Kathmandu: A Stressful Morning

We woke up this morning needing to book our flights and hoping to be able to finally post our blogs. Frustratingly, the blogging app had been playing up for days and this morning, the Internet still wasn't working. And neither was the hot water. Not a great start to the day.

We spent the first part of the morning, with the help of hotel owner, trying to find somewhere with Internet that worked. One company's Internet was down, another hotel's reception was deserted so we couldn't find out their password, the electricity in Thamel was off so the Internet at some hotels wasn't working. Inconvenient at best. We were running out of hours.

Around 7am we figured we would find a place to eat breakfast and cross our fingers that their wifi might actually be on. We settled on Hotel Mandap where, thankfully, the wifi was not having problems. We jumped on the AirAsia site ready to book our flights when we realised they had doubled in price overnight. Our stomachs dropped and so did our moods. As if we weren't having a stressful enough morning as it was. We ate a big breakfast and decided our next priority needed to be contacting Budget Direct, our travel insurance providers, to see if the extra cost of our flights would be covered.

My phone wouldn't work. Chris' phone wouldn't work. We found an Internet/call centre and their phone wouldn't work to call the Budget Direct number either. In one last hope we tried yet another call centre place to find their phone wouldn't work either. Thankfully, the boss had a few ideas up his sleeves and got us to use a headset and his desk phone to finally get through to the Australian number. Chris' stress was in boiling over as he tried talking to one of the consultants at Budget Direct. I took over and was passed between three separate staff members none of which could tell me exactly which of our extra expenses would be covered. You'd think that Chris getting sick and needing to fly home early is exactly why you buy travel insurance in the first place but they were making things difficult.

I got as much information as I could and it was recommended that we visit a doctor to get a letter stating that Chris had AMS but that it was safe for him to fly. Off we went again. Guided by our hotel owner we visited a doctor who checked Chris out and wrote us a letter stating that he was too sick to continue our holiday and would need to go home. Next stop...Internet cafe.

As the Internet was still not working at our hotel we were forced to visit an Internet cafe. We rearranged both of our flights, checked in online, printed our boarding passes, booked a hotel in Malaysia for our overnight stay and finally felt like we were making progress.

Once all of these errands had been completed we figured we deserved a break. We went back to Cosy Cafe, settled into the pillows surrounding the low-sitting table and had beers and lunch. My spaghetti bolognese, with the pasta made on the premises, was delicious, as was Chris' lasagne. The owner took photos of us and was excited to become Facebook friends so he could share the photos with us.

After lunch it was souvenir shopping time. We spent a couple of hours wandering the streets of Thamel with all of the other tourists and bargaining hard. We found exactly what we needed and, slowly, Anando did too. The afternoon was enhanced by our meeting with the man who wrote the trekking guidebook we had been using. Such a coincidence! He was here promoting the newest edition of the book and even gave us a sneak peak. He and his wife seemed like lovely people and it was a great part of a challenging day.

A final dinner, Cosy Cafe, Kathmandu

We hung at home for a while before venturing out again for more food. Our time in Kathmandu had absolutely revolved around food. We returned to Cosy Cafe yet again and had vegetable pakoras, pizza and Chris had the spaghetti bolognese I had enjoyed earlier. Anando ordered a pancake for dessert and, as we decided to make a move home, a heavy downpour of rain started.

We braved the wet streets of Thamel and went to bed, knowing this would be our last night in Nepal.

 

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Lukla to Kathmandu: Helicopter Ride

Lauren's new best friend, Lukla

Chris on the helipad, Lukla

As directed we were up and ready to roll early this morning. The skies were clear of fog and the wind was slight. Perfect flying weather. We paid our bill and were delighted to have been given the room for free and most of our food at discounted rates. With no time for breakfast we set off for the airport having been told that Funuru Sherpa was already there awaiting us.

Of course, when we arrived, Funuru was nowhere to be seen and the helicopter area was a shambles. We met a Mexican guy with a sombrero who, like us, was desperate to get out of Lukla. As we stood around waiting for the elusive helicopter to arrive a group of around fifteen people turned up. They were the aggressive, pushy ones we had seen yesterday and today...we were going to have to elbow them out of the way to secure ourselves a seat.

Our helicopter arriving in Lukla

We chatted to the man in charge and, when he realised we were the three people Funuru had organised for the flight, he was immediately helpful telling us that, without a doubt he would get us on the helicopter. We stood around watching flights come and go from Lukla airport. There was never a big time gap between their landings and we were surprised at how efficiently they arrived and departed.

We knew the helicopter was nearby when we were told to move a few metres back from the landing area...which was nothing more than a clearing. There was no fence and no security. It was up to each individual to get out of the way of the incoming chopper...refreshing!

Chris' squishy seat he shared with the luggage

When the helicopter landed things became increasingly manic. With nobody in charge, ten or so Nepalis ran around telling us tourists to stand back. With no system, people emerged from the chopper coming too close to the back propeller for my liking. Bags were thrown from the helicopter before others were loaded on. Like animals we were then herded towards the helicopter with everybody subtly pushing each other out of the way.

The men were ordered to board first so they could be squashed up the back of the helicopter with the luggage. Then it was the women's turn. Funuru ensured that I was the first lady aboard and we quickly said our goodbyes as we were shoved up the stairs and onto the decrepit excuse for a helicopter. The aisle was filled with luggage that got stood on by every person climbing aboard. Chris got directed to the back seat, hurriedly, while I got put next to a British man with altitude sickness. He told me that nobody had asked to see his receipt as he boarded. I told him he was lucky to have a receipt. We had handed over $800 to Funuru, watched him put it in his pocket, and simply hoped for the best.

Once the twenty four passengers were aboard we were prohibited from taking photos of the inside of the aircraft. We could only assume that they didn't want all of the rules they were breaking going public. I'm pretty sure having broken seats, luggage piled in the aisles blocking your escape and having large bags in your lap was not following protocol.

Chris, safely in Kathmandu

The whir of the helicopter increased in volume and before we knew it we were hovering above the tarmac then had taken off into the valley below Lukla.

The entire flight was accompanied by the high pitched squeal of the ancient helicopter. Considering, it was a smooth flight. The only concerning moment came when, without warning, our mode of transport starting doing circles above rice paddies. I could only imagine that the ancient chopper had finally started falling to pieces and that an emergency landing would be required. It turns out though that we would survive and before long, spotted Kathmandu beneath us. Or landing was smooth, thanks to the training wheels our helicopter was boasting, and we scrambled off the plane, after a quick round of applause.

Lauren with our ancient helicopter

Jeeps drove us through the backstreets of the airport, around customs, around security and to an outdoor 'baggage claim' where Anando could await his luggage. Chris and I had wisely kept ours with us rather than letting the staff shove it in the back. When the trailer of luggage eventually showed up, towed by a jeep, we grabbed Anando's bag, bargained for a cab and got on our way to Hotel Cosmic, our favourite Thamel hotel.

After finding that we could not yet check into our respective rooms we left our bags in the foyer and set off towards North Field Cafe for the breakfast we had been dreaming about since our departure. It was surreal to be back, literally at the same table, that we had eaten at the day we departed for our trek. We ate and ate until we could eat no more then decided it finally shower time. We stopped at a grocery store and grabbed the necessary equipment...shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a razor, loofahs and of course some Lindt Chilli Dark Chocolate.

I showered first taking almost an hour to get sufficiently clean. There was no hot water in our room which made the process less enjoyable than hoped but still, it was better than nothing. Once Chris had bathed we had a rest before meeting up with Anando, dropping off five kilos of laundry and going to Cosy Cafe for lunch. Finally we got to sample the mushroom fries and pizza went down a treat.

We got the process of our Tara Air flight refund happening and looked at changing our flights home. But, knowing that nothing ever goes smoothly in Nepal, we were too nervous to commit to a new date for our flights, not knowing how long it'd take to get our Tara Air money back from the travel agent.

At 6pm we went back to the travel agent and argued until they gave us our money back, minus a 15% cancellation charge that we were sure was going straight into the guy's pocket. Then, it was dinner time. Time for the steak that we had dreamt about throughout and whole trek and the thought of which, I'm sure, is what got Chris through his AMS and down the mountain.

We returned to K-Too and had our old, faithful pepper steaks. Add to that beers, a serving of fried apple momos, warm brandy with honey and a hot milk coffee with added Kahlua and we were very happy campers.

We got home and figured we could now safely change our flights, having received our refund. Unfortunately though the Internet at Hotel Cosmic did not want to play nice. Compared to our usual 7pm bedtime, 11pm was a super late night and we were exhausted as we climbed into bed, without having to unroll a down sleeping bag, for the first time in a long time.

 

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Lukla to Kathmandu...Almost

We were up at 5am this morning as Chris had to get organised for his flight. It was a strange feeling knowing we'd be separated for the first time on this four month adventure. Once packed Chris went downstairs in preparation for his departure. Around 6:30am Anando and I went downstairs and were surprised to find Chris sitting patiently with the Nepalis. The fog had delayed the plane leaving Kathmandu. And, we still had no idea what was going on with mine or Anando's departures.

To kill some time we again went all out and ordered up big American style breakfasts. We were in celebration mode despite still sitting in the Himalayas. Chris was excited to sample the Sherpa tea he had seen being prepared as he sat around in the kitchen this morning. So, when his tea arrived and was actually coffee, his most hated beverage, his morning just wasn't going well.

After breakfast there was still no news. We sat on the edge of our seats awaiting the phone call to tell us that the weather had cleared enough and a plane had departed Kathmandu. The call didn't come. We listened to music, appropriately playing The Animals, We've Gotta Get Out Of This Place and John Denver, Leaving on a Jet Plane. All of our willing did nothing to move the fog so Anando retreated to his room to lie down while Chris and I sat and stewed impatiently in the restaurant.

We listened and watched as two or three planes landed and took off from Lukla and still, we sat. Apparently we were waiting for a phone call from the Lukla station master (and conveniently our guesthouse owner) to tell us there was a spare seat for one of us. The call didn't come.

We relocated to the backyard to catch some sun and warm up some. Still, there was no news. Helicopters flew overhead as we waited and waited. It felt like we were back in India in that we were told nothing and hence just sat and waited and waited.

Eventually we got hungry enough to risk ordering lunch and getting the long awaited phone call half way through eating. We needn't have worried. We ate our fried yak momos and Khumbu pizza and still heard nothing. When somebody did turn up we were informed that, for now, flights had been cancelled. This suddenly explained why we hadn't heard any propellers for a while.

Our fears were confirmed when the station master entered and told us that today alone, seventeen flights had been cancelled. Add to that the backlog from yesterday and there were way too many people trying to get on flights for us to get aboard. In fact, if the weather remained as foggy and windy as it had been, we wouldn't be flying for days at least. And even then, we were relying on our station master friend to wrangle something for us behind the backs of Tara Air. He also informed us that, per person, after we received a refund for our $140 flight, a helicopter could cost us $260 per head.

It was an offer too good to refuse. If it meant that we would arrive in Kathmandu this afternoon and be enjoying a shower and a steak by this evening, we were in.

We paid our station master friend 70400 Nepalese rupees and had him sign our original Tara Air tickets to make our refund easier once back in Kathmandu. It was happening. We were taking a helicopter ride. Now Anando just needed to decide if he would be joining us. Originally he was an keen as mustard. But, after talking to his woman, he was thinking about going against his gut and waiting it out in Lukla. But, as the crunch time came, he too handed over the large sum of cash and decided to join us on the chopper. Suddenly, "leaving on a jet plane" became "leaving on a helicopter."

As we waited for the helicopter to arrive the thunder started. The clouds had been consistently rolling in for hours and now, a storm was almost upon us. Chris consoled us by recapping a snow boarding video he had seen where the helicopter pilot chipped ice from the propellers using the handle of a shovel. Thanks Chris. We ate chocolate to calm our stresses.

We were served some tea while we waited for our helicopter to arrive. It was raining and nobody wanted to be battling the elements in the Himalayas. We watched the rains come down and drown the deserted streets of Lukla.

Without warning we were called to attention...we had to make a move to the airport. The station master slipper through a small official looking gate and directed us to walk around to another gate. Somehow we ended up all the way on the other side of the airport. As no passenger aeroplanes were leaving Lukla the departure hall, if you could call it that, was deserted. We walked straight past the check in counters, luggage on our backs, through an unmanned security check and onto the tarmac without being stopped. Once there we were directed to the helicopter area back on the other side of the tarmac. Instead of asking us to walk around the airport we were simply told to walk the perimeter of the tarmac, keeping away from planes and helicopters that were landing and taking off. We passed police as we did so and all they gave us was a smile and a nod.

The helicopter pad was made up of two clearings that were crowded with people. A large passenger helicopter took off as we arrived. It turns out we were actually an hour early for our flight and, as such, were directed to a small room or kitchen that was crowded with Nepalis drinking tea and coffee. Helicopters came and went and everybody was simply expected to get out of their way. There was definitely not any fences or officials or anything else OH&S related. As we sat in the relative warmth of the room we watched more and more tourists arrive and more and more clouds roll in. Our station master, to whom we had paid our hundreds of dollars and who had directed us to the small room which was obviously not usually for locals, had disappeared. While other people had their names written on lists, had guides guiding them and had receipts, we had our station master's word and he was nowhere to be seen. An hour and forty minutes passed and still, we were on our own. Eventually word came that no helicopters would be flying this evening as the weather had once again taken a turn for the worse. As the sun went down the thunder and rain had started up once again. Our worst suspicions had been confirmed...we would not be getting to Kathmandu today.

Still our lodge owner/station master was MIA so we returned to the lodge on the hunt for him. Things at the airport were getting heated anyway as a group of tourists argued with the man in charge of chartering the choppers. Our main man FuNuru Sherpa arrived at the lodge not long after us. Turns out he had been in the communication tower listening for updates from Kathmandu. He had also been kind enough to write a letter for Anando which confirmed that Tara Air's flights had indeed been cancelled today...for a travel insurance claim.

We dumped our bags back in our rooms and came down to order dinner. We were greeted with the good news that, because the helicopter charter man owed him a favour, we were first on the list for the flight tomorrow morning. But, in saying that, Chris had apparently been scheduled to be on the first flight today so, we would have to wait and see.

For dinner I had spaghetti bolognese, this time ensuring that I specified a tomato rather than cheese sauce. Chris enjoyed a sizzling yak steak with chips and veg, which was a warm up for tomorrow night's steak we had planned, and we shared yet more yak momos between us. While not yet in Kathmandu the celebratory vibe had started to a small extent so I finished off my meal with a hot chocolate and a homemade apple pie.

 

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Trekking Day 11: Namche Bazaar to Lukla

Namche Bazaar to Lukla: The Stats

Distance Walked: 21.9km

Hours and Minutes Taken: 7 hours, 51 minutes

Origin Altitude: Namche Bazaar, 3450m

Destination Altitude: Lukla, 2857m

Approximate Total Metres Ascended: 817m

Approximate Total Metres Descended: 1298m

Weather: A cool morning followed by a warm, clear day. Clouds and wind rolling in from midday.

Morning Temperature in our Tea House Room: 6 degrees Celsius

Chris on the steep walk down from Namche

By 6:30am this morning we were sitting in the restaurant of Hotel Namche eating large servings of muesli, hot milk and fruit. We paid our bill, had the lovely lady owner pull me up on giving her too much cash, and were then on our way. We knew we had a big day ahead of us but, at the time, we could never have imagined just how big.

To begin the morning we passed through the entrance gate of Namche, which we had accidentally missed on our way up, and started the 600m descent down the huge hill upon which Namche sits. We passed through the permit check post and continued on our way. While not as steep as the hill from Tengboché it was still a challenge for the knees and ankles. The ground made of uneven large stones covered in a layer of fine sandy dirt and small stones which made for slippery work. Nearly falling over was the norm as we slid around with every few steps. Considering the terrain we made good progress stopping only briefly to try and catch one last glimpse of the tallest mountain in the world. With the haze obscuring our view of Everest we continued down and down and down until finally we could hear, and then see, the roaring river beneath us.

The pretty stretch before Jorsalé

At the bottom of the hill was the meeting of the Dudh and Bhoté Kosi rivers. We crossed back across the incredibly high swing bridge (Larja Dhoban) and back down the stone path which took us to the bank of the Dudh Kosi. We were in familiar territory now having not only walked this rocky riverbed on our way up but having spent time down here watching Chris take photos. This stretch of trail was exceptionally scenic with pine trees lining the turquoise river. Across another familiar swing bridge we passed through the second check post for the day before entering Jorsalé.

After Jorsalé came the dreaded climb to Monjo. While only 100m or so up, the stony steps were steep and Chris' flu was not helping. He was constantly out of breath, hunching over on his walking pole with fatigue. Luckily, we had a cute dog to guide us on our way. Breathless, we passed back through the gateway which marked the entrance/exit to Sagarmatha National Park. After having our permits checked once again it was back down again, back up and back down once more. This was a pattern that would continue throughout the remainder of this long, gruelling day.

Our cute guide

Crystal clear water by the watermill

We again passed by the watermill and the waterfall (which still was barely trickling). We passed throngs of trekkers moving in the opposite direction to us and had mixed emotions about our descent as we saw their fresh eager faces.

By the time we reached Toktok we were exhausted and the day had really only just begun. We had a plan to reach Phakding by 11am so despite our exhaustion we pushed on. Through Phakding we went, following the long trail to Ghat where we planned to be by midday. Our entry into Ghat was yet another steep climb through boulders painted with Tibetan script. Our arrival at the top of the hill was marked by the mani walls, shrines and chorten that we recognised from our ascent.

We stopped for a few snacks in Ghat, not having time to stop for lunch. We needed to be in Lukla between 2pm and 4pm as these were the only hours that the Tara Air office was open and we urgently needed to change our flights. We did not want to be sitting in Lukla for any longer than necessary as Kathmandu's hot showers were calling our names. 11 days without a shower, let alone without a bucket shower, is too long. When Anando caught up we informed him that we'd push ahead and meet him in Lukla as to ensure we met our deadline.

The trail wound through the forest again going up and down more times than we could count. In an attempt to give Chris a well earned break we again swapped backpacks. The steep climbs, with that weight on my back, gave me a whole new understanding and appreciation for what Chris had accomplished over the past ten days.

Eventually we arrived in Chheplung, the town where we had spent the first night of our trek. We were a little over eager thinking we had arrived before we actually had. The series of mani walls were confusing. When we did eventually go past our old familiar guesthouse we knew we had about 3km to walk before we would reach Lukla. 3km did not sound like much but boy, we could not have been more wrong.

Having already walked over 18km today, and a similar distance yesterday, we were tired. Really, really tired. And, with Chris having the man flu and me struggling away with his bag, we were a slow moving team. While I tried my hardest to lift the morale by shouting "Go Chris!" every now and then, we were struggling. The path to Lukla seemed never ending. It went up, up and up some more. Every few metres we stopped to catch our breath but all the while we knew we had a deadline to meet so on we pushed, surprised by our own determination, or stubbornness. Up we went, up and up and up. Today was meant to be about descent but it sure felt like all we had done was walk uphill.

Like a halo rising out of the hill we saw the gateway to Lukla appear. Together we passed over the threshold and sighed as finally the ground levelled somewhat and we were on the stony streets of Lukla. We crawled our way through the Main Street and eventually found the Tara Air office that we had been told would be able to solve all of our flight related problems.

The office was bustling with people. Word on the street was that changing out flight was not going to be as simple as we originally thought, if possible at all. When we finally manoeuvred our way to the counter we were, as expected, told that getting an earlier flight was impossible thanks to all of the flights that had been cancelled today. What they really meant was...getting us on a flight tomorrow was too hard and they had no system in place to put us on any kind of waiting list. Plan B needed to be put in place.

We phoned our travel agent in Kathmandu to try and change the flight but were told that before anything could be organised we would need to find a lodge because apparently the lodge owner would be able to help us reorganise our flights. I'm sure some of the directions were lost in translation because as we set off looking for a place to stay we still weren't sure exactly what would happen next. We wandered away from Tara Air and away from the noisy Wave's Pub (which we had seen advertised every kilometre or so for the past day and a half) and kept our eyes peeled for a place to stay. The first tea house which appealed (in that it was small and inconspicuous in comparison to the large, fancy ones that lined the street) was Base Camp Lodge. Chris looked at the rooms and, before we agreed to stay, we thought we'd try and clarify with the guy in the charge what could be done about our flights. Turns out that the boss/owner of Base Camp Lodge was the manager for Tara Air. How convenient. We dumped our stuff in our room and ordered up some long-awaited food to kill time until the boss arrived.

Chris enjoyed a spaghetti bolognese of sorts (made with yak rather than beef and cheese sauce rather than tomato sauce) while I had the standard egg and veg fried noodles. We even went all out and shared a Fanta hoping the carbonation might aid in dislodging the large ball of phlegm that had gathered in Chris' throat.

When the manager finally arrived he entered wearing a silky wrap around shirt and a cowboy hat. If anybody could save the day...it was this guy. He introduced himself and told us that, while getting a flight today was not possible, he would try his best to get us on one tomorrow. He would keep us posted. Even if it meant each of us would be put on separate aeroplanes we didn't mind. It would beat spending 13 days in Lukla as suggested by the Tara Air staff. We'd have been better off walking down to Jiri than hanging here for that long.

We waited and waited for Anando to arrive and when he eventually did we showed him to his room and took a small rest. Today had really taken it out of us.

When we went downstairs to order dinner we were stopped and told that Chris (as I had told them he was sick) would be flying to Kathmandu tomorrow morning and would need to be at the airport at 6am. So, instead of having to wait until the 27th like the Tara Air people suggested, he was getting out on the next flight. As for Anando and I, well, we would just have to wait and see.

For dinner we ordered up big enjoying a Khumbu pizza (topped with pieces of yak, mushrooms and nak cheese), roast chicken with veg and fried yak momos. With a pot of hot orange tang to warm us up we were happy with our cosy choice of tea house.

We went to be bed still not knowing when anyone but Chris would be flying out. We had an early night knowing we'd be up early, eager to get off the mountain. It's funny that if we were still trekking I'm sure we'd be happy about it but, with hot water, steak and bacon only a short flight away, it was all we could think about.

 

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Trekking Day 10: Shomaré to Namche Bazaar

Lauren celebrating with Mt Thamserku just outside Shomaré

Shomaré to Namche Bazaar: The Stats

Distance Walked: 18.6km

Hours and Minutes Taken: 9 hours, 9 minutes

Origin Altitude: Shomaré, 4064

Destination Altitude: Namche Bazaar, 3450

Approximate Total Metres Ascended: 644m

Approximate Total Metres Descended: 1243m

Weather: A cool clear morning with the weather warming as we descended in altitude.

Morning Temperature in our Tea House Room: 8 degrees Celsius

This morning, finally, Chris did not have a headache. He did however still have all of his flu-like symptoms so we were sticking with the decision we had made last night...to descend.

Chis had his trusty muesli with hot milk for brekky while I stuck with the oat porridge. Once we packed up our things and said goodbye to our friendly guesthouse owner we walked down into the village, filled up our water bottles from a pipe in the stream and set off on our way. Apparently it would take us about 4 hours to get to Namche...yeah right! We estimated at least six hours but it turns out that even that was optimistic.

Down the hill we went, back past the yak pastures, eventually arriving in Pangboché. As we passed through Pangboché we took note of a check point for a 65km race that had been happening on the trail. We could barely walk it let alone run it so had copious amounts of respect for the contestants. As we continued out of Pangboché we could see Tengbochè in the distance and knew we had some way to go to even get there. We passed back over the steel bridges and through the woods again going through Deboché. With Chris' flu holding him back and making every breath difficult it was slow work as we got passed by many a trekker. Mind you, very few of them were carrying their own bags so we did feel a bit better about our progress.

Everest, Lhotse and Ama Dablam

Chris, barely able to lift his arms

From Deboché it was uphill to Tengboché. On our way down the hill the slope had felt gradual but today, uphill, the slight gradient resembled a mountain. Arriving in Tengboché, breathless, was well worth the climb. The mountains stood out against the blue skies forming a perfect backdrop for the Tengboché monastery. Mt Kantega, the snow saddle, was clearly visible as was the Kwangde Range as Thamserku. We snapped a few photos of Everest peering over the Lhotse-Nuptse Ridge while we caught our breath then continued on up, across the meadow, so we could begin our 570m descent down the steep hill.

Tengboché monastery

Lauren and Chris with Kantaga and Thamserku, outside Tengboché

Lauren, unhappy with all of the walking

The path rapidly descended, zigzagging its way down the hill. It was a steep, slippery slope of uneven ground causing me to almost fall on more than one occasion. The rhododendrons were in full bloom though and the weather was slowly warming up so it wasn't completely unpleasant. In saying that, as we approached the lower portion of the hill and caught glimpses of the river below, we were ready for some uphill, our thighs burning. Watching the porters with their gigantic loads made complaining difficult...their strength still never ceases to amaze us.

Another Sherpa with another load

Chris with the zigzagging slope down from Tengboché barely visible

Anando had taken off ahead of us on the downhill but this was not uncommon. Usually he would wait for us every few hundred metres or so but, because we were moving so slowly this morning, we figured he'd just gone ahead to where we had arranged to eat lunch. So, when we finally arrived in Phunki Tenga (at the same restaurant we had visited on our way up) and he wasn't there we were surprised to say the least. Could we possibly have passed him when we took the Sherpa path rather than the regular path for that short stretch coming down the hill? We ordered some fried potatoes and fried rice, both with cheese this time around, and hoped he'd turn up. He didn't.

I sent messages with fellow trekkers going both ways, up and down the mountain. "Keep your eye out for an Indian in a Canada jumper...we lost him somewhere on the hill." When I went looking for him for a second time, there he was, walking across the bridge towards Phunki Tenga, minus his backpack. I walked up to meet him and we returned to Chris at the restaurant so Anando too could have some lunch. Turns out Anando had been waiting for us somewhere on the hill, then near the check post just before Phunki Tenga, and both times we managed to somehow miss him.

Once Anando finished his lunch we began the huge hike up the hill to Sanasa...an increase in altitude of 400m. And, it was steep. So steep that on our way in the opposite direction we had done well not to slip and slide down the hill on our backsides.

But, with the oxygen levels higher than they had been for days, I was feeling great. The hills felt more manageable and I was happy to keep pushing on and on to see just how far we could walk today. Even Chris' jokes were funnier with this much oxygen in the air. Unfortunately, while the decrease in altitude must have helped Chris' 'mountain disease' somewhat he did still have the flu. The man flu at that. Struggling to breath out of both his nose and mouth it was no wonder that he was struggling up the hills. Add to that the 20kg he was carrying and he was doing well to be walking at all.

We hoped that once we reached Sanasa that the hills would level out and we would finally have just descent to worry about. No such luck. The ups and downs continued all day.

Chris, exhausted, on the walk into Namche

The walk into Namche was the longest part of the whole day. Every corner we walked around we expected to see the town awaiting our arrival. There were at least six such points, all looking the same with chortens on their corners and long paths going up and down and up and down between them. A guy passed us, out for a run, and we cursed him, barely able to walk let alone run. The walk down the stairs into Namche felt long as we knew our destination was near. There was unfortunately no way we could push on to Jorsalé today. The day was coming to a close and our legs just couldn't manage the downhill that we knew was on the other side of Namche.

When we arrived back at Khumbu Lodge, where we had stayed on our last visit to Namche, I was disappointed to be ignored and then shunned by the staff. After encountering such beautiful, kind people in the hills and knowing that Nepalis for the most part were just like this, we weren't about to waste our time with somebody like this. We went next door, paid the same price and knew our money was going to a lovely lady who was nothing but generous.

We drank tea and ate dal bhat and cheesy macaroni before bed. We were exhausted after today and knew we had just as big a day tomorrow.

Lauren, day 10 without a shower

 

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Trekking Day 9: Dingboché to Shomaré

Dingboché to Shomaré: The Stats

Distance Walked: 4.6km

Hours and Minutes Taken: 3 hours, 2 minutes

Origin Altitude: Dingboché, 4308m

Destination Altitude: Shomaré, 4064m

Approximate Total Metres Ascended: 73m

Approximate Total Metres Descended: 297m

Weather: Blue skies but very cold and windy.

Morning Temperature in our Tea House Room: 3 degrees Celsius

When we woke up this morning about 5:30am Chris' headache was back with a vengeance. His cough seemed worse and this was the first morning that he'd had a bad headache....another sign of altitude sickness. Could the AMS possibly be getting worse despite the diamox and despite having spent two nights at the same altitude? Chris popped another diamox and we crossed our fingers. We can't have felt too hopeful though as we spent the time before breakfast convincing ourselves that one day we'd come back to Nepal and that we could do other treks in other places in the meantime that would be awesome in different ways. However, we kept going back to something Chris had said right at the beginning of our trek...no other mountains are ever going to compare to these. We had a tough decision to make and with Chris and I both being as stubborn as we are, giving up was not an easy option to take. We could go down for a night then come back up or stay here another night and then go up but still there was no guarantee that Chris would get better or wouldn't get sick again later. Was it really worth it? Seeing him this sick was horrible.

He struggled through some muesli while I tried out the oatmeal porridge and then we all sat around and drank a 'small pot' (which is actually a large thermos which seems never ending) of hot orange tang. On recommendation from the doctor we had seen earlier, tang was full of salts and sugars which would hopefully help Chris in his recovery. Plus, the warmth was soothing on the throat. We paid our bill and had the lovely surprise of being given our rooms for free.

When Chris still wasn't feeling well enough for us to stay in Dingboché we had the big task of packing up our things and starting our descent. Chris was becoming less and less 'with it' as the morning progressed. Taking longer than usual to do anything and forgetting what he was in the middle of were signs of his AMS worsening and were becoming more frequent. We needed to get down.

Once packed I convinced Chris to let me carry his heavy pack, exchanging it for mine. I knew he must have been extremely sick to agree to this. And then we were off. Every little incline between Dingboché and Shomaré felt like a mountain as Chris' fatigue meant every step was a marathon. Back we went through the windy valley, past the yak pastures, back along the Imja Khola river. It took us longer to come down the hill than it had for us to go up.

Once in Shomaré back at Everest View Lodge we ordered up a lunch of fried rice, fried potatoes and momos to see if Chris was feeling well enough to stay at this altitude of whether we would need to descend further.

We decided to spend a night in Shomaré and see how that treated Chris and his AMS. We spent a few hours napping and resting in our room and thought that maybe he would get better here. But, around 4pm, the diamox or the panadene started wearing off, the headache was back and his appetite was once again non existent. It wasn't looking good.

The decision was made. We needed to go down. As much as we had our hearts set on base camp it just wasn't meant to be this time around.

We had dinner around 7pm...vegetable fried noodles, chicken soup and fried potatoes with vegetables. These potatoes are always delicious. While we played our version (the Khumbu versn) of an old card game I sadly questioned what we would possible have to celebrate upon our arrival back in Kathmandu when really we had abandoned our goal. Anando wisely answered that we would celebrate Chris' health as well as the fact that we had been lucky enough to travel as high as we did. Good advice.

Over dinner we chatted with our guesthouse owner. Today he had walked all the way to Khumjung to retrieve his wife and 26 day old baby girl and bring them back to Shomaré. All in on day. That's about 40km up and down the Himalayas. As we chatted somehow the conversation twisted and turned and ended up with a plan for me to give birth to a male, bring him to Nepal and enter him into an arranged marriage with this guy's baby girl. Interesting.

After dinner it was an early night once again. Nepali time had well and truly taken hold of us.

 

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Trekking Day 8: The Medical Clinic, Pheriché

Dingboché to Pheriché (and back): The Stats

Distance Walked: 4.7km

Hours and Minutes Taken: 6 hours, 5 minutes (walking time: 3 hours, 20 minutes)

Origin Altitude: Dingboché, 4308m

Destination Altitude: Pheriché, 4287m

Approximate Total Metres Ascended: 268m

Approximate Total Metres Descended: 268m

Weather: A sunny, still morning remaining cold most of the day.

Morning Temperature in our Tea House Room: 3 degrees Celsius

Chris not wanting to emerge from his sleeping bag

When we woke up this morning Chris had a mild headache but was feeling substantially better than he was last night. We stepped outside to find Dingboché covered in a few inches of snow and it was still very chilly. We had a breakfast of muesli and hot milk and wished the guys we had met last night luck on their journey as today they set off for Lobuché. With Chris feeling better we thought we'd give acclimatising a go by climbing the big hill behind Dingboché. He popped another half a diamox and we crossed our fingers.

We rugged up and set off up the same hill we had climbed yesterday with the intention of going higher. We gained about 100m in altitude to reach the same chorten we had reached yesterday afternoon. This time though, Chris was not ok. Even after sitting for a few minutes he was struggling to catch his breath, was on the verge of throwing up and had so little energy he could barely stand. As he put it, "I almost vomited up a lung." There was no choice...we needed to get him to a doctor. The only problem was that when you're in the Himalayas, walking to the doctor is your only choice unless you want to get air lifted out. We had to get to Pheriché and walking was our mode of choice.

Located about 2km from Dingboché, Pheriché wasn't far compared to other distances we had covered. However, with Chris barely able to walk two steps without hunching over with fatigue and nausea we weren't sure we would make it at all.

As we continued down the snowy hill Chris began to feel slightly better and, as we were decreasing in altitude, the likelihood of his sickness being the result of Acute Mountain Sickness, was becoming more and more likely. We walked and rested and walked and rested and made slow progress in the direction we hoped was Pheriché. We were following footprints in the snow and hoping with every ridge we crossed that we would spot a township on the other side.

We sent Anando ahead to ensure we were on the right track while Chris and I made painfully slow progress in the same direction. Turns out we were going the right way and, as we reached the final ridge before Pheriché, spotting the village at the bottom of the hill, a wave of relief swept over us. Slowly we zigzagged down the slippery, snowy hill and found our way to the Himalayan Rescue Association Medical Clinic. We had read in the guidebook that usually the clinic had Western volunteers in attendance and we couldn't have been happier when we arrived to find two Americans waiting to greet us.

A short consultation told us that Chris did officially have Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS). Despite us following all of the rules about ascending slowly, in fact we even went slower than recommended, we hadn't managed to avoid the dreaded AMS. He was somewhere in between the beginnings of the condition and an extreme case. The doctor gave us some advice on how best to increase our chances of going higher and gave Chris another diamox to take. Before he could take it though they were hoping he would take part in a blind medical study that was testing the usefulness of two different drugs on helping with the headache and nausea associated with AMS. He agreed hoping that maybe he'd get to feel better at least for the day.

Being part of the medical trial meant hanging in Pheriché for two hours so we ordered some food at a nearby restaurant which was seriously fancy compared to our usual digs. We forced some food into Chris while he sat and filled out a half hourly log of his symptoms. When the restaurant started blaring some horrible pop music we went outside to sit in the sun to kill time until the trial was over. As bored as we were it was no doubt a good thing to rest for a couple of hours before tackling the hill back over to Dingboché.

A memorial to deceased Everest climbers, Pheriché

We checked out a memorial to climbers who have died on Everest, taking note of those names listed that were familiar thanks to our reading of Into Thin Air. The trial finished and grabbed a receipt for our $50 USD consultation in the hope we could claim it on our travel insurance. Thankfully Anando had money with him, and American Dollars at that, as Chris and I were horribly unprepared having not bought our wallet as the original plan had been acclimatisation not a diagnosis of AMS.

When Chris felt well enough to trek back to Dingboché we decided not to take any of the regular routes back over the ridge. One was too steep and the other too long so we forged our own way following Sherpa and yak paths up the hill. It was slow work but the diamox had Chris feeling worlds better than he had earlier in the day so we made it to Dingboché, via an ancient chorten, with little trouble.

Ancient chorten with Ama Dablam, above Dingboché

Chris remained feeling well into the evening. We had some momos, had a rest, read some of Into Thin Air and then played some cards before a dinner of more veg momos, Sherpa stew and veg noodles. We sat around the yak dung stove rugged up in blankets until 7pm rolled around and it was bed time. Fingers crossed for further improvement in Chris' condition tomorrow.

Sunset on Ama Dablam

 

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