Day 6 (November 17, 2013) - Machhermo (4410m) to Gokyo (4800m)

The dining room haze of smoke, whether it be powered by kerosene or yak dung, is beginning to take its toll on my respiratory system. It was another restless night of sleep, this time with the added symphony of my throaty cough and sniffling. So far, it has not progressed to a rattling sort of cough, but the prospects tell me I will get worse, before better. In effort to keep the reoccurring headaches (dehydration? Or something more?), I have taken to drinking obscene amounts of water. My goal is 4 liters a day, especially due to the Diamox. The times I am deeply asleep, my mind is filled with life like dreams. At higher elevations, you experience periodic sleeping, spending more time in the state of dreaming. Last night, I dreamt of punk rockers and elves. 

Full of pancakes and ginger tea, we hoisted our packs and clambered up the hill from Machhermo. Calves and lungs burning, we switchbacked up the relentless hill until it leveled off into a more civil sloped plain. We walked in an all encompassing silence, the three of us lost in our own private internal monologues. My thoughts repeatedly turned to life in Kathmandu after the trek. Try as I may, I just couldn't place myself in the choreography of the city for any length of time. Animal Nepal felt off somehow. I walked conflicted, part of me respecting my intuition to redirect myself, and the other consumed with thoughts of my own directionless, and maybe even selfishness. Am I ready to be alone, living in a foreign place by myself? I had Kelsey on the Camino, Maks and Molly in Italy, and now I have Emily. But even the few days I was in Porto alone, I felt very much alone. After years surrounded by friends, roommates, coworkers, I am finding the adjustment to internal friendship as a daily sustenance a bit intimidating. 

Amiga!

Bishnu broke the silence, his voice resonating against the snowy slopes like a clap of thunder. Around us he called the names of giant mountains, drew our eyes downward to the Dudh Kosi river, a milky blue blur of water, the gray rocks painted with sea green moss. In my mind, I embraced this gameplay of trekking. SLOW. Slow my roll, arrest my speed, stroll, mindfully and deliberately place my feet, plod, walk with aloha, slooooow. Repeating this mantra of physical forgiveness, I feel like it will be the only way I can accomplish this entire trek. The seed of doubt, has been magnified by the informational talk in Machhermo, and I am beginning to second guess myself, even as I walk onwards.

Yaks with Gokyo in the distance.

We have fallen into a particular order, Bishnu, Em, then me. What a difference from the rhythm and strength I felt walking on El Camino! Here I feel breathless, the relentless beating of my heart drawing my attention in a most unnatural manner. It is so strange that the automatic functions of our bodies, breathing and heart beating, can feel so foreign. My walking has taken on a fractured state: step, breath, walk slow, stop, pant, drink, blow nose, step, stop. For the first time today, I begin to fall behind and hold up Bishnu and Em. They stop and wait for me, and although it is programmed in me to eschew being a slow burden, I force myself to continue my slow, strange flow. I am forcing myself to truly listen to my body, and move at the appropriate pace. 

Finally we reach a steep, stone staircase, climbing until we reach the top, and a small bridge crossing the height of the river. A little beyond, we come into view of the first of the five lakes. Longponga Tsho, reflects back the white mountains around it in a green-blue still surface. Only the northern area of the lake is disturbed in ripples by a family of Brahminy ducks that live here. They sing and chase each other across the lake, drawing the attention of the small group of trekkers we pass taking a break by the lakes edge. We picked our way through a lichen encrusted boulder field, curving around the lake and coming up on the second lake, Taboche Tsho and finally the third lake, Dudh Pokhari, where the town of Gokyo is nestled on its banks. Behind the town, runs the rocky moraine of the Ngozumpa Glacier, that we will cross on our way to the Cho La Pass. Snow kissed mountains and the emerald green lake provide a stunning backdrop to this village, and it feels we have reached a real destination. 

Checking into the Gokyo Resort, a long established trekkers lodge which boasts the world's highest bookstore, we downed a lunch of dal bhat. I had been challenged even on the relatively short 4.5 hour walk this morning, and sitting in the warmth of the dining room lit by the sun, I was so grateful to have made it this far, to 4800m. Looking beyond the northern edge of the lake, we can see Gokyo Ri, the snow topped hill, whose summit of 5363m reveals stunning views of Everest, the lakes, and surrounding Himalayas. Tomorrow we are going to climb Gokyo Ri in the morning then cross the Ngozumpa Glacier to the pre Cho La Pass stopping point at Tagnag.  

Charging my solar charger by the window, a German couple asked if they could use it to charge their phone. Reminded of the Camino, a pilgrim asking a fellow pilgrim for help, I charged their phone (and sadly in the process, drained my entire solar charger). They had recently quit their jobs, and had traveled to Mongolia and South Korea before arriving in Nepal. In exchange for charging their phone, they offered to let me use their small finger-clasping device to read my blood oxygen level and heart rate. Hesitantly, I accepted, and somehow, I knew the results were going to be bad...75% blood oxygen levels! And a resting heart rate of 110. With a look of pity, the German man actually said "I'm sorry." 

Smiling, despite the nerves.

This evening I am sitting here, and I am beginning to acknowledge the knot of actual fear that has taken residence in my heart and stomach. Am I too weak? Am I not genetically attuned to high elevations? This strange voice of defeatism has me turning within myself, and against myself. I am continually thinking back to the 19 days following reaching Finisterre that I filled with pasta, pizza, and gelato, instead of runs and hikes. This downward mental spiral is really just my frantic reaction to nerves. I am daunted by and frankly scared emotions of crossing Cho La Pass. The pass, at 5420m, has taken on crux like proportions for both Em and I. We cannot hide our dread. I just envision a tightrope thin trail, covered in snow hiding black ice, and us teetering on some edge of a dark abyss. And as exaggerated as my fears are, I think Em's are even worse. Our sinking into this fear of the unknown together, I am sure will make the preparations and execution of the pass even more difficult. I hope so much that my mental strength will hold itself together, because right now, I am feeling so sickeningly uncertain. Oh, self-doubt is such a dream killer. 

As if I needed even more bad juju, I lost one of the blue Hawaii earrings, and don't have an idea where it could be. Worst still, I don't have the energy at this elevation to launch a search. Lethargy has definitely begun to set in, and Em and I are fairly sedentary, conserving energy at every turn.

I am closing the evening with a big bowl of smelly garlic soup (it's supposed to help with AMS), and headed to bed for a 0350 wake up to walk up Gokyo Ri for sunrise. Goodnight fears, and goodnight doubt. I hope tonight for the sleep of beautiful dreams. 

Em on the rock bridge to Gokyo Ri.