Onward and Upward

 "The way to Everest is not a Yellow Brick Road."

- John Krakauer

Day 8 began at a moderate 8,700 feet in Phakding.  We strapped on our muddy, dung covered boots and continued in the valley until reaching the Sagarmatha National Park entrance after the village of Monjo.  “Sagarmatha” is the Nepalese word for Mount Everest.  The Park entrance was clogged up with hikers, climbers and porters and I had to wait some time before Pancha was able to secure all the proper permits and licenses to hike further into the park.  It’s a choke point for everyone who plans to do anything recreational in the Everest Region of the Himalayas.  I sat down on a wooden bench in the shade and relaxed for about an hour while Pancha stood in line.  The check point is guarded not by national park rangers, but by the Nepalese military who carried old M16’s and wore state issued camouflage.  Clearly keeping hikers safe and poachers out was a priority in Nepal.  They also had to watch for illegal guide services and phony hiking permits.  It was a busy place, especially after being isolated the week prior.

                After we’d entered the park the trail continued along the Dudh Koshi River and over it three more times using high suspension bridges.  When crossing suspension bridges you had to be very careful because of high winds from up the valley and the narrow lane for foot traffic.  Prayer flags hung from the railings and helped as you walked - for wind direction and moral support.  The last bridge crossed high over where the Dudh Koshi meets the Bhote Koshi.  From then on we wouldn’t cross another river for a few days.  We were finally about to rise above tree line.  The surrounding woods were full of Hagas Pines and other evergreens, spread out like the trees surrounding Lake Tahoe.  A steady 2 hour climb through them and suddenly our world gave way to nothing but air.  The sky opened up and for the first time since I began hiking I was struck with that feeling you sometimes get when nature doesn’t make sense.  No longer was Mount Kongde peaking at us through the trees and the hills, but now she was towered over us with nothing to hide her.  Every ridge and every glacier laid so near I could have reached out and touched them.  Never before had I seen such a colossal mountain.  Of course that would soon change. 

                So we had made it to the legendary Namche Bazaar which sits at 11,286 feet.  Now it was time to rest.  Pushing any further without taking at least 24 hours to adjust would put us in danger of altitude sickness.  It was a welcome change of pace at night knowing I would be relaxing the next day.  It was beginning to get cold now that we were higher up with no trees to block the wind.  Clear skies at night meant the following day would be even colder with no clouds to trap the heat radiating off the mountains.  I didn’t explore Namche Bazaar much before turning in for the night.  I figured there’d be plenty of time for that the next day.  I slept like a rock.

                Day 9 saw us get up around 7:00am and on the trail by 7:30am.  We left our packs at the teahouse.  The plan was to do a very short day hike up to the Mount Everest View Hotel and come back down.  After all, it was a rest day; we didn’t want to push it.  It’s challenging to describe how big these mountains are.  As we walked uphill above Namche we began to see - one by one - the highest mountains on the planet: first, of course was our old friend Kongde Ri, then came Thamserku and Ama Dablam.  Tabuche and Kangtega were present.  Mount Lohtse, the fourth highest mountain on Earth came into view a few hundred yards later.  Though we could see Lohtse as clear as day, just over its shoulder there was a mass of clouds where Mount Everest should have been.  I guess she decided it was not the day to reveal her-self.  Still, the others were beyond impressive.  Ama Dablam in particular; she is so steep it’s hard to imagine people have climbed her… but they have; at least that’s what I was told – what proof is there?  What I saw suggested it was impossible.

                 So we walked a bit further under the invigorating rays of sunshine and then stopped for some coffee and tea at the hotel.  It was nice to get some shade and to sit in a chair for once.  So far everything I had sat on was either a rock or a wood bench.  It’s amazing what a little back support can do for your moral after 9 days in the mountains.  We waited as we sipped our coffee for the clouds to clear and a good view of Mount Everest, but nothing changed.  It was obvious it wouldn’t any time soon.  In the afternoon I took a nap and woke with a slight headache, no doubt due to the elevation.  It was getting colder too.  Some hikers on their way down told us it only got colder the further up you went, reaching temperatures as low as -19° F at the village of Gorak Shep.  I was careful not to believe their numbers exactly, but it was a good reminder to buy an extra fleece layer before I left Namche Bazaar the following morning.

                The trail went level on day 10 as we hiked above Namche once more, this time more to the east.  The hill we ascended was to our left and the valley dropped off to our right.  We continued like this until making a turn just below a spectacular cliff-side.  Once again the valley was straight ahead.  Ama Dablam was ever closer, as was Lohtse.  And just beyond the summit of Lohtse, clear as day, unimaginably high, iconic, was the summit of Mount Everest.  I wasn’t prepared to get emotional, it just sort of happened.  Tears of joy began to well up just as Pancha slapped me on the back.  I turned to him and gave him a high five and big hug.  We still had a long way to go to Everest Base Camp, but it was a moment for celebration none the less.  Snow drifted from the summit and shot off to the east.  I could only imagine how different it was up there than down where we were, bathed in sunshine and what passes for warmth in the Himalayas.  Perhaps it was the proudest moment of my life.

                It was short lived however, because after the next few miles, we again descended to a valley crossing and began a long march – the longest and steepest of the trip so far – up to Tengboche village which sits at 12,664 ft.  On the way up we passed many hikers with the question “when does this end” written on their sweaty faces.  “Bistari, Bistari” means “Slowly, Slowly” in Nepalese, and it is the most useful thing to remember if you only remember one thing.  It was downright cold in Tengboche when we visited the monastery across from the tea house.  Clouds had set in and light was

fading.  Monks were praying and we went in to listen.  Sitting in a line were five of them droning out prayers in a low murmur.  Pancha walked down the aisle to make an offering to Buddha while I sat cross legged on the cold floor for a half an hour entranced by the ritual.  Huge prayer wheels the size of trucks rang outside the monastery.  The clouds rolled in even more.  At this point I’d say it was fog.  We couldn’t see the tea-house 50 yards away, or the yaks grazing in front of it.  After some more tea and a quick dinner, I settled in for what would be the coldest night so far.  When the sun came out the next morning and the fog had lifted, I sat down outside and did nothing but soak in the sunlight for every last degree it had to give me.  Every now and then I felt something that’s hard to explain but amounts to a very peaceful feeling.

                Some parts of the trail from Tengboche to Dingboche were treacherous, though not particularly steep.  They cut through fresh landslides that no doubt were the result of the earthquake a few years before.  The rock and debris was a lighter color than the surrounding terrain and still clearly unstable.  I caught myself holding my breath as we traversed it, worried that at any moment it could give way and send me rolling in a dry avalanche all the way down to the valley below.  At least I’d have one hell-of-a final ride, I thought.  At this altitude, yaks replace mules and donkeys.  They’re the pack animal that brings it home to the finish line for all those expeditions to Everest Base Camp.  They’re ideally built for the cold air and high altitudes above tree-line.  It gave me some peace to know that if any of these landslides were ready to go, it would probably be the yak trains that triggered them and not the 120lb soaking wet Pancha, or myself, even with a pack that was probably too heavy.  We made it to Dingboche at 13,976 feet just fine, and in time to beat the incoming weather that would drop a fresh few inches of snow in the mountain passes.  We were scheduled to acclimate here just as we had in Namche, for two nights.  It would be the highest elevation I’d ever slept at, beating out Soraypampa Camp in the Andes a few years back.  I was now in uncharted territory.