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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