Mt. Everest - Namche Bizaar and a Bed Time Story

Mt. Everest – From Suspension Bridges to Namche Bizaar to a Bed Time Story

 (our second day)

This was a challenge to both body and soul.  We walked from Phakding to Namche Bizaar (a central town where goods are bought and sold).  We walked 25,767 steps, reaching an altitude of 11,067.  However, the numbers do not do the story justice. My heart rate begins to tell how strenuous the trek was, from a semi-resting point of 79 bpm to a high of 160 bps.  The climb was an endless series of rock steps. The terrain was steeper than any stairway I have been on.

It was funny, we were lucky to be there at all.  Many trekkers were stuck in Kathmandu, some in Lukla, a handful in Surke, and still others in Rumkatar Airport – the tiny landing strip of an airport we took off from to get to Surke and begin our trek.  All this so we could endure physical and mental trials and tribulations that lie ahead.  Keep in mind the trek was compounded by relentless rain, as well.  Hey – no complaints here.  We were on route to Everest base camp, instead of being stuck, fogged in somewhere, waiting in limbo.  Those poor souls may never have the good fortune of making this journey.

We were thrilled. We were privileged and honored to be following in the footsteps of Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, the first people to ascent to the top of Everest or in Nepalese, Sagarmatha.  This part of the journey brought us through old traditional villages, waterfalls, and, of course, suspension bridges.  One of the highest bridges is Larche Bridge.  It was an exhilarating part of our journey.  The wind almost blew my Stanford baseball cap right off my head along with my bright green backpack rain cover.  I caught both just in time.  Usually, I am a bit unnerved by heights, but this felt glorious.  The wind was blowing in my face, the roaring sounds of Dudh Koshi, the river below me, was all that I could hear, and the grand, larger-than-life landscape lit my eyes up with wonder. We were standing above the same river we flew over to find a safe path by helicopter only a day or so ago. 

Once we reached the other side of the gorge it was back to the trail, except this time we actually walked along the river bank for a while.  The roar of the river was almost deafening, but you could not help but feel the force it carried.  It provided the towns with all the hydroelectricity they needed year-round.  That momentary pleasure was suddenly interrupted with a 75-degree incline ascent on solid stone steps and gravel. We shared the trail with yak, a pack of mules with bells, and horses, all going up or down the narrow trail with us.  We just stepped aside to make room for them, the same courtesy we extended to the porters and Sherpas carrying hundreds of pounds of goods on their backs.

I should note we were warned not to eat the meet now or when we got higher up the mountain.  It was mostly dusty, old (nonrefrigerated) buffalo meet. The same meat we saw being carried up in the little villages below and being carried on the back of porters while trekking up the mountain. 

Speaking of food, we stopped at one of the many villages strewn along the way for lunch. It is an interesting economy. The government helps subsidize some of the hotels to host tourists. The porters are paid to provide supplies for the hotels who take care of the trekkers and the tourists pay a premium to stay and eat at the hotels to complete the circle. It is a complete economic system.

In any case, all we cared about at that moment was lunch, that and getting out of the rain. It felt great to take our boots off.   Sitting down was an earthly delight after a very long and strenuous trek.  Ramen was the food of choice this time, plus a cheese sandwich and tea. We met some of the trekkers who greeted us so enthusiastically when our helicopter appeared from the clouds in Surke.  They were just ahead of us. They had finished lunch and were ready to get back on the trail.  The comradery of trekkers is hard to explain.  We are all on a mission, but everyone says Namaste or hello when we pass each other.  When you see a familiar face, you you chat about everything under the sun. We shared our knowledge about where any other trekkers were, whether any other planes or helicopters made it, what the weather was like ahead.  Mostly it was just good to see face you knew and had shared near disaster with in the middle of nowhere, all on the same path - literally.

All to soon it was time for us to return to the trails.  We walked only a kilometer and sure enough there was another praying wheel. They were everywhere.  You always walk to the left of them going up and down the path.  They are there for another opportunity to pray for Buddha.  They are also supposed to bring you good luck.  Religious or not, Buddist or not, when you see them you spin them. You can use all the luck you can get on these trails.

Sagarmatha National Park

The path goes through Sagarmatha National Park – elevation 3,140 meters. There are 4 resident Snow Leopards in the park, Musk Deer all around the park, and plenty of Danphe (the national bird of Nepal).

It wasn’t long before we ran across a police check-point, requiring our passports and more money.  The good news, it meant we were really within reach of our destination for the day - Namache Bizaar. 

While waiting for our papers to be processed, we saw our Israeli friend Andree waiting on the bench, the one who got stuck with us in the harrowing helicopter ride.  “Od pa um” – which is “once again” in Hebrew, we had run into Andree. 

We had time to kill while waiting for all the paper work so we chatted again, but this time it was more substantive. I learned he was 39 who immigrated from Russia.   Andree was a young engineer.  I shared with him what my life was like while living on a kibbutz, moshav, and in Jerusalem for a year. He explained why he never developed sophisticated conversational skills, because in his line of study and work, he mostly read and took test.  We had a bond.  We spoke in Hebrew and half English the entire time.  It was great to share stories with someone who understood the Israeli experience, including godna (military youth training), Knesset politics, and so many things that were a part of my life a million years ago.

Our only concern about Andree was that he was trekking alone. We asked him to join us, but he said he liked to hike by himself.  We knew it was dangerous to trek up Mt. Everest alone. It is easy to take the wrong path, fall of a cliff, get sick (including mountain sickness) and no one would be there to help.  But we respected his wished and exchanged goodbyes (“la hetra oat” or “see you for now”) and we went our separate ways, certain we would meet up again.

Fourty minutes later we arrived at our destination, right on schedule.  I can’t tell you how happy (and completely exhausted) we all were to see the beautiful Namche Bizaar and our hotel – a second elegant and inviting Yeti Mountain House (with some Internet).

We ate well, but David felt nocuous.  We were concerned of course but there were no other altitude sickness symptoms, so I put him to bed with a tiny Yak story I made up about a little boy named Babu.  He was only 9 years old, not even 11 like him. 

Bed Time Story

Babu came from a tiny village, like the one we had to force land in, due to the weather.  Babu loved his Yak and one day while speaking to the Yak asked him to take him away.  He wanted to see the world. He wanted to see more than just his little tiny home.

The Yak ask the little boy if he had asked permission from his parents and the boy said no, because he knew they would say no, but he still wanted the Yak to take him away. (David’s eyes were still half open and feeling better, but not great at this point.  He said it was hard to take deep breaths, so with a little concern, I continued with my story.)

The Yak agreed to take Babu on a journey to another town.  The Yak let the boy climb on his back and off they went to the next neighboring village.  The people crowded around the boy and Yak, trying to sell them all sorts of things, warm milk, potatoes, and dal balt (potatoes, green vegetable, peas).  The boy was a little embarrassed because he didn’t have any money. The Yak was wise.  The Yak knew the boy had no money, so he told the boy “don’t buy it now, it is too expensive.  We should go to the next town”.  The boy listened and off they went. Babu asked the boy to go faster, but the Yak just continued at a slow, plodding pace, until they reached the next town.  By this time the boy was very hungry.  The people in the community did not crowd around them trying to sell him anything like the people in the last village.  Instead the boy heard them talking amongst themselves. “I think I know who owns that Yak? Maybe we should take care of that Yak until we see his owner.”

The boy was alarmed to hear such talk.  He thought they were going to still his Yak.  He said to the Yak.   “I don’t like this town.  Let’s go away from here right now.”  The Yak listened to the little boy and they continued down the stony path for a very long time. (David was almost asleep by now, but his eyes were not completely closed. Normally, he would be completely out at this point in his bedtime stories, so I continued).  The Yak and the boy rounded the corner of the stone path and to the boy’s surprise, they were back at home. The Yak had gone the same route it had always gone with the boy’s parents, selling and trading goods. The boy didn’t know it was the Yak’s routine. He thought it was a great adventure.  He was so thankful to be home.  The world was not as he had imagined.  It was certainly not better than where he lived.  His parents thought he had been playing all day when they saw him so they were not alarmed.  Babu got off the Yak and his parents came up and hugged him, like they always did. They said it was time for dinner.  As Babu walked away with his parents. he waved and winked at the Yak. The Yak smiled.  He enjoyed the company of Babu and he knew the boy loved him. They had taken care of each other and they both knew there was no better place to be than home. (I asked David if he felt better.  He whispered yes.  I said good night and bent down to give him a good night kiss, he had already fallen fast asleep.  He was fine in the morning.