Into the Mountains

Three Passes: Week One

We are back in Kathmandu! Trekking across some of the highest mountain passes in the world was stupendous.

We began by flying from Kathmandu to Lukla. Over the next 20 days, we climbed our way to Chhukung, crossing the 5535m (18,159 ft) Kongma La Pass to Lobuche and Everest Base Camp, continued over the 5420m (17,782 ft) Cho La Pass to Gokyo, then crossed the 5345m (17,536) Renjo La Pass to Thame and Namche Bazaar.

Our first week, from Lukla to Chhukung, was a period of adjustment to our heavy packs, increasingly high altitudes, and jaw-dropping sights. Acclimatisation required patience — first because of the simple breathlessness and fatigue of our oxygen-thirsty blood, and second because we had to force ourselves to ascend slowly (typically no more than 300m/day — always “walking high and sleeping low”) to avoid altitude sickness. We had plenty of reminders to proceed vigilantly, from creative warning signs and helicopters plucking up fellow sick trekkers, to seeing a patient in a pressurization bags in a very life-threatening case. We took small doses of Diamox, to help our bodies adapt.

The trail took us from Lukla, home to the dubious honor of the “most dangerous runway in the world,” a steep pitch that plummets off a cliff nearly 10,000ft above sea level; up through the Sherpa villages of Phakding, Monjo and Benkar to the trading center of Namche Bazaar; past Tengboche Monastery, where monks bless climbers headed for the high peaks; and along the Imja Khola river to a valley just to the east of Mt. Everest in the shadow of Lhotse and Nuptse, some of the highest peaks in the world.

The surroundings were extraordinary. Snow-dusted mountains, blooming wildflowers, lush side valleys, and vibrant religious structures. The rules of the road were simple: walk clockwise around Buddhist manis, chortens, and stupas; and stay uphill of yaks to avoid getting pushed off a cliff. Like wind-chimes, accompanying us along the trails were the ring of spinning prayer wheels, and the gentle clanging of yak’s bells.

There are no roads in the Khumbu, just trails. For the duration of our trek, we did not see a single car, motorbike, or bicycle. Every ounce of cement and grain of rice must be carried by yak, donkey or human porter. It’s no wonder that prices reflected weight, with beer costing an extravagant $8/can, compared to lodging at $2/night. The porters amazed us with their strength and stamina, some carrying over 200 pounds in a single load — and often wearing flip flops! Most trekkers had a personal porter to carry their belongings, a luxury (and local economic support) we much admired, though we personally enjoyed the independence and challenge of lugging our own gear.

We stayed in dormitory-style lodges, called teahouses. Though they were very simple (and unheated) with rooms of paper-thin plywood and shared bathrooms, all had wonderful and cozy dining rooms where trekkers would gather around a pot-belly stove (usually fueled by yak dung, as we were almost entirely above the tree-line) to swap stories, play cards, or read. We met people from dozens of countries, and it was not uncommon to hear five or more languages being spoken across a single dining room. While each of us had our own pace and itinerary, one of the most special parts of trekking was running into many of the same familiar faces a couple days or weeks later, in a teahouse or along a trail, and catching up on each other’s latest adventures and advice.

The most hearty and traditional lunch or dinner option was daal bhat: white rice, lentils, and curried vegetables. In addition to being healthy, daal bhat was all you can eat. After tiring of it, we branched out and tried various combinations of potatoes, noodles, eggs, and yak cheese. Particularly on longer hiking days, our diet was well-supplemented by a large quantity of Snickers bars purchased prior to the trek. Breakfast was usually porridge. Our one morning indulgence was bringing coffee and miniature drip filters from our favorite Brooklyn gourmet grocer.

The weather was spectacularly beautiful and predictable. Mornings were crisp and clear. Every day we awoke with the sun at 5:30am to get on the trail and enjoy this finest part of the day. By early afternoon, clouds rolled in off the high peaks, and we often had snow showers before dusk. We were in our sleeping bags no later than 7pm, as the sun set and the temperatures dropped. The weather got colder as we got higher. By the time we reached Chhukung, we often awoke to find that our water bottles were frozen.

In some areas, we saw signs of damage from the April 2015 earthquake. We’d been warned to check carefully to ensure villages were operating lodges and trails were not destroyed. However, as one Sherpa explained to us “where there’s money, there’s rebuilding,” and indeed along this tourist-trafficked region, the pace of recovery was extraordinary. Without the same foreigner flows, it was sadly at many of the slightly off the beaten path gompas (monestaries) where we observed the extent of ongoing devastation.

More to come as we re-cap weeks #2 and #3….