Karla readied themselves to walk into the icefall. Henry told them to keep their tongues in their mouths or else they would burn. Most people in the world do not have to worry there. Henry then told of a Nick Somebody who had a beer company as sponsor. The deal was that Nick was to hold out a company sign at the top of Everest then he would receive free beer for life. Nick made it to the top of Everest, open the beer sign, and it blew away.

We said our good-byes to Lauri, Henry, Dave, Ray, Graham, Nick, others. It was sad but rewarding. Lauri made a great friend, a special person. We wished them all the best, a safe and successful ascent.

The plan was to make Namche in two days, by Friday afternoon, so we were off down the trek. We walked quickly atop the glacier, atop the ridge adjoining the glacier, past the memorials for Rob Hall, Doug Hansen, and Andy Harris, through Gorak Shep, past Lobuche, over Thukla Pass, and lunched at Thuka.

Before the pass I had a sudden screech from my bladder and did less than pull up a rock, I pee-ed near the trail even though I saw a trekker walking toward me. I thought, hell, people out here understand vanity is soft. The person was Henry Todd's wife, and I was more than a bit embarrassed. To make it worth she recognized me immediately, maybe because John was ahead and she figured out who he was first, anyway it took me one half the conversation to realize it was Peta. She was returning to Base Camp after convalescing for a couple days in Pheriche.

Coming down the Thukla Pass I ran into a loud "Bob!" from Celia She was part of a long train slowly making the pass, it was the marathon gang, and had seen John walk by and only afterward realized who he was. I had an excited exchanged with Celia, wished her luck, and met John for lunch at Thukla.

And we continued on, down into the valley, staring at Aba Dablan straight in front of us, through Pheriche, through Pangboche, across a crazy high bridge over a deep narrow gorge and finally seven hours later into Debouche and the Aba Dablan Garden Lodge.

On a plateau before Pangboche, the walked turned especially interesting. The day had clouded in for the afternoon, as it had each day recently, so the sky was low and the mountains dissolved into the clouds. We walked high above the riverbed and at times the trail would leave the valley edge such that the river roar would be silent. There was a dramatic lull in trekkers and porters, in fact a half an hour went by without seeing a person. There were no sounds of animals. Suddenly, I heard the silence. It was cool and very quiet, the low clouds muffled the world. I felt I was walking the South Downs in Sussex, England where I schooled for a year on a cold cloud covered winter day. It is a similar feeling of walking at home on a late fall day, cloudy and cool and the world is quiet.

We reached Deboche, a drop of 1350 meters, at 5:30pm, near dark and we claimed the last two beds at the well respected Ama Dablam Garden Lodge. We sat near a group of German men for dinner and added light banter. I could barely stay awake. I attempted to make 8pm but was off to bed at 7:30am for a long, silent sleep.

fun fact: Fertility rate in Nepal 5.2 kids per women, Child mortality 84 deaths / 1000 births

Fr 4/9/99 - Deboche (3900m) to Namche (3440m), Day 11

I rolled over to glance outside and was delighted to see snow covering the evergreen trees. This was the first time I have seen accumulation in over a year. I walked around the lodge to check out the snow before it melted, then sat down to another good breakfast of two fried eggs, toast, and oat porridge. This was becoming a standard.. Across the lodge is a large advertising poster from Adventure Consultants with a picture of Rob Hall.

We walked a short distance to Tangboche, where the most active monastery in Khumu sits. An unusually pretty and young girl was loading a yak in the village center. Both John and I had a hard time noticing her and as I walked past her, she pulled down hard on the load and wagged her butt back and forth for leverage. Ahhh, I like Nepal.

From Tangboche, we descended the hill famous for it's brutality, and also where we met Lauri. Going down is easy until your knees disagree, and they didn't yell just yet, but once reaching the river a couple hundred or more kilometers below, we then had to ascend the same height. The views from each hill looking back to the other side were impressive when one thinks of the river we crossed in between. Descending, you can see a long contour path undulating with the mountainsides, and ascending the village of Dingboche is on a high plateau in the distance. Very cool.

Once up the other side the trail turned to a contour and life was great. I was enjoying the height above the river and the distance views and took a number of pictures including the yak trains I came across. These creatures are interesting, with their colorful decorations and bells and long horns. On a distant contour a train of them should make for a good photograph. But then when you come across a yak train going your way they become a lumbering roadblock, an obstruction that can be annoying if you wish to go faster and need to pass. A young man was yelling the guttural sounds at his four yak that the Nepalese do, and I found away around him and behind his last yak. The last yak saw me coming and did his best to kick me with a rear hoof. Both the Nepali and I looked at one another with big eyes. The yaks have a cloth band running from their center back to behind the rear legs, half way up. This is what stop the leg from reaching me. I retreated behind the yak driver and soon afterwards he signaled that I should pass, there was room on the trail.

I continued on loving the walk and a startling sight in red approached. The red jacket was plastered with badges from different corporations and I immediately pegged them as sponsors since I was now Everest savvy and commented, "You're well sponsored". The young girl replied sourly, "Yes, you can notice". I was leaning to letting her go without more comment, but turned as she passed and asked what expedition she was on. "Swedish". She wasn't a bit interested in talking more, just being polite, until I told her I just spent two nights at Base Camp. She asked about the weather. Well, that was it, a pretty young Swedish in a red Indianapolis 500 jacket about to climb Everest. Sorry boys, I didn't ask for a picture.

John was ahead and saw a herd of musk deer run down the mountainside and hop across the trail to carrying on to a steep grazing are. I saw the last cross and then made a good vantage point on a exposed grassy outcropping for a picture.

I caught John at the top of Namche, our vacation weekend spot within our vacation, and we both smiled as we viewed the village from above. It's such a pretty and colorful village, and the previous two days we sent here while heading toward Base Camp were fun. Yes, here was our vacation weekend about to happen. It is Friday night, in the morning is the Namche Market, and Sunday the Everest Marathon. Of course, on such a long walkabout, the days of week are quickly lost and normally have no matter.

The View Lodge booked us into room number one again, three bed corner room giving us extra space and a bright morning, albeit noisy. Downstairs while having lunch, we met three trekkers from Holland, and we started good social conversations with many lodgers from various countries that would prevail throughout the weekend.

We were told the Namche Market was on Saturday, but through the lodge window I could see buzzing on the hillside across the village. I set off with camera in hand for the market and to fill in a few pictures of Namche I had missed the last stay.

The market is situated along a few terraced dirt rows on the villages steep hillside. Traders bring various goods, mostly commodity and durable, from far away each week. Two sides of each row are used, and because they are steeply terraced, one row is backed by a wall six feet high, and the outside of the row hangs high and open above the next row. Goods include grains, spices, vegetables, clothing, and cigarettes. A women laid on a clothe and spread out near her was everything plastic - combs, toys, and kitchenware. All very colorful and glossy and synthetic, a drastic contrast compared to the other vendors.

There is a meat house for the buffalo pieces at top, in a dark and smelly enclosed wooden building. Inside and just outside the meat is cut and weighed on a balance, and sold. This was a bit of a disappointment because the impression was that the beasts were walked into Namche and met their end. The truth is the cut buffalo meat is carried into the village. I decided to skip the "yak steak" this visit to Namche.

The goods are generally not of interest to tourists, except maybe for Snickers, and personally, Twix. Suddenly, entering Namche Bazar, I weakly fell into a big Twix kick. I found Snickers for as little as 40 rupees, in town they normally sell for 60 or 70, although Celia pointed out a shop at 50 rupees. This concern may sound funny, but the issue grows humorously important with trekkers, Snickers must be the most popular 'Western' item around.

I spent more than an hour walking between the four rows of vendors. The Tibetan traders are very different in appearance, being bigger and taller than Nepali, with more Chinese facial features, almost an American Indian look. Their thick black hair is braided with red strips of cloth and bound across the head. They, maybe ten of them, looked so similar, I mused them all being brothers. I found them very colorful and I wanted a picture, but didn't want to offend. They wore layers of baggy clothing, thick jackets. The overall appearance was tough, especially their worn and dark faces, distance, people living a very stark existence. My mind flew with the vast differences between our normal life styles. These men did not speak English. My first pass brought out a meek grunt and an invitation to barter for flannel pants. A few offered the turquoise beads around their necks. I was intrigues with these colorful figures. Although they held a rough appearance, ones selling clothing laid spread out across their wares, like babes or drunks asleep. The market wasn't overly busy, and from above I watched three of these hard men from the north sitting side by side from above. They made exchanges, and suddenly the two on the outside attached the center one. I watched in disbelief as the middle man squirmed to avoid the offense in half effort, he laughed like a kid as the others tickled him relentlessly.

The weather had turned since I had left the View Lodge from sun to heavy overcast. I meandered back, browsing the souvenirs, and run into a couple from NYC. We talked on the sidewalk at length of our trekking experiences, then continued on inside the Namche Bakery for my second weekend order of hot chocolate and apple pie. It is so easy to start conversations while trekking. People are very open, good moods, easy demeanor. The common bond of trekking allows the opening, and exchanges then normally flow freely. I suppose couples out together looked to fresh conversation.

A group of us at the View Lodge stayed up until 10:30pm talking, an unheard of hour while trekking. Normally people are in bed by 8:00pm, but we were all on a roll, especially John, and most of us heading down the trek. There were two older men from England, Derek and Mike, a soft 26 year old girl from San Francisco, two girls from Australia, and others.

Sa 4/10/99 - Namche (3440m), Day 12

The big Namche Market Day. John and I walked through the village and to the market around 9am. I found the market much more busy and less relaxed than yesterday, strolling through it was a chore with the Nepalese rushing about. John commented that the market was interesting, but it was without souvenirs, and soon after arriving announced he was returning to our Lodge. I hung for another hour or more, watching people buying, selling, taking photos while assuring myself there were no Westerners in the frame.

Through the time I was on the hill I kept note of locals on top of a large rock at the hill bottom. It was a good vie point that I lastly made for. Wedged between the last house and the rock was a vertical board with cheap footholds. Up I went and now I realize the last few locals then departed. I owned the rock solely for a few minutes before, literally, ten Germans or other Westerners popped atop. Strange. This vantage point was not only great for the market, a relief from the bustling crowd, but also a welcome for the different village angle provided. I sat above the large stupa on the bottom of Namche, and running up the mountainside was the village water source, a stream harnessed in a series to provide drinking water, power to turn the housed prayer wheels, and lastly for clothes washing.

I ran into Lone, Mark, Vincent, and son (Dingboche) at the Namche Bakery. We sat and talked for over three hours. Conversation must have been interesting to pass that much time, Lone is animated with her conversation, Vincent interesting generally, telling stories of Greenland, Lithuania, Croatia, Germany, and World War II.

The night was similar to the last, hanging with the group at the Namche, but not so late.

fun fact: Nepal is 7% arable, and 93% of it is used for agriculture

Su 4/11/99 - Namche (3440m), Day 13

We were really enjoying our weekend, not schedule to keep, no mandatory hills to plod up, no dealing with a new lodge and the cycle of unpacking and packing. Breakfast was leisurely - eggs, types notes, socialize - it as great. The sun was beaming, and the day, Everest Marathon Day was here.

The full marathon (42km, 26 miles) route is from Gorak Shep (5140m) to Namche (3440m) to Thamo (~3440m) and back to Namche. Imagine running trail for four, six, even eight hours. Granted the elevation drops 1700 meters, but this isn't pavement, and the obstructions are considerable - yak trains, porters, trekkers, villages. And Nepal is never flat, the trail always rises or falls. Crazy, but interesting.

John and I had agreed to help Celia out when she would first run through Namche by providing a Snickers. Hey, we had a friend and a purpose.

I had met Tommy (Buenos Aries/Colorado) at the market and again at the finish line when the first runners crossed. We originally met in Gorak Shep through Lauri when he told us a story of how a gas stove blew in a tent and injured a sherpa's hand. He felt responsible, and this incident being one of many, he decided to leave Base Camp and turnaround on his Everest climb.

Tommy is a 37 year old freelance mountaineer photographer, really interesting, and had been signed onto one of the Swedish teams (there are two) on a verbal contract. The Swedish originally agreed to $25,000 plus expenses. He then had prepared his trip with supplies and tickets, and one week before departing, the Swedish balked in total. More negotiations and cut to $10,000 and $10,000 expenses and the deal was revived. However, the working relationship at Base Camp soured, the Swedish acting belligerent. They fired Tommy on his birthday, he rejoined the next day, and then the fuel canister mishap. Maybe it was the Swedish expedition's way of ridding a person they couldn't afford. Tommy seems like a decent sort, he's a mountaineering photographer, and I appreciated him.

I searched without success for John, bought a Snickers, a bottle of water, and we walked up to the path the runners would use through Namche, to Thamo, and back. We moved slowly, and I was surprised at how much film his camera burned, a professional finger on the trigger, and sponsored by Kodak. We dawdled through the lower alleys, to the gompa, and up to the red and white taped marathoners route.

The route makes a sharp right hand turn when it leaves the giant carved bowl of Namche and heads for Thamo. We slowly reached this vantage point, talking, looking for pictures, and Tommy ripping through film. He carried a Nikon F5 and a anchor weight French tripod over his shoulder. Obviously, I enjoyed his company and learning a little about his lifestyle as mountaineer and professional photographer.

Tommy has been a photographer since the age of nine, an a mountaineer since late teens, and both as a profession for about seven years. He has peaked Everest, Cho Oyo, the Gasherbrums, others in the Himalayans, and of course Argentina. Besides mountaineering work, he's done magazines, newspaper, and nature prints. I was impressed by the big names he has met - Henry Todd, Jon Krakauer, David Breashears, Rob Hall, Scott Fischer - and pressed for

more - Henrold Messner, Galan Rowell, Anatoli Boukreev. I imagine the list is endless.

We watched and cheered on the exhausted runners. Tommy snapped hovering black birds, porters, the valley. the runners were funny, two reactions to the cheering. Taken in stride and a positive reply or "thanks", or a screwed up face saying "who and why would someone cheer me on?". I guess they weren't used to the cheering after thirty five kilometers on the Nepal track.

As we walked along, Tommy returned to his problems at Base Camp, how he left on bad terms, how he had a bad taste in his mouth, and wondering and hoping for something to turn around. Maybe national Geographic or NASA/Yale. Maybe Henry Todd but the Swedes have the $10,000 trekking permit and said they would sue if he came back on the mountain.

Strange how one can talk to a stranger. We both told of where we have been, where we were, where we want to be, relationships that didn't work. It wasn't all so serious, conversation drifted to the lighter, we humorously exchanged coarse assessments of women by nationality.

Celia ran by with two gurkhas. She stopped, sat, had a bite of Snickers and water. Unfortunately, half way through the test, Celia’s body spouted from both ends, bacterial infection or flu, but she carried on.

We strolled toward Thamo, a packed dirt forested walk high above the valley floor with great mountains views, until we agreed that going down hills meant we had to go back up, and turned around.

Runners were moving more slowly now, the start was six hours earlier and the Namche to Thamo to Namche loop was five miles. The average age of the marathoners was extraordinarily old, women and men near sixty were jogging past. I wondered who were English and had paid or raised two thousand dollars for the package. We heard of a man possibly breaking his ankle. Tommy pointed out tahr (mountain goats) on the rock high above and offered his 500mm mirror lens for my Nikon. At the right hand bend we explore an extremely moody plateau of mani stones, the first time these felt like a taboo and sacred place of rest (they're for prayer or remembrance).

The repeat winner, a professional runner from western Nepal, in 3:51. Second was a Sherpa, third unknown, forth a westerner, and fifth a marathoners porter. Ek, a gurkha who was placed into the marathon after a fellow officer broke a leg, who had never run a marathon before, who is afraid heights, and screwed his knee, finished in four hours. Celia finished in eight hours twenty minutes.

That night at the View Lodge, John ad a few others were moaning around and feeling sick. Celia came in and claimed she would never do it again.

John, Celia, and I were meant to celebrate the marathon, our end of trekking, and anything else possible. Celia dragged herself away and white faces, John slipped stealthily to bed. I briefly went to Club Paradise with three girls from the View to hear forced chat, half listening to their fancy Awai mini sound system and a subset of the mass of tapes. The tapes changed at ten minute intervals - gay club dance, Pink Floyd, Eagles. Stuff I assumed the bar owners thought westerners would enjoy. I always find 3rd world interpretation of our favored music this interesting.

Mo 4/12/99 - Namche (3440m) to Lukla (2840m), Day 14

Our bill for three nights including lodging, most meals (about eight), showers, and laundry was 2800 rupees ($42) for both of us.

In the morning I met one of the girls from last night who was interested in exchanging books - the Robert Conrad I have had since French Polynesia for Anatoli Boukreev's "The Climb". I very good trade. "The Climb" is the "other side of the May 1996 Everest tragedy, the view most mountaineers prefer over Jon Krakauer's "Into Thin Air". I took "Into Thin Air" to be almost a bible, and have been sad to hear that a lot of mountaineers do not care for Jon Krakauer. Tommy and Todd both knew and worked with Boukreev. Boukreev died on Annapurna 4 during an avalanche.

The day started sunny once again, the common pattern of sun then clouds occurring, and we left our fun Namche Bazar and started down toward Lukla. Some people would do this piece in two days, stopping at Pangboche, but the map had estimated six hours, and our prerogative was to stay Namche.

We walked through the narrow alleys of this colorful village, past most of the sidewalks sales of tourist items, past the location of the Saturday market, around the southern edge of the village "U", and down the killer hill that took us a hard one hour to rise. Namche is already under treeline, and as we descended the forest became thicker, the natural aromas of pine and flowers occasionally caught out noses. At the hill bottom we crossed the river on a prayer flag striped bridge, and after a small rise and descent we followed the trail along the river and across to the west side and through Jorsale.

John wasn't enjoying life again, the poor bugger was sick again, as he was when we walked onto this trek. I however, found the best rhythm, which to me means dawdling to take pictures when opportunity arises and moving otherwise. I imagine this isn't best when you are walking beside someone else, it has to be frustrating. On the other hand I always feel constricted when I urge to snap a pic and .breaking stride would result, often I repress the urge and carry on. So, the natural event is for John to lead ahead and I dawdle. To slow at attractive spots and gaze and analyze and appreciate the scenery I have traveled so far to see - the day is bright, warm, clear - is like awakening to a sudden awareness of something very special after long a darkness. My eyes smiled at the river, high pines, bridges, villages, mountain peaks. I blew through a mass of film, five pictures of three small children waddling towards me

The walk wasn't too difficult, we descended through Monjo, Chumpa, Bengkar. In Phakding, an old man with bright and sparkling blue eyes sat sided by Nepalese. We caught eyes and he quickly asked where I was from, I replied "America", and as quickly he asked if I would have tea. I was caught off guard, thought of John, and almost went for the offer but instead looked at my watch and said I have a friend to catch. The man jumped up and said he would walk with me through the village. He must have been seventy, round face, off white round hat, and new but older European style outdoor clothing, baggy. His eyes though, so bright blue and inquisitive, playful, aware, friendly. At the southern edge of the village we found John sitting at a bench outside Namaste Lodge where we lodged on the way in. I then offered tea and we sat for a snack an talked for four five minutes.

He was from Brussels, knew four languages, trekking on his own with guides and porters. His goal was Gokyo, but fell ill with gastritis, and turned back near Goyko to slowly walk out. I asked if he took any medication, and typical to his wit countered with those glinting blue eyes, "No, you take something for your tooth and you elbow hurts, something for your elbow and your knee hurts". He ask if I knew Deutsche, "Nitch Dutsche", French?, "No". Oh, but "you shouldn't eat so early in the day". I was suddenly lost, I thought the old man stable, I relied to his questions respectfully. John had caught on, he was signaling something. We later learned he wanted us to move our break to another lodge, but he was too polite to be forthright. He told of sitting with German Bavarians days earlier at dinner. He was alone, others too were there, and he hid his knowledge of German. The group of men unawaringly insulted him and he said nothing. Afterward a couple across the table realized he knew German and apologized, "We are also Bavarians and we apologize, not all Bavarians are like this". The next morning, just as the men were about to start again there trek, the man said to them in German, "Just as it has been for fifty years, we always like to see the retreat of the Germans". They were embarrassed and dumbfounded.

John and I walked on. From Phakding the trail gained 230 meters, John had eaten tomato soup and toast, but was still weak. If my walk was good, it was now even better. My mood was great I smiled and said "namaste" to all I didn't kid with. Everyone, trekkers ad locals, especially locals, seemed to be as high as I. Why? The weather was cool and comfortable, it was my last walk in Nepal, the scenery caught be square. We traveled through Ghat, Thad Koshi, Cheplung.. In Ghat I snapped a series of three pictures of a mother and child coming towards me. In Thad Koshi, the small colorful village above a following, narrow river, magnolia's in bloom. In Cheplung the mani stones painted white on black attracted my attention.

In just over five hours we made Lukla. It was 1:30pm and we were to confirm our flight by three. A gateway to the village had unusual prayer wheels, unusual because each had letters from our alphabet, "OM MA NI PE ME HUNG" (sometimes Anglicized as "om mani padme hum"), this is the Buddhist mantra found on most mani stones, meaning "hail to the lotus jewel". I spun a wheel for minutes, reading and re-reading the syllables. Ok, I wrote it down.

I slowly walked, giving John time to catch up, and came across Derek and Mike. They had broken the trip from Namche into two days had arrived earlier and confirmed their flights.

Weeks ago I had been nervous preparing for the Everest Trek since the dependability of flights in and out of Lukla were well known - bad. Problems are normally from weather, but "ah, but this is Nepal....". John and I had extended our time in Nepal by changing our flight to Bangkok to accommodate our two treks and the potential for discourse in the Lukla flights. The Lonely Planet has an aside of how bad it all can be, especially in Lukla. But then the weather on our Everest Trek had been good, well I thought so anyway. It had been clear nearly every morning and some afternoons. Our flight was Tuesday 8am, and I only started worrying a couple of days in advance. It would be a train smash if we were delayed three days and missed our Friday flight out of Nepal (Friday 810a) to meet Sue in Bangkok (Friday 1045p). If we left on time we would have two and a half days for laundry, journals, meeting new buds, shopping, film developing, fixing shorts,...

But then, we heard the record was a delay of two weeks in Lukla because of weather. Even before reaching Lukla we felt the nervousness of a few people. Now we were here, and life was about to get exciting.

Derek and Mike shared the first bad news. Today only two Yeti flights and one Royal Nepal came through. That was about one third of the normal flights, the village would be full, and a backlog would be standing tomorrow. Hmmm.

But it got better. We had a time trying to find a lodge. John was huffing and puffing, vocalizing his illness as we moved through the village. I left him and scoured around, running out of energy after assessing four or five lodges. We booked into the Sherpa Lodge, coincidentally closest to the airfield check-in building. Life wouldn't really be effected depending on where we stayed, it was only one night, comfort was not a high priority. Or was it one night, and did the location matter?

Inside we heard the worst news. The lodge owner positioned his arm like a birds wing and pointed to his armpit. In poor English, "Lumbini, it's engine on fire". Lumbini's one Luka plane had caught fire and was down. Lumbini had three planes total, probably all seventeen seat Twin Otters.

Well, who knows, really. Maybe he was mistaken. Unfortunately, that is the reaction when one hears unwanted news or information in bad English. should have learned by now though - the Nepali are very sincere, and do not often offer misinformation. We walked to the Lumbini desk in town.

Yes, the plane did not fly today, is canceled tomorrow, and Wednesday is uncertain. We can get a refund at our travel agent n Kathmandu, or wait and see. In the office we read a sign for helicopter flights and other transportation arrangement to Kathmandu at the Khumbu Resort.

So, we walked to the Khumbu Lodge and attempted to speak to a seemingly very Chinese man with bad English. A westerner sat silent and observed from the corner. After twenty minutes, this guy, an American, looked at his card and asked for the contact, Chumba. The man replied, "Chumba is at the Khumbu Resort". Damn, we were in the wrong lodge.

We found Chumba's nephew, Preen, very unwilling to help John and I since we weren't staying at their lodge. Our first reaction and attempt at progress, "But you advertised a service for flights....". He didn't budge. I dropped Henry Todd's name, nothing. He said to see our lodge manager. I reviewed our lodge owners armpit story. Damn. We sensed that this Chumba fellow was well connected but we had to retreat.

Back at the Sherpa, our manager really was of little help, he didn't seem to be of the right mold for us nervous and fast paced westerners, didn't seem confident. We made no progress.

A helicopter landed and, well, why not? We walked out and toward the copter door. I was stopped and told to wait for the blade to stop turning. A crowd had gathered, but when a door opened and I was first there. I looked into the back seat and a young American sat with his leg across the seat and ankle ace bandaged. I asked the pilot, slowly and nicely, if there was room for two more to Kathmandu. He said no, we walked back toward town. I commented to John that maybe we prematurely walked away, and when we turned to look back the pilots ha come towards us and stared at us. Hey, maybe... We met them, they said, yes, they can take us. We were nervous, we have a ride, but how much? $US100. That meant for $17 (if we get a full refund) we could be on a helicopter, neither of us had before, skimming our way back to Kathmandu! Psyched! A minute passed, the pilot was atop the machine and checking the rotor. John asked if we should get out bags, the reply, "No, someone else asked first, no room for you". What?! How could that happen?! I believe we were victimized by the local flow of matters. An Namche agent talked to the pilot and offered $150 per person.

Back to the Khumu Resort, Chumbu was not there, and we waited. Eventually we had another side strategy (the more the better?), and left. An agent associated with out hotel was playing pool nearby. We found this character by following three Americans who had a flight out of the country at noon the next day, they were desperate. You know, some people just do not like to be disturbed when they are playing pool. This man was gruff and obnoxious and horrible. We all walked away, tail between legs. The three then explained that this was the sixth time they talked to him today. The obnoxious and heady man was off our list.

Back to find Chumba, missed him, he was to show later, but Preen told us to return at 7am.

Back to the Sherpa, we had done everything we knew possible for the night, and we ate and relaxed. John was feeling better, and meeting two cute Swedish girls, would help any mans appetite. Elin and Kathrina had been in Nepal for weeks and were traveling to India. They seemed very interested to hang, we were not interested in losing their attention. We stayed up late talking ad playing Rummy and Hearts, a good night, then off to out room overlooking the airport.

fun fact: Nepal has 37 airports

Tu 4/13/99 - Lukla (2840m) to Kathmandu (1270m), Day 15

Would this be another horror day?!

We were both awake by 6am, with Preen before 7am, and we had missed Chumbu. This guy is an enigma. With tea and toast we sat and waited. Preen went to the airport, came back, told us Chumbu was at the airport. Did he simply want to rid us?

The airfield was happening big time. Well, there weren't any planes yet, but there were a hundred people milling about. Trekkers wanting out, guides and porters wanted work from those flying in, and many other Nepali, needs unknown.

It was a zoo, and what really set the atmosphere, was the airfield itself. It was originally constructed by Hillary decades ago to run supplies in for expeditions. The Nepal government then upgraded it and here, you should see this, is the most sloped runway, gravel, that could exist. It was cut into a steep mountain side. The runway stops abruptly at the top with a high hill and the Himalayan Lodge and other building. The approach is through a long tight valley to a hairy landing onto a sloped sliver of gravel. Too low and you are into the mountain, too long, same thing. Wild looking

We weren't too hopeful, we didn't have a boarding pass. Hell, we didn't have a ticket. Damn, we didn't even have an airline! We found Chumba and I tried again, "Chumbu, our friend Henry Todd said you could help us...." He didn't seem to recognize "Henry Todd". I worried that the name dropping may be a bad thing. Probably not the first time today, but once of many, we heard, "Just wait".

It was just after 8am, the sky was clear, two planes had come in. Lumbini was out, Yeti seemed to carry the most people, Royal Nepal has a bad reputation. There are the national carrier, have been in the news a lot lately for recent strikes, and I wondered how much priority they would give to Lukla. We milled about, tried to learn, I tried to be patient. John was being bad at being patient. He laughed and huffed and criticized and hated it all, it drove him crazy. he would keep sighing, "I would be so psyched if we got out of here!"

Yeti plane three came in. Chumbu told us if Yeti had nine or ten planes we maybe okay. I looked at the sky, light clouds forming.

We socialized with Celia, Derek and Mike. A man from the lodge last night with frost bite on one finger had flew out earlier. Vincent had a bad call - his wife lost their baby and his lodge manager quickly found him a flight. We heard, "Yeti flights, four, five were in the air".

About then, after leaning against people who were leaning against the Yeti check-in counter, I learned we should place our names on stand by. More socializing. I met a young guide looking for work and bought him biscuits, he bought me tea, I bought him lunch..

Fura Geljen Sherpa

Chourikharkau D.C. 2

Solukumba District

P.O.Box Lukla Airport

phone and fax 977-032-21144

Another Yeti flights, number six. We listened to rumors about the following flights and the weather. Royal Nepal canceled all further flights for the day. Chumbu was not very reassuring, but at least he was talking to us. We watched people obtain boarding passes in the dirty stone building, their baggage was weighed and carries outside. A Israeli girl outside was moaning, hollowed mouthed, bad acting, crying, her plight so bad. She sickened me.

Yeti flights, seven, eight. Check-in for nine was coming up, we would not make the flight. Helicopters were no longer discuss. The three Americans with a flight today out of Nepal were off. I walked back to the desk and stood behind Chumbu. He said we should sign the register, I leaned over the short Nepali and pointed out our names, and he responded by saying he may be able to move our names to his list, he may have a cancellation. That is what I thought I heard anyway.

This was the first good news. No ticket, no pass, no airline, but se guy we hadn't paid gave us a good indication. But only one plane and no guarantees. We had been here for four hours and if we weren't successful today, tomorrow would be a repeat. I walked back outside to John who was talking to an older couple from England. The women was very dynamic and the man just old.

Half and hour later and Chumu caught my eye, "Let me see your bags!". Wow, "our bags", hey, "our bags!!". "Yes Chumbu", they are right here!". "And you have one hundred and sixty six dollars?", We both nodded yes. Actually I had one hundred and sixty five and more, but no one dollar bills. Did that matter I wondered. Even though Chumbu had walked away I made a show of the money, slowly counting it again, flashing it. He walked by, took the bills and some Nepali. Our bags left us, a minute later we were with ticket, boarding pass. We heard the plane was in the air.

I asked Chumbu if the money was okay, did he get some of the $186. He replied no, none was for him and said we were friends of Henry Todd, right? Hey! The name dropping did work! And it worked for the good, not bad! Cool!

After six hours of milling about, learning snippets I wished we knew the day before, socializing trying to laugh, trying to be patient. The bottom line was we wanted out, we wanted to be in Kathmandu doing all the thing we planned, and the last thing we wanted was to do this all again tomorrow ad maybe the next day and next. Would the plane make it in and back out or would it be turned around?

The plane soon landed and again John voiced his relief, "I would be so psyched if we got out of here!"

The siren blew to announce a landing, the Twin Otter sounded from a distance, and came swooping in to grind to a gravity fed stop on the gravel. We worked our way to board the plane, John finding a seat in the front for a view of the cockpit, I half way back on the right side for the better views.

We'll make Kathmandu!

The flight was fun, hazy, but the scenery was great to watch as we floated by. A helicopter would have been great, early in the morning before the haze rises. We grubby airport was no problem, we kidded with taxi drivers and took the first with a fare of 150 rupees. The Swoniga staff in Thamel remembered us and gave us a big greeting. We had paid $US10 per night last time, a lot for Nepal in genera, and I told John humorously a few times that we should try for $8. I responded to the greeting with a big smile, a laugh, and called the deskman, "friend". I smiled and asked, "So, we have the same price as last time, eight dollars?". The reply, "Yes, unless you want to pay more". A victory!

We were glad to be in the clean hotel, hot shower, satellite television, sheets, balcony, corner room, Windows - it was great!

It was also New Year's Eve, the last day of 2055 B.S. in the Nepali year. They go by the western calendar, but this was a cause for celebration anyway - any reason to celebrate is good.

We had a great dinner at the Everest Steak House, pepper steak with mushrooms fries, veggies. We trusted it all, heard it was okay. We loved it.

The night ended early though without an outright celebration. I found email too slow spending an hour and a half. Then I searched for Peanut M&M's ad came up blank late a t night I returned to join John watching Cinemax and HBO, read a bit of "The Climb", and fell asleep on top of the bed.

fun fact: John likes to be cleaner than Bob does

------ <end of chapter> ------

Nepali the language

Nepalese plural for people

add Everest spreadsheet in html

Thicht Nan Han - Buddha author, what's the bookstore?