Kathmandu is a bustling Capital City. The roads are a constant conveyor belt of, unusually, modern motor bikes and old battered dusty cars, vans and small trucks. Horns blast continually and traffic police man the main junctions, creating organised chaos from absolute chaos. There’s a layer of smog that sits over the city obscuring the white tipped Himalaya that shimmer in the distance. The city dwellers, which appear to be mainly twenty somethings, go about their daily business, anonymously behind black face masks. I don’t think the masks have anything to do with Covid, just poor air quality created by the constant traffic. Many of the streets are littered with rubbish, the paths are uneven and broken, there are building that have been left unfinished for what looks like years and electricity cables by the tens hanging aimlessly from over burdened electricity poles. Yet it’s a city I’ve come to love, it has more World Heritage Sites than anywhere in the world, it’s people are friendly and generous and amongst all of this lies The Garden of Dreams!
The garden sits on the edge of the main tourist area of Thamel. It’s a place that’s at odds with its immediate surroundings. You enter the gardens and the cities mayhem dies and only peace is left. There are blooms of every colour and greens of every shade and plants and trees of every type. It’s a place to relax and unwind, almost surreal, a place of someone’s imagination a place where Dillion and Florence would have felt right at home! I come here at the end of nearly every trip, it relaxes me ready for that journey back to reality.
Today the garden is full of beautiful people, late teenagers and twenty somethings. Phones in hand, facing inwards towards themselves, ignoring the vibrant real life colours of Mother Nature right in front of their eyes and instead looking at the over saturated colours and false filters that the selfie phone and the Silicon Valley programmers have concocted! They too, I’m sure have found their own peace in these gardens , as I have!
I’m sat in Himalayan Java in Kathmandu after another 11 hour Jeep ride from the foothills of the Himalaya. Himalayan Java is probably one of the most popular café’s in the tourist area of Kathmandu… most importantly for me it has the best coffee and cakes available. I’m killing time, not overly productive, but nice to sit and relax in such comfortable surroundings. The last two days up in Phaphlu were one of two extremes. The first day was an easy and enjoyable walk up to the Monastery Thuben Choling, a large complex clinging to the hillside, where I spent the night. The following day was a little unexpected. I assumed we would look around the Monastery then return the way we had come… but how wrong could I be! We walked up to the ridge 1,000m above us for one last look at the high Himalaya and then descended 1,800m back to Phaphlu. This was the longest walk I did and the the one with the most ascent and descent in one day!
It’s not very often that I look at the statistics that modern day technology can give you, but here are just a few from my five weeks away.
12,865 metres of ascent
9,389 metres of descent (the difference between ascent and descent was the helicopter ride from Baruntse Base Camp to Lukla)
175km walked
84 hours 32 minutes walked (including all stops and rest’s during the walk).
1.3km per hour, slowest pace, average for the day
4.1km per hour, fastest pace, average for the day
2.07km per hour average pace
29,591 kcal’s burned during the walks
6,161 metres, maximum height
-22 degrees, lowest temperature
26 degrees, highest temperature
£23, the average daily cost per wear of my high altitude boots since purchasing them in 2012!
Just a few facts, I very nearly put some clothing facts down, but decided too many of you would think I was a tramp… I have seriously thought about throwing some of the garments away! But I’ll see if Carolynn can resurrect them!
Before you think that I’m talking about the author, let me just say he doesn’t look a day over 25! Today, however, is my last day of trekking out from Lukla. I have arrived at Pkaplu with three days spare. I have to admit I’m not sure exactly what I’m going to do for three days here. Any more walking I do will just have to be local wanderings, maybe up to the monastery at Chiwang as there is a week of celebrations going on.
Old and Gnarled… it referred to the ancient forest we walked through. A very pleasant change from the steep valley crossing we’ve been doing. I did gain over 500m as we wandered along the ridge, it was a slow gain in height, nothing too strenuous. The forest showed the full cycle of life, the massive old, gnarled trees, the fallen rotting timber that was slowly decaying back into the ground, giving back what it had taken. It was a trail, where man had very little influence, with Mother Nature doing what she does best and the only sign of human intervention was the odd abandoned Yak shelter, that’s used for a couple of months in the high Summer.
After gaining height to 3,550m we descended fairly steeply to the Chiwang Monastery. It was a total contrast to villages we’d passed through. If I said it was clean, tidy and well looked after, I think that’d be doing the villages a very big injustice. Village life here is hard, with what appears to be subsistence farming as the main type of industry, with very little commercial farming or any commercial industry of any sort. The Monastery, though, was just spotless. All the visitors were in their Sunday best and proud of their appearance… does it take a religion to bring out the best in many people? I was going to be staying at the Monastery a couple of nights, but the lodgings were all full due to the festival, so we carried on down to the end of our trek out, Pkaplu and the thought of that 10 hour drive back to Kathmandu.
Old & Gnarled?
The trek out of Lukla has been a wonderful revelation to me. Seeing young people traveling without guides, experiencing Nepal first hand, rather than being mollycoddled, like me, by a guide and porters. I will say at this point, I like being mollycoddled, I’m at an age where the thought of there being ‘no room at the inn’ at the end of the day doesn’t appeal. But to see these young people, with their bulging rucksacks and their upbeat attitudes reminds me of my hitchhiking days, where I took a ride, never sure where I’d end up, as the moto was always ‘never refuse a ride’. That seems like a lifetime away now. There are a few trekking groups here, but very few compared to the area above Lukla. I feel a brief explanation is necessary as to why Lukla is the point where the intrepid youngsters and trekking groups converge. Lukla has an airport originally put foreword by Sir Edmund Hillary to give easier access to the Everest region. To fly into Lukla is not overly cheap, whereas to to take a Jeep to the end of the road at Phaplu then walk in, is probably a quarter of the cost. A lodge for example below Lukla costs as little as £1 a night per person, but you have to eat at least two meals there at a rate of approx. £5 or £6! I think that probably explains why the more intrepid and those on a tight budget are happy to walk for four days into Lukla and the gateway to Everest.
So today Tshering took me to a refugee camp. I have to say I was just a little sceptical. Why would I want to see, basically a prison camp? That’s what springs to my mind when someone mentions a refugee camp, not normally a place to visit, but I kept an open mind! It was in fact a Tibetan camp set up over 40 years ago, when the Chinese illegally invaded and annexed Tibet.
The camp has no barbed wire, no guards or no form confinement at all and when I approached it looked like a well organised and well funded village. There were schools, a Monastery, tea house etc. The people were friendly, one particular person was overly friendly, but then most drinks are! But he sat and spoke to me for 30 minutes while I drank my Masala Tea. His English was Tibetan, punctuated with the odd English word and then a roar of laughter, and he had a smile I’ll never forget. It was an experience that wouldn’t normally be on the tourist trail, but I’m glad Tshering took me.
The climb down from Camp One took just half the time than on the way up. Then a helicopter out of Base Camp to the metropolis that is Lukla. The world looks very different from the air, a full 3 dimensional map. The ride wasn’t as good as in 2015 as this pilot had a schedule to keep to, but it was still one to savour.
Lukla was a bit of a culture shock. I was put up in a hotel with an en-suite bathroom, with a shower, sit down toilet and sink… maybe not Premier Inn standard but it was far better than an outside squat on the rocks toilet, a shower that was a bucket and cup and a bedroom that was somewhat drafty with flexible cloth walls, limited headroom and a solid mattress, commonly called a ‘tent’.
Lukla has thrived due to having ‘the worlds most dangerous airport’, which has made it the gateway to the Everest and Makalu regions of the Himalaya and is probably the most popular region for tourist in the Himalaya, with access to Everest Base Camp, the trekking peaks of Mera Peak, Island Peak etc and of course access to three of the highest mountains in the world. It’s a place that caters for the trekker and climber, giving that home familiarity for those returning from the mountains and those about enter into their own journal of self discovery (just taking the mick as most of you know, I believe a ‘journey of self discovery is a load of b…..ks). It has an Irish Pub! But then what town doesn’t! There used to be a Starbucks… I have a feeling that it wasn’t their coffee, but it was still a great advert for them, knock off or not. That however has been replaced by an Illy. I think it’s authentic! Wi-fi is available everywhere, it’s just like home! Most people fly in and out, but we’re going to walk out, so the journey south to Kathmandu begins.
The first days trek was uneventful , 10km, 740m of descent and 630m of ascent. But the interesting thing is that the privileged OAP’s, like me have disappeared, to be replaced by youngsters making their own way up to Everest Base Camp or the Three Pass Circuit. They are mainly self guiding. A confidence that I no longer have. I have to say it makes me extremely happy to see these twenty somethings independently making their way up to these lofty places.
The second day was 1,300m of descent with 300m of ascent, I just get the feeling that there’s going to be a sting in the tail on the third day. Tshering said the views from our Lodge will be fantastic and views generally don’t come low down!
I thought I’d pay for the last two days of reasonably easy walking and today’s the day! I’m drenched in my own bodily fluids, all I want to do is stick my head in the running water of a moulin. Instead I’m 2,100m up and it’s over 20 degrees! I’m now sat at 2,500m looking down on the village I’ve just walked through, having lunch. There are terrace’s of Maze, Barley, Beans and would you believe Tomatoes! It’s a wonder to me how they manage to grow anything when you compare them to our sometimes 10 acre fields!
The Village, not even shown on the map
The path mainly leads us through the dark trees and I miss what really is quite a big village and the biggest building is the Secondary School, which I assume is fed by the many other small villages in the valley. The dirt road you can see is fairly new, it has absolutely no traffic on it! The reason’s simple, at the bottom of the valley where this road and the one that will eventually go to Lukla meet there is a Dudh Kosi River, which originates in the Everest area and by this point is not a river you’d like to try and ford, even with a vehicle! It’s a ragging torrent, to put it mildly and guess what isn’t yet anywhere near completion… a bridge!
The only thing that spoils the peace and quite, besides my tinnitus, is the constant stream of helicopters and aircraft coming in and out of Lukla Airport… I won’t moan as I’ve used both on a number of occasions! But sometimes I do long for that absolute quite we got at Camp One on Barunste.
Sorry this is a bit disjointed, but I’m writing it on the go.
200m of descent and 1,600m of ascent. A tough day, but I’m now on the crest of Taksindu La in a great lodge at 3,071m… I don’t appear to have lost any height from Lukla, in fact I’ve bloody well gained a couple hundred metres, but I’m told the views will be worth it, that’s assuming the cloud disappears, which I’m sure they will. Hopefully two days here then down again!
A harsh title, but true. The weather window was absolutely fabulous for the next five days, sunshine and the forecast of very little wind (although this turned out not to be correct), Perfect. I’d rested for two days and taken a short walk to acclimatise. Everything was perfect… except me it seems. The walk up to the Head Wall took nearly five hours, most people do it in three to four. I was slow and had to stop on a regular basis, which isn’t like me. I’m one that can normally keep a steady pace up or down, never fast but consistent. I have to admit climbing the Head Wall was great fun, even if I used a rope that’s put in at the beginning of each season, it’s still a challenge and one I always enjoy. I am ashamed to say, though that I accepted the offer from Tshering for him to carry up my rucksack as well as his own. The only thing that made me feel a little better was that once at the top he dumped his and my rucksack to go down to relieve the Porter of his load and brought it to the top.
The Head Wall
I’m going to try to explain how I felt. Everyone’s body works differently. I believe that mine is reasonably fit for its age, even though I abused it with nicotine for 27 odd years. For me walking at sea level is just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, uphill causes my body to perspire and causes my breathing to heighten, fairly normal, I think. Whilst training for Barunste I tried to take that up a notch and take my breathing to its extreme. What I have found, though, as I’ve got older is that no matter how hard I push, if my heart says ‘No that’s enough’ then I struggle to push beyond that limit. So I’m not sure how much my fitness has improved over the last couple of years (and as you all know I am partial to a bit of cake on a regular basis). Anyway back up to the walk to Camp 1, my breathing was more laborious than It should have been, sucking for air more often and more violently than I’ve ever known. The lack of Oxygen caused my body to try to take double breaths a strange phenomena, the only way I can describe the sensation is when as a boy you’d climb up a rope until you got a funny sensation in your groin (men might relate, women won’t), the difference being is the double breath wasn’t a pleasant sensation, it was one that caused my body to involuntary gulp for more air and one I had no control over. Maybe it’s a form of hyperventilating, I don’t know, I’ve never hyperventilated before. Once I stopped it disappeared and my body went back to normal, immediately, strange! This reaction from my body didn’t have the desired effect of making the walking any easier!
On reaching Camp One and looking up at the 1,000m left to climb, my confidence in my ability to reach the summit just vanished. All confidence in myself vanished, was it a lack of acclimatisation or was I just kidding myself that I was capable of climbing this 7,129m Peak? I’ve never been one to worry about using the word failure, each failure teachers a lesson, sometimes I heed that lesson, sometimes I ignore it. This is the second time that the Himalaya have thrown this lesson at me and I’ve decided to heed it.
Do I feel gutted and disappointed, a little, but I can live with it. I’ve managed to get a couple of these high peaks under my belt, and been reasonably high on a couple of others and have seen views that have brought tears to my eyes, seen views where I know my Father was stood there next to me and admired them with me and would have been proud, as I hope one day my children will be. And as I’ve said many times in the past that I’d love to be able to share what I see and feel with Carolynn I know she knows, but am reasonably sure she’d rather look at the photographs! I have seen views that I have tried to share with my photography, but I don’t think that I have been ever able to show the joy I have in actually being there and watching that sunrise or sunset or that view that you know has only ever been seen by a few people.
Makati from The West Col of Baruntse
I have seen from Camp One, the one mountain that inspired me all those years ago at a lecture given by Doug Scott… Makalu, the fifth highest mountain in the world. As I walked into Camp One it dominates the landscape. The mighty West & South West Faces loom almost vertical from the valley floor, just below us. For me it’s a unique opportunity to photograph it at all times of the day and one of the photographs just might end up on the wall at home.
I make no excuses, the weather is good, my acclimatisation has been good, my mentor and guide is one of the best… sometimes you just have to admit, even with all the training, I’m just not good enough. There’s no shame in that, I know now that It’s time to stick to lower altitude treks and admire the high Himalaya from a distance.
A quick update on the weather. At Camp One there was very little wind, however the only other climber on the mountain at the same time as me descended from Camp Two and didn’t make a summit attempt as the winds where blowing to a point where walking became extremely difficult… this also adds considerable to the windchill factor where temperatures are already at -20 degrees.
After 11 days of traveling I’ve eventually arrived at Barunste Base Camp. I think the title says it all! I’m at the highest I’ve been since the beginning of the trip at 5,426m and the summit of Barunste looms another 1,703 vertical metres above me and about 8.5km… 8.5km, even I can run that in an hour, but this I believe will take considerably longer!
Today is a rest day. To leisurely sleep in your nice warm tent as the sun makes it feels like a greenhouse, or sit in the mess tent reading or listening to music or a story book. But I decided to go for a walk. There’s good reasoning for my decision, well two good reasons, anyway. The first to better acclimatise, the old adage’ walk high sleep low’ and the second, I wanted to look at the head wall climb and to see whether it looked as vertical close up as it did from a distance. Fortunately perspective and reality were at odds and what appeared vertical from Base Camp is about 45 degrees, so in fact half way off vertical!
The walk was a three and a half hour round trip and I was at least 30 minutes from where we’d start climbing the head wall and I’m going to be doing this at least a couple more times. Not an unpleasant walk when doing it once but multiple times just might be a tad tedious.
Another thing about a rest day, it’s time to look at one’s hygiene. So I splashed out and had a shower, not the sort of shower most of you are accustomed too, though,,. Half a bucket of warm water inside a shower sized tent with a rock floor as a drain! It’s also a time for assessing whether or not you’ve been wearing the same clothes for too long, my wash bag is filling slowly, after 11 days I have two dirty pairs of pants, two dirty pairs of socks, one dirty shirt and two dirty handkerchiefs. I can also say that my shorts and summer weight walking trousers are also dirty and are of no further use on this expedition. It’s true that the body learns to clean itself when no longer attacked by detergents on a daily basis! Would I clear a train carriage… probably, but no-one notices up here.
This, the second rest day will be spent sorting out my climbing gear. Double checking everything works and is there. A little late, but it’s just peace of mind. I’ll make sure all those pesky, heavy electronics are all charged up and ready to go. Most of all the second test day will be a day of doing nothing, but eating, napping and aimlessly wandering around Base Camp!
I’ve just watched ‘The Secret Life of Walter Mitty’. I downloaded on my iPad to watch during these rest days… isn’t just the most amazing film, is there a Walter in all of us?
I’m sat on a rock in the middle of the afternoon surrounded by 7,000m peaks, the snow covered mountain faces reflect the harsh light of the mid afternoon sun, causing me to squint as I peer up at them. The only sound is the noise of a milky turquoise stream meandering through the valley and the slight hiss of that bitter wind as it wraps around my head. One of the mountains is Chamlang with its 2,000m south face as glaciers hang precariously, just waiting to reveal the dark grey rock that it has sculptured since the last ice age.
Is it here that I’m at peace? If it is it would only ever be half at peace as half of me is missing, forever wrapped in her love. My shadow as I’m sat on the rock is rapidly lengthening and the suns heat decreases like someone has flipped a switch and the shivering reflex begins and my thoughts return to keeping warm and go and fetch my camera as that 2,000m face of Chamlang begins its transition from a harsh white, gradually softening to an orange glow and finally a dark featureless mass as dusk turns to darkness.
I think until, maybe the last 15 – 20 years or so trekking in the Himalaya has been the domaine of the retired, ‘let’s rough it for a couple of weeks’ brigade. Again a very broad pompous generalisation. I just wanted you to understand where I’m coming from with no misconceptions. At the other end of the scale climbing in the Himalaya was left to the experts who spent much of their time begging for sponsorship so that they could afford the big expeditions that the Himalaya attracted.
I just caught the very tail end of the ‘let’s rough it for a couple of weeks’ brigade. In 2007 I used a company called Catreks, the reason I chose it was because it was owned by Doug Scott. His philosophy seemed to be to scale down the big expedition mentality to suite those that wanted to trek. The service was excellent, woken by a hot cup of tea followed by hot washing water and a breakfast fit for a king sat at a high table. A hot lunch would be provided halfway through the day and camp would be all set up on your arrival… anyway hopefully you get my drift. That first trek I was on, the clientele were retired teachers, retired professionals, but it was the start of the transition and there were a young couple, a journalist and a mad cap Chinese Liverpudlian. The retired teachers and professionals defiantly expected the ‘full’ service, me, well, I didn’t really know what to expect. But the high level of service, I have to say for me wasn’t unwelcome.
Over the last 15 or so years that I’ve traveled to the Himalaya both for climbing and trekking, times have definitely changed. The Nepalis have taken a greater control of their tourist industry and the somewhat pompous mentality that the West had, has nearly died out (on this trip I have observed a couple of nations that seem to think that the world revolves around them and them alone and still expect a that kind of service) attracting a far more diverse group and age of people.
The first group I met were a mixture, there were no couples but most had partners at home. Being away from your partner affects people in different ways. Two or three of them appeared to have no qualms with leaving their partner at home, no news is good news. One wanted some form of contact most days and another thought that his partner would be extremely worried after no contact in seven days. We’re all different and try and cope with a partners absence in different ways on these trips. I won’t get into the discussion about ‘why go’ if you miss your partner, in this blog. Just one thing on technology, the problem is the misconception that technology works with out interruption in these high mountains and it doesn’t, far from it. It isn’t helped by many of the operators, who will often state that either Wi-Fi or phone signals are available when in the lodges.
The other big group I actually met in Kathmandu was an Australian group. The owner of the company, Nick Farr I met back in 2011, whilst climbing Island Peak and we’ve kept in touch since then. It was pure coincidence that we were in Kathmandu at the same time. His group were also heading for Mera Peak. Again a very diverse group. A family with two children, I think they were middle to late teens, a father and son and the son having ambitions to climb an 8,000m peak. The rest were a mixture of ages and abilities, some never having been to the Himalaya and those that had been on numerous occasions. Nick’s a great leader, but this, like me could well be his last trip to the Himalaya as he wants to spend more time with his growing family. There’s a slim possibility that Nick’s group will be in Khare later this afternoon. It’d be good to meet up with them before I move on over Mera La tomorrow.
PEOPLE… once we entered the Hinka Valley, PEOPLE everywhere, I mean it was like coming out of a football match at Wembley, jostling and shoving for your own space, OK a slight exaggeration. But those photographs of the queues on Everest are nothing compared to the number of people heading towards Mera Peak. It’s not a large peak and would probably only accommodate 20 people, comfortably on its summit at any one time, but the biggest restriction is that High Camp will only hold 70 people. It is possible to ‘wild camp’ further up the mountain but most of the summiteers are with groups and they are not geared up for carrying their own tents and all the equipment required. So High Camp remains the limiting factor on how many people can summit in any one day. The groups are large, German, French, East European, Australian and of course British. There are a few pairs or individuals like myself but not many. As these groups are so big they dominate the dining areas reserving tables long before they sit down to eat, even to the extent of moving tables together whilst a poor Korean guy was sat having a drink! It was a little bit like reserving sun beds abroad… need I say any more.
A final word on PEOPLE, when I arrived at Khare yesterday lunchtime, sat in the dining area was one of the most surreal sights I’ve seen. A group of very glamorous middle aged ladies from Norway, were sat having lunch. They were dressed in all the colours of the rainbow, heavily made up and with nails my daughter in laws would have been proud of. I spoke to one of the two 6’ tall leaders and they were just on there way up to Mera Base Camp hoping to summit in two days time. They organise trips mainly to Kilimanjaro and this was there first time back to Mera Peak in four years. I would love to see their summit photographs they would make any LGBGT parade look dull!
So the days of the somewhat pampered over the top service that companies used to supply are limited and become more scarce as all generations can now enjoy, what I believe to be some of the most beautiful mountains in the world. I know it’s not everyone’s idea of a holiday, but it is good to see so many and diverse people on the mountains. I might not be a lover of crowds but I am a believer in the mountains and the countryside being open to ALL.
Tomorrow I move on away from the PEOPLE and into the Barunste valley, where I expect there to be just a few PEOPLE!
I’ve decided not to do a blow by blow account of the trek in. Basically it consists of me following in Tshering’s footsteps. Doesn’t really make for interesting reading. So I thought for the trek to Base Camp I’d try and describe the people, places and the atmosphere.
Unlike on previous trips I’m staying in lodges rather than camping. I’m not a lover of camping, although for some reason I seem to have done a fair amount over the last few years, It can be uncomfortable, noisy, wet, cold, need I go on!
Back in 2007 on my first trip to the Himalaya, I went with a company called CatTreks and we camped in the grounds of the tea houses, I have to say I wondered why. After the first night I knew, the tea houses were extremely basic and the company wanted to be able to control all aspects of hygiene and food… remember we are all pampered Westerners and very few of us are able to tolerate the locally sourced and cooked food and especially the water. I know that’s a grave generalisation , but Dheli Belly is not something that anyone of us wants.
So since that first trip I’ve camped. This is the first trip that I haven’t, we’re using tea houses and lodges all the way to Base Camp, so this experience is new to me. Our walk in started at a little known place near Bung in the Makalu National Park along paths very rarely used by trekkers. So I was expecting the lodges to be very basic.
Firstly I’ll try and explain what you get at an average lodge/tea house. There’s the kitchen, which is the tradesmen’s entrance, always warm as there’s always a fire on, so that’s where all the Sherpas and porters seem to migrate to. The main entrance generally leads to the dining room, which has bench seating along with the tables around the outside and the most important thing, the log or Yak dung burner in the centre of the room. Probably not the safest log burner you’ll ever see but definitely one of the most appreciative that you’ll ever find. Upstairs, often using outside steep stone or wooden steps, to gain entry are the totally unsound proofed bedrooms and I mean you can could probably even hear someone pick their nose! But that’s what you get. The food is a local take on a Western menu… you can have a plate of chips, for example, but you’ll get nothing else! So you have to remember to order, another dish, such as fried eggs, separately and these will come on a separate plate, as there wouldn’t be room on the plate of chips as it would be literally piled high.
What I forgot is that they are all very dark. Most are powered by solar power, with very small windows. So all in all they’re not the most welcoming of places. Having said all of that the people are extremely welcoming. Hospitality doesn’t come with wealth and possessions, it comes with a smile that’s both genuine and sincere, which the Nepalese appear to have in abundance.
So, after a lot of waffle, I’ll briefly describe the tea houses/lodges that we’ve been staying in. The first night was certainly a grand entrance into the dining area, with satellite TV, the downside the remote was in the hands of a 16 year old! The sleeping area was up some open stone stairs fixed into the outside of the building. I’ve been told that steps are designed to be an optimal height, any slight change in that causes people to trip, well as you’ve probably already guessed, these were not of uniform height, width or even flat, with no handrail and at the top of the Stairs laid a dog, curled up fast asleep. The top, probably about two foot square was open on all sides except for the entrance into the building and the dog claimed most of that space and wasn’t in any hurry to move! The bedroom was like all the the bedrooms 2m x 3m with two single beds, with pretty solid mattress’s. I won’t bother describing them as they are all a variation on that theme. I was the only guest and was mothered and fussed over by the lady in charge. That also appears to be a similar theme that the wife runs the lodge, where the husbands are I’ve no idea?
The second lodge came into view very suddenly and wow it looked brand new, I had a smile from ear to ear. There has to be a bit, when I say looked brand new, it was, in fact only 70% complete. We’ve all heard these horror stories of unfinished hotels and the noise of the building work. Apparently the old lodge was accidentally burned down and was being rebuilt and the building work went on while ever there was light. The owner insisted on giving me a tour of where the new toilets and shower would be and the private rooms with wonderful views. From the previous sentence you have made the obvious assumption that the old toilet’s were still in use. They, of course, were nowhere near the original building that was burned down, in fact they were on the edge of a ‘long drop’ hence the name ‘long drop toilet’. In the morning I found out why I had the tour, he asked for a contribution towards the rebuilding costs.
It’s here that I met the first group of trekkers and low and behold they were British. They were on their way to climb Mera Peak, not the normal route, but certainly one that is a more interesting trail than the normal route and far quieter. A great group and we were to follow each other for the next few days. Now the third lodge was very different. Probably it was originally built as a place to summer pasture the animals and now run by two young ladies as more tourists start to use this particular trail. They were very, very welcoming and led me into the dining area, which was nearly pitch black, with a doorway considerably lower than my 6’ and I have the bruise to prove it. I do wonder if its previous use was to shelter the animals in bad weather. This camp was at 4,250m a place I was going to spend two nights to acclimatise… but I decided as all was going well I’d carry on the next day into the Mera valley and as it turned out PEOPLE.
Got up, got out of bed, brushed a comb across my head (most of you would probably find that hard to believe), went downstairs a had a cup and noticed I was late (pretty sure I haven’t got those lyrics correct), but that’s how the day started. I got up at 5:30 and made a cup of tea and sat in bed drinking before I went to have my last shower for maybe a couple of weeks, when I got a text from Tshering saying that he wouldn’t be picking me up un 10:30am instead of 7am. Do I try and go back to sleep or just take my time? I decided to take my time and wondered into Thames for a coffee at the Himalayan J. At 10:30am I was in the lobby having paid the extras for my room and reading a book knowing that 10:30am would come and go, which it did. At 11:45 Tshering picked me up, he had text me to say that he was on his way… I wasn’t in any way worried, as the title says, times in Nepal are ‘Fluid’.
We started the long drive to the start of the trek, nine hours, I was told. In fact we drove for ten hours to a point where we were still five hours drive away . The roads were very busy out of Kathmandu and they started to deteriorate the further we got from the capital. The hotel we stayed in was typical of the hotels and lodges once you get into the mountains. Basic, very hard mattress, all bedrooms sharing one bathroom, with a wash basin, a toilet with a non mechanical flushing mechanism… a cup and a barrel of water. Adequate as it does the job, perfectly.
Fluid… a 30km drive in five hours, most runners could do it faster than that. In fact it took nearly six hours, on roads (not sure I could justify the noun roads). Stephen would understand the words, horseshit and mud, random rocks surrounded by muddy potholes. It doesn’t make for a comfortable ride especially with a fairly steep drop on one side. It’s a ride I wouldn’t have missed, but not one I’d like to repeat. Maybe I ought to explain that last statement. The last two or three times that I’ve traveled to Kathmandu I’ve taken routes to the climbs not normally taken by the those that have booked their trips through the bigger companies. The routes Tshering has chosen have kept away from the more popular routes and I’ve hopefully seen more of the local culture than I would have and this drive was the same. The driver was basically a bus driver in a TATA 4 X 4. They weren’t, however designed to carry seven passengers and the driver. It was somewhat intimate and our combined bodily smells mingled like a farmyard stew!
We suddenly stopped and Tshering ushered me out of the vehicle and suddenly the trek to Base Camp was on. It was a two and a half, sunset walk and the last two days of travelling were all but forgotten!
On the surface Kathmandu appears not to have changed, but when I said I hadn’t been here since 2015, I lied, I passed through in 2019 on the way to Bhutan and the Snowman Trek with Stephen, but it was a brief visit, as is this. The airport had changed out of all recognition and within 45 minutes of landing I was through passport control and had my luggage, this is an airport where I’ve waited over two hours for my luggage on more than one occasion. Tshering was there, with both his hands outstretched with a wonderfully warm welcome. It was good to be back.
The taxi ride in Chicago from the hotel to the airport was interesting to say the least. The driver swerved from lane to lane on the six lane freeway and used the exit and entry ramps as shortcuts, but I will emphasise that there were six lanes and all the vehicles obeyed the unspoken rules of the road, however the taxi driver in Kathmandu from the airport, had no such qualms. There are no marked lanes, but there is comfortably room for two lanes of traffic on each side of the road. It all starts becoming chaos when there is no centre line that the oncoming traffic obeys. Two possible lanes turn into three, four or even five, depending on how much of the road the traffic in one direction can get away with! And I say lanes in the very loose sense of the word, these lanes are imaginary and are inconsistent in width and length from even the vehicle in front of you. So in short, total and utter organised chaos. Organised because the traffic moves in both directions fluidly, but understandably there isn’t a single vehicle without a number of dents and scratches, nor is there a Westerner with his or her eyes open! Seven trips to Kathmandu… still not sure which side of the road they drive on and to be honest I don’t think the Nepalese do either.
I walked into the coffee shop in the hotel and bumped into Nick Farr, not entirely a coincidence as I knew he was in the Radisson at the same time as I was there, but it was a great surprise to see him. He’s leading an Australian group up Mera Peak and invited me to spend the evening with them at a local restaurant. I met Nick on Island Peak in 2011 and we kept in touch and I’m always grateful to him for Skyping Carolynn before my attempt on Cho Oyu to reassure her, and one thing that she came away with from that conversation is ‘no news is good news’. The group he’s leading is large, 20 plus, I think. A mixture of families with teenage children, thirty somethings and of course those in the Autumn of their years, like me, well maybe my leaves have lost their beautiful mature, vibrant colour and are starting to float gently to the ground! But you get my drift, a diverse group. A group of that size with so many different dynamics, makes for an interesting challenge , but a band of brothers united in their goal. I’ve only ever walked with a group of that size once and it can be challenging for any leader. Nick is very experienced and building confidence, resilience and a team spirit is what he does best.
To day is for over indulgence and relaxation, a day to reflect on what lie’s ahead… in the warm Autumn sunshine all looks good, life can look very different when clouds are swirling all around in 60 to 70 km winds and a temperature of -20 degrees. Different, but not necessarily unwelcome!
Here I am sat in the Qatar Airways lounge at Heathrow Terminal 4. Over the top service all the way through the Terminal, no queues, excellent, attentive service, a choice of an ‘A La Carte’ meal or buffet. I settled for a beautiful salad buffet with Eaton Mess for dessert! And the punchline… the flight’s delayed. The one thing I would like them to get right, in fact the only thing that really matters when flying, is that the flight is on time. Over the last couple of months Carolynn and I have taken a number of flights and I would think 50% have been delayed, for what reasons I’ve no idea, that information is never forthcoming and it is very frustrating. The only consolation is that I’m sat in relative comfort.
Matthew my youngest son would say ‘why do you get to the airport so early?’. I don’t think I’m the only one, but I always allow a margin of contingency for traffic on the M1 and M25 and for possible delays at getting through security. I regularly get stopped and searched as my hand luggage is generally full of electronics and batteries, I can only assume that dodgy characters such as myself smuggle items in their cameras! So unlike Matthew, I relieve the anguish by leaving just that little earlier than he would and unlike him I very rarely have to run to board my flight… unless, of course my flight is delayed and the connection time between flights becomes somewhat slim!
Anyway enough moaning, I’m on my way to Kathmandu after more than seven years. I’ve said my farewells to Carolynn, never easy for either of us, especially for five weeks. We celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary whilst in the USA the other week and these separations don’t get any easier, in fact they get considerably harder. It’s not just the conversation and companionship, it’s the fact that I know she’s not there. I know these trips are self indulgent and I can hear you all saying, ‘well don’t do it’. It’s hard to explain…I struggle with it, so to try and explain it in writing is near impossible.
I’ve gone off point again. Kathmandu, as always excitement and a tinge of anxiety or maybe even a tinge of fear. Fear is a natural, powerful and primitive emotion. It alerts you to imminent danger, whether physical or psychological… fight or flight? Fear and Risk are, I think, entwined. Everyone’s fear and risk response’s are different and the climb of Baruntse at 7,129 metres is a level of fear and risk I have not taken since 2013 and my attempt at Cho Oyu at 8,200 metres. I need to firstly control any psychological fear to eliminate a risk which is purely imaginary and concentrate on the physical fear and a risk that can be controlled and sensible decisions made. As I get older I find that I have become far more risk adverse and you realise that you are no longer immortal… please don’t misunderstand me, I think I’m very capable of climbing Baruntse, but more importantly, I’m very capable of turning around 50 metres from the summit if the conditions dictate.
Before I write about the four trips to the Pembrokeshire Coast Path that I’ve neglected to do, I thought I’d pen a little note about an up and coming trip in October/November.
It’s been seven years since I last went to the Himalaya. February 2015 to be exact, the year of the earthquake that devastated so much of Nepal and many of its World Heritage Sites. I left Nepal a month before the earthquake struck, a friend of mine was there climbing the mountain I’d just climbed, Mera Peak, during the earthquake. ‘Chaos’ is how he described the situation, but really you’d expect nothing less.
Why haven’t I returned since 2015? Mainly because I’ve concentrated on climbing and walking in other parts of the world. But I do love the Himalaya and the friendly Nepalese people so I’ve decided it’s time to return. There was a choice of two mountains, Cho Oyu, which I failed to summit in 2013, the 6th highest mountain in the world or Barunste of no great fame to anyone outside the climbing world, but one that was on the itinerary in 2015, but the heavy snow on our walk to Mera Peak put us nine days behind, so we had to drop the plan to climb Barunste as well. 8,200 metres or 7162 metres, a seven week trip or a five week trip, one would require supplementary oxygen and one wouldn’t, a hard decision? Seriously it was. I’ve dreamt many times of cracking that 8,000 metre barrier, but dreams and reality don’t always converge. Perceived risk, against actual risk? Risk is very much a personal awareness of what surrounds you and my definition of risk can be very different to the next man’s. Seven weeks is a long time to be away from home as is five, but by our understanding of time it’s still 14 days less and probably very difficult to argue against that particular fact. That was a major factor in my decision, as was my perception of the risk of climbing Cho Oyu against the risk of climbing Baruntsa. But what really swung it was that I’ve never been to Baruntsa and the thought of somewhere new to explore appealed more than attempting Cho Oyu again.
So in October this year I’ll travel back to Kathmandu and on into those mountains that have captivated and fascinated me for so much of my life, to attempt to climb Baruntsa with Tshering a Sherpa I’ve known and climbed with for many years.
