After Lukla, where I got myself some very cheap but new boots that didn’t rub, we kept hiking. I didn’t write separate posts for this part of the hike because very little happened in the next few days that was worth writing about. We loved the views and the people we met. When we finally saw white-capped mountains, it truly felt real that we were hiking through the Himalayas. I found a secret volleyball game the Nepalese guides set up when they had some free time. And I got to wander around an abandoned monastery.
The next mentionable moment was when Eric and I decided to go our separate ways. I won’t discuss Eric’s journey as it was his own and his reasons for doing it were important to him. My original reason had been because I thought it would be cool and quite the adventure, but I was undertaking a spiritual journey of my own, which I felt would benefit from some time alone as well.
Our arrival in Dingboche was where it was decided we would go our own ways. I was planning on staying another night in the town to acclimate but Eric wanted to push forward to the next town the next day. I found a nice teahouse that had some books to read to keep me entertained and I wandered around the town for a while that night.
The next morning I met Andy, another hiker from the U.S. and we shared stories well into the morning over breakfast. He took off to the next destination and I went back to the room. I had planned to stay another day to acclimate before moving on but I felt great that morning, no headaches or tiredness, and was pretty bored. I decided that I was going to head to the next stop on my list, Lobuche, instead of waiting.
Now Eric was the smart one who bought a paper map, before him I relied on the kindness of people to point me in the right direction and followed the prayer flags. This was the first and only time I faced some people who made me a little nervous.
There was a gray dirt road that passed through the town heading along a valley towards mountains. Yet, I remember the map seemed to have a left hook instead of straight through the town. I stood at the step of the teahouse watching the local people go about their day, some rushing to work, some sitting and observing. There was a young boy herding his ten yaks down the road. His thin whip tossed lightly to the right to keep the massive, furry yaks moving forward in a semi-straight line.
I watched intently for any indication of which way to go, hoping to see a flash of a backpack or the sound of pings as hiking poles tapped the ground. After fifteen minutes, I finally called it and decided to start walking in a random direction. Just as I took my first step out, I saw a man with a bright green backpack, up ahead, leaving town in the direction of the valley. I hustled after him and called out hoping he spoke English, “Excuse me, so sorry to stop you but I was wondering if you were heading to the Everest Base Camp?”
Just as I finished asking this, I caught up with him and stared at his tall lanky form. He was a bit older with slightly graying hair and a scruffy beard. I could tell he was either an experienced hiker or had been up here a while, as his neck was bright red, the type you only see on white men who have worked their lives under a hot sun. His face was peeling a bit and deepened with a dark tan. Though his red hair poked out from below his gray bucket hat.
“Hi there! I’m sorry I actually am not sure where that is. I’ve been here for 2 months, just exploring as many valleys as I can,” he explained as he pulled out a dirty, wrinkled map. “Actually, do you think you could tell me what town I’m in? I’m pretty lost to where I ended up but grateful to finally have some food in my pack again.”
I was taken aback a bit, and just stared at him for a few seconds. Finally I spit out, “Uh yep, we are in Dingboche. I was trying to reach the Everest Base Camp but I’m a little unsure where to go.”
He gave me a bright smile and replied, “If you want my advice, forget about doing the boring normal stuff. Just start walking in a direction and see where you end up!” He stopped to scratch his chin, then continued with “On second thought… make sure you have enough food and water, these last few days were brutal without it! Happy Trails!” And before I knew it, he was plotting off again on his unpredictable adventure.
It wasn’t the most helpful encounter but his excitement for adventure wore off on me and off I went. I decided to head away from where he was going, as I assumed he tried to get away from the usual hikers. As I made my way back through town I saw some people on a ridge hiking up. A good chance is that a group of hikers meant I was close to the trail. I started up the rocky ledge and moved out of the way for some men who were carrying large stones down.
One of the men looked to be around my age, possibly younger and seemed to be taking a break for a smoke so I asked him the way as well. He pointed up the ridge and then towards a looming mountain to our right. I thanked him profusely but when he smiled and laughed to himself, there was a strange hesitation in me. With no other idea, I just decided I wanted to get away from him.
I felt a very strong uneasiness with the smile and glint in his eye and knew no matter how late it would make me, I had to get to the next town. He was the only person on this whole trip to make me feel that way and it may have been nothing but there is no harm in listening to your gut and getting out of the situation.
Of course the man had pointed me in partially the wrong direction. A group coming down the mountain laughed and pointed to the long flat plateau below the ridge that I had just climbed up. The good news is that I at least climbed over the ridge away from town in the right direction but I had to adjust.
I followed some goat trails along the edge of the mountain for a long time. I walked the thin trail one foot directly in front of the other, so as not to fall down the steep side. The little trails connected all over so I was able to make my way down into the plateau, where it was quite easy to rejoin the normal trail.
The dust kicked up in this windy plateau stung my eyes and stuck to my teeth, as if someone had superglued the sand straight to them. I could feel the grit just running my tongue over the fronts of my teeth. I pulled my long sleeve tightly around my mouth and nose to keep as much of the fine silt out of my lungs as possible. I adorned my brother’s overly large – I didn’t have any sunglasses before I left so I had to make do – Oakley sunglasses to protect my eyes.
At the end of the plateau, I dipped into a crevasse where a beautiful, clear river ran with snowy mountain water. I wouldn’t ever drink it, though it looked clean, I’m sure plenty of yaks and donkeys were walking, crapping, and drinking from it further up the mountains.
There is one small stop before reaching Lobuche called Duglha (Thukla), where there is a small teahouse and restaurant area. This is where I stopped to re-wrap my feet, which shockingly were not infected but still have holes in them with duct tape and gauze. Then re-wrap my boots – remember when I had to buy new boots in Lukla, these USD 15 boots didn’t create blisters but I wore them down so the soles were completely ripping off and I used tape to keep them on.
Right after Duglha is the push many people struggle with. It is a mountain pass called the Thokla Pass and stands at 15,846 feet (4830 meters). It is a long hike to the top with switchback after switchback. My knees ached with each push up the switchbacks, I kept staring down at the valley and sitting on rocks, regretting going further instead of taking that rest day. I wished my bag wasn’t so heavy, though I truly only had the essentials at this time. My breathing was the worst of it. Being that high in altitude truly pushed my asthma to its limits. I was wheezing within ten feet of walking and had to take constant stops.
Though the moment I reached the top of the pass, I saw the prayer flags strung across the trail signaling the end of that part. I felt energized as water built up in the corners of my eyes. Each hardship on the trail built up a part of me. It is an indescribable feeling to do something hard and overcome it, to push your physical limits and succeed.
Just past the flags I saw the rocks stacked on top of each other with plaques clearly cemented in. As I got closer, I began to read the stories of people from around the world and the reason their names were there. Some had passed away at their home and their families put this there to symbolize their love for the himalayas, some had passed away on their way to the base camp or climbing Everest itself. And some were the incredibly brave and hardworking people that never get enough praise for the work and risks they often have to take to support their families, the sherpas of Everest.
It was here, feeling grateful for the life I was blessed with, when Eric popped out from behind the small memorials. He had been looking at them all as well, which slowed him enough down for me to catch up with my late start. He seemed really happy to see me, and just like that we were once again a pair on an adventure as we joined forces and decided to see this all the way out together.