Everest Exploits Part One: Getting There

So we waved goodbye to Ms Libra and Bluey on Saturday 4 November and relocated ourselves to the very swanky Shangri-La Hotel to begin Phase 3 of our Very Big Adventure - Island Peak. We had a group briefing that afternoon, which was our first meeting with the 10 other people on the trek - and how intimidating half of them looked too! Big brawny blokes they were! And, oh phew, 2 other women. We got to try on climbing boots - tres tres chic - and had our gloves, packs and sunglasses inspected by our trek leader, Pasang Sherpa, who has climbed Everest! Yes indeedy, our very own celebrity!

Monday we all got up at the crack of dawn to have breakfast then head out to the airport for the 40 minute flight to Lukla, the gateway to the Everest region. Now, the planes they use are little 16-seater Twin Otters in which the seatbacks fold down whenever not in use, or when gripped in terror by the person behind. So imagine this....12 trekkers wearing their ever so flexible and dainty plastic climbing boots (there's baggage weight restrictions, don't you know), 6 of whom are bloody big blokes all squeezing onto this wee wee plane and being greeting by an airhostess offering cotton wool and a boiled lollie - Yeti Airlines really raises the bar when it comes to inflight service. For most of the flight's duration, there was a complacent hum of conversation in the cabin (Hamish even managed to fall asleep - "gotta get it when you can" - despite the people clambering over him to get their first views of Everest) but this soon turned to sounds of fear and consternation when people caught sight of the "airstrip" at Lukla. Some quotes:

"You're f***** kidding! We're landing on that?"

"Jesus christ. No way!"

"Oh shit. I'm gonna die."

"ohmygodohmygodohmygod"

and then as we landed:

"F**** awesome man"

The airstrip at Lukla is a STOL (Short Take Off and Landing) and slopes upwards towards a bloody big rock wall (a braking aid, apparently). From the air, it appears about the size of a bandaid, with a sheer drop at one end, a mountain at the other and lots of things to crash into - like other mountains, gorges, lodges and a river - if the pilot misses the bandaid. Suffice to say, we landed safely and were quickly bundled off to our lunchtime lodge whilst Pasang organised porters, loads and equipment. Unfortunately, we had to effect a smart evacuation when Robert rather suddenly vomited all over the floor! Ooops. Sadly, Robert never finished the trip. He struggled to Namche Bazaar ( a two day hike away from Lukla) where he had a rather serious diabetic seizure and nearly died. Kind of made my chest infection and David's D&V (Diarrhoea & Vomiting) pale in comparison. So then we were eleven......

Pokhara pleasures and perils

Almost as soon as we arrived at the Fairmount Hotel at Pokhara, we went in to lunch where we struck up a conversation with an elderly American woman at the next table. She had just returned from her first and only day on trek, having enormous difficulty negotiating the big steps on the trail! She planned to spend the next two weeks whilst she waited for her trek group to finish their trek just pottering around Pokhara going on day trips more suited to her "almost 80 year old body."

Later in the afternoon when Smithy and I were returning to the hotel after a huge spending spree, I spotted the "American Lady" walking down the street with a man, but didn't wave or call out as they were deep in conversation. Minutes later, there was a huge cry of horror, and hundreds of people rushed to the intersection behind us. It seemed that someone had been hit. Smithy decided to stay out of it, despite her nursing expertise, because there were just too many people to battle through. We were looking through some greeting cards when the shopowner's sons came running back from the melee confirming that someone had been hit and that it looked as if their leg was broken and they had gashes on their face and hands. We continued on our way and I said to Smithy " I hope it's not the American Lady." I don't know what made me say that, just the coincidence of seeing her in the street just before the accident, I guess.

Half an hour later we had to go back down the street cos we'd forgotten to buy coffee. There was still a huge crowd outside the supermarket and 3 ambulances! At least whoever the poor bugger was, they were getting medical attention. It was only at dinnertime that we discovered, to our horror, that it was the American Lady who had been hit! She had been hit, knocked down and run over by a vehicle that had swerved to avoid her companion and hit her instead. The poor thing had a broken leg and pelvis. Luckily, an Israeli doctor had been right on the scene, so Margaret, as we found was her name, was well looked after until the ambulances came. The driver's company was really good, paying for the ambulances and sending a liaison person to the hospital to look after all her needs and one to the hotel to help organise her evacuation to Kathmandu and later the States. We never did hear the final outcome for Margaret as we left Pokhara on 1 November, but plans were underway to fly her to Kathmandu and her son was on his way from the States. We hope she's going to be alright.

As I mentioned in the previous post, Smithy and I visited the three children we sponsor through World Vision on 31 October. After a bit of driving around in circles whilst the taxi driver tried to find the WV office, we were treated to a slideshow presentation of the office's work and a tour of the building before taking another taxi out to Begnas Tal, a lovely lake, to meet the children and their mothers. Smithy's two children, S.B. and P.G. arrived shortly after we did and gave us lots of mandarins and some flowers. Smithy gave them each a bag of presents - colouring books, pencils, soft toy and a T-shirt - and we all stood around grinning shyly at each other. We couldn't get a word out of the kids! I finally had the bright idea of bringing out my mini album of family photos and showing them to the mums and this broke the ice and we were able to "chat" with the kids and their mums. I handed out slices of rather melted birthday cake and we all took photos whilst waiting for my boy A.B. to arrive. It turned out he had come, but since no-one was there, was taken back to the fields by his parents. A couple of WV staff were sent off to get him back and we were just making alternative plans to meet him later at the office when he arrived with his mother, sister and grandmother. More shy smiles and photographs and then we got the frisbees out and had a great time playing together. All too soon it was time to leave and amid repeated questions from the kids and mums about when we would come back to Nepal and visit again, we made our goodbyes and caught the taxi back to the WV office.

Even though it was a little awkward to begin with and communication was difficult with our very limited Nepali, it was an absolute buzz to meet "our" kids. We love getting their letters and to see them in the flesh, looking healthy and happy, and to know that we are in a small way helping to improve their lives and that of their community is humbling but uplifting.

Annapurna Adventures

The first few days of the trek are hot and sweaty as we pant and groan our way up the trail. Donkey trains tinkle their way past us in both directions, butterflies flit by, waterfalls roar, terraced rice fields zigzag dizzyingly up the hills, suspension bridges sway and bounce beneath us and mountains appear majestically above us - big, white and surreal against the blue sky. Everything is green and lush after the monsoons, and still hot. We look forward to reaching cooler altitudes once we're past Tal.

The weather does get cooler - and so do the showers. Smithy and I have decided not to bother with the cold trickles that pass for showers in these parts, but Bluey and Ms Libra can't quite bring themselves to lose this particular facet of 'civilisation'. I admire their stoicism but stick with the bowl of 'washie water' I get every now and again.

Faces are becoming familiar on the trail now and we hail people as if they are old friends as we cross paths in the villages each night. There's the "Polish people", as we dub them. They seem to always end up staying in the same lodge as us. We think they're a family - Mum and Dad and adult daughter and husband - but find out much later they are two unrelated couples and that Victek (the older man) was Tomasc's professor at university. There's also the "Two-Stick Woman" travelling by herself with a porter and a guide. She walks really really slowly but still ends up in the same village as everyone else at the end of the day. We lose track of her on the walk from Tal to Chame - that's a huge day and many people stop instead at Danaque. Which is where we surmise "Scaredy-cat" and her husband end up. We first thought she was vision-impaired because of the way he held her arm all the time and the slow slow pace they went at. Nope, she's just scared stiff of going up, going down and crossing suspension bridges - she actually came to a complete halt halfway across one and screamed because it was swaying from the 25 porters, trekkers and villagers behind her. Give them credit though, they did make it to Manang and probably went over Thorung La - since we sidetrekked into Tilicho Lake, we lost track of them.

By the time we reached Manang, Ms Libra was suffering from a raging toothache and was not well at all. She saw the local doctor, who turned out to be the cousin of one of our guides and the brother of the other (small world!) and was given a fist full of antibiotics and painkillers and told to stay away from hot, cold and sweet foods and drinks. We all prayed she would be well enough to enjoy her birthday two days hence.

Whilst in Manang, we visited a couple of old old monasteries. The one in Braga is about 600 years old and full of ancient statues. Some ancient locals were beginning a prayer session when we visited and we received a blessed string from the not so ancient monk. Smithy and I were really happy to see this monastery, as in 2004, we staggered up the 200 steep steps to find the place locked up! The four of us also visited the 400 year old Karke Monastery, with its original wall paintings and massive, ancient wooden pillars. The very young monk - from Bhutan - gave us another blessed string to wear around our necks and some blessed pills to eat.

From Manang, most people head up the trail towards Thorung La - the 5416m pass. We headed instead out west to Khangsar to begin our sidetrek to Tilicho Lake, the highest lake in the world at around 5000m. Ms Libra and Bluey had already decided they were not going to attempt the walk into Tilicho Base Camp as they did not feel confident enough to negotiate the tricky trails and Ms Libra still wasn't feeling the best. They would stay at Khangsar and meet us on our way out to Yak Kharka.

We reached Khangsar on 18 October - Ms Libra's birthday. Unbeknownst to her, the box young Bukta ("Buddha") was carrying contained her birthday cake. It had been ordered in Braga and Kuman had sent young Dawa, the porter, back down to Braga that morning to collect it. Kuman was so excited about it being Ms Libra's birthday, we barely finished lunch before he brought the cake out. It was delicious! A big, chocolate mud cake beautifully decorated. There was so much, even after handing slices out to all the lodge staff, that we ended up giving a good third of it to the "Polish people". They had been inspired by our talk of Tilicho Lake and after coming up to Khangsar for an acclimatisation walk, had decided to go on to Tilicho! They sang a very nice Polish song to Ms Libra, wishing her a long life and ate the cake before dinner since it looked so good.

Next day we woke up to find it had snowed! Everything was covered in a magical blanket of white. Smithy, Kuman and I walked through a winter wonderland to Tilicho Base Camp. An utterly fantastic walk through snow-covered juniper bushes, fantastical rock formations, and a starkly beautiful landslip area to the one and only lodge that comprises Tilicho Base Camp. There were a lot of people there and we had a very social time chatting away the afternoon. The Polish people turned up after initially deciding the weather looked too dodgy to come. We shared our trekking bread and vegemite with them - which, to our astonishment, they really liked!!!

It snowed again overnight but had stopped by the time we stumbled out of our dormitory beds at 5am. Despite the gloomy weather we set off for the lake which was a good 2-3 hours walk away. It began snowing again and got heavier and heavier until it was blowing in our faces and we couldn't see the hills a mere 100 metres across the valley. Concerned about the track back and knowing there'd be no visibility at the lake, we turned back. There were a few scary moments when both Smithy and I slipped and fell on the icy trail, but we made it safely back to Base Camp to find everyone evacuating out! We later found out that all 45 people who set out for the lake had to turn back. After a quick hot drink, we headed back along the trail to our rendevous with Ms Libra and Bluey at the one-lodge place called Sheree. We got there just after 11am, puzzled to find they had not arrived. They still hadn't arrived when we'd finished our lunch an hour later. Kuman had been hoping we would walk onto Yak Kharka, thus saving a day, in the afternoon, but we couldn't do that until the others arrived. He sent our porter, Pasang, down to Khangsar to find out what was happening. Having to wait for his return scotched all plans for moving up to Yak Kharka and Smithy and I enjoyed sitting in the sun, chatting to a couple of young women and watching the mountains. Pasang reappeared a couple of hours later clutching a red envelope. It was a letter from Ms Libra and Bluey and it spelled doom. Ms Libra had altitude sickness - just to add to her woes - and they needed to descend. Kuman went down with Pasang (Dawa had meanwhile arrived with our kitbag) to organise the descent and Smithy and I were left alone in the silence of Sheree (all the other trekkers had moved up to Yak Kharka). It was magnificent! Not a sound. No babble of voices. Nothing but the wind. We exulted in the peace and tranquility, watching Gangapurna, Khangsar Kang, the Grand Barrier and Annapurna III emerge from the clouds.

So, the new plan was that Ms Libra and Bluey would trek back to Besi Sahar and catch the bus to Pokhara where we would meet them after having gone over Thorung La and down the Kali Gandaki valley.

Well, you know what happens to plans.....Smithy and I moved up to Yak Kharka next day - a whole day behind all those people we'd befriended - and I got sick with a stomach bug (probably picked up at the less than sanitary Tilicho Base Camp). That and the continuing snow was enough to convince us to also head back down instead of going over the pass. Instead of moving up to Thorung Phedi, we went back to Manang and next day put in an eight hour effort to get to Chame to catch up with Ms Libra and Bluey. Along the way, we had more magical moments walking through snow covered pine forests.

Reunited in Chame, we all continued our hike down to Besi Sahar. And had a great time. Saw things we hadn't seen on the way up, staying in different villages, meeting new people, exulting in the ease in which we descended hills that only a week or so earlier had sweated and grunted our way up and enjoying hot showers and cold beers!

Spent my birthday on 30 Oct travelling on another local bus from Besi Sahar to Pokhara. Treated myself to a birthday pizza that night and yes, I got a cake too! A lovely coffee cake that again, was too much for us all and so I took it the following day to share with the three children Smithy and I sponsor through World Vision....but that's another post!

The wheels on the bus go round and round...

October 11: We leave Kathmandu today to start our Annapurna Circuit trek. The alarm goes off at 5.30am. Ms Libra and Bluey join us in our room for breakfast of danishes and coffee, then it's off to the bus station to catch the 'local' bus to Besi Sahar. To begin with, our bus is only half full and the only other westerners are a French couple sitting across the aisle. There are two types of buses in Nepal - local and tourist - and the only difference is that the tourist buses don't pick anyone up en route. As the hours went by, the empty seats filled up. Women sat on cane stools in the aisle. Men hung on to the overhead rails. A kitten meowed from under the sari of the old lady down the back. The old lady sitting in the aisle next to me threw up. The baby two stools back threw up as well. So did the old lady with the kitten. I nearly threw up out the window (I'm what's known as a sympathic vomiter - I'll erk up if you do!) Two people sat on my armrest. I held umbrellas and handbags and squeezed a little boy into the space between my knees and the partition separating my seat from the front steps. A teenaged girl hangs onto the rail above me and snaps chewing gum in my ear - thankfully not for too long as we finally arrive in Besi Sahar. We have an hour to wait until the bus leaves again for Khudi - 9 kilometres further up the 'road'. Last time Smithy and I did this trek, Besi Sahar was the end of the road and we passed buses bogged in the ruts of the track leading to Khudi.

The bus reappears and we saunter over to it - only to be bowled over by the 3oo people who have materialised out of nowhere and who are now fighting tooth and nail to get onto 'our' bus. I scramble over the back of a woman trying to claim precedence since she has a child, and claw my way onto the bus where Smithy is trying to eject another woman from my seat. Two westerners are in Bluey and Ms Libra's seats but Bluey manages to move them by the simple expediency of pointing out that the water bottles they are sitting on belong to her. The bus moves off with 20 people still clinging to the doors and we watch in horror as we pass Ms Libra and our guide, Kuman, still standing by the roadside! Stop the bus! We haul them up the steps and continue on the bumpy ride to Khudi. I now have 3 people sitting on my armrest, two balanced on the aforementioned partition, and one on my lap. Smithy says I'm the lucky one cos at least I can't see out the window and down the vertical gorge that the bus lurches towards everytime it hits a pothole.

There's more madness at Khudi as every porter in Nepal descends on the bus and its baggage. Kuman beats them off with a stick and after a few short minutes in which we put on our boots and daypacks, we're off for a 45 minute walk to Bhulebule and our first night's lodgings. Ah, it's good to be walking and to leave the mayhem of the city behind us. Goodbye traffic. Goodbye mobile phones. Goodbye tooting horns. Goodbye hawkers. Goodbye telly. Goodbye hot showers.