Relative Something

I enjoyed a great sleep for the first half of the night and then was in and out of sleep until morning. They provide pretty plush accommodations when it comes to sleeping in a tent on the ground. There are 2 pads, a thin closed-cell foam and then a soft 2″ cloth-covered foam on top of that, two down sleeping bags, one tucked inside the other, and a cozy fleece blanket liner that I use folded up under my head as a pillow. The Sherpas come to our tents in the morning, first with an offer of tea, and then later to offer a pan of hot washing water, and lastly, to announce breakfast is served. This routine is usually repeated again in the evening as we have tea when we arrive to camp, then rest in our tents for a bit where they will provide hot washing water and then eventually stop by to report that soup is ready.

Breakfast always starts with an oatmeal porridge, but is followed by a different main course each day. This day it’s fried eggs and toast. The table is set with a couple varieties of biscuit crackers and a jar of peanut butter, some honey, and jam. There is always a pot of hot milk, a thermos of hot water, bags of tea, and powders for hot chocolate, orange or lemon drink. We’re going to need all the sustenance we can consume this day, because it is a day of big time trekking. We make the largest gain in elevation of the trek between Tok Tok and Namche Bazaar. We cross a couple of seriously dramatic bridges, one notable for its length, one for its height above the river. We pause by the Dudh Koshi River for our lunch. The Sherpas have spread out a tarp and set it up just like our regular meal table. The meat served: Spam.

After lunch we undertake the largest percentage of the day’s climb. The trail is very crowded and we find ourselves in a kind of leap-frog game with a particular bunch of porters and their big loads. They climb faster than us, but must rest often and our pace has us passing them as they rest. The work takes its toll on all of us, but some appear to feel worse than others. The Sherpas bring our afternoon tea to us on the trail instead of waiting for us to arrive at the evening camp site. I get the impression we are taking a long time to get there, but can’t imagine a pace any faster than what we’ve done.

When we finally get to Namche Bazaar, we still have to climb a long way to get up to our camp site. The tents are perched on a thin strip of terrace, with no buildings above us and full view of the village below. The snow and ice covered mountains across from us are truly something to behold. We barely drag ourselves to the tents and collapse. Gary doesn’t feel well and chooses to stay in his tent during dinner. It starts to rain, but otherwise the weather has been great. It felt like 70-80° in the sun with a 60° wind on occasion. Maybe due to exhaustion, my journal entry seems abbreviated and offers no detail of dinner or our usual silly antics post-meal in the dining tent. I am off to sleep by about 8:45 p.m.

 Tomorrow is a day for rest and acclimatization.

For that I am extremely grateful.

Tuesday, 07 April, started identical to the day before, right down to the offerings in the box breakfast. One difference that did emerge was the understanding we now had for what was about to befall us. We now know how to handle our own duffel bags and navigate the steps to get into the seating area of the terminal with minimal fuss. We immediately scout a more preferred location for our waiting vigil and even rearrange things to our liking. It was hardly necessary. Before we’ve barely warmed the seats we are called to the gate and ushered to a bus that drives us out on the runway where we wait for our plane to return from Lukla.

When it arrives, the pilots cut the engine on the side where the passengers and bags are loaded, but leave the other one running. We get off the bus and line up to wait for the returning passengers to file out of the plane. I watch for their expressions, but don’t get a clear reading of any particular emotion. Later, I will understand this completely. A guy shows up with thermoses and sets them down on the tarmac to prepare tea for the pilots. The young man choreographing all the activity on the runway begins directing those in our line to climb aboard. He compliments the look of my hair and just as I’m about to feel pleased over it, he says the same thing to Gary, right behind me.

The Twin Otter seats about 15 people including one flight attendant who presents a tray with hard candies and cotton for plugging our ears. Each seat is on a window, with an aisle down the middle. To my surprise, taxiing down the runway brings me to tears. It makes me wonder if this trip means more to me than I am aware. It does bring to mind my mother, since I am honoring her with this trip, and suddenly tears are understandable. I learn later that others on the plane were similarly moved, so there is something dramatic in the moment.

My hope is rewarded when the pilot revs the engines and we accelerate down the runway. It feels like a peak experience, but it isn’t, because it just keeps getting better with each passing minute. Airborne, the visuals are an awesome array of hills, ravines, and terraces as seen out my window from above. Then I turn and spot it through the windows on the other side of the plane… snow-capped mountain peaks of the high Himalayas. It is an indescribable, overwhelmingly mind blowing rush. This must be what I was after.

And even after all that, everything that follows this day seems to just get better and better. The excitement and energy of arriving at the Lukla airport and meeting our Sherpas and porters is mostly lost on me in the shock of just getting there. These are people that Jim knows well and has traveled with for many, many years. They exchange hugs and emotive greetings. We hike up and around the runway and part way through town to a lodge that we learn will be where we stay for a night when we return here at the end of the trek. We have time for tea which allows the porters a chance to get a head start on us down the trail. The Sherpas and the cook, Gyalzen, and the kitchen/cook boys will have lunch ready for us in a few hours and then beat us to the evening camp site where we will find the tents all set up and a dining table set for the late afternoon tea, almost always accompanied by freshly popped popcorn.

The weather this day is partly cloudy/partly clear blue, but sort of hazy, too. Eventually, we get sprinkled on enough to cause us to put on rain jackets, but not enough to really cause anything to get wet. We cross a few suspension bridges that don’t really allow any time for worry. There is enough traffic that you just have to get on them and go with the flow. They can be a little bouncy depending on how many people are on at the same time and how quickly they are stepping. The trails are busy with porters hauling anything and everything: construction equipment, supplies, expedition gear –both up and down. Pack animals show up off and on, then an occasional horse. We see a woman being carried down on the back of a Sherpa, most likely someone suffering from acute mountain sickness.

Our camp site for the evening is at a place called Tok Tok. The tents are in a spot that is surrounded on both sides by steep rises and snow can be seen on the high peaks on each side. Dinner is a soup appetizer followed by chicken, rice with a lentil gravy (Dal Bhat), and cauliflower, followed by apple dumplings for dessert. Darkness descends but a large moon rises over the mountain just as we head for our tents. The roaring water of the nearby river, just out of sight, provides a compelling ambient sound. I am completely consumed by feelings of pleasure and contentment. It is beyond my ability to adequately describe the greatness of the moment, let alone the accumlated events of this day. If the trip ended right here, it would be satisfying enough, but of course, it doesn’t.

We’re just getting started…

The itinerary for Monday, 06 April, indicates that we fly to Lukla, as if it was just that easy. Little did I know. The morning was rife with anticipation for this dramatic milestone in our adventure and I was maybe piling on a bit extra of my own expectancy with my interest in moving on from Kathmandu. We arose, bright and early, and headed down to the lobby to find our promised boxed breakfast and to see that our bags were ready to be loaded in the van. Representatives from Tiger Mountain would arrive and load our bags and drive us to the airport. Gary and I dove into our breakfast right there on the lobby floor. Some pastries, fruit, a juice box, and a hard boiled egg! I’m happy with the offerings.

We depart regardless the fact that not everybody’s bag is ready to go. Despite all the planning and preparations he has communicated to us toward avoiding just such an outcome, it turns out that Jim’s duffel, which he meant to take along today, has somehow been confused with the bags that were being stored at the hotel while we are trekking, and it wasn’t located in time. It will have to be sent along at a later opportunity. Soon we are navigating the streets of Kathmandu and I appreciate the chance to witness the early morning activities and get a sense that it isn’t always as chaotic as what I had witnessed during the driving we had experienced over the previous two days.

At the airport, there is plenty of activity and our van is greeted by many eager and willing hands to assist with our gear. The guide from Tiger Mountain appears to tolerate the confusion and it is virtually impossible for us to discern who is our designated handler and who is a freelancer working his options. It is very difficult to ascertain whether the person grabbing your bag truly has your best interests in mind. All they want is a tip for their efforts. Then there is the entryway to be navigated. There are many groups interested in getting inside and they all seem to shoulder their way forward at the same time toward a door that is being guarded by one individual who watches to see if there is room on the other side and decides when to let anyone advance. Our group gets separated for a moment and it seems quite a feat to get back together again.

Bags must be xrayed and individuals pat-searched. Two lines are formed, based on gender. It is interesting that this same routine is repeated –at least the pat-search and carry-on bags zipped open and checked– several more times, in sequence. We can’t imagine what they suspect might be changing between each inspection. After the first layer, we reach the place where they will weigh our bags for the strict limit of the Twin Otter plane that will fly us to Lukla. Luckily, they pile all the bags on the relic of a scale at the same time, so we don’t know whose bag is over or under, just that the whole group is good or not. The ambient noise here is pretty high and the tension of anticipation is significant. We pass!

Suddenly, we are jarred from our sleepy state of waiting and told to advance by stepping over the scale and moving into the next staging area where there is seating. It is pretty crowded and we have to settle for a spot far from the front windows and the door offering access to the tarmac. It is impossible to discern the words coming through the PA speaker that seems woefully undersized and severely over-driven, regardless of whether they were even speaking English or not. We must rely on Jim to figure out when our flight is called. He spends a lot of time hovering by the front. That leaves us free to chat and take turns telling stories and finding ways to pass time. I give a short juggling lesson and David proves to be a quick study. Pam discovers her special pens are leaking when she pulls out her stuff to work on her journal.

The skies don’t appear to be altogether bad; the sun seems to peek through occasionally. But it must not be clear enough at Lukla, because there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of progress from the many groups waiting. Hours go by. Off and on we hear airplanes, but they could be headed anywhere. Our hopes ebb and flow. Eventually, a group planning to climb Everest that was waiting near us, gets up and rushes to the front. That generates new energy in us. Then it is reported that they have returned and that our flight has been canceled.

That was a lot of waiting to not fly. Bummer! We end up gathering our bags, now holding them close and lugging them ourselves through the gauntlet of tip-seekers, and making a return trip to the Yak & Yeti hotel. The plan is to do it all again the next day. We learn that an additional night at the hotel was not part of our original fees and we will need to pay Jim for rooms. We re-register and get new rooms. At least we qualified for the free ‘welcome’ drinks. We sit together in the lounge area –even though sit together is what we just did all day long– and debrief our experience. It is cathartic.

We’ve got one more night to kill in Kathmandu. Gary, David and I wander out to the nearby main-drag, Durbar Marg, and just sit and observe activity. Later, we have dinner at the hotel. Fearing a repeating scene, ala the movie, “Ground Hog Day,” we set our sights on better weather for the morning.

This day was not all bad, but it was not one of the highlights of the trip for me, either. All that waiting wears on you. I slept soundly that night.

I processed my pics and have loaded them to my Google photo album. I hope you will all enjoy a visit to view the album of 273 images by clicking that link.

I intend to add text descriptions, but haven’t gotten very far on that task, yet. There are a mix of shots that depict what we saw, what we were doing, and a fair share that I tend to take as either potential candidates for one of my “words on images” poems or simply for asthetic value of color or patterns.

Sunday was a rainy and thundering Ironman bike ride here and that effort seems to have drained my energy for writing so the next episode of The Trek will have to wait another day. So, go ahead and watch a slideshow, in the meantime!

Sunday morning, 5th of April, I immediately wrote in my journal to catch the details of the dream with my mom, and then there is this note:

I’m noticing I’m really missing Rosemary Jeffrey – wonder how she is doing, want to share experience with her – and we just met !   Conversely – haven’t connected yet w/ Bonnie/Pam! Interesting.

Well, from my current vantage point, post-trip, I can happily report that I’ve since exchanged valuable correspondence with Rosemary and it was just a very short amount of time after I’d written that note that I was able to connect with Bonnie and Pam at breakfast in the hotel. When Gary and I came down for breakfast, we found Jim and David already in process and visiting with a French woman Jim just met. He has a keen ability to engage strangers in conversation and somehow take it quickly from the superficial to a level that feels like he has made a true friend, often times including us; unwitting beneficiaries of his conviviality.

Breakfast that morning was fun for the way the table served an ever-changing group of patrons as first-comers wandered away and late-comers filled their space. I enjoyed the treat of being in the middle and getting a little of everybody. I was having so much fun getting to know Pam and Bonnie that we pushed the clock right up to being a bit late for our scheduled meeting in the lobby with Tiger Mountain, the company providing services of our trek. It turns out that the ‘meeting’ was mostly a chance for Jim to review details that he had already given us, and then a chance for us to sign one more release form. Then we received our passes. Mine has my age listed as 85. Details, details. Close enough.

Next, Jim has lined up a tour of the area for us and we make a rough plan to get back early enough in the afternoon to also walk nearby to explore the shops. We meet our guide, Amit, in the lobby and climb aboard a van and head out. Amit is a very likable guide and knows his stuff. We learn he has a college degree and speaks 5 languages. David engages him in a fair amount of Spanish, but ultimately, he seems interested in using his English. Amit offers us more information than I am able to retain. I think there is a fair amount of disorientation affecting me, probably combined with travel fatigue. Most of the names and details of what he offers pass right by me and I just try to take in the experience of sights and sounds, enduring a fair amount of insecurity over my place as an outsider amid the barrage of temples and religious icons, marketers, peddlers, craftspeople, and even just others going about their daily activity as our tour passes by.

We stop at the Monkey Temple, at Patan -a city of temples, at a Tibetan Refugee Center where they produce carpets and sell scarves of yak wool and pashmina wool, the Dharmapala Thangka Centre where they teach the tradition of authentic Buddhist painting on specially treated cotton cloth and then ultimately at a market where Carol was able to find a singing bowl.

Adding excitement to the day was the difficulty in maintaining our time schedule. Amit was particularly sensitive to this as he had made a promise to get us back at the appointed time, yet was also very interested in accommodating our wishes and allowing people all the time they needed to make purchasing decisions. Out of his control was the traffic jam we happened upon. We got stuck in a gridlock for quite some time and he and his driver went back and forth discussing potential alternatives (I assume that’s what they were saying; they did not communicate with each other in English). At one point, we were invited to get out and walk, possibly to find the other side of the traffic jam and then get a taxi from there. Ultimately, things got moving and the van caught up with us, so we hopped back in and were on our way, but much time was lost by then.

We insisted he let us buy him lunch and he took us to a great rooftop cafe in Patan. Amit taught us much about Buddhism, including the five Buddhas, one of which touches the Earth. However, when he pronounces ‘earth’ it sounds like ‘art’ to our ears. So there was a little confusion for a while there as we were misinterpreting his English. When he realized the misunderstanding, he spelled the word and we were all, “Ahhh, Earth!!” Later, as we were descending steps, headed back to the van, Amit asked me about his pronunciation and I suddenly found myself trying to teach him. After several unsuccessful attempts to do so strictly by sounding it out -he continued to say it with a hard “t”- I reverted to trying to physically demonstrate the tongue on the teeth to produce our “th” sound. When he finally got it, there was much revelry, but it was obviously an unnatural thing for him and he seemed hard-pressed to maintain that success.

We did our best to assure Amit that our late return would not be attributed to his failings and that it was a result of our desires to accomplish all that we did. Later, we took some time back in our hotel, bought some bottles of water and then prepped our bags for the next day’s departure to Lukla. Then most of our group joined Jim for a short walk to a dinner spot that has nice second-level open-air seating. During the evening, the lights tend to go off and on as the power is periodically shut down as they shed loads around the city. It seems as though most places use generators to compensate during these shutdowns. It appears to be such a fact of life that no one is fazed in the slightest bit.

Next: Scheduled departure to Lukla…

April 2nd seems like a long, long time ago to me now, but that is the day I headed to the airport in the early morning to set off on the first leg of my journey to the other side of the world.

At the Minneapolis Airport, ready to go

There I met up with Jim Klobuchar, the man responsible for organizing this trip. We would become primary companions for the flights to and from Kathmandu, Nepal, as all the other members of our group had selected either different airlines or different routes. First, we flew to Los Angeles and then had an entire day to kill before our flight to Bangkok on Thai Airways. We wandered the airport and asked for options of something to see nearby. We were directed to visit the Promenade at the Howard Hughes Center. It’s funny, the differing perceptions people have about estimating distance. We were told a range of guesses about the distance between the center and the airport, many of which referred us to bus options because it was too far to walk. Of course, our reference involves our plan to be walking all day long for weeks, so the short hike to the Howard Hughes Center was well within our range. We walked and talked and I completely neglected the fact that the sun rays coming through the lightly overcast sky were something I should consider. I got just enough color to serve as a warning which worked well enough to keep me suffering any further lapses of judgement regarding skin protection for the rest of the trek.

When we were finally able to board the flight for our longest leg of the air travel, from Los Angeles to Bangkok (a little over 18 hours), I discovered I had an aisle seat far enough back that there would be only 1 person beside me. I was very fortunate to meet Rosemary Jeffrey as my seat-mate. Rosie was on a return trip to Nepal and shared valuable insights and her precious appreciation for the people and places I was about to encounter. I encouraged her to go ahead and wake me if she ever needed to get up and past me while I was napping. As proof of how well I am able to sleep on a plane, when the time came and she tried to get my attention, I was deep in a dream and when I felt a hand on my shoulder, it occurred as if in my dream and I was aware of it, but it didn’t make sense in the context of the dream. Then she spoke when she touched me again and that broke me from my slumber. I told her how her nudging me had become part of my dream and the second time it woke me. She reported that it was actually the third time. I took that as a good sign.

Jim tests his camera while Rosie visits with Gary

Rosemary gave me a mini-lesson in some Nepali phrases I could use. Luckily, I wrote them down, because I did not retain any of them well enough to use without going back and re-reading my notes several times over. After a relatively short layover in Bangkok, we connected with two more from our group, David and Gary, at the gate of the flight to Kathmandu. They were visiting with Rosemary when we walked up!

After the long leg from LA, the flight to Kathmandu from Bangkok seems short and sweet. There is only minor confusion navigating the details to get us all through the Nepal visa form and customs line and by the time the last person is through, we’ve already claimed all our checked bags and are ready to meet the representatives from Tiger Mountain and be ushered to our hotel.

Since we don’t know who is whom, there is quite a bit of confusion as freelance bag handlers confidently step in and grab our bags and walk with us to the waiting van, then solicit tips for their efforts. The Tiger Mountain staff just let come what may and somehow it all seems to work out.

Then comes the thrill ride of ground transportation in Kathmandu. We are quick to discover that they drive on the left side of the road and the steering wheel is on the right side of the vehicle. The horn is used all the time for navigation to signal intent similar to the way we might use a turn signal. Pedestrians, bikes, 3-wheel rickshaws, scooters, motorcycles, cars, buses, and trucks all share the road space and do so with little wasted space between, so you really do need to keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. The reality of where we are and how far we have come sets in real fast. The scenery is vivid in exposing the relative poverty, dense population, primitive conditions, amazing colors, flourishing marketplaces, ingenious solutions, impressive tolerance, significant trash accumulations, crude electric power distribution, a proud and beautiful collection of people, and diverse number of officials ranging in look from traffic control, to local police, to multiple military uniforms.

The Yak & Yeti hotel is an oasis of calm and we are greeted as preferred guests and issued our choice of fruit-flavored welcome drink and directed to soft cushioned chairs near the lobby while Jim arranges for rooms and keys. It has been a great start. We are able to catch our breath here and freshen up after all the air travel. It is now Saturday afternoon to us, April 4. So far, so good.

Next: The group assembles and explores Kathmandu…

Gary and me

There are so many aspects of this adventure, it is difficult for me to choose where to start. I can say that it more than lived up to everything I was told before the journey and it exceeded my dreams of what I hoped it would be. However, it was not without some surprises and opportunities for me to check my preconceived notions. It was, for me, a monumental amount of travel, with airport layovers, long flights, foreign cities, visas, customs, baggage claims and half a world’s worth of time-zone navigating.

Yesterday, I managed some of my reorienting tasks, but not all. I made it through the day without the nap, but something tells me the lag portion of jet-lag will kick in somewhere in the afternoon of day two.

This trip was an adventure of group travel, in which I hit the jackpot and landed a fantastic group of people who quickly became friends. I was faced with a challenge of physical limitations of my lungs, which despite my prescribed inhalers to calm and expand my airways, became irritated, forced me to break from the group and itinerary, and provided a souvenir cough that lingers still.

It was quite an exercise for my limited linguistic skills, although my brief introductory lesson on Nepali during the 18+ hour plane flight with Rosemary Jeffrey proved useful as an indicator of at least my willingness to semi-seriously try, and won some smiles from our hosts. The culture shock of rustic living and  primitive conditions allowed me many opportunities to think about my hygiene practices and come to an understanding of theirs. I count myself lucky to have avoided any inconvenience of gastro-intestinal disturbances, while those around me dealt with a variety of issues.

On one hand, it feels to me as if this trip to trek in the Khumbu Valley of the Himalayan Mountains is no big thing and I am just one of many who can now claim they have been there and done that. But as evidenced by the many friends who are following my trip with interest, there are still many more people in this part of the world who have not come close to such an adventure. For those people, I will happily share my accounts of the things I experienced. I’m not one of the many who have done it with a fancy camera and multiple lenses and do regret that I didn’t capture better images of my experiences. It was a monumental expedition for me and since I allowed myself to be so limited of camera capabilities, I will all the more need to rely on my story telling.

I intend to do just that, in the days to come. I hope you will continue to follow along. All in all, it was a fantastic big adventure.