I ended up taking the random man’s advice to start from Salleri. It seemed like the financially smart decision as flights to Lukla were pretty expensive for my budget. The day after my disastrous day in Kathmandu, I went out again and gathered some snacks and water purification tablets. Then I bought a ticket from the front desk of the hostel for a ride to Salleri.
That morning I had been told the car would come at 3:00am so I snuck quietly down the stairs where I thought I would be able to just leave. Low and behold all the doors are locked and the front desk worker was sleeping on a couch down there. I figured the driver would end up knocking and had no idea what to do in this kind of situation.
As 3:30am rolled around, I was terrified I was supposed to meet them outside and missed my ride. I felt awful waking the front desk worker up at this hour but I couldn’t afford to pay another ride out of there. Finally I gently shook him awake as he jumped up. He called the car driver and they had just pulled up.
An adventurous jeep ride this became is an understatement. I had undertaken a rough drive that lasted ten hours. I was smushed in the back left corner of a Jeep where eight people in total were huddled to undertake the ride. I was pressed tightly against the window in the back corner, where I spent a majority of my time smashing my head on the ceiling as we bumped around turns, balanced on cliffs, and sped along rocky roads. The woman next to me was an older Indian woman, judging by the traditional looking Sari she was wrapped in, and she smelt strongly of curry. She was kind and always offered me food or water when we stopped, often waving to me that it was safe to get out and walk around during breaks in the ride.
I’m not really sure if this car company was supposed to have me, as every police checkpoint we drove by I was ducking and hiding by everyone’s sandaled feet, or if they just didn’t want to have to wait for my passports and visas to be checked at every stop.
The views were amazing when I could see them but I had not slept a wink the night before from nerves and anxiety I couldn’t shake. I kept falling asleep, my head bobbing down, only to be rudely awakened as my forehead smashed against the fogged plastic windows and woke me with a pounding headache.
It was late afternoon when we arrived in Salleri, a small village with one street lined with houses. Everyone quickly gathered their bags and items from the top of the jeep and were off down small side streets and heading to what I assume was their homes. I chose to start walking left and looking around. There was absolutely no indication of this being a part of the hike to the Everest Base Camp. It was already 4:30pm and I stopped to ask someone standing on the side of the road, “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, I’m looking for the Everest Base Camp? Is it that way?”
The man stared at me and smiled but I realized really quickly, as he called for another person, he didn’t speak English. Many of the places I’ve gone, I’ve done my best at learning simple words in the language spoken there. In this situation, I don’t think my Nepalese was up to par as I still received absolutely clueless stares.
Finally, a man who spoke a bit of English came down out of his house. He didn’t know about any Everest Base Camp. I made a big mistake and should have referred to the mountain by the Nepali name of Sagarmatha and maybe someone would have recognized it. I have learned many lessons since then to learn both the common and indigenous/original names for trails and mountains, as often colonizers have renamed landmarks to be their own, leaving the true name to the people who own the land.
He was very friendly though and when I looked utterly helpless he said, “Here go to place to sleep and eat, tomorrow take jeep back to Kathmandu and find way from there.”
He showed me to a small guesthouse where the drivers of the jeeps often stayed, which was full of rowdy people talking and laughing. The older woman smiled kindly at me and led me to a room upstairs for the night. The man had a point and I decided he was smart to come up with that idea. I could go to Kathmandu and be completely done with this.
I felt overwhelmed and loney, a little angry at the man who said it would be easy to go this way and dumb for listening to a complete stanger. It was one of the many moments on the trip I wished so deeply that I had a partner with me, anyone to help make the hard decisions on what to do.
I wasn’t sure how to go about getting food and I wasn’t ready to go downstairs and face all of these strangers so I decided to eat a granola bar for dinner and just try to sleep. I slept for a few hours until the other drivers made their way upstairs. I realized there was nothing but a sheet between the rooms, as their loud talking woke me up.
There was a moment, and I think for many women reading this they’ve had this same feeling, of terror when realizing there was no actual way to keep someone out of my room. I stayed awake late into the night, listening to them chat for hours until finally all I could hear was their breathing evening out into thunderous snores and the creaks of shifting in the beds. I felt it was safe enough to drift back off.
The next day I awoke before the sun came up as the drivers prepared themselves for the long ten hour drive back. I have no idea how this didn’t occur to me sooner, but when I used the WiFi at the hostel in Kathmandu to look up some information about this way of hiking, I happened to write down a list of towns that were along the way of the hike just in case, and realized that was the new plan of action.
With some newfound energy and spirit I dug out the sticky note with the towns, packed my stuff, and went running down the stairs. I asked the woman warming breakfast, “Good Morning! Taksindo?”
Finally I figured out how to find my way! She nodded at me, grabbed my elbow and gently pulled me outside. She pointed down the road and waved as she walked back inside. I figured I’d trust what she pointed to and just started walking completely cluelessly. I hiked for about 30 minutes when I walked past a teahouse that had a sign saying something with Everest in it. The realization I had been so close to a teahouse specifically for hikers made me laugh out loud and inspired so much more confidence in my ability to do this.
Along the road that day, I asked many people about Taksindo, one person laughing and telling me, “Take a car, pay someone to drive you there, too far to walk.”
I just laughed and said, “I need the exercise but good point!”
In reality, I wouldn’t feel accomplished if I didn’t hike from Salleri on because that was my personal official start to the hike.
I made it to Taksindo that day where I found out there was a gathering happening at the monastery. The white and red walls stuck out as it sat atop a ridge. It was beautiful and the first monastery I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t help but stare for a while. I wasn’t sure what the gathering was for but the place was full as people and children sat all around the lawns surrounding it. In fear of interrupting an important time for the people, I stayed near the edge of the lawns and walked around it as the trail passed right through.
It wasn’t long before I realized the trail wasn’t clear on where to go. I walked all around the perimeter as a group of teenagers watched and giggled at my obviously lost self. I hoped I didn’t look too strange to them or scare them but I needed information and it seemed only children and teenagers were running around at this time.
At this point there had been a map right before Taksindo that mentioned another town in the valley below that seemed to have more amenities and was a more common place for people to stop. With the gathering going on I figured it would be the right thing to keep going anyway and not interrupt their time as I was just a guest in their homeland.
I asked the oldest looking teenager, “Hi there! I’m looking for Nunthala, do you know how I get there?”
They giggled at me before I had a little group of children pulling my arms over to the other side of the clearing where there was a barely visible path heading down into the valley, where I knew the town lay. I waved and jumped down the first couple steps to the delight of the children as they giggled and ran off yelling at each other loudly.
I carried on down the long winding trail into the valley. I walked into a barren town. No one was to be found and I assumed they were all at the celebration at the monastery. I continued to stop at each teahouse that I spotted but most were locked up and I was desperate for a place to sleep for the night.
Finally, at the last teahouse on the road, I saw someone working in the front yard. I smiled and asked, “Hi! I’m sorry to bother you but are you open for a room for the night?”
The man seemed to consider it and looked around, seeming a little unsure. I got the feeling he wasn’t the one usually running the house and I knew I was starting to breach on the edge of monsoon season. He finally nodded and said, “Yes we have a room but no food, everyone is at the celebration.”
I agreed, just absolutely relieved to have a place to sleep for the night considering it seemed every other place was completely shut down. I forgot to mention that on my first day on the trail, I had attempted to fill up my water bladder for hiking when it decided to break, I think there had been a mistake in production and it hadn’t been sealed correctly. So I had a water blatter and some other things that were weighing me down. I tend to overpack and I was truly feeling the weight at this point.
The room was normal practice at this point with two small beds and that was about it. I immediately laid down for a bit before deciding dinner was necessary. I poured some of my cold water into an instant oatmeal package and ate that. It was far from good tasting but I knew the calories were absolutely necessary if I was going to keep going at this rate.
Three days of hiking doesn’t seem like a long time, but I had yet to have a full meal due to my anxiety on the first day and then the celebration or holiday. There was no place to buy food. I was living on granola bars (not even the good healthy ones with protein) and instant oatmeal packets that I ate dry or as cold mush.
Three days without a true meal was weighing on me as my muscles felt weak and I was once again ready to turn around. I finally got myself off the bed and went into the main room. I traded the rest of my granola bars and some items I didn’t need for another water bottle, some snickers bars, and a can of juice. There was no way I could even stomach anymore of those granola bars so I figured I could at least get something that I would eat.
There wasn’t much excitement at the start of the day as I plodded along dirt roads and trails. Not something I’d never recommend but for some reason hadn’t thought of, was a map. I was relying completely on other people and seeing the prayer flags that were showing the way, I hoped.
At some point the roads stop. That was where I ran into some issues. I had no idea where I was going and I didn’t see anyone. I was walking down a path along the side of the mountain by one-room houses with large gardens of food. I hadn’t seen a flag in a while so I kept walking straight.
I was desperate and I hadn’t seen anyone, it was a moment of pure frustration as it felt like everything kept going wrong. This wasn’t the easy hike I had been told about. I plopped onto the ground, breathing heavily to try to keep the tears in. I pulled at my braid and told myself, “Calm down, just calm down and think for a second.”
My feet had been painfully rubbing the last two days so I figured I should take a moment to rest them. I slowly pulled off the boot and stared at my socked foot. The entire heel of my right foot was absolutely covered in blood and when I checked the left, it wasn’t faring any better. I peeled the sock off carefully and found there was a literal hole in my foot where the boot rubbed almost to the bone.
Thanks to my brother’s gift to me at christmas I had a full first aid pouch and carefully cleaned both heels with alcohol. I knew it would be a miracle if they didn’t get infected. I wrapped them in new bandages with duct tape to hopefully keep it tight and keep dirt out. I pulled out a pair of my hiking sandals that strapped over my toes and ankles and decided I’d have to wear those for a while.
Another bit of walking and my sandals were holding up great. I was walking at a much faster pace without the radiating pain but my bag was heavy and I was suffering greatly from walking so many miles up ridges and down into valleys, that I decided the extra weight wasn’t worth it. I left the boots on a big rock next to the wide trail I was on. I truly hope they went to a family or someone who needed them but I couldn’t wear them anymore and the weight was killing me.
I passed someone further down in the valley, I could just see their back as they bobbed up and down planting something in their garden. I wasn’t sure of the culture of approaching someone at their home like that so I decided to go even further down the trail. About five more minutes of hiking with no indication of where I was, I decided to turn around and see if I could go back and find some help.
I went back to the small house where the older woman was kneeling down and picking at weeds. I did my best to approach from an angle where she would spot me as I waded through the waist tall grass on a small foot path.
Luckily, she spotted me before I got to her fence so I was hoping she wasn’t startled and I figured I wasn’t very threatening anyway, standing at five-foot-two and only one hundred and fifteen pounds. She was clearly surprised but smiled nicely.
I asked her, “Hello, I’m sorry to come to your home and bother you but do you know where the trail to Karikola is?”
She smiled and called for someone before replying, “Ahh yes, we only see a few hikers through here and not usually this time of year but the trail isn’t clear. If you follow this small path you will get to the bottom of the valley and the path is more clear.” She took a short pause to look ahead to another ridge, “up that ridge you see the steeple? That is where the trail takes you and Karikola is up that way.”
I replied, “Thank you so much, I greatly appreciate it!”
As I started to walk off towards the trail she pointed, the young man she must have called appeared. He must have been her son as she said, “My son will show you down to meet the main trail just over there. After you come back from your trip you can marry my son! It would be so great, you are so pretty and young.”
I very awkwardly smiled and started walking. I’ve never been proposed to before much less by a guys mother but it did make me laugh when I was far from the two. I guess you never know unless you ask! She shot her chance regardless and I’ve got to give her props for that.
Nothing much happened when it came to the hike to the valley, it was hiking back up the ridges. These were at least 1,000 to 2,000 feet (305 to 610 meters) of elevation each time I went up and over them. At this point I believe I had gone up and over five ridges with no meals of real food. I was twenty feet away from the steeple of the monument when I decided I couldn’t go any further. I just laid in the middle of the trail without taking my bag off and stayed there for thirty minutes. No one came and I enjoyed the peace and the views while dreading the moment I had to travel further.
When I finally got on my feet I walked over the ridge to feel utter relief in my veins, my muscles strained and my thoughts finally shut up. Karikola was right there and I walked right up to the first place I saw that had beds.
That was the moment I met Eric. A man who later became a good friend of mine as we joined forces to conquer this crazy adventure together. He stayed in the same teahouse where I finally got myself a heaping load of steaming egg-fried rice and we talked for hours.
The next morning I smiled as I saw Eric head out before me and waved goodbye. I was sad to lose someone to talk to but I knew I wasn’t in the best shape and was moving pretty slow compared to other people so I didn’t want to hold him back.
The day was pretty normal and I made a trail buddy at this point. He lived in a town near Namche Bazar and went to college in Kathmandu. He was home for a couple months and always got too nervous to fly into Lukla so he decided to hike in for the first time. He said he greatly regretted it.
We hiked for a while until noon when he said he was stopping for tea and lunch and would buy me some. As a girl who was hiking alone I completely used Eric as my scapegoat and said he was my boyfriend who was just up ahead. I regret to say I could not remember Eric’s first name at the time so I called him John.
I would be a fool to ignore that no matter how nice someone is being, you have to be on high alert. Therefore, I preferred not to continue hiking with him as he had started really asking about my relationship and personal details that I didn’t want to answer. Luckily he still stopped for tea and as soon as I was out of sight, I started jogging with my massive bag bouncing on my back.
To my luck, Eric had stopped for lunch so he was just up ahead and I suprisingly caught up to him. We started walking together and I told him I met a guy on the trail but I was getting nervous and wondered if I could hang out with him for a while.
Not really to my surprise but to my suspicion the other guy must have hustled up as well and caught up to us only fifteen minutes later. I was a few feet behind Eric when he caught up to me and asked if that was him, my boyfriend. I said yep and he started walking ahead calling out, “Hey John wait up!”
I felt my shoulders slouching and my face wincing as I realized I may have forgotten to tell Eric I used him and I didn’t use the right name. I figured he would think I was a total weirdo, if he didn’t already, with my dirt covered socks and sandals, for using him when I just met him but I panicked.
Eric gave him a weird look and said, “My name is Eric but uhh hi.”
Later I told the guy that his real name was Eric but I call him by his middle name of John.
My plan that day had been to get to Lukla as I hoped that if any place was going to have some boots for sale it would be the place with the airport. A small part of me hoped that maybe I could also just buy someone’s boots off of them before they flew out, if it really came down to it.
Eric was also planning to get to Lukla and stay a day to acclimate and rest as he had already hiked a few days more than me, since he started in Jiri, which was further away.
One of my favorite parts of this trip was at some point there was a kid running by in a school uniform, I estimate he must have been around 6 years old. As he was approaching he slowed down and smiled but didn’t say anything. I waved at him and he paused when passing me. He held up his cute chubby hand and said, “High-five.” Then that rugrat, as I went to high five him, pulled his hand away and yelled, “Too slow!” As he sprinted away from me laughing his little butt off.
Back to the main story, we had been hiking for 5 hours and we were worried about making it to Lukla. Eric had a map but it didn’t have the distances on it so we weren’t sure what to expect. We entered a valley covered in greenery and only had one little teahouse in it. There we rested and found someone to ask how far Lukla was. I sat outside the teahouse on a small stone seat, resting and eating a snickers while Eric approached another hiker lounging in the yard.
They had a long discussion before Eric returned and told me he said it was just over the ridge and another valley. That it should only take a couple of hours. My body was done, my legs hurt and my asthma was really acting up, the wheezing got worse the further we went. I figured I should just stay the night there but then Eric had a certain look when he mentioned, “The guy was very interested in you, he was asking me about my relationship to you, where you were heading, who you were, where you were from, and if you were staying the night.”
I’m not sure if Eric was aware of the importance of telling me that but I knew my fate was sealed, I was hiking to Lukla. Again, as a woman, hearing this random hiker that was a man was so fascinated by me, was a red flag. I know I’ve been to many places where men are surprised I’m up there doing it by myself but you’ve always got to be aware and I’ve found it easier to assume the worst and trust your gut.
We began hiking again feeling a bit of spring in my step as I hustled forward thinking we’ve got one ridge and one valley.
That was untrue. Two hours later we ran into some more hikers who told us Lukla was four hours away, we didn’t think there was anywhere to stay until then so our choice was made to keep pushing on. I can’t remember exactly how long it took but I believe we ended up hiking three ridges and three valleys. It was well into the night and about 11:00pm when we saw it.
I was walking about ten feet at a time before needing a break. I couldn’t do it. Each inhale was accompanied with the high pitch sound of my wheezing and I was shuffling more than walking. I’ll never be able to thank Eric enough, he took a bunch of stuff out of my bag and hooked it on his to lessen the weight to get me over that last ridge. We saw these strange red lights all along the area ahead and it hit us, that was the airport.
I was hysterically laughing as we stumbled upon these stone steps. We laughed and laughed and cried. I don’t think either of us could move as we couldn’t believe it took hiking for eleven hours to get here. We finally reached Lukla and we didn’t have the energy to find a hotel. I wonder if we would have slept there as we laid on the ground for fifteen minutes.
That is how a drunk old man found us. Spread like starfish on the first stone step of the town with our stuff thrown half-hazardly on the ground. He stumbled over to us and laughed before saying, “What are you people doing out here?! Get up and I’ll show you the best house in town.”
I’m not sure why but we followed the drunk old man as he tripped over himself and almost fell into a wall a couple times, but it was dark and we just wanted somewhere to stay. We got to a teahouse that was crammed with drunk men and were offered a room. A part of the wall was missing as the cold breeze came through. When the guy left for a second we shared a look and booked it quietly out of that hotel. It took a couple more tries along the road to find a place that had an open room with two beds we could share.
I’ve never slept as good as I did that night.