Category: Gokyo and Everest Base Camp

Sunday January 13th, 2019.

Amazingly this is Day 18. Coming down is all part of the experience, and allows a retrospective contemplation, but while most trekkers stop at Lukla, and then take a plane ride back to Kathmandu, with more time on our hands we have elected to walk out to Salleri, the way we had come in. Today is quite a long day and we only reach a village beyond Phakding, and  close to Lukla, by dusk.

Somehow Madhu has found a homestay, rather than a trekking lodge, so it is very pleasant to stay in an actual house, which has a great deal of good quality wood on the first floor as partitioning walls, and the base of the house is in handsome stone blocks. However, this is a rebuilt house, as the area was affected by the recent earthquake.

While we wait with anticipation for the evening Dhal Bhat, I notice that in addition to a gas ring in the kitchen, there is a wood burning stove-cooker, but that the lady of the house is operating it with the door open, feeding logs into the glowing interior. I comment that it would use less wood and probably be hotter if they just closed the door, but there is attachment to old ways, maybe she feels she has more control over how fast the wood will burn by delaying the push of the log in further. Well, I have said my piece; whether it changes anything, as often, I won’t be here to see.

Monday 14th January, 2019: Lukla to Bupsa

Certainly, if you don’t fly out from Lukla, there is no alternative but to keep walking! And today we are reminded that the way in was very much up and down, and the reason for this is that the north-south watercourse of the Dudh Khosi is intersected at right angles by many deep valleys whose east-west tributaries flush down from the heights and cut deeply into the landscape, making the trail an equal challenge of ascent and descent in either direction. But now, at the end of the trek, anticipation of some rest is in conflict with the continuing effort, and familiarity certainly does not breed acceptance!

Many mule trains meet us. They are bred in India, and the going price is $1300. A hard life, being a mule. One section of the trail is very slippy with mud and droppings. A slip here and you could go over, so mules must be given right of way. They may be unassertive, but they are heavily loaded, and take the route their feet dictate, so could swing against you in unexpected ways.

We spend a very long time waiting for lunch, during which the lady of the lodge upbraids her teenage son, presumably for being idle and spiritless both at home and at school.  On the trail a mother asks if her daughter can walk with us, as even in this region an unaccompanied female might run a risk of assault apparently, though at the top of the pass before Bupsa, on familiar territory, she sprints off energetically on her own. The light fades and then we approach Bupsa in the dark, and I can’t help complaining a bit to Madhu, pointlessly, which he gracefully ignores, and when we reach the same lodge we stayed at on the way up, there is no one else there, so they have not put on the heating. Cold, so quick to the sleeping bag.

Tuesday 15th January, 2019    Bupsa to Nunthala

Madhu has had a shower this morning, whether hot or cold I don’t know, as today is a festival day when the people eat yams producing heat in the body, as well as taking this ritual purification by water. But at least it feels warmer now in the sun at this lower altitude.

Another very long day, and the trail is in shocking condition in places, clearly the result of the incessant mule trains on the go. The carefully constructed stone steps have broken up, and there are huge sections of dust and decay. And a new road is being bulldozed down near the bottom of the valley, and the idea is to take this to Sirte, below Lukla. It seems that the one urgent undeniable request of all the isolated hill communities is that they should have a road, so that these roads criss cross the ridges of Nepal, and are clearly visible from the skies, lacerating the green spaces. But in this case, it might have some logic due also to the very heavy expedition traffic, but heaven forbid that any road should go on further from Lukla.

The lodge in Nunthala is again unheated, and we are the only visitors. However, I’ve decided that this is the end of the trail, and that we can get a jeep to Salleri, avoiding a tough climb up. However, there is no booking system, so we have to wait until tomorrow to see how this will work out.

The next day there is a long and uncertain wait in the morning but finally a jeep will be going. I speak with other trekkers who have also decided that this is the end. The road is packed earth in mostly good condition. Once over the top of the hill, the landscape again looks familiar. This is now day 21, so we have done almost three weeks on the trek. Once in Phaplo, near Salleri, Madhu directs us to a small lodge on the main street whose owner he knows, and we are soon enjoying hot samosa and noodle soup.

Winter: inwardness, preparation, recuperation. Looking back at a mountain kingdom, a fastness, with that blur of mysterious precipitation, be it snow, hail or rain. Winter: a very good time for a trek in the Solukhumbu.

Lower altitude permitted some sleep last night. It is snowing, and all views have disappeared, only the sense of the gulf down to the river. Quiet, with that sense of mystery and stillness. After a steep rise, the path is contouring round. A yak follows us. There are footprints in the snow, but surely not made by a snow leopard? Madhu thinks Temba has made them with his trekking pole. It was fun though, the thought, while it lasted.

A yak follows us. We come across a group of sheep, scampering on the edge of a cliff. Madhu says that they gather in such areas for defence, against a leopard, for example.

Lunch is at Somare, and the wait feels very cold when you are not moving. On to Pheriche,  the lodges mostly empty and deserted. At night, there is no electric light as the dull day has not allowed the batteries to charge up, so candles illuminate the long corridor, clearly a fire hazard in the wooden building. A bleak place in this weather, like being stuck in a Scottish glen in winter. 

Tuesday 8th January 2019 Pheriche to Lobuche

The morning, however, is radiant again, all the more welcome after the mist, with the mountains jagged and striking, and a fairly gentle ascent to Dughla, gingerly crossing a frozen river before enjoying a hot drink in the sunshine.

We speak to someone who had suffered from altitude sickness the day before, and is now waiting for the others in his group to come down from their attempt at Kala Pattar (5546m). He is Australian, his father is ethnic Egyptian, his mother ethnic Greek. There are quite a few groups of Australians here, as January is the summer holiday. But despite the implied warning about AMC, after resting I announce to Madhu that we can go on to Lobuche. Maybe it turns out to be not such a good idea, as we shall see later on, but I thought that Lobuche was in the plan for today. In fact, we have gone faster than planned, on the whole trek, but it seems without rushing, and surely we are already acclimatised?

But there is pure exhilaration on reaching the top of the pass with the sense of openness, light and joy, and being a very high place, in a circle of mountains, and far away from the human world. We are going to stay the night in the Pyramid, the Italian research station lodge. It is a bit warmer, as there are two layers of glass on the windows.

Wednesday 9th January 2019 Lobuche to Base Camp

A slow climb to Gorakshep. It is misty but the mountains are visible.

We soon see down below the lodges of Gorakshep, clustered together for mutual support in the high desert. And onwards to the base camp after lunch, quite a scramble as the rough path is often through boulders.  Up and down, and certainly still up! No activity at this time of year, and at least it has been cleaned up, though the spring onslaught is not far away.

The glacier below has vast ice auditoriums, but all covered in grit and stones. You can see earlier marks where the glacier has been much higher on the hillside. The icefall is clear of debris, all white. We hear the explosive sounds of an avalanche while returning.

Sun warms the lodge a little. A breeze startles the wind chimes into melody.

Thursday 10th January, 2019. Kala Patthar

This is the day. Another cold night and not much sleep. It looks straightforward, but a slog. Very few people out on the hill.

No energy, but at least no headache. Stopped a couple of hundred metres below the summit.

It was probably the correct thing to do, as it took an hour to recover in Gorakshep, with complete weakness but still no headache.  A bit dizzy on the return to the Pyramid in Lobuche that afternoon.

Friday 11th January, 2019  Lobuche to Pangboche

Another splendid morning, and the comforting thought of descent. At the top of the pass there is an elegiac atmosphere, as there many memorial cairns for deceased sherpas.

After tea at Dughla, we take the high trail to Dengboche, a wide trail, with many variations.

You can see the village below finally, and there is a sense of the very modest amount of flat land having been consumed by the building of the lodges, a reminder of the question of how to balance the economy of tourism with the fragile environment. One trekker we met suggested that there were too many yaks for the landscape, but maintained due to the need for yak dung as fuel,  but now denuding the soil and pasture.

Saturday 12th January, 2019   Pangboche to Namche

There are dogs on the way, who sometimes will accompany you to the next village. They respond to friendly words, but are not used to overt affection. Himalayan Hounds … looking quite well-prepared for the cold.

We can see on the other side of the valley the way we had come from Phortse, in the snow, but now the snow has rapidly evanesced in the January sunshine.

The familiar amphitheater of Namche comes into view again.

5th January 2019
A gentle sense of achievement flushes the veins, as in the bright air we start to descend: there will be scalding soup at Gokyo, and in gradually waning afternoon light, views will open up besides frozen brooks. Colder air, wisps of mist condensing, calm silence; only busy ducks will forage in the waters of a still unfrozen first Gokyo Lake, as the icy fluid sluices away underground, gravity-led, to the surging river below.

There’s a memory of Scottish winter afternoons, light fading at 4.00 pm, walking in the gloaming, cheeks glowing in cooling air, anticipating pleasure in the warmth that returns once inside. Now mist wells up in thickening waves and all perspective is lost as we negotiate a narrow staircase in the descent. Then the rays of the sun illuminate the peaks above the mist just before it drops below the mountain chain for the day.

In the lodge at Machhermo, the lady of the house has a baby that she fondles constantly, showing the importance of touch, and she uses sound and chants to captivate, soothe and reassure the swaddled entity.

Another difficult night as it is still hard to sleep, and the ten hour period from 8.00 pm to 6.00 am is rather like being in a cell,  and the sleeping bag can feel like a straight-jacket. In the morning it is impressive to see the yaks who live outside in the cold of night stirring gently in the morning air, breathing.

6th January
A beautiful walk down, with a glorious perspective, and the knowledge that we came up this way, so patiently.

Once again in the forest: rhododendron, pine, juniper, birch.

Pheriche is a working village perched on flatter land whose edges are eroding. We arrive after a steep climb up from the river, to thickening clouds and the chance of snow the next day. Potatoes are huddled under earth mounds awaiting the spring planting. Nothing is open, but finally we find Thamserku View that will take us. You realise that if you are going to build a house here, you might as well build extra accommodation for trekkers. Now we are the only guests, grateful again for the stove.

This eloquent title belongs to a poem in Walt Whitman´s Leaves of Grass. It begins:

Darest thou now, O Soul,
Walk out with me toward the unknown region,
Where neither ground is for the feet, nor any path to follow?

The epithet ´unknown region´resonates, challenges. This is how we may feel at the end of the trail up the Ngazumba Glacier, three hours up from Gokyo village, as we look out at the wilderness and realize the difficulty of going any further, toward the unknown region.

How jagged and proud the mountains stand, in the midst of dissolution, constantly crumbling. Here, cloud-shrouded, is another perspective on Everest, dark shape in the centre, the glacier in the foreground smothered in rubble and gravel.

According to Wikipedia (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gokyo_Lakes):

Gokyo Lakes are oligotrophic lakes in Nepal‘s Sagarmatha National Park, located at an altitude of 4,700–5,000 m (15,400–16,400 ft) above sea level. These lakes are the world’s highest freshwater lake system comprising six main lakes, of which Thonak Lake is the largest.

They are also a focus of Hindu devotion especially during the festival of Janai Purnima, usually falling in the month of August, when about 7000 devotes visit Gokyo.

After a hard climb the day before, we reached the summit of Gokyo Ri, 5483m, which affords clear views of the Everest massif.

A dust storm raced along the glacier. Can´t blame Delhi´s air this time.

Then we´re on the way out, light fading as we move down towards Machermo, cheeks glowing in the cold, just as you remember them from cold winter childhood days.

And the unknown region? Walt has dared us, dared Soul. This poem was set to music by Vaughan Williams, his first choral work for massed choir. You can see a performance here:

While it may seem slow at first, it builds momentum to a fine climax in the last four minutes, as does the poem itself. If you like that, then try Vaughan Williams A Sea Symphony, on a much larger scale, also with words by Whitman.

Here is the poem. I think it is clear he is talking about the translation from the earth plane at the time of death. I may demur at his acclamation of Time and Space though – isn´t our final destiny above? –  but there is no denying his examination of our reluctance and fear and ultimately our exultation.

Toward the Unknown Region (from Leaves of Grass)

Darest thou now, O soul,
Walk with me toward the unknown region,
Where neither ground is for the feet, nor any path to follow?

No map there, nor guide,
Nor voice sounding, nor touch of human hand,
Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land.

I know it not O soul,
Nor dost thou, all is a blank before us,
All waits undream´d of in that region, that inaccessible land.

Till when the ties loosen,
All but the ties eternal, Time and Space,
Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds bounding us.

Then we burst forth, we float,
In Time and Space O soul, prepared for them
Equal, equipt at last, (O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfil O soul.

We have to accept ups and downs, so nicely captured in the Spanish word altibajos. But it is difficult not to resent losing the height one has gained. A particular example occurs up from Namche. After patiently climbing to the pass at Mong, the path descends all the way down to the river, yes the same Dudh Kosi … that now I see actually flows from the famous Gokyo Lakes where we are headed.

But first the trail is looking straight north-east, right up to the peak of Everest. And what is that village so perilously perched beneath the crags? Is it really secure or might  landslides open up on either side where the land falls steeply to the rivers below? It is Phortse, where will we stay on the return from Gokyo. Defiant, stoical people must live on that bleak ledge.

But this is real walking, with some narrow corners, some exposed ledges.

Do man´s visions last, Do man´s illusions? My illusion was that the trail would just continue nicely contouring up into the Gokyo valley, instead of plunging 400 metres down to the river. Here, approaching the village of Mong, the illusion was still intact. Take things as they come!

But we can enact our daily homage to spontaneity, surely? Although we had planned to stay in Phortse Thanka, by the river, we found the lodge we anticipated staying in was closed. Nothing for it, but to continue up to Dhole then, a rise of some 500 metres. Any altitude risk?  … probably not. We passed through magical forests of pine and rhododendrons, skirting the frozen rivers, conscious of passing into a more hallowed land and rarer air, to the sacred lakes.

And what about the ¨exigencies¨hinted at, and why the obscure vocabulary? Dear reader, I promise it is not to baffle nor to impress; these words simply pop up from the subconscious river of lexis. I check them for their suitability. Exigencies are the demands of the trek, what it requires, what is urgent and unavoidable.

It´s the cold that is unavoidable, now intensifying each night as we go above 4000m. Yes, yak dung is pressed into service in the stoves, and effective it is too, but there is nothing for it but to return to one´s frosty room at about 8.00 pm, and it´s a long night to 6.00 am. A long, sleepless night, since it is increasingly hard to conk out: one of the effects of altitude.

On top of this, in the small hours I begin to feel claustrophobic in the sleeping bag and fumble to release its constricting chords. Then reassess the irrationality, tighten up again. Repeat. All the time drifting in a half sleep, conscious, checking the watch. If one is lucky, one may have vivid, alarming, surreal dreams, but I have not been blessed so far. All symptoms a result of the thinner air and its effect on the vigilant brain.

Despite the cold, movement on the trail warms you, radiance of the sun splashes you benignly, and you have to take off an anorak and thus walk comfortably with three layers: thermal vest, shirt, fleece.

Onward, upward, inward to the heart of the mountains and the lakes, the landscape becoming more extraordinary, wild. How satisfying to see the trail leaping ahead, with the Dudh Kosi river bed stretching into Gokyo, some water still flowing.

Should we embrace a teleological view of the trek, that it only has meaning based on its purpose to complete its objective and arrive at the final point, or should we follow that impressive advice of Robert Louis Stevenson, ¨to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive¨? Dear reader, you will probably feel that with his Zen advice on trekking, the writer must accept the latter dictum. Already the readers are bristling into armed camps of liberals and conservatives, the conservatives insisting on completing the trek as planned, and the liberals favouring Lao Tse´s flexibility in the face of perpetual change: take things as they come.

Having an objective to be reached in planned stages on the trek gives order, a sense of progression and control, defines proper effort and expenditure of energy, and gives blessed form to the immediate future in the turbulent seas of this uncertain world! But still, the mind will ¨What if …?¨  us, so travelling hopefully is tempting. Altitude might intervene, a snowstorm might confine us to immobility in a lodge, or even on a ledge, some injury might occur.

Early morning cold, brilliant sky, the valley narrowing, and a promise of the new heights and views once we reach Namche. Here we look towards the mountain sacred to the Sherpa people, and thus unclimbable, Khumbi Yul Lha, which towers above the villages of Khumjung and Khunde, above Namche. There is an example in the foreground of two of the many boulders engraved with mantras in Tibetan, chiseled letters then highlighted with paint.

And on the trail, quite busy with trekkers, mules and yaks descending, half way up, a first glimpse of Everest through the pines.

Namche, commercial capital, calling  trekkers for a two-night stay, with rest day, on the way up, and perhaps for a celebration on the way down in its mini-Thamel section (reminiscent of the famous tourist quarter in Kathmandu), now seems over-built in its elegant nest and horse shoe crescent shape, with some tall tea house residences, where potatoes used to grow in the short summer growing season. Higher up there are fairly newly planted pines to bring stability to the steep hillside. An underground stream gushes out, turning massive prayer wheels, providing a public washing place for clothes, our last opportunity for the laundry.

The constant struggle between ascetic and sybarite is resolved in favour of good coffee and apple pie in one of the cafés open, even in this low season. Take things as they come!

The following day is the ´rest´day, as even though we climb up to the villages of Khumjung and Khunde, some 400m, we will descend to sleep again in Namche. There is a sense of peace in these quiet, deserted villages, not only as views on the way open up gloriously in the clear air to the Everest massif, but also because they are homes to two Buddhist monasteries, and in Khumjung the school inspired and built by the efforts of Sir Edmund Hillary and other donors. We walked around the deserted school compound of small-scale and well-built stone buildings, students being on the January break. The monastery at Khunde blends perfectly into the hillside, with a quiet and discrete power. This area is the higher spiritual plane of the area, with Namche, or to give it its full title, Namche Bazaar, the material world below!

The landscape is serene, empty and sun-bleached, with a Zen garden feel, each rock a presence.

With the cheerful certainty of the dogmatic, I led Madhu and Temba through interconnected and flowing yak enclosures, to seek the way down to Namche, despite their mild, polite protests that the path was much further over. My confident road to nowhere was just an aesthetic preference.

But, to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive!

Still, it was quite quick to get back to the proper trail down to Namche, very steep; then we were rewarded with a perspective of the blessed, sheltered balcony that cradles the town.

Now we are truly on the upland route, one week into the trek. Here with quiet, stoical and steady Sherpa Temba, as Everest looks down with its distinctive plume drawing us upward and inward.

Here is that beautiful, thoughtful contemplation from Lao Tzu:

All Things Pass – Lao-Tzu

All things pass
A sunrise does not last all morning
All things pass
A cloudburst does not last all day
All things pass
Nor a sunset all night
All things pass
What always changes?

Earth…sky…thunder…
mountain…water…
wind…fire…lake…

These change
And if these do not last

Do man’s visions last?
Do man’s illusions?

Take things as they come

All things pass

Sometimes the contrast between the real and painful effort made during the trek and the imaginative mental projection of finally crossing the highest pass, and the way we compensate in planning how to present this ´triumph´to others, makes one think that one purpose of trekking is to bleach out all pretence and vainglory, vanity and self-aggrandizement.

Live in the moment; do not anticipate; obey one´s guide; do not use imagination to falsely elaborate or boast.

Pilgrimages have always been inner journeys as well as outer treks. Perhaps this trek will also produce insight. It is always a departure from set routine, and in this case choosing to start the journey on Christmas Day, is a deliberate dislocation from the Western end of year and new year routines.

On the second night, we met Dave, a lone British trekker carrying only a 10kg rucksack, in the lodge at Bupsa. He was on his way out after having done the Three Passes route (all over 5000m). An impressively fit figure in his mid 50s, he admitted to having trained for three months to get ready for this challenge. After 30 days he was happy to conclude the trek.

I explained that I was uncharacteristically drained of energy at the start of the trek. Why was this? We agreed it was just altitude. Salleri is about 2200m and the first day involves going up to almost 3000m; this is a much steeper and higher start than the Annapurna trail. It had been a surprise having dizzy spells even walking downhill.

A note about the terrain of the walk up the valley: it is the great Dudh Khosi Nadi (milky river) gathering all its tributaries and flowing south from the heart of the Solu Khumbu, that is intersected at right angles by water courses, thus causing the path to rise up and over the passes, the Taksindu La, Kari La, and Chutak La, all about 3000m, then fall down, even as far as the valley floor in Surke below Lukla. This will continue, but with milder variations until a great rise from the valley floor to Namche takes us up into the higher region. Here the perspective is looking north, up the Dudh Khosi.

The mule trains are coming up and down, causing us to pause: a mule can inadvertently push you off the path, so it´s best to stay on the inside. A little research about mules reveals that they have some superior qualities than their parents, male donkey and female horse: endurance and pliability. Even so, the shouts and whips of the mule herders are harsh. Meanwhile the beasts seize any moment to pause on the path and leech a little moss from the rocks.

Day 3 was a long 20 kilometre day from Bupsa to Chheplung, where the lodge would´t put on any heating except an electric heater that was more light than heat, thus removing a basic comfort that you expect: the yak dung fueled stoves. But Day 4 was a gentler day to Monjo, and a lodge that would have had a full range of coffees available, if only the operator of the coffee machine had been there. But it had a characteristic dining room as sun lounge that became surprisingly warm while the rays of of the sun were on it. Now for the ascent to Namche, the commercial centre of the Solu Khumbu, where trekkers stay going up as well as going down. The river valley is narrower now, and thickly forested, the river a strangely beautiful hue of green and blue, foaming as befits its name, with ice-encrusted rocks.

Though I have recovered from the weakness, now all my leg muscles are screaming, particularly on descents, and at the end of the day I totter upstairs to the frigid bedroom, feeling this is what age-infirm means and I thought I´d postpone that for another day, perhaps until over the age of 80, and here it is!

Beginnings

Exactly ten years ago, during the January school break in Nepal, when I was working in Kathmandu University High School, we planned to do the Everest Base Camp trek. I was intrigued to discover that the trails would be snow free, for the most part, and provided you could stand the cold, they would certainly be empty compared with the congestion of the busy spring and autumn seasons. However, the flight to Lukla was cancelled on two consecutive days due to local conditions, probably low cloud, so we went to Langtang instead (probably an equally dangerous road route … certainly with landslides and vertiginous slopes). But it was good to mature and realize this idea, notwithstanding the time that passed.

Lukla airport has been called the most dangerous in the world, and while not wishing to underestimate its challenges for pilots, it´s worth mentioning that in the busy seasons there are 80 flights a day. Over the years there have been several mishaps while landing, often due to sudden poor visibility, but major loss of life has been limited to one fatal crash in 2008. The upgraded airport at Phaplu, near the district capital of Salleri, may enjoy clearer skies as it is slightly lower. We saw one of those small planes make a perfect landing there, and as at Lukla the runway is steeply angled upwards, slowing the plane on impact, which no doubt compensates for its restricted length; but it is also the flattest land available.

So, I admit that this history influenced me to take a jeep to Salleri, and start the trek from there. It took three days to get just beyond Lukla, not a long addition. Here we can see Lukla on the right, and planes come in from the left, coming up the valley and descending quite markedly. This also shows the direction of the trail, moving directly north into the heart of the Solu Khumbu, as the district is known.

One of the attractions of this trek, from the purist and aesthetic point of view, is that there are no roads, at least in the Sagarmatha National Park, but they are encroaching on Lukla. There is a track from Salleri to Nunthala, the first stop on the trail. After the trek, as we returned there, a new branch of this had been added nearer the river. Apparently it will go on to below Lukla. Meanwhile there is a huge traffic in mules, as everything to stock the teahouses, as well as the huge traffic in Everest expeditions, must come in on foot.

As we approached Salleri in the jeep, suddenly the vista opened up and you could see in pristine air, the great wall of mountains ahead: what joy!

It seems to be difficult to breathe clean air these days, if you live in a city of any size. Kathmandu seems to be under a permanent haze of pollution, only dispersed to some extent during the monsoon. The hill station of Dhulikhel, close to Kathmandu, where the hotels were built to benefit their customers with fine views of the Himalaya, is now also immersed in this smog, with very rare mountain views. Delhi has by far the worse air quality in the world, exacerbated in the winter months by a pool of static frigid air. Could it be, that since the wind drifts from west to east in the winter months, that this particulate horror has drifted towards Nepal? Here is the evidence of this insidious smog, in a photo looking southwards at the same time as the shot of the pure air to the north (above) was taken.

So, we have to come right into the heart of the mountains to get clear enough air!