Gorak Shep (the end of the civilized road)


trail up Kala Pattar at dawn


Elusive Everest from Kala Pattar (second tip from the left). I climbed Kala Pattar at 4am (having not slept at all) so that I could get a chance to see Everest with clear skies. It was utterly freezing, and the altitude was nauseating. Before dawn, it was perfectly, hauntingly clear, with a total panorama of peaks surrounding me, and then as soon as dawn came, so did the clouds. This is the best picture I got. My friend and I were both feeling faint, so we descended quickly, and on the way down we passed dozens of the undead, these other pale-faced trekkers slogging up the mountain at a snails' pace, asking us, "did you see it?"




trail to Base Camp




Khumbu Glacier


I'm perfecting my stance


The 'real' base camp--this is an Indian Expedition (it was scrapped due to bad weather the next day). I spoke to one of the Indian guys, and he said he had been there for 28 days already.


the 'fake' base camp

Road out of Lobuche. It was snowing when I left Lobuche toward Gorak Shep, so, to be safe, I walked behind a couple and their guide. An hour or so later, I reached Gorak Shep, put my bags down in my lodge, and then started out for Everest Base Camp. It was still snowing, but there were a few small groups headed that way, and I followed their footprints. I had heard that this hike is anti-climactic because there are no actual views of Everest, but I found it to be very beautiful. The landscape is very lunar, and the Khumbu glacier is to your right the whole time, and periodically, you can hear it shifting and ice falling in big avalanches.


Things got more bleak at Lobuche. It was a desolate gathering of lodges which were bustling with tourists who all gathered around the dung heater for the entire day and ate continuously. I took an extremely cold shower while balancing on a broken crate in an outhouse behind the kitchen. The water from the shower was barely more than a dribble. (I will mention that I could have paid for a hot shower, but I refused to--I only broke down once in 16 days for a hot shower). I met some really nice folks in the dining room in Lobuche--very good company for the next several days. There are many different languages being spoken in the lodges, but many of the groups come together with english. Most of the guides speak in english to their clients, even if the clients are french or german. The guides and porters hang out in the main dining room as well, and often sleep there too, on the paded benches that line the walls.




Pumori to my left






my most precarious bridge crossing


When I woke up ready to leave Pheriche, the fog was so thick I couldn't see 10 feet in front of me, but by 7am the winds started to blow in the valley, and pushed all the fog out, and it became a brilliant sunny day. I always start walking before anyone else so I have the trail to myself, besides a few yaks and porters. I could really feel the elevation slowing me down, making me feel heavier; I had to stop more often to catch my breath.


My room in Pheriche--I stayed in the hotel that no one else was staying at--there were dozens of people next door at the very warm and cozy Himalayan Hotel. My hotel was very dark and cold. I always choose the wrong hotel.


view from my window in Pheriche


stone fence


Pheriche--very windy in the afternoons


Pheriche--I sayed here for two days to acclimatize


prayer flags




monestary in Tengboche


gateway into a monestary in Tengboche




Ama Dablam in the distance


Namche Bazaar, the big pitstop on the Everest Trek, 3420m
This is when my trail from Jiri met up with the main Everest trail, and it became like a super highway. I had seen about 10 tourists in 6 days from Jiri, and had been traveling on tiny, washed-out mud trails, but when I hit the road to Namche, I encountered a massive tourist apparatus. The hotels were bigger and fancier, the trail was much wider and well-maintained, and there were lines of 25 trekkers (with two ski poles each) and 5 yaks and 10 porters behind them. By the look of it, most of the trekkers had packed several cocktail dresses just in case the need might arise. In Namche, I first felt the altitude; my head felt heavy and I was tired and hungry all the time. I took some Diamox, and that made an immediate difference. I stayed in Namche for two days to acclimatize.






painted rock along the trail

tibetan bread, sideways





there is a very long drop-off behind me

lodge in Bupsa


luxury accomodations in Bupsa




corn drying

Even though every day is different, and the landscape is changing, there is a rhythm to these days, where I forget the day of the week, and all I can focus on is putting one tired, blistered foot in front of the other, and stopping to eat and drink regularly. I like this rhythm; it plays to my love of structure and routine.

one of the benefits of the Dasain festival is that Nepalis slaughter 10,000 animals. Good trailside attraction.




waking up in Trakshindu


Jumbesi

Left early from Lamjura, hiking alone for several hours, getting into the routine of descending for an hour into a valley and then climbing for an hour up a moutain, and then eating more tibetan bread. Repeat. More beautiful scenery; clear mornings, foggy afternoons. Met up with the Canadian, Adrian, again. We would hike together for several days. Stayed the night in Trakshindu near a large monestary. The guesthouse owners barely spoke to us. I imagine that they didn't speak enough english for a conversation.

the trail


stove on lamjura Pass


toilet on Lamjura Pass, overlooking moutains


yes, that's a goat getting out of the rain. I want a goat.


dining room





The second day on the trail was much less frustrating, but even more strenuous. I walked considerably farther than my guidebook suggested, ascending around 2000 meters up to the Lamjura Pass, where I met two guys, one from Canada and another from Belgium. We decided to stay at the same guesthouse, which turned out to be the best one I stayed at the entire way, not because the accommodations were fancy, but because the family was so friendly and the food was so good. It was very cold and rainy up on the pass, so we all sat around the open fire/stove/oven all night long. This fire was fed by a great deal of wood, brought in regularly by 'grandpa.' I have no doubt that these woodburning stoves contribute greatly to the deforestation in the area (and all over Nepal). Porters continuously came through during the evening, setting down their loads and taking a quick bowl of noodle soup, and then leaving for the trail again, even in the dark. The lodge owners made us dal baat with fresh mushrooms and cauliflower. It was some of the best dal baat I have had. As the altitude goes up, the variety of vegetables in the dal baat goes down--after a while, it was mainly potatoes. I accidently left the door to my room open at the Lamjura Pass lodge, and when I came back, there were four goats in the room, up on the bed, trying to get out of the rain.
I will also note that almost from day one, I became addicted to Tibetan bread, eating it up to 3 times a day. It is a deep-fried, dense, sweet bread--perfect for when I am walking all day.

rainy night in Bhandar


dal baat lunch with milk tea


Shivalaya (my lunch spot on day 1)


drying corn along the trail


terraced hillsides outide of Jiri


starting out from Jiri


Hotel in Jiri

The first day of the trek was very eventful and stressful and exhilarating. I realized almost immediately after leaving Jiri that Peter was going to be hiking much much slower than I was. I could not go at his pace. I waited for him to catch up for the first couple of hours, but by the time I stopped for lunch, he was hours behind me, and I never saw him again. During this first day, I lost the trail once, going 20 minutes in the wrong direction across a ridge. I learned very quickly that asking children for directions is useless because they are so thrilled to be talking to a foreigner that they give an answer like, "yes! no!" But asking adults for directions is essential. I must have asked Nepalis 100 times which trail to take, and they never steered me wrong. These little dirt trails are filled with life; there are homes every couple hundred yards, and porters carrying things between towns. I happened to be traveling during the Dasain festival, which meant that some of the towns were virtually empty, but there were lots of city kids headed home over the hills, wearing flipflops and tight jeans . I met three Australians during lunch and walked with them and their guide for a few hours, giving me a chance not to have to worry about the route. This first day of walking was so beautiful and lush but also extremely difficult as well with a 900 meter ascent and 600 meter descent (get out your calculators, 1m equals 3.3 ft.). This would start the pattern for the next 6 days--up up up and down down down, straight up a mountain on steep switchbacks, and then down the other side. The most hilarious moment on this first day was when a woman carrying a 50 kilo bag of rice on her head (up a steep trail), stopped, leaned against the hill, and answered her cellphone. The trail was very slippery because of a recent rain, and I fell several times within the first hours. I soon picked up a good stick, though, which became my walking stick for the entire journey (it's back here in Kathmandu with me). It began to rain in the afternoon (this became the trend for the whole journey), and I arrived at my night's stop, Bhandar, feeling exhausted, and like I'd never done anything physically more difficult in my life. Bhandar is a tiny town of maybe 20 buildings, and I stayed at the welcoming Shangrila Lodge. I read by a single lightbulb while the owner's children did their homework across from me. I ate dal baat, served by the children, with the entire family watching me and a room full of porters next door. As is standard, I was offered extra helpings until I said "enough." I went to sleep wondering what the next days held in store for me.

Jiri (first night before trek)


A bus to Jiri (I chose the luxury cab instead.)


During cab ride to trailhead in Jiri. That's a truck in front with people hanging out the back.

So, I have a lot to catch up on because I just returned to Kathmandu from my Everest trek. The day that I arrived in Kathmandu, I raced around town to make sure I had all of the permits I needed to start my trek. At one of the permit offices, I met a middle aged German man who was interested in sharing a cab to Jiri. We had the same itinerary, and he had done this trek years ago, so I thought he might be a good person to hike with. With no commitments to stick together along the way, he and I left Kathmandu at 7:30 the next morning with a friendly cab driver for the 7 hour ride to Jiri. The drive was beautiful after leaving the dusty, congested streets of Kathmandu. The road wound and wound up into the rural rolling hills, becoming narrower and less well maintained with every mile. The road turned into a rutted dirt rollercoaster for several miles, and then became paved again. There were precarious crossings over stream beds, and we passed dozens of buses headed in the same direction, stuffed with passengers, even on the roof. I had been looking forward to a similar roof-ride, but the cab was harrowing enough, I think. At one point, we stopped for tea near the Sun Kosi river (I think that's the one), and I used the bathroom upstairs which basically hung out over the river. The light in the morning was glorious, shining between the clouds and reflecting on the water. What a grand toilet! As we got close to Jiri, the cab was stopped four times by fake and real Maoists. At first I thought that they did not look like a very intimidating bunch--just some kids and young men with a banner draped across the road, asking for money, trying to look tough. Our driver argued with them, showing them a glove box full of receipts from the Maoists. We sometimes got past without a tax, and sometimes gave the equivalent of a dollar or so. The final group of Maoists were a little scarier, though, trying the doors and leaning into the car. My German companion, Peter, was very calm, though, and told them he didn't want to pay a tax. Anyways, with little money lost, we got through to Jiri, and I didn't encounter another Maoist along the way. The lodge owners in Jiri are very upset about the Maoists because they know that foreigners won't come through Jiri if they are getting hassled. And it can turn into an escalating problem because the Maoists know that the foreigners are loaded down with money for the duration of their trek. By the way, my hotel in Jiri cost 100 rupees, which is about $1.25.