My trek to the Everest Base Camp-Part 18.

I cleaned up, ate breakfast, and got ready. Ajit came back to grab a bite and take his bag. He had met Finju. Finju had asked us to come and wait in the airport. Ajit quickly went back again.  

Lukla was celebrating, I noticed as I headed out. Everybody was on the streets. And there was Buzz in the air. I bumped into Mohammed enroute and said good bye. I asked him to pass on our good byes to Sheena.

Around the fencing of the runway, and at the airport- was like the scene from the performance of a live rock band. The airplanes and their pilots were the rock stars today. Everybody watched in awe as planes came in, deplaned passengers, filled up again and left in less than 10 minutes. At the entry to the airport, Balaram said good-bye. We thanked him. No words would be enough to express my gratitude, but as a small token, we gave him a generous compensation. It was much more than he expected and he smiled as he left.

Inside the airport were serpentine queues. Ajit was already standing in a corner, inside Finju’s office. Ajit had decided that he would be in Finju’s face till the helped us, just so he could stop seeing Ajit. Ajit is a racehorse with blinders, remember ?  His goal now was for us to reach Bangkok for Trayi's birthday. 

Finju told Ajit that he could not circumvent rules to help. But there was one little loophole. All the airplanes had 17 seats, but filled only 16 as confirmed passengers. There would be one empty seat per plane. He could fit us in, but we would have to split up and travel on different flights. Ajit jumped at the offer. And nominated me to go first. Atleast one of us would make it to Trayi's Birthday, he reasoned.

After about 30 minutes of waiting, it my turn to leave. I started to cry. I did not want to leave Ajit behind.Irrational fears flooded my mind. As I walked to the airplane, Ajit was in the balcony of the airport, waving me good bye.

I got on the plane, and for the 1^st time in a fortnight, I started to pray. So much had happened in the last fortnight, I just wanted both of us to get home safely now. The plane took off and veered dangerously close to the mountains on the left. My heart leaped in my mouth. But, on the right, in the horizon, were all the Beauties we had come to see, and were leaving behind. Everest, Ama Dablam, Lhotse, Nuptse.

In about 40 Minutes I was at Kathmandu, waiting for Ajit to arrive. It was barely 9.00 a.m. There was no terminal to wait in – just a shed. So I waited there. Suddenly I was tapped on my shoulder by a well-dressed gentleman. Mr. S, Ajit’s contact, in Kathmandu, member of Prominent Family, was here to check on my well-being, in person. Ajit had called and told him I would be alone. I was touched by his graciousness and I expressed gratitude  for his help with connecting to Mr. Finju.

I had no phone and no way of knowing when Ajit would join me. So Ajit informed Mr. S. when he boarded the aircraft. He would be coming soon.

And then Mr. S., gave me some great news. There was a flight to Bangkok on Thai airways the same afternoon. And tickets were available. We could indeed make it home for Trayi’s birthday!

While waiting, I saw plane-loads of fellow-Indians coming into the domestic ‘terminal’. I had seen less than one handful of Indians on the trail. Where were these people coming from ? The mystery was quickly resolved. These people were coming after having experienced Everest from Everest View Plane Rides. For a fraction of the cost. But a fraction of the experience. Couch Potatoes! -I could now safely call them.

Ajit arrived in about an hour and a half after I did. We immediately walked from the domestic to the international terminal close by, and bought our tickets for Bangkok the same afternoon. There was just one last complication to resolve. We were sitting on 1200 USD worth of worthless Nepali Rupiah, remember ? Ajit’s contacts with Mr. S. came to good use again. We were allowed to exit the airport to a money changer close by  (the airport had none!!) and covert it all back to USD.

Kedar came to see us at the airport as well. We thanked him as well. We promised to write a good review for him on his website. (We did, though I am not sure he used it. I don’t see Balaram listed as a porter/guide on the website, either. Maybe he has retired. ?)

In the airport, we spent the little time and money we had, buying some hurried gifts for everybody back home. We had been very lucky and had many people to share our grace with.

Before we boarded our flight, we found out about our friends. Sheena had made it out of Lukla in the morning - in an Army helicopter. Mohammed made it at around 1.00 p.m. in a Tara airlines flight. The story of his exit is interesting, but best saved for a separate blog entry in his own words.

As the Thai airways plane glided into the blue sky, we saw the entire Himalayan Mountain range in the distant horizon. And right there, soaring into the Heavens, was the Jewel in Nature’s  Crown, Mount Everest. Waving us Good Bye. Till we meet again.

My trek to the Everest Base Camp- Part 17

At home, in Bangkok and in Bangalore, our family was getting restless. We had already informed them of the situation. Our daughter was upset that we had not returned as promised. I requested Ajit’s parents to buy her a cake for her birthday. Priya, a dear friend, took it a step further.  She started planning a birthday party for Trayi. Trayi would still have a grand birthday celebration. Even if we were not there to share it.

On day 2, in an idle moment, it had struck me that if the gridlock lasted more than a week, there would be a couple of thousand people stranded. We would need Nepal to deploy its army helicopters. The good weather might not last long, and there would be a small time window to get everybody out. The airlines would not be able to manage the backlog by themselves.

International pressure would be the best way  to get Nepal to deploy the army. Why would they bother otherwise?. And we could activate the  international pressure by getting all the stranded passengers to call their respective embassies in Kathmandu. We were a mini-UN up there. With 20-30 different countries represented. Many from Europe. The idea appealed to Dirk, but not many others in our gang. He called his embassy, I called mine.

And the glory of being 1 of 1.2 Billion revealed itself upon me. Who was I ? A Nobody, in India.  I was put on hold for several minutes and my call transferred around like a Ping-Pong ball. We were Nobody. We were nobody’s responsibility.

Many others arrived at this same idea independently and called their embassies.  Every Person Mattered in their scarcely populated countries. They were Needed. Their embassies would send special planes, they were assured. Or get the Nepal Government to do so. But only when the sky cleared.

By day three of our stay (day 5 of no airplanes), our Lukla adventure began to make little bylines in the newspapers in the western world. Those news articles went viral within the Lukla community.  Hope bubbled among the stranded passengers. Someone, somewhere had taken notice. There was some hope of government intervention now.

But would it help those of us whose embassies didn’t care ? Or would only the Needed Ones benefit ? Who knew.

After Dirk and Cas left, we tracked their passage back to Kathmandu via Whatsapp. They would make it to their scheduled international flight as well. Any lingering doubts about the Surkhe option vanished. Dirk also revealed the name of the tout from whom they had managed to secure seats on the Helicopter. The owner of the Illy Coffee shop – a smiling, simple lady.

Seriously ? She was the kingpin of the helicopter mafia ? Sometimes, looks are deceptive.

Ajit decided we would try to leave by helicopter as well. Mohammed had decided to wait it out in Lukla. Sheena was on the fence. He went up and spoke to the Illy lady that same morning – November 6^th. All the business given to Illy over the last few days, came back to benefit us. She told us to be packed and ready. She would get a call anytime. And we would have to leave at short notice.

We packed up and waited. The call came. There were 2 seats in a helicopter- in the next one hour. But all the money 1200 dollars (in Nepali Rupiah) would have to be paid in cash. Right now.

Ajit scurried around trying to organize the money. There was just one ATM far away. He ran there. There was no money in it. He went to a Loan Shark. Loan Shark would help Ajit withdraw the 1200 dollars(in wads of Nepali Rupiya) against his own credit card. But would charge 12% interest. No problem. Just as long as we got the money.

But by the time Ajit got the money and returned, it was too late. The seats in the helicopter had been given away. The Illy lady asked us to wait.

It was the afternoon of the 6^th now. Then the Call came again.  We quickly settled our dues with the teahouse and ran to Illy. It was raining. We called Balaram as well. Mohammed and Sheena came to say bye.

We paid the money to the Illy lady’s agent. There would be one helicopter less than one hour from now. But I walked at Snail’s pace, remember ? Surkhe was almost an hour for the fast trekker. And with the rains, the path would be slippery now. There would be no way I would be able to make it. Ajit and Balaram looked at me, and decided it was too risky to attempt this ride. There just wasn't enough time.

Ajit requested the Illy lady to give us at least 2 hours’ notice for the next helicopter, as I was Slow.  She agreed, returned our money,  and gave the seats away to somebody else.

And then the rains came down hard. And no more calls came for us. We had missed our chance for getting out. Just because I was slow. I felt miserable.

We went back to our old teahouse. Our vacated room was already given away. Balaram found us a new one-a seedy one at the edge of town. We joked that our next teahouse would be outside Lukla, in the next village. We checked in to our teahouse and then went to meet Sheena and Mohammed at the Khumbu lodge – Sheena’s cozy teahouse. It was a quiet evening, and nobody was in the mood for jokes.

Early next morning, November 7^th, even before the sun was out, Ajit woke me up excitedly. The sky was completely clear . The clouds had cried themselves empty onto the mountains –leaving behind their frozen tears and covering all the mountain tops with snow.

Without brushing his teeth, without having even a morning coffee , Ajit ran to Finju’s office. He asked me to get ready and rush to the airline office as soon as I could, with my bags. Balaram turned up to help me.

The rule of the airlines was that – those passengers with confirmed tickets for the day got the 1^st right of passage for the day. That in itself would be half a dozen plane-loads of people for each airline. Then they would start clearing the back-log from its first day. There were 7 days of backlog to clear- we belonged to day 6. Almost the bottom of the pile.

Today, 7^th November, was the day we would leave Lukla. But it was not clear how we were going to get out. Or when. Would Finju intervene and help us? What about Mohammed and Sheena ? And what about getting to Bangkok ?

My trek to Everest Base Camp - Part 16

We when got in to Lukla on November 2^nd – there had been no flights for three days. There was panic, chaos and very little information from any official source. Rumors were treated as facts and facts confused with rumors. 

The airlines were also short staffed in Lukla and had very little direction to provide. And people were left to their own devices.

With 300 people coming in from the trail every day, everybody worried that the situation in Lukla would deteriorate. How would the 3 airlines –with a handful of 15 seater aircrafts – handle the entire backlog. And with no supplies coming in from Kathmandu, would food and other essentials begin to run out ?

We met a fistful of desparates each  day who decided that they would rather make the six day trek to Jiri than be at weather’s mercy. The trek to Jiri was hard – it was filled with intense ascents and descents. And the damp weather with short bursts of drizzling/rain would have made the path slippery. For us, this was a non-option.

The only other option that was initially treated as a rumor – was the chartered helicopter option from Surkhe. Surkhe was – for the normal trekker – a 45 minute trail from Lukla. In the initial days, the going rate was USD 300 per seat on the 10-15 seater heli.

 Our gang was skeptical about this option, at first. If there was no visibility at Lukla, why would things be better at Surkhe? And who knew where the passengers were dropped off ? What if they were dumped in some little village in the plains and had to find their way back to Kathmandu themselves? It seemed like a classic profiteering racket.

But, over the next couple of days, it became clear that the Surkhe option worked. And more and more people began to consider it seriously. And so, the prices for the helicopter ride began to climb as well - reaching 500-600 dollars very quickly.

But even with money, getting on the helicopter was not straight-forward. You could not go to a counter labeled ‘Helicopter to Kathmandu’ and buy your tickets! There were touts selling seats on the Helicopter. Silently. You needed to find these hidden people. And/or you needed a well-placed person in Kathmandu to recommend you for a seat. Many of the large tour agencies, blocked seats for their stranded customers and –often the pilot arrived with the list of passengers who would be let in.  But even with that, there was pushing and pulling and even a stampede to get into the helicopter. Over just a couple of days, the situation got so bad, so quickly, local cops got involved. There were stories of cops beating up people and imprisioning some guides. Mohammed visited Surkhe once, just for a lark, and came back with the gory stories.

Unappetizing as it was, Surkhe provided the only exit from Lukla. For the time being.

After one day of doing nothing, Ajit had begun to get the jitters. He needed to find us a way to get out, he decided. Our travel agent Kedar did not seem to be of much help in this situation, at least in the beginning. So Ajit decided to pull his weight. And some strings. His company’s distributor in Nepal was a prominent business family that also had links to the military. Ajit began to chase them with the ferociousness of a hungry hyena. Could they get an army helicopter to fetch us and a few others (Ha Ha. No. Army would not intervene, yet.) Could they at least get us seats on the Surkhe Helicopter ? (They tried. They could not.) Now it was up to the family to prove its Prominence. And Connections. Ajit had put them to the test. And questioned their capability!. Nothing like a challenge to the ego, to get people going. Or maybe it was the goodness of their heart.

They worked hard and found a link into Agni Airlines – our airline. And they found a serpentine connection to Mr. Finju – the local Lukla rep for Agni airlines. Ajit decided, he would not take any chances. In addition to the phone-calls raining on Finju from Kathmandu, he would have the misfortune of seeing Ajit’s face staring at him every afternoon. Asking, and eventually just pleading assistance. Finju had no reason to help us. He had hundreds of stranded passengers and he would follow due process. Besides, there was nothing to be done  till the clouds cleared, anyways.

I don’t blame him. If I were him, I would have used the pressure from Kathmandu as a sure disqualifier.

Our gang was mostly relaxed for the 1^st couple of days. Our scheduled flight from Lukla was only on 5^th and we were not worried about the onward flight. We would get it for sure. Dirk and Cas had their international flight on Sunday, 6^th. Mohammed had already missed his, so he was in no hurry to get out. And Sheena, well she was an airhostess. She would find a way out of Kathmandu surely.

But after the 1^st couple of days, Cas began to get even quieter. He began to disappear for long periods of time. We had no idea what he was up to, but as we all suddenly discovered on the morning of Sunday the 6^th –after 4 days of waiting for the clouds to stop squatting on our heads– Dirk and Cas had bought tickets for the helicopter and -after a quick goodbye -they were gone.

Dirk’s and Cas’s departure brought home our situation more clearly. We had already missed our scheduled flights, but wanted to leave desparately as well. The clock was ticking to Trayi’s birthday and it now seemed for sure that we would not make it. This was getting to be a dirty -long - never-ending wait.

 

My Trek to the Everest Base Camp-Part 15

Before the story goes into 4^th gear, one last post about all the other little-and big things that did not get weaved in so far.

How can any trek by a couch potato be devoid of discussions about food ?Now, for the rest of the trek – the food was so basic and predictable – one knew exactly what the next meal at the next teahouse a few miles away was going to be. Food-wise, the trek was depressing. I got bored of the porridge or egg for breakfast and the bland dal-bhat or tasteless spaghetti –for lunch and dinner. Ajit dug into his twice a day dal-bhat tarkari with such relish, I wanted to do something mean to him. Not nice. Eating away, when the wife can’t bear to put a morsel in her mouth. By the time we reached Lukla both Ajit and I had lost weight, of course. I attribute my weight loss to absence of tasty food on the trail and Ajit’s due to walking with the backpack.

By comparison, Lukla was food –and drink- heaven. Lukla was not just the starting and ending point of the trek- it was also a party town. Many trekkers stayed back a night in Lukla to celebrate before leaving. So Lukla a sprinkling of pubs, eateries and coffee-shops, in addition to the teahouses. There was even a sports bar with a pool table and a giant TV screen. And there were some amazing street joints selling local fare. So in between all the coffee and cakes and apple pie at Illy, a street joint with samosas and momos and puri-subzi was raided. And Dirk introduced to the joys of a samosa. Pizza at the empty- during- daytime sports bar was not as good as the  jalebi  from the little vendor at the edge of town.  And the benefits of getting kicked out of teahouses everyday was that we got different food to eat (remember – some meals were mandatory to eat in the teahouse)-and one place with its veggie burger was especially good.  

 And where was Balaram through all the Lukla fun and chaos? Other porters/ guides were using this opportunity to make a fast buck, but Balaram did none of that. He disappeared during the day, but always turned up to check on us once a day. And each time we got kicked out of a teahouse, Balaram was there- using his good offices, finding us an alternative. The other porters were getting restless, and many took their money, bid their wards adieu and left. But Balaram stayed. He never asked to leave. Yes, Kedar and Balaram were less influential than some of the bigger tour operator/travel agents. They were small fish competing with some Big sharks –at a time in Lukla when clout seemed to matter. But they were also the most honest and straight forward of the lot. As the days rolled by, we were worried that Balaram would ask to leave as well – there was nothing for him to do in Lukla, and he would much rather be home. But luckily for us, Balaram was there till we eventually left.

I have mentioned a couple of times that we got kicked out of teahouses in Lukla. Why did we –and nobody else – get chased out of teahouses so many times in Lukla? We switched 4 teahouses in all and each time the story was a little different.

The first switch was because the teahouse owner insisted he had a group coming in from the trail- prior booking he insisted. It did strike me that  we were the only guys we knew –that were asked to move. The second switch was because of Ajit’s fight with the teahouse owner. The jury is out on this one. Ajit insisted the flush was not working at all and hence asked for a bucket of water. The teahouse owner insisted Ajit did not know the complex machinations of working a flush. Ajit got upset that his 40+ years of experience with working a flush was questioned. The teahouse owner decided he did not like Ajit – and asked us to leave. When your chips are down, everybody shits on you. Old Rule of Life.

The third teahouse, we stayed for more than a day. The burger place. But this one we gave up for one hour because we thought we were leaving, just for one hour. But, when we came back, dejected, our place in the teahouse was gone. And the 4^th and final one –a seedy place at the far edge of town. But a lucky one. Because after one night there, we actually left.

This blog series about the trek enters its last mile here on….how did we leave Lukla finally? And what about our friends ? We had planned our trek around Trayi’s birthday. We had wanted to return before November 8 to be with our little angel. Would we make it ? The story will pick up pace from here on till we cross the finish line.

My trek to the Everest Base Camp - Part 14.

This was unique situation for us urbanites used to the mythical assumption that we control our life in its entirety.  We could be here for days, or weeks. Who knew? Things were completely out of our control.

As it turned out, we did land up spending several days stranded in Lukla. Where each day was just like the one before-and so the story of Lukla is best presented as snippets of memory. Things that stand out.

And the thing that I remember most is that being stranded was fun. I remember Lukla as a place where we laughed a lot. Seriously.

On our first evening in Lukla, we formed a gang – like a bunch of college freshmen coming together. From just the 2 of us, we swelled to being 5-There were Dirk and Cas, from Holland. Dirk – the talkative one. Cas the quiet one. Dirk was an insurance entrepreneur back home, but could have made an alternate career as a stand-up comedian. Then there was Mohammed – the mountain biking dude from South Africa, and a prolific father –he has fathered 5 children.(Mohammed, that one is for you) He owned a gas station back home – and looks like with every liter of petrol he gave a joke free. And there was Sheena- the hot Emirates airhostess from Mauritius. So hot, - with even the 30 layers of unwashed trekking gear- that she warmed the air around her as she walked. And managed to get her young guide Babu to develop a crush on her (sorry Sheena ;) ). And us – the Indian Mafia.

No topic was taboo. No opportunity for cracking up left unused. But given the situation, the topic that got us the most laughs was our funny crazy situation.

We laughed with skepticism at those trying to escape by Helicopter from Surkhe – about one hour trek from Lukla. (Seriously ? What a scam!) We smirked with disbelief at those that decided they would make the 6 day trek to Jiri. And there were a million jokes about Dirk’s guide – a young scamster trying exploit the situation and make a quick buck off Dirk and Cas. He was nicknamed  Smruf because of his blue cap. And Smurf – bless his soul – provided us much entertainment. And there were jokes about Babu’s protectiveness of Sheena. There were jokes about Ajit and my unique ability to get kicked out of tea houses every day (we stayed in a new tea house every night). And Ajit’s leg was pulled for picking up a fight with a tea house owner on ‘How to Flush a Toilet’ and getting kicked out in the bargain.

We met at Illy – the coffee shop – everyday, gorging down innumerable cups of coffee and countless plates of desert. Lukla had 2 ‘branded’ coffee shops  –Illy and Starbucks. Illy was strategically located. It has the best view of the runway while enjoying the warmth of being indoors.

On one of the days, through all the heavy clouds, an aircraft landed into Lukla. Suddenly there was much excitement  and everybody descended onto the airport to see this wonderful being. And then, just to torture our souls, the pilot decided to take the plane for a walk on the runway. And then parked it and left. The rest of the day was spent, looking at the wheels of the plane – was it moving? And the stationary plane became the object of many jokes.

And many hours were spent staring into the horizon, guessing if the clouds were thinner today than yesterday. And trying to collect information off the web(the coffee houses had wifi) on when the skies were expected to be clear. We were all graduating with degrees in climatology and aviation. And weather jokes and airplane jokes.

We would split up and go to different edges of Lukla and come back and share the gossip. What was the Latest News in town – who was leaving, who had left, who had left and come back. ‘The Helicopter from Surkhe’ stories were endless’. Was it real ? Was it a scam ? How did one get on to one ? It was all One Big Mystery. But Mysteries are great fodder for jokes.

Every day, there was the mandatory trip to the airline office. What were the airline officials saying ? Mohammed recently reminded me of a priceless quote from the Tara airline official “ www : 3 things you cannot control – work, woman, weather.’”

There was Time to Kill in Lukla, plenty of it. And Killing Time together was awesome indeed. We built some great relationships in Lukla in those few days- many of which have endured and strengthened over time. We have met Sheena since Lukla – she stopped over in Bangkok on one of her many flights across the globe. And Mohammed, we have visited and stayed with in South Africa. Dirk stays connected on Facebook and we hope to meet them all together some day.

Through all the fun and laughter, there was a little voice that kept growing louder in all our heads each day ‘How are you going to get out ?’.

My Trek to the Everest Base Camp-Part 13

By the time I descended to Periche, I had made my peace with the incomplete climb. AMS might have succeeded in aborting my climb, but She could not take away the joy, the serenity I was experiencing. I had lost a little, but gained a lot. I had pushed my body well beyond its comfort zone, and had succeeded, mostly. I found new confidence in my physical abilities. And I had experienced Beauty, in Her truest form.

In Ajit’s absence, I got busy calculating the income of the owner of the Periche tea house (he was a millionaire), understanding Nepal’s maze of caste and communities and general chit chats with fellow trekkers. My only take away in that short time span was that the Sherpas were at the peak of the pyramid among the mountain communities of Nepal. They monopolized the most lucrative professions on the Everest Trail – owning Tea Houses and being Mountaineers. It was not uncommon for a retired Sherpa mountaineer to become a teahouse owner. But often, like, in the case of the Periche mountain palace teahouse, they had been wealthy for generations to own significant chunks of land along the trail, in the first place. Money begot Money, here. There were no heartwarming rags to riches stories here.

It was day 11, and I was having a relaxed breakfast –thinking I had one more rest day, when Ajit landed up –barely 24 hours after we parted ways in Dughla. Damn! This man was fast. Speedy Gonzales without his Snail Paced wife! I tried to lure him to stay back in Periche, but our man is a Race Horse with Blinders, remember? He had touched the finish line and now – all he wanted to do was to gallop back to Bangkok as soon as possible.

So I packed up, said my good byes and left.

As we got out, we noticed that the clouds had taken over the sky. If we had gone together, today would have been our day of ascent at Kala Patthar and there would have been no views! The Gods –or Mother Nature -had conspired to allow Ajit to experience the very last show. For a long, long time.

And we saw some clouds streaked a shade of purplish blue. Like they had just returned from a wild hair color experiment. I don’t know enough about clouds or mountains to know what caused that, but whatever that was, it was unusual and intriguing.

On the way down, Ajit started to remember that I was right there, behind him, chugging away. So slowed down at many places to talk with me. Finally. Couple Time. On this fortnight long couple-only trip. It was almost romantic.

We were both excited to head back to Trayi- our just to be 6 year old daughter. We had saved 2 days because of my premature descent and we wanted to surprise Trayi and Ajit’s parents by returning early.  And I started planning all the gifts I wanted to buy in Kathmandu – for my daughter, my husband’s parents, our friends who had helped us, the nanny, my parents back home, my trainer, etc. We had much to be grateful for and I wanted to share that with those close to us.  We had seen several things on our first day in Kathmandu, and we would have time to go back and pick up some nice souvenirs.

The first night, we stayed at one of the two teahouses at Phunki Tenga –yes, down from Periche, Orsho, Tengboche and half way to Namche. Coming down was fast for sure.

We spent much of the evening playing with a cute chubby pink cheeked, bright eyed 3 year old little girl – daughter of the owner – who increased our longing to go home.

Day 12 we retraced our path back to Namche. The cloud curtains stayed shut- just opening for a few minutes enroute not even allowing us to say a proper good bye.  We had lunch at Namche and as we continued down to the point where we had first seen Everest, we hoped She and her friends would emerge to give us a warm send off, but they all stayed hidden. It was as if the mountains needed a rest after putting up one dazzling show after the next for 10 days in a row. It felt incomplete, leaving like this – without saying a proper farewell, but Nature had decided otherwise

The 2^nd night of the descent, we trailed downwards of Namche and stayed at Monjo. As if making up for the complete absence of kids on the upwards journey, we met another local 4 year old rock star at Monjo. A compulsive performer, -and again the kid of the teahouse owner – this cute boy put on some music, climbed on a dinner table and started to dance. And kept dancing, till he was dragged away by his mom close to an hour later! Memory of our 5 year old daughter tugged our heart strings yet again.

At our Monjo tea –house, we met a group of first time mountaineers from USA. They mentioned to us that all flights to Lukla had been cancelled for 2 days now and that they had hired a chartered helicopter and flown in, as they did not want to lose time.  They were reticent and unfriendly, this group of mountaineers. Show-offs, Ajit and I concurred.

On day 13 – November 2 – we started the day early. It was cloudy and misty. We wanted to reach Lukla asap and attempt a fly back to Kathmandu the same day if possible. We were now unbathed since Periche and were reversing socks and other critical pieces of clothing to enable reuse.  The thought of a hot tub, a wonderful scrub and a relaxing foot massage back home, sounded inviting.

The last two days of descent had been intense and  I was exhausted by now. I found every step hard. We reached Phakding at lunch-time. After lunch, we proceeded to Thado Kosi – our first night stop.  Kusum Kanguru was hidden as well. We remembered Thado Kosi as a short walk from Lukla – so we sent Balaram ahead to see if he could get us in on the last flights for the day, or -more likely- on the flights for the next morning.

The way the flights worked in Lukla were that, by default, your tickets are open tickets- valid for any flight on your airline – on the day of your travel. Once you show up – the day prior to your travel –usually - you have the right to a confirmed seat on the day you are scheduled to fly. On other days, you can get a seat, if enough people for the day don’t turn up. This system works well, most of the time. Because, sometimes when you are trekking, you may either complete early or may decide to extend your stay.

So Balaram rushed ahead to Lukla to see if he could get us tickets either for the same day or the next morning. Yes it was cloudy, but maybe there would be a few flights we hoped.

Without Balaram by my side, bolstering me on, I slowed down so much, many people walking past me might have assumed I was stationary! I kept waiting for the trek to end, but it did not! Finally, with sweat trickling down my back and with mist covering our faces, we stepped into Lukla.

Balaram was waiting for us at the entry to Lukla. He had Good News and Bad News.

The Good News was that, although Lukla was crowded- this was peak trekking season and about 300-400 trekkers were returning to Lukla from the trail everyday -  he had found us room in a really nice teahouse that had a –much needed shared hot shower.

The Bad News was that what the Monjo mountaineers had said was indeed true. Bad Weather – the cloud curtain we had seen the entire route – had stopped all flights to and from Lukla for the last 3 days. The flights would resume only after the clouds decided to clear out of the sky. There were already several hundred trekkers in line, waiting for the flights to start. We were stranded in Lukla. Indefinitely.

My trek to the Everest Base Camp -Part 12

My ascent had ended, but Ajit's had not. 

Here is the rest of the climb, in his own words.  

" It was really difficult to walk away from Shweta from Dughla although I was doing that almost the entire trek except at tea houses, lunches and our stay at hotels. Having made such an effort, it was quite painful to see her go back to Periche. She was very determined to complete it but I guess she made the right decision.

The climb from Dughla towards Lobuche was very steep. The reduction in oxygen in the air 5000m level could be felt. The rest stops became a bit more frequent. At the top of the climb were the graves of most climbers who did not make it back but bodies were recovered. It was a reminder to all trekkers who is the boss.

The walk from there on was a bit gentler. I doubled up and reached Lobuche for lunch. I took a longer break to rest my legs for the final push to Gorak Shep. The trek from Lobuche was along the glacier. For a long period of time, I did not realize I was walking on ice – probably formed centuries back. The fury of the glaciers could be seen by how rocks had been pulverized into rocks stones and dust. It looked like an ice river with dust and stones. Some areas where ice was exposed looked like emerald. This part of the trek had absolutely no vegetation. Finally, I could see Gorak Shep at a distance and it was at the end of a final descent. I was happy to have made it on good time. I was thinking of taking some rest that day and go to Kala Pathar the next day.

Gorak Shep was located in the banks of a glacier lake that existed centuries ago. Now, all one could see is a flat lake bed. I checked into the Himalayan Lodge and sat down with a full house of trekkers for a cup of tea. I got talking with a German who I had met at various parts of the trek. He was planning to go up the Kala Pathar that afternoon as the skies were clear. I thought, if I peak Kala Pathar that afternoon, I could start back to Periche early next morning and be with Shweta by afternoon as most of the distance was a descent. I packed my smaller back pack and a bottle of water and went on to the final destination – peaking Kala Pathar (5550 m).

It was not a tough climb only 400m from Gorak Shep that was at 5150 m. This was probably the most difficult part of the entire trek. I had to stop every 10 steps to catch my breath. I used to count 10 and stop. My German friend was a lot faster and he had disappeared far ahead. As I got higher, the view became more and more spectacular. The climb seemed never ending and put my determination to test. The final stretch had no path; it was almost like rock climbing. I collected all the energy I had and gave it a final push. I reached out for my water and by this time, it was completely frozen.

I almost collapsed on top but when I turned around, what I saw was unreal. It was worth every bit of effort put in. I was at 5550 m above sea level and I was looking a three beauties that where 3000 m (3 km!) above me! The sun was on the way down and I could see clouds flowing in through the gaps between the mountains. The views in all direction were spectacular – I did not know where to look. One by one, the sun rays kissed the top of the tall mountains and they disappeared for a cool night’s rest. Only two remained – Sagarmata and Nuptse. They seem to be on fire – I did not know whether to take photos or just sit there and look at them. Then the last ray from the sun kissed Sagarmata good night. One last look and I started to descend. How I wished Shweta was with me to see this.

I did not realize what was ahead. The moment the sun goes behind the mountains, the light disappears in a hurry and so does the temperature. One thing I had forgotten to pack was a torch light! Very soon, I could not see where I was going. While climbing, one has a bit more control but downhill, gravity sometimes takes over. I do not remember the number of times I tripped. I started to get scared as most of the trekkers had zoomed past me. I had started making plans of spending the night behind a rock and survive till next morning. I thought I should scream to get some help. Then god intervened. A group of Scottish trekkers with headlamps were coming down. I requested them if they could slow down a bit and make me walk in the middle. They obliged. My heart rate came down and I felt safe.

That night, I had head ache but I knew I would be going downhill from now on. I got up early and wanted to get back to Shweta as soon as I could. I sat for a cup of porridge and I saw something I could not imagine – notice for the highest marathon in the world – Gorak Shep to Namche Bazar and back!!! And this has been going on for a while. The number of entries was limited and there are people who completed it as well. I thought probably in my next life if I am born a Sherpa.

I know now why people make this journey. It is one of the most unreal experiences I have had in my life. It was worth the effort, time, preparation, money, ….I was not sure whether I would be back in Gorek Shep again but bid good bye to a special experience.

As Shweta says, I had only one thing in my mind from there on – reach Periche as fast as I could. Down hill, next day - Day 11,  was not easy but made it 5 hours. Yes, I survived to tell the story."

My Trek to Everest Base Camp-Part 11

We started Day 9 with a hearty breakfast. I wished my mountain palace a reluctant good bye and we started for the day. The guide book said the climb would take 4-4.5 hours – 2 hours to Dughla(4620m) and then 2.5 hours to Lobuche (4940m). The guidebook recommended an optional stop at Dughla to better deal with AMS. We decided to try for Lobuche.

 

A bird(not likely at these heights) or a plane in sky, looking downwards at the path from Periche to Lobuche that morning would have seen scores of little specks all moving in the same direction – like ants on narrow trail. It was so crowded on the trail that morning, it was easy to forget that every one of those people had walked 40+ kms to get there.

 

It was a straight walk along the valley for about an hour. After which we started climbing a small hillock. Maybe all the walking had done me good, maybe I was thinner now – but this walk did not seem like a struggle. There was no breathlessness, either.

 

After the episode at Orsho, Balaram’s attitude towards me had shifted as well. He no longer tried to decide my capabilities. It was clear to him, as to me, that determination was carrying me forward. He decided he was here to take care of me – and he would just do the best job he could.

 

As we neared Dughla, we saw trekkers coming in from Dingboche as well. Dughla, situated at the edge of a glacial stream, next to a mountain pass- used to be a small village. But much of it had been washed off in floods in 2007. Now, the entire village consisted of 2 teahouses on a small flat landing next to the flowing river. Dughla was rugged and raw. From Dughla, towards the east, we saw a panoramic view of two peaks – Taboche(6542) and Cholatse(6440). Taboche and Cholatse were not entirely new – we had seen them at Periche as well- in fact from Periche, it appeared that one could summit these peaks with ease. But the view from Dughla was much more magical, more unreal – as they appeared together as twin imposing peaks in the skyline.

 

Lunch at Dughla was crowded with trekkers. So we ate a relaxed lunch, while chatting with a cute young German tour guide of a senior citizen tour group.

 

As we started out from Dughla, we met the 3 Philippino girls again. It was one straight steep climb to the top , where there were supposed to be the memorials to the lost climbers and Sherpas - people that died summiting the Everest. I started climbing slowly. Ajit went ahead. I must have gone up maybe a 100 meters, when She came back. In a different Avatar this time. As Giddiness. I sat down and waited for a few minutes to let Her pass. She Stayed.

 

I knew how to play Her game, this time. Descend. Wait overnight. Let her pass. Then continue. I told Ajit and Balaram we should descend to Dughla. And proceed again the next day. They agreed.

 

The teahouse at Dughla was chok-a block with trekkers staying over. We spent the afternoon there chit chatting with the others. We saw some old familiars and well as some new faces. She kept troubling me – lingering on, seeking my attention. I tried to drive Her away, with fluids, with Diamox. But, She stuck around, stubbornly.

 

I tried another approach : Sleep. Yes ! Sleep would fix the problem. The night would whisk Her away. But a walk in the middle of the night to attend Nature’s Call convinced me She was hanging on . Sitting on my head and spinning it around.

 

Morning brought Day 10, and She was still there. It was a game against time now. She had an infinite amount of it, I had only some. I weighed my options : I could go further down –back to Periche and wait her out-for another day may be. Maybe 2. And then try coming up again. It would take us 3-4 days to get to the top. And another 3-4 to get back to Lukla. But we would lose time, and we had a flight back to Bangkok in 6 days. And then there were the floods, my daughter, and my inlaws. We were both now itching to get back home, sooner if possible. But certainly not later. Time was not going to side me.

 
I made my decision. I would let Her win. Bow out of the game. But She would not have the joy of claiming 2 victories! Ajit would go ahead and complete what we started. I would descend to Periche and wait for him. And there would be no tears this time. Nothing to help Her rejoice.

I shared my plan with Ajit. He was torn. But agreed this was the best route. Balaram could drop me and come back to join him, I suggested. He said no. He would go alone. I was afraid. Ajit was a Racehorse with Blinders! What if he did not heed to Her arrival ? What if something happened ? But he was confident and adamant. So outside the dining hall at Dughla, we wished each other good bye.

 

Without me to slow him down, Ajit started his rapid climb upwards. I stayed few minutes longer. I needed to store the images in my head. The Mountains, the Stream, The Clouds, The Blue Skies. And the upward ascent to Lobuche, filled with gravel , that I would never complete. To imagine the rest of the sights I would never see. Kala Patthar. Gorak Shep. Lobuche. Base Camp.

 

And then, silently, I started my downward descent back to Periche. With Balaram next to me. Wishing Kala Patthar, and my decade old dream, Good Bye. It was over. She had won. AMS.

My Trek to the Everest Base Camp-Part 10

The gagging stopped. But ascending was Not An Option. Balaram was clear. We were in the midst of nothingness. There was nowhere to go. Just that lone teahouse in Orsho – where we had just had lunch. A kilometer away. Standing like a Lighthouse in an ocean of arid landscape. We headed back there. The tears were still flowing. Anger, Frustration, Disappointment, were all making their way out. And so were the Words. Which my husband bore silently. My punching bag. For no fault of his.

We stayed back at Orsho for the night. Just us, another couple from Germany, and the owners – a matriarch and her 2 daughters. And the howling wind.

Why Me ? I wondered ? Not fit enough ? But then I saw the uber-fit German man holed up with us –for the exact same reason. AMS.

AMS is like an evil witch. She seeks importance- a lot of it, and expects servility and respect from everybody who enters Her domain in the High Mountains. The higher you go, the more powerful She gets. Want to know Her power ? Try getting to the Everest by helicopter. Open the helicopter door and walk out –happy you have reached so high with no effort at all. You will drop dead instantly. AMS would have taken you. Every trekker plans for Her arrival. But, it is not the fattest one, nor the fittest one, She fingers. She picks Her targets randomly. Some, She just scares a little, some She troubles a lot more, and just so you never think She is benign- She keeps a few, never to return. She is the nightmare of trekkers and rescue teams alike. We heard rescue helicopters above us several times every day. Scurrying to take those hurt by Her to safer havens.

She shows Her presence in many ways, and  usually warns you by just hurting you mildly, at first. Sometimes, if you show Her respect, descend a little, and wait for Her to pass, She will forgive you. If you ignore Her and decide to push further anyways, Be Warned. Do at your own risk. AMS is vengeful.

At Orsho, after gagging me for a while, She vanished. Vanquished, we mistakenly assumed. So we decided we would continue our journey to Periche the next day. Besides, we would have an extra day in Periche to get acclimatized- to lie low so She will not trouble us again. We woke up early on Day 7 and made our way to Periche. AMS did not return.  It was bright, sunny, cold and beautiful. We reached quickly- in a couple of hours.

Sitting cozily next to a (currently dry) river bed, and tucked in a vale between 2 mountain ranges, sat Periche. I thought I had seen it all with Tengboche, but Periche was something else. Windy. Austere. Stark. Simple. Breathtaking. With the bluest of blue skies and the white mountain peaks rising behind it, Periche in itself was worth this entire trip.

Periche seemed larger than Tengboche, in both size and imagination. Periche had a small medical facility, a helipad for emergency evacuations, a research centre,  some shops and the best teahouse the entire trail had to offer.  It was also, obviously, chillier(daytime temperature with wind-chill was below freezing)  and windier here than any other place on the trail yet. Stone walls lined every teahouse- every plot of land in this village. To break the wind’s fall, in the absence of trees, apparently.  

We headed to our tea-house The Himalayan Hotel. The minute I entered, I knew I was in a mountain palace. With its wooden, glass topped, sundeck; carpeted hallways; western toilets; hot water baths- this was teahouse heaven. We reached the hotel when the last batch of trekkers had left and the next batch had not yet arrived. We had the hotel to ourselves, almost. We showered in hot water, washed clothes, relaxed in the sun room, ordered from their bakery, borrowed books from the small library, and checked email on the owner’s laptop. This was the first day it felt like normal vacations usually do. Comfortable, Cozy Warm. And we had 2 full days of this-Day 7 and Day 8. Pure Indulgence.

But checking mail and checking the news after several days brought its own downsides. I got sucked into the world back home. The flood situation seemed to have worsened. Some friends had left town to escape the worst. The water could come to  Sukhumvit any day now. And there was the risk of the airport been shut off. I reconfirmed the situation on the millionaire owner’s private  TV.  I wanted to get back home to my baby immediately. I had seen enough, done enough. I wanted to go home. Now. I felt guilty, torn, like I was abdicating my responsibility. But Ajit wanted to go on. We were so near now- just 2 days away- that Ajit wanted to complete what he started. Race horse with Blinders!

We decided to leave the decision to my husband’s parents. We made them an urgent call. Despite their nervousness (as I later found out) – they urged us to continue. I considered the option of letting Ajit complete, while I stayed on at Periche. We would save time as he was faster. But my Mind whispered a taunt ‘ You want to give up, don’t you?’.

‘I Do Not’ I screamed back. ‘Why would I, after everything I have been through?’ ‘Maybe you are afraid’ He countered. He was right. I was. Afraid and nervous. But I could not let Him know. So I lied back ‘No I am Not’.

Afraid or not, I had come too far to stop now.  We had travelled around 40 k.ms already ( distance estimates all from the WWW, taken right now), and ascended 1.5 k.ms vertically over the last one week. We only had 2 more night stops : Lobuche(4940), and then one at Gorak Shep (5164) with a quick day-trip to Kala Patthar. So Close. And AMS had been Vanquished. I got ready for Day 9.

But She lay there quietly, waiting for the final battle. AMS.

My Trek to everest Base camp. Part 9.

What does it feel like to have the tallest mountain in the world looking over your shoulder as you try to finish breakfast? Unreal, Unnerving. Exhilarating.

We had woken up on Day 6 to clear skies and the rising sun was throwing his rays on Everest. Everest seemed closer, larger than ever. Towering over us, in her full glory. We felt small in her company, but privileged to see her so close. There were her friends as well, Lhotse, Nuptse, Ama Dablam, Pumori. Thamserku and Kangtega were far away now. Does it really get better than this? I wondered. If there was a place where heaven meets the earth, this must be it.

The monastery at Tengboche added to the spiritual feel of this little place. Our entire journey had been marked with Buddhist Chortens and Mani Stones and Gompas. The Gompa at Tengboche was supposedly the largest in the region. It was amazing to me in erstwhile Hindu Kingdom Nepal, the Himalayan mountains were almost exclusively Buddhist. Maybe centuries of trade with Tibet over the mountains had cemented this bond? Maybe here in the mountains, the bonds with Tibet were stronger than those in the plains ? Maybe there had been several  migrations over the years ? The reasons are  not relevant, I guess.
 

As we were gaining elevation, the temperature was beginning to drop as well.  We were in the end of October and we were getting one day closer to winter each day. In the mountains, the temperature dropped by several notches as soon the sun went down or hid behind the clouds. And then there was the wind factor, which added to the unpredictability. So the temperature changed rapidly several times a day. Hence the need to layer up or down, constantly. From Namche onwards, night time temperatures were already below freezing. As the day wore on, the temperature rose slowly to hit its daily maximum- which at Tengboche would be in mid-single digits that day. So, it was a shivering morning.

The guide book had recommended an optional additional rest day at Tengboche, but Ajit did not want us to take it. We should save up the spare days for emergencies, he felt.

Our target for the day was Periche (4240). Periche was another mandatory acclimatization point, like Namche. The guide book said we would take 3.5-4 hours. There were two choices for the next overnight stop – Periche- where we were headed, or Dingboche. Balaram had decided that Periche was the better choice for us – it was the last outpost –and the only one after Namche – to have any medical facilities! With only 400 meters of ascent and hardly significant descent , today was going to be easy.

Balaram had urged us to leave early. There was a wind tunnel zone between Shomare and Periche -during the latter half of the trek for the day. These winds, which intensified in the late afternoon, affected  visibility and we would have to fight it and move forward. He wanted us to complete that portion as soon as possible. So we skipped visiting the monastery and got going, even before the sun was fully out.

We exited Tengboche by going down  into a dense treescape. There were a few hamlets in quick succession here. At one open patch, the dew drops on the grass had frozen to create a complete patch of shining white blades. It was like each blade was a large, individual snowflake, reflecting rays of the morning sun!

We continued our downward trajectory till we met  the galloping Imla Khoja. We crossed the bridge and started climbing upwards towards Pangboche.  
 

We were nearing the 4000 mark now and the vegetation started to change. Trees got replaced by small shrubs. Soon, these would vanish as well, till we were surrounded by a rugged, desert landscape. There would no longer be enough oxygen in the air for anything to sprout.

We crossed Pangboche, Shomare and reached Orsho. It was noon. We were barely two hours (at my pace) from Periche. We had also just crossed the 4000 mark. High Five!

Orsho had one solitary teahouse, situated at the end of wide cliff. Already above the treeline, Orsho was situated at the edge of the wind tunnel. The winds at these elevations were evil, because there was no vegetation to break their tempo. We could already see that the drafts were noisy and strong. Balaram was getting jittery. If it got worse, the next stretch would be impossible for me to negotiate, he feared. As we sat for a quick lunch, we heard the violent gale roar by outside.

After lunch, as we headed out, we saw that the terrain was mostly flat and the climb gentle. But the blast was against us.  Balaram requested me : I could double up couldn’t I? Just for this next stretch ? So we made it to Periche in good time ? Of course.

Ajit decided to trail me for a change. He gave me an IPod, I starting dancing as I was walking. Ta ta ta ra…one jig, one step, Ta ta ta ra..I should do this music thing more often, I remember thinking…
 

Then, She attacked me from behind, suddenly. The Coward. AMS. She wrapped Her Evil Fingers around my throat. Tight. I could not breathe. I was Gasping. Choking. Ta ta ta ra - the music played on. As I gagged. Trying to get in one morsel of air. Ajit came running. Balaram looked on, shocked. Then, Balaram made a decision : No further. Today. And tears began to flow freely. Mine. And Balaram’s.

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.