I am sitting by the blazing MSR Reactor inside the tent
preparing my mind for the very long walk to Lukla. After leaving Ghat, we had
hiked in one day what most trekkers, the few trekkers who ever go this way, do
in two days. Now we had to retrace the
long hike up the valley, the climb back up to the pass, down to Ghat, then the
rocky uphill path to Lukla. It was
frozen cold hiking along the river in the morning, crossing a rickety bridge,
then icy stones back and forth over the river, a beautiful clear morning. The Himalaya at these altitudes have a unique
and wonderful smell. There are all kinds of lichens and other strange vegetation.
It is fall, so there are seed pods from the summer plants.
Iced rock crossings and makeshift bridges.
This is the long valley viewed from the pass. We hiked to the waterfalls at the end of the valley, then up the steep slope to the left of them.
Then there was the long climb to the pass, with Kongde towering behind us and huge hanging glaciers on the peaks across the valley. We hiked for hours, finally reaching the pass, where I could see Mount Everest and Laotze the village of Phortze in the distance. I didn’t realize they were in full view because we were in the clouds on the way up. It was a long walk down trying to be fast, but I was tired of walking. I mostly listened to the Moth and thought about things.
Mount Everest in the distance, with the village of Phortze.
Prayer flags at the pass and Mount Everest.
At Ghat I left the
others at the place across the river and walked by myself, very slowly, looking
at everything on the way to Lukla,
looking for the cave llama, looking for the young monks playing music. I had not had a shower for five days. After dropping my bags at the Sunrise, I
walked across the street to see if Angie was there serving tea. She gave me some ginger lemon and I asked her
all the questions I had about Sherpas and porters and life in the
mountains. Then, after dinner I went
back and asked her more questions about Buddhism. Her mother came in, dressed in the
traditional Tibetan or Sherpa apron with a hot potato and cheese pie, which she
shared with me. We talked for hours about her work as an activist for maternity
care in the Khumbu, about education, about Sherpa society. She reminded me that the Sherpa people are
basically Tibetan, and practice Tibetan Buddhism, but that no one except the llamas and monks can read the Buddhist texts because they are in Tibetan. I now
have several places on the trail where I can get a free cup of hot milk,
friends who are working to make the mountains a better place.