Day 5 (November 16, 2013) - Dole (4110m) to Machhermo (4410m)

I passed a shivering night, squirming from my right side, to left side, twisting around again to generate heat. Exhausted by the time my alarm sounded, I slowly unzipped myself from the relative warmth of my sleeping bag, putting on my trekking clothes stiff from the cold.  Our breakfast of pancakes with honey and jam worked its wonder, and we were off, shouldering our packs in the early morning sunlight. As we left, a girl about our age was sitting in a composed silence in the sun. I greeted her, and she responded, nearly in tears that she had a raging headache and was unsure if she would be able to continue. My heart went out to her, as we headed towards the steep hill out of the valley. 

Pancake, honey, tea, Diamox. Breakfast of champions.

On the Camino, time walking in solitude was part of the spiritual and mental exploration of the Way. Even though I am walking always within sight of Em and Bishnu, we are often silent. Em and I breathing hard, our bodies toiling to adapt to the thinner air and demanding terrain, there is not breath enough to hold a conversation. Even to think too hard, on any particular subject, seems to sap our bodies of energy. At times, it is enough to concentrate completely on climbing this hill, or maneuvering around that bend, our minds relinquishing control to the all consuming act of physical movement. 

Amazingly, despite our slow - deliberately slow - progress, porters fly past us carrying unbelievable burdens. From kerosene, The North Face duffels of gear, to beer, and toilet paper, porters flow past us in tennis shoes and old Adidas jackets. Em and I are constantly gaping at each other, as we sidestep to allow these superhuman Nepalese (who are all smaller than me) surge past us.

We can no longer see Everest from our, but we are now witnessing other Himalayan giants. Today, Cho Oyo, the 6th tallest mountain in the world looms before us. I feel a slight pounding in my temples, as a miniature headache wraps itself around my head. We move slowly upward and forward, and four hours later we are standing above the valley village of Machhermo. 

View of the moraine valley running through Machhermo.

After a lunch of fried rice, we set out to gaze at a moraine of the Ngozumpa Glacier that runs through the village and to find the International Porter Protection Group (IPPG) and Rescue Center that has an outpost here. 

A helicopter evacuation of an injured porter. 

Staffed by four international doctors, this post of IPPG is designed for the welfare of trekking porters, and also guides and trekkers. Founded in 1997 when a porter developed Acute Mountain Sickness crossing Cho La pass, was subsequently paid off and then sent down the mountain alone, only to die 30 hours later as a result of his sickness, the IPPG is dedicated to spreading awareness of the hardships of porters and provide them with free healthcare at their outposts. A non profit, IPPG depends on donations, and also charges trekkers a fee for medical consultation. We joined a gaggle of other trekkers for the free daily briefing on altitude sickness. Very ignorantly, I hadn't properly educated myself on altitude sickness prior to our trek, so needless to say, I learned a lot. 

In summary:

- A person's ability to acclimatize is genetic. Some people are fast, others slow. Additionally, some people are capped at a certain elevation, at any given time, and will become sick if they go beyond it.

- Normal indications that you are at high elevations are breathlessness, high heart rate (100 bmp is normal), vivid dreams, swollen face and hands, and fatigue.

- Signs of Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) are headache, loss of appetite/nausea, fatigue, trouble sleeping. Remedy is to stop ascending, and allow your body to acclimatize. 

- Signs of High Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE) are disorientation, stumbling, severe headache. Only remedy is immediate descent. 

- Signs of High Altitude Pulmonary Edema (HAPE) are difficulty breathing, severe headache, can't breath lying down. Only remedy is immediate descent. 

- AMS can progress to HACE or HAPE, or both, and can be lethal

- At sea level, hypothetically, you have 100% oxygen in the air. At Machhermo, using this logic, you have 57%. On top of Gokyo Ri (where we will go) it is 51%. On top of Everest, 33%.

- Above 2,500 - 3,000m, a person should only ascend 300 - 400m for where they will sleep the next night. A person can ascend more on a day hike, but shouldn't sleep higher than 300 - 400m higher than they did the previous night. 

At the end of the brief, the team of doctors took our blood oxygen and heart rate readings. At sea level, a healthy persons blood oxygen level is around 98%. In Machhermo, my reading was 85% (in the middle of the normal range) and my heart rate was 90. Emily's blood oxygen was 89% and her heart rate was 69 (what a beast). 

Puffy, high elevation face!

Educated, informed, and now especially wary of any headaches, we returned as dusk fell to our lodge. A hot dinner of vegetable noodle soup called thukpa, and an early bedtime was in order. It seems the higher we get, the more lethargic and tired we become, craving long hours in our sleeping bags. I decided to up my warm game for sleep, and am now wearing my fleece jacket, puffy jacket, ear warmers, hat, thick gloves, long underwear, rain pants and two pairs of socks. Hopefully that does the trick tonight, and I can fall into a deep sleep. Tomorrow, we will lay our eyes on the brilliant green of the lakes around Gokyo, and marvel at our planet's beauty. 

Day 4 (November 15, 2013) - Namche Bazar (3420m) to Dole (4110m)

It was another restless, cold night. Dogs baying, yaks bellowing, footsteps on the wooden planks above our heads, mice running beneath the floorboards, not even my trusty earplugs could drown the swell of night noises.

By the stupa celebrating Tenzing Norgay. Everest is the distant peak to the left.

Already we can see our breath in our room as we shiver from our sleeping bags in the morning. What can another 2000m in elevation gain mean for the cold? Discovering the secret magic of pancakes for breakfast, and their unique ability to keep us full for hours, we broke our fast with Jobeth and Ryan, wishing them well as they head towards Tengboche and EBC, while we head towards Dole and Gokyo. 

Bishnu is much more than a walking guide on this trek. As we hadn't planned on having a guide until days prior to our departure, we weren't fully up to speed on all of the roles and responsibilities of guides and porters. It is a delicate relationship between all involved. Guides, in addition to leading the way, show trekkers to their lodge rooms, take their food order, bring them meals from the kitchen, exsist it seems at the beck and call of their charges. Porters are more in the background. Lugging backpacks and bags early and quickly ahead of the trekkers, so they will be waiting for them when they arrive after an exhausting day. Most porters aspire to be guides, and so will want to practice their English and take on some of the duties of the guide. Since we are carrying our own packs, we only have Bishnu, and although he is supremely helpful, at times I feel lazy for all that he does for us.

Leaving the guesthouse a little before 0800, we begin the ascent from Namche. We soon passed a stupa memorial to the great Tenzing Norgay, who with Sir Edmund Hillary, was the first to stand atop Everest on May 29th, 1953. Sherpa Tenzing as he was called became a legend within his lifetime, livng as a hero of the people in his resolve and strength. 

The dual peaks of Ama Dablam are our constant companion, with glimpses of Everest from certain bends in the trail. Arriving at our destined fork, we branch off to the left, up a steep and seemingly underused path towards Gokyo. Emerging at the top, we began a gently ascending long straightaway on the mountainside towards the apex town of Mong La. After lunch, depaetung Mong La, we began a soul crushing 300m descent, undoing all of the upward progress we had made for the day. Crossing a waterfall that fed into the Dudh Kosi, we began the steep back up the lost elevation, and ever upwards to the valley village of Dole. 

A trekking porter.

During the climb, I experienced my first gut throwing headache. Blaming it on dehydration (after all, Diamox is a diuretic), I popped an ibuprofen and kept moving, one foot up above the other. As a lifetime, chronic, under-drinker of water, I tend to blame all headaches on dehydration, but in the back of my mind, the seed of doubt, of fear of altitude sickness was beginning to bloom. 

Finally, seven hours after setting out from Namche, we arrived at the River Side Lodge in Dole, nestled deep within the valley. The lodges have become more rustic, from cement, to plywood, the cold night seeping inside unhindered by any insulation. 

That evening, in the warmth of the dining room's yak dung powered stove, we struck up a conversation with a couple from Canada who had just wrapped up the Manaslu circuit trek. They told us of two people who died within days of each other on that trek, from falling off the narrow trail into the river. This is a beautiful land, but it is wild and dangerous. These sad reminders are a warning towards the slow, steady, safe approach to trekking. 

That night, filled to the brim with two helpings of dal bhat, I began the evolution of wearing more and more of my clothes to keep me warm at night. Even so, I shivered as I crawled into my sleeping bag. The cool wind blew outside, and Em and I fell fast asleep. 

A Change for Yoga

While trekking and in the meditation of quiet walking, I came to a few long coming realizations on my immediate plans. In a last minute shift (planned and confirmed in the last few hours), I will be heading to Pokhara in a few hours for a ten day yoga, detox and meditation retreat. Although the energy and movement of Kathmandu is enthralling, the pollution, and constant hustling are overwhelming to me. My sense of wanderlust, of seeing new sights, is not quenched and I have had a strong desire to keep moving since returning to Kathmandu on Thursday. Although I regret not working for Animal Nepal, as they are a wonderful and hardworking organization, I have been the initiator of all contact with them, and for some reason, I do not think I will be missed. 

For the next ten days, I will chill out, suspend my movement, and try to find some more clarity on this world exploration. I predict that I will be out of wifi range, so I will continue my Everest saga when I get back (back to where? Not sure yet). 

Aloha and Namaste!

Day 3 (November 14, 2013) - Acclimatization Day in Namche Bazar - Trip to Khumjung and Everest View Hotel (3,963m)

Built into the typical Himalaya trekking schedule are acclimatization days. Unless you are of the ethnic group Sherpa (who have an unnaturally keen ability to acclimatize), most people require a slow ascent to higher elevations in order to allow the physiology of their bodies to adjust. After the big push to Namche, we were in need of such extra time. However, in order to keep up our fitness, we went on a side trip to a higher elevation, returning to Namche to sleep. 

On the mountain runway.

After a breakfast of pancakes, we packed our light daypack with the essentials, and headed out on a four hour loop walk above Namche. Ascending steeply from the hill village, we mingled with trekkers departing Namche for their next destination, finally splitting off to head even higher above the switchbacked mountain. Finally we leveled off at a rudimentary runway, specifically built to cater to the Everest View Hotel. Before it was deemed unsafe, tourists would fly to this runway, check into the hotel, if they felt sick, enter an oxygen chamber and enjoy their time at this elevation. In recent years however, this was rightly deemed unsafe, and patrons of the beautiful hotel must walk to get there.

Yaks!

Continuing upwards, we finally saw our first far away glance of Everest. There it was! A dark peak in the distance, actually dwarfed by other closer peaks. My mind was tripping on itself. There was the mountain, the one that had captured my adventurous imagination so many years before. Could I believe I was seeing it with my own eyes? With awe, I just stared, until I was prodded along by Em and Bishnu. 

First view of Everest!

Everest View Hotel.

Passing through the Everest View Hotel, the quiet town of Khumjung and back around to Namche, we put in a solid day of physical effort, and were rewarded with lively company at our lodge. Em and I shared a dinner table with two young Australians, Jobeth and Ryan, out in search of vivid life. They were full of wit and laughter, as we joined in the festivity of guesthouse. A young American volunteer told us stories of camping next to mountains, exploring the Himalayas without a guide or specific destination. It was a night reminiscent of El Camino nights, meeting like minded people in the most wondrous of settings.

Bishnu won.

Exploring Namche.

Tomorrow we are splitting off from the main trail to Everest Base Camp, heading instead toward Gokyo and the lakes that are the source of the great Dudh Kosi river. The path to Gokyo is quieter, more subdued than the more popular EBC trek, though it has become more popular in recent years. Tonight I will dream of the mountains that stand proudly and silently around me, and the challenges that lay ahead. 

Ama Dablam.

Day 2 (November 13, 2013) - Phakding (2610m) to Namche Bazar (3420m)

I overestimated the cold on our first night, and ended up sweating in my fleece and puffy jacket. Emerging from my mummy bag, extracting my bag of electronics and water bottle I slept with to keep them from freezing, I was a bundle of nerves. I had slept poorly, and felt jittery throughout. Em and I met Bishnu for a breakfast of Tibetan bread (basically an elephant ear without the sugar) with honey and jam. I re packed Em's bag, readjusting the weight to relieve her of some initial back pain from our first day. 

Tibetan bread.

Today was to be a big, physical feat of a day. With almost a 1000m in elevation gain to achieve by Namche, we were doggedly determined as our trekking poles clicked away from Phakding. 

We officially entered Sagamartha (the Nepalese name for Mt. Everest, meaning "head of the sky") National Park, and had to officially register in the tourist logs. It was here, at this checkpoint, that I endured a classically awful bathroom comedy of errors. The toilets in Nepal deserve an explanation unto themselves. In Kathmandu, I found mostly Western toilets, with a few encounters with the squat toilet. The squat toilet is either a hole in the ground you squat over, or a porcelain bowl set into the ground with foot pads for you to stand on as you squat. At first I was frankly intimidated by these squat toilets, but quickly adapted to the careful choreography of avoiding stepping in any puddle or wetness around the hole. 

As Bishnu checked in our trekker permits, Em and I went in search of the toilet stalls. Investigating the three stalls situated beside the wooden office, we discovered the only one free had a big disgusting mess left by a previous customer. With no other option, we decided to stand guard outside while the other went in to do their business. Right before I plugged my nose and went in, a man in a red jacket and jeans came around the corner, exclaiming "Oh! Is there a queue for the loo?" From this small bit of sensory information, I gathered two facts before I walked into the stall:

1) This man is a Westerner, and speaks English

2) I can see him, therefore, he can see me AND which toilet I go in to

Proceeding to squat, facing away from the door, the next thing I hear is a brief conversation between Em and the man, explaining that she was waiting for me, and then "No! Not that one!" I feel a breeze of air, my shadow illuminated by daylight, as the man opens the stall door (I take some responsibility here, that I didn't lock it...but Em was outside, and I was avoiding touching things if I could). Horrified, I practically fell into the toilet, the man stammered out about five apologies ("Just close the door!" I scream internally), before he slammed it shut. Red-faced, I emerged from my interrupted toilet experience, doused myself in hand sanitizer, and nonchalantly pretended nothing happened. About five minutes later I was cracking jokes, but in the immediate aftermath, I was indignant. My only consolation is that he was more scarred from the experience than I was. 

Right before the bathroom incident. 

The walk to Namche is stunning. A river walk, up steep banking trails, to the tallest suspension bridge we will cross, we climbed and climbed. Long trains of donkeys, the bells around their necks spelling their arrival and passing, walked beside us. So well trained are the lead donkeys, that they will halt their progress if a trekker (like me) is standing on the edge of the trail, waiting for the trekker to move to the inside of the trail before proceeding. I heard one first hand account of a trekker almost being pushed over a mountain side by an oblivious donkey, so in a way, these gentle beasts may be the most dangerous aspect of the trail. 

Breathless and burdened, we climbed some more, until we stood at the base of a huge natural amphitheater, dotted with the blue and red of Namche's lodges and shops. 

After almost seven hours we had made it. Quickly dropping off our bags, we walked up to the top of the village that houses nearly a fourth of the entire population of the Khumbu Valley region, and looked upon the town backdropped by a mountain of white. 

Cozy, warm and again with the melody of trekker chatter, we spent our evening in the dining room of the International Foot Rest Lodge in Namche. The next day is an acclimatization day, and we will hike around Namche (sans huge packs!) and see our first glimpse of Everest. Goodnight mountains. 

Day 1 (November 12, 2013) - Kathmandu (1337m) to Phakding (2610m) via Lukla

Startled from a dream, my sleep saturated with thoughts of mountains stoic in a blue sky, I woke on the first morning of our trek. Em and I had packed our bags the night before, and they stood ready by the door. All the other random gear, and sweet things of home Emily had brought with her were already stored away in Dream Nepal Hotel's storage unit, waiting for our return. Quickly dressing, polishing off the last of the Kashi cereal from Naples, we were downstairs meeting our guide, Bishnu, at 0600. 

Bishnu!

Somehow Bishnu had miraculously secured a taxi even with the political strike that had gridlocked Kathmandu as a prelude to the November 19th elections. Skittering through the relatively empty streets, we arrived in 15 minutes to the domestic terminal of Kathmandu airport. Tourism reigns large and looming in Nepal, so despite the strike, the domestic airport was bustling with trekkers, porters, guides, luggage and all manner of controlled chaos. Barging through the mountains of gear and wayward trekkers, we wrestled our mochilas to the check in desk of Tara Air, to receive our boarding passes. Gingerly we placed our packs on the scale (a little frightened at what the weight would be) and were confirmed in our fears. 16.3 kg for me, 16.5 for Emily. Essentially 37 pounds of gear, not including water and a few carry on items (so tack on another couple of pounds). 

Our packs feel almost as heavy as a mountain.

Already proving to be indispensable and pro at all manner of things, Bishnu had us bumped to an earlier flight, and suddenly we were being ushered towards a rickety bus to take us our to our plane. My fingers and toes tingled in a state of an adrenaline high (or maybe it was a side effect of the Diamox we were taking for altitude sickness) as I anticipated the roller coaster of the flight. As much as Em was already praying to be safely landed at Lukla, I was curious to see just how all of this would work. Situated at 2800m, the Tenzig-Hillary airport is considered one of the more dangerous airports in the world. Unpredictable weather has caused fatal crashes at regular intervals throughout the years, and the very location of the runway, perched at a 12 degree angle (the runway is so short, the angle is needed to arrest the speed of a landing plane, and to aid in the acceleration of one taking off) on the slope of a mountain is enough to make most people a little queasy. 

Em and our little plane.

With no more formality then telling us to buckle our seat belts, we climbed through the smog of Kathmandu and headed towards the mountains, I looked around the tiny Twin Otter prop plane, and was comforted by the relative boredom of the female flight attendant, the nervous joy of the other trekkers, and the jittery anticipation of the guides. As we swooped in towards Lukla, flying so low over the brown mountains rolling up towards us, I felt I could run my hand through the green brush. Looking forward, through the cockpit, the glare of the sun being deflected by a magazine stuffed into a panel in front of the co pilots face, I saw the depressingly short runway appear at a ridiculous angle. Banking at a precariously angle downwards, suddenly, both pilots gripped the archaic controls tilting the nose upwards, and we landed on the very edge of the runway, barreling towards the mountain face and airport in front of us, brakes screeching, and at the last minute swerving into a side taxi area, out of the way of another plane close on our tail. Clapping weakly, we all gathered ourselves and deplaned to a mellow "Namaste" from our flight attendant.  Aloha Himalayas.

The taxi area and sloped runway of Tenzig-Hillary Airport.

Following Bishnu, we collected our mochilas, and with giant grins for a milestone accomplished, we clicked with our trekking poles through the town of Lukla. Top heavy, we picked our way down a stone and dirt pathway, surprisingly descending, rather than ascending. Leaving Lukla, we passed colorful villages, each with tea houses and lodges. Nepalese children gave us shy greetings, and one ran out to give Emily and I purple wild flowers. At this lower elevation, villages are agriculturally based, with fields of cabbage, potato, lettuce, tobacco. We weren't walking long before we saw our first train of beasts of burden. There are no roads in this part of the world, so all goods are transported on the backs of men (and the occasional woman) or animals. A common misconception is that the hairy, short-legged, horned, cow-looking animals are all yaks. Actually, the most common animal transporting goods are the offspring of pure-blooded shaggy yaks and cows, and are called khirkoo. For the purposes of this blog though, I will stick with the common vernacular, and call them yaks. 

Yaks!

Turning a pinched pale shade of green, Emily encountered our first suspension bridge. Great lines of steel, the diameter of my forearm, supported the metal bridge set across the gorges and river crossings of this trek. Shivering and swaying under even one persons footsteps, the reverberation of your crossing, and those on the bridge with you keep you moving with a purpose across the bridge's length. I loved the bridge, and made sure I was the last to cross so I could defy reason and stop to my hearts content and take pictures of the dizzying height. 

After four hours of walking up and down, but mostly down, crossing the rushing Dudh Kosi river, we arrived in Phakding and settled into our guesthouse. As a common practice, trekkers must eat in the dining rooms (often, brightly lit sunrooms) of their guesthouse, or be made to pay more for their room. All of the menus on the trek, filled with delicious and hearty meals, are essentially variations of the same one. There isn't much variety, but each place has their own style and care.

Following a lighter lunch of lentil soup, we embarked on our first side acclimatization trip up to the Buddhist monastery at Ghomla, an hour walk from Phakding. Like entering Neverland, we found a dozen young monks at play in the giant room of the monastery, colorful in blues and greens and reds. Like an open air arena, the boys played without an adult in sight. When Em and I inquired as to where the minks were, the answer was "cooking, praying, meditating..." One of the older children let us into the inner prayer room, leaving our shoes outside, we received a lesson on Buddhism, Hinduism and the political history of Nepal from Bishnu. 

Walking back to Phakding, we committed our first and last suspension bridge error. As we crossed, a yak started crossing from the other direction. With our eyes watching the river between the metal bands beneath our feet, we failed to notice the yak until too late, as we leaned dangerously against the railing bands of steel to avoid the yak. First rule of bridge crossing, yaks and donkeys have the right of way. Following behind the yak train, was a baby yak, bleating and following its working mother. Watching the baby yak, I struck up a conversation with a trekker headed down towards Lukla. His eyes told of the wonder and beauty we would be encountering, as he wished us luck and health on our way up. 

Ignorant to the grime that was to come, we enjoyed hot showers upon our return and returned to the warm dining room for our first dinner of dal bhat. The national staple of Nepal, dal bhat is oftentimes eaten twice a day by the people of Nepal, and for good reason. An energy and nutritional powerhouse, dal bhat consists of a bowl of dal (lentil soup), vegetable and potato curry, a heaping pile of rice, hopefully steamed spinach, and maybe a pickle or small chili. The most spectacular and delicious part is: free refills. It packs a fibrous punch, keeps you full and tastes delicious. Oh, dal bhat! 

As the sun set early across the sky, the dining hall was full of the voices and laughs of trekkers. Bishnu's shy laughter, soft talkativeness, and quick smile had us feeling at ease on our first night, ready for what lay in store. At 1930, stifling yawns, we headed to our unheated room, crawled into our mummy bags, and slept in the quiet darkness of the Himalayas. 

Himalaya Trekking

Aloha beautiful world. The Himalayas, oh how they gripped me. Silent, yet dynamic, I walked through them as in a land touched by the true breadth and depth of grace. 

Ama Dablam, my favorite mountain. 

Emily and I walked a Himalayan circuit, and have safely returned to Kathmandu. During the 17 days and 16 nights of our trek, I overcame some of the most intense physical and mental challenges of my life. Most notably the handicap of fear. 

Em and I at Everest Base Camp!

Struggling up steep dirt pathways, teetering on the edge of narrow paths, slipping and catching on ice, stomping our feet in the cold, dodging rockslides, burdened by 38 pound packs, we put one foot in front of the other and moved amongst mountains. From the lakes by Gokyo, over the Cho La Pass, to Everest Base Camp (what energy!), and standing on top of Kala Pattar at over 18,000 ft, I was filled with the incredible blessing of this wild and grand place.

Bishnu, our simply wonderful guide, and I on top of Kala Pattar. Everest is above us.

During our trek I kept notes on the particulars of life, from the mundane, to the gross (I apologize in advance, and this maybe should not be read while eating), to the awed, humbled and inspired. To follow will be these posts by day. 

Aloha and namaste.

Mt. Everest Base Camp Packing List

Emily is here! Oh, what a unique calming energy she has. She truly knows herself, a characteristic so rare, and carries herself with such dignity and humility. She also has a refreshingly ridiculous sense of humor. I am just so happy to have a wonderful friend to share this dream of an experience with. 

Ninja face masks!

Tomorrow we set out to trek to the Mt. Everest Base Camp via the Gokyo Lakes. Internet access may be available early on the trek, but will be nonexistent as we get further into the Himalayas. I will faithfully record this experience and post it all by day when we return to Kathmandu (or earlier if I am able). 

Below is our packing list. It is listed for one person, but items that we are both using and that only one person is carrying is denoted by a "*".

Clothes:

1 Packa (rain jacket and pack cover in one)

1 puffy jacket (Patagonia Down Sweater)

1 fleece (Patagonia)

1 pair of rain pants (Marmot)

1 rain jacket (Marmot)

1 long sleeve thermal base layer shirt (Patagonia Expedition weight)

1 short sleeve shirt (Smartwool)

1  base layer thermal pants (The North Face "Warm")

1 fleece pants (The North Face)

1 blue bandana

1 pair of gloves (The North Face)

1 pair of glove liners (The North Face)

3 underwear (Exofficio)

2 sports bras

3 pairs of wool socks (REI)

3 pairs of sock liners (Wrightsock)

1 scarf (to be purchased at Namche Bazar)

1 pair hiking boots (Lowa)

1 pair trail sandals (Keens)

My gear.

Gear:

Backpack (Gregory Deva 60 L)

Trekking poles (Black Diamond - borrowing from padres)

Sleeping bag (The North Face Cat's Meow)

Insect repellent sleeping bag liner (Sea to Summit)

Small gear:

1 Roll of duct tape *

Multipurpose tool *

Headlamp (Petzl Tikka 2)

Extra AAA batteries

Watch w/ alarm

Earplugs

Trekking shampoo/body wash/laundry wash in 1 (Concentrated Campsuds)

Journal

2 pairs of sunglasses (in case one breaks)

2 packets of Clorox wipes

Face and body wipes

Clothesline *

Both of our gear. Rainbow!

Medical/Toiletries:

1 first aid kit (includes basics)

Blister pads

Ibuprofen 800 mg

Atarax (to help sleep) *

Diamox (for altitude sickness)

Imodium pills (for diarrhea)

Tiger Balm

Insect Repellent

Sunscreen

Chapstick

Toothpaste and toothbrush

Deodorant

Half a role of toilet paper

Quick dry towel

Hand sanitizer

Tea tree extract 

Diva cup and wash

Kleenex

Iodine pills for water purification

Water flavoring

Multivitamins

Electronics:

iPhone w/ Otterbox case

Camera (Samsung w/ wifi)

Solar charger *

Adaptor *

Chargers *

Other:

TIMS pass

National Park Pass

Approximately $600 in Nepalese rupees

Visa and Passport

Lonely Planet Trekking Nepal Guidebook *

Nepalese-English dictionary

Snacks:

Homemade salted chocolate chip cookies, brownies and almond cake, a delicious courtesy of Victoria@victoriabaking.com

Once again, my pack feels too heavy, but it is mostly due to snacks (essential) and disposable cleaning items (wipes, hand sanitizer etc.) On the way down, the most traumatic for the joints, our packs should be significantly lighter. I learned my lesson on El Camino, and all other gear is limited to essential items.

I hope so much that we will have a safe trek, and that we will be able to see Mt. Everest in all her breathtaking beauty. Tomorrow, we walk. To all, namaste and aloha!

Exploring Kathmandu

It has quickly dawned on me that there is a steep learning curve for living in Kathmandu. These past two days have blurred in a vaguely overwhelming way as I try to ease into a place so unlike anything I have experienced. Traveling to Southeast Asia during my time in the Navy was a reasonable prelude to seeing life in a third world country, but actually living in one was something I couldn't have really prepared for. Despite feeling somewhat lost, both literally and figuratively, I am so grateful and happy to be here, challenging myself and exploring this world of ours.

The night I arrived, I slept a sad four hours, despite the red eye from the night before. Awaking yesterday morning I helped myself to a breakfast of fried potato balls, toast and tea from the hotel, and set out to shop around for a guide to Everest Base Camp. I visited four agencies (there are over 1,000 agencies in Nepal), trying to gather a sense of the personalities and experience of all four. It was like speed dating, asking what I thought were probing questions to get to the heart of the matter. I finally settled on Funny Nepal Treks and Expedition. Fani, the managing director, was polite, straightforward, quick to smile and immediately put me to ease. They have a great reputation, and their name didn't hurt in my bias. Due to our timeframe, we will be able to visit Gokyo Lakes on our way up to base camp. I am so pumped!

Wandering down the street to the Green Organic Cafe, I satisfied my craving for more tofu curry and rice. Sitting on their patio above the busy streets, watching the vibrancy of Thamel swirl past, it felt like an oasis of calm in the busy. After the slow and leisurely lunch, I strolled along, heading towards Swayambhunath, the Monkey Temple. 

Set above the city with sweeping vistas of Kathmandu nestled in the valley, it is a place that invites worship and admiration at the beautiful temples. Administering from above is the Buddhas eyes on top of the stupa. It's name, Monkey Temple, comes from the hundreds of holy monkeys that live amongst the shrines, supposedly descendants of the head lice of Manjushree. Climbing the steep 365 steps to the top, I saw monkeys in their swimming pool, tourists mingling with monks, beggars and offered money swirling around in the hot air. It was an eclectic cross section of life!

As I walked to Swayambhunath, a man started to walk next to me. This had happened quite a few times over the past days, and it's can be fairly difficult to shake some of them from your side. One even waited 30 minutes as I met with a trekking agency, and would have continued to follow me if I hadn't ducked into the Green Organic Cafe. Sumam, however, I had met the day before, as I was lost trying to find my way to my hotel. He had explained that he was a university student who volunteered at a home for disabled children, and he had wanted to show me a mural he was painting for them. I demurred when he showed me a dark entrance into an unmarked building that seemed devoid of children. But he was very polite and nice, so when he started walking with me again on the way to the Monkey a Temple, I didn't mind. He offered to walk with me and teach me about the Temple, for which I assumed I would pay him a certain amount. It helped to have a guide to navigate my way out of Thamel, and Sumam even took me off the regular route to experience more authentic Nepal. We walked past various shrines, and through back alleys where I am sure not many tourists go. 

Sumam is studying the humanities, and speaks excellent English and I was able to receive lessons on Hinduism, the current political situation, trekking, and the state of overcrowding and tourism in Kathmandu. 

It was a pleasant conversation, but I started to get a little suspicious after about the fifth time he brought up marriage between foreigners and Nepalese, his desire to receive an American visa, and many questions on my love life. When he went so far as to ask me if I could see myself marrying someone from Nepal, and if so, maybe him, I had had about enough. Parting ways he gave me his phone number and email. I was hoping to have simply made a friend, but I received the distinct impression I was being wooed (even though he took $15 from me). 

Returning to my hotel in the early evening, my exhaustion hit me, and I decided to forgo dinner for sleep. Reading through my favorite blog on living in Nepal, www.thelongestwayhome.com, I came across the author's wrap-up of life after months of living here. One section seemed particularly relevant: "It's well known that many Nepalese men will actively pursue single woman of all ages from abroad. Not only is there prestige in having a "foreign" girlfriend. There's a clear route to financial stability and a passport to a new life." Right...

Slipping into bed, my stomach, unfortunately, had other plans, and I passed a restless night as my system clashed with Nepalese food. I have tried my utmost to be careful, eating at reputable looking places, and not drinking any tap water. I did however, eat salad and accidentally brushed my teeth with faucet water, but I figure a weird stomach comes with the territory. As long as it is less intense than my sickness on El Camino, I feel like I can deal with this minor nuisance.

This morning I woke and headed to meet with Uttam from Animal Nepal in Chovar. On my map, Chovar looked deceptively close, but the hotel front desk quickly convinced me I would never make it on foot. Even in the cab, it took 45 minutes of insane traffic to make it. The traffic here is unlike any I have ever seen before, even Italy or Guatemala can't compare. Cars, trucks, vans, buses and motorcycles all converge at impossible angles, vying for any advantage or empty space. The swarm of pedestrians crossing wherever is convenient only serve to congest the roads even more. The three cows I saw laying in the middles of the street seemed to be the only thing that slowed anyone down. Barreling along, heading straight into on-coming traffic, my taxi swerved at the last second to avoid head on collisions. Any sort of traffic scheme or sign is pointedly ignored. Yet, there is no road rage, and people strike up conversations with each other as they sit in stopped traffic, smiling and waving as they lay on their horn. 

Animal Nepal has three locations, the administration office, dog shelter and donkey shelter. I visited the dog shelter to meet Uttam, and immediately saw a dozen dogs I would want to adopt. It is set in a quieter part of Kathmandu down a dirt path. This shelter is for sick or wounded dogs, as well as dogs brought in to be neutered or spayed. A little of newborn puppies, their eyes not even opened, were wiggling around in a crate as their mother gently growled at any passing dog. Rollicking puppies bunched around my feet, crying for attention. Uttam was incredibly nice and introduced me to the staff that runs the shelter. I discussed with him my hopes for my time volunteering as well as some of the logistics of living in a Kathmandu. Upon my return from the trek, I will be in contact with him to begin my volunteer work and settle in to a guesthouse in Chovar.

The Most Dangerous Animal of the World

Emily arrives in a few hours and I will be at the airport to greet her. I am so looking forward to having such a wonderful (and hilarious) friend on the trek. The mountain has fixed itself in my dreams, and I cannot wait to see her with my own eyes. Tuesday we will begin our trek and the realization of something long in my heart.