My Trek to the Everest Base Camp - Part 8.

In Namche, we decided that our destination would be Kala Patthar (means black rock), not Base Camp. Kala Patthar(5545) and Base Camp (5364) shared the same route, mostly, diverging on the last day of ascent, after Gorak Shep. Kala Patthar offered stunning views of the Everest Panorama;Base Camp offered no views, only the opportunity to see mountaineering groups waiting to scale the summit. With around 30 expeditions trying to climb the Everest in 2011 – and increasing each year - scaling the Everest peak is one popular –and exorbitant – adventure sport. We heard estimates ranging from USD 30,000 to USD 80,000 per climber!  But, we wanted Views. So Kala Patthar would it would be.

 Our goal for Day 5 was to reach Tengboche(3867). From Namche, we could see Tengboche as a speck in the horizon. It was nestled in a valley, surrounded by Everest, Lhotse and Nuptse towering over and Ama Dablam flanking it from the east. The guidebook indicated a 350 meter descent and a  750 meter ascent during the climb – a net gain of 400 meters.  It was meant to be a 3-4 hour journey. We assumed I would take a few more. No problem.

The path starting from Namche- for as far as we could see- appeared even and flat. With clear blue skies and a bright sun over our heads, we started our walk for the day. The facing mountain slopes were covered with pine trees. Ama Dablam, Lhotse, Nuptse, Everest all came along for the day. Sometimes one would disappear behind a mountain, sometimes another would. But for much of the morning, they were all there.

It was now my fourth day away from the hustle and bustle of my life in the city. There was no Facebook to check, No phone calls to make, no TV programs to watch, no reading the e-paper in the mornings - No digital distraction of any kind. There was also No stress of the daily routine: No agony about body weight, No anxiety about Trayi’s school progress, No greed to buy a new dress for the next dinner party, No anger over getting stuck in traffic, No guilt over not finishing my work, No helplessness over ugly world events -  at home or elsewhere. There was just Mother Nature, My Mind and I  - travelling together in Symphony, day after day. Trekking was Meditation. And with each passing day, I felt piece after piece  of my soul get unclogged of the negativity that clouds urban daily life - till Happiness was coursing through my veins for no apparent reason at all. The Feeling lingered on, for several weeks after my return to the urban grind. It was wonderful. Euphoric and Addictive.

As I trudged along, the furious sound of bells, forced me to step aside.  For the Yak Train. The yak and its cousin the dzopkyo (offspring of  the yak and the cow) are the only beasts of burden on the Everest trail. Other than human load-carrying porters of course. Every brick on every wall, every roof, every appliance, every bed, every food item, basically Every Single Man-Made Thing that one saw and consumed on the trail had been carried there. Either by a beast of burden or by a human being, from somewhere down below. Some of the richer lodges up on the trail got a helicopter delivering their supplies from Kathmandu to Namche, from where these living trucks took over.

On the trail the Yaks made their Presence Felt. If you saw a yak train coming, you just stepped aside. If they were approaching a bridge, you let them pass first. After all, it was not worth the risk - being run over or kicked off a  bridge by an angry mob of animals. At mealtimes and rest stops- milk tea –if available – was always laced with yak milk. Bored of dal bhat ? You could eat a yak cheese pizza . Craving for a meat fix ? You could have a chewy -as I hear - yak steak or an occasional yak burger.

The yak and the nak (female) are central to mountain life as camels are to rural desert living. They are well cared for,  because to the locals, they are irreplaceable. They are used to plough fields, their hair used as fiber for making warm clothes, they provide milk and meat and ofcourse, as beasts of burden. Yaks enabled trade between Nepal and Tibet through the mountains for several hundred years.

In comparison with the yaks, the human porters fared badly. Locals played several roles on the trail : running teahouses; leading mountaineering expeditions (which the Sherpas seemed to monopolize) ; selling trinkets along the route; owning small and big stores; being a guide-a suave English, German or French speaking one;  a porter-cum guide like Balaram, or working as cook/waiter/cleaner in one of the teahouses. Of these, the heavy load carrying porters had the worst deal. They often carried enormous  loads, with no protection – no headgear, no jackets even - ,and walked either barefoot or with simple rubber slip-ons. We saw one making that scary climb to Namche by himself with  a refrigerator on his back; at another point, we saw one carrying a large solid wooden beam twice his own height. Load carrying porters often accompanied trekking/mountaineering groups. They also appeared by themselves, probably contracted to carry a load to a teahouse somewhere. These were daily-wage laborers. If they hurt themselves, there would be nobody picking up the tab - they would just retire and return to their village. And the trail would find others to fill in.  

 After an hour plus of  a comfortable walk where we gained altitude slowly, we reached Kyangjuma –where we stopped for some lemon tea and warm Tang and striking views. As we continued, the trail started dropping- gradually at first and then, steeply. It was a long, pebbly, perilous downward trudge to Phunki Tenga. I almost lost balance a few times and by the end, my knees buckled. Coming down  can be more injurious than Going up. Old Trekking Rule.

Phunki Tenga (approx. 3300) was by the Imla Khoja river (tributary of the Dudh Kosi) and was by a stunning waterfall. It is also known for its Water-powered prayer wheels.  We stopped for lunch here and rested our feet. At the top of the facing mountain was Tengboche.

On appearances, this  ascent seemed  less menacing than the serpentine Namche ascent, so we attacked the climb with the ferocity of those hungry for more. But  very early on, it became apparent that Tengboche would not submit easy.  We were starting this trek at 600 meters above the Namche crawl. The air was thinner now and I began to lose my breath more quickly. The afternoon sun also glared ferociously on us  –and I got a mild headache. I needed long stops whenever my heart beat raced like a loud drum and I could go no further.  Now that Namche was behind us, Balaram found a new target. Kala Patthar.  His new chant ‘Madam, Kala Patthar bery difficult’ was not difficult to shut off with a stern look.  But, my struggle with breathlessness on this trail did bring a fleeting thought to my brain - What if Balaram was right after all?.

It was soon late afternoon - the sun vanished and the clouds started floating around us. It was starting to drizzle and I was still limping along. It had been over 7  hours of climbing today and even though our fellow trekkers told me we were barely 20 minutes away, the climb never seemed to end. From the top, I heard Ajit’s voice telling me that he had reached. I made my way slowly and Tengboche’ s famous Monastery and Gompa  came into view.

After getting used to Namche, I expected more from Tengboche. But with its famous views obscured by the clouds, Tengboche was just one mountain-top  monastery with a handful of teahouses. Not a town by far. Not evens a village. A hamlet at best. 

Luckily our teahouse was at the entry to Tengboche. Unluckily, we had got a room on the 2^nd floor. I held onto the railing and climbed up with baby steps. As soon as I entered, I collapsed on the bed- shoes, cap, everything on. After a few minutes, I began to feel really cold. So Ajit and I went down to the dining area. It was choked with trekkers and we shared a table with 3 Philippino girls from Singapore. Like us, they were the rare Asians on the trail and we traded stories. Balaram, put his Genie Hat on – ensuring that our dinners orders did not get lost in the deluge.

It had been over 30 minutes since we had completed the trek, and my heart was beating fast as ever. The normal body returns to its pre-exercise heart rate in 5-10 minutes, I knew. I checked Ajit’s pulse. His was normal already. Lurking in the shadows, was a Foe. Today, I did not recognize Her . She called herself Acute Mountain Sickness - AMS.