Relative Something

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…