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Steve Olsen Journal while trekking Part II

Thursday, Oct. 3, 2002 - Namche to Dole (9 hours)

Today we went from 11,300 feet to 13,850 feet. Doesn't sound so bad, except that at one point we went downhill 1,300 feet only to cross a valley and head back up to the next village another 1,300 feet. It took a little less than an hour to go down, but about three and a half hours up the other side. Today's hike was probably the most difficult physical exertion I have ever done in my life. Even with an extra day in Namche to acclimatize to the altitude, on any ascent I can only manage 10 baby steps, then a one-minute rest, then repeat. To a certain extent it reminds me a lot of those endless hours on the treadmill in the gym, except that when you stop to catch your breath you have the most amazing mountain vistas in the world to enjoy. There were very few flat spots. Most of the trail today was very steep, up or down. I was moving at less than Yak (or washing machine) speed. I was not feeling fatigue, but it was very frustrating to not be able to go any faster. We set out at 8:30 in the morning, stopped an hour for lunch, and were the last off the trail, arriving at Dole just before dark at 5:30 pm. The scenery was of course incredible, the river rushing far below, the snow capped peaks above. We were walking along an eighteen-inch wide trail that is mostly rocky rubble with the outside edge a precipice that drops a couple of thousand feet straight down, plus dodging the Yaks coming from the other direction. We were both worn out after eight hours (of seemingly all uphill) and beginning to ask those hard questions like, "Are we really in over our heads?" and "Did we make a huge mistake with this trip?" A definite low point. The scenery is amazing and overall we are having a good time, but I'm feeling very guilty for putting Mary Jane through this - it is way more than either of us had thought we were getting into. I can only hope that by this time next year we can look back and think it was worth it.

Now the good news - we did see some interesting people and things along the way. There was a group of Tibetan women (Buddhist nuns) in bright red and yellow dresses happily chattering and giggling as they walked along the trail. A group of Spaniards were having a grand time hooting and hollering at each other, sounding like they were competing - extreme trekking(?). We saw a family with four kids - the youngest, about three years old, was riding in a basket on a porter's back. They appeared western - little blonde girls with backpacks, skipping along. Pemba said he thought the man might be a doctor in one of the towns further up the trail. We met a young (30-ish) woman at lunch who was traveling with a French guy named Fred(!?!). They told us they were on a scouting trip looking for a mountain to climb, and then ski down. They were going to find the right mountain, then back to Lukla to get their skis and back up. We started to see real Yaks today, not the Zup-Yaks (the cross breeds) we had been seeing. These Yaks are very hairy, like walking car-wash brushes. They all have bells on their necks that have a distinctive, deep tone. They are all different colors from black to brown to gray, even some pintos. The lead Yak in each group is always decorated more than the others. We saw one today that had a bright red forelock. The Yak drivers walk along among the animals whistling and shouting commands at the Yaks, sometimes urging them to move with a tossed rock. Yaks move cautiously, but are forced to move forward when prodded by the horns of the Yak behind. We had lunch at the top of a hill next to a big stupa with lots of small Mani tablet-stones piled against it, with long strings of prayer flags fluttering in all directions. It felt like the top of the world, sitting in the sun with clouds floating by below us. We walked through a rhododendron forest that reminded me of Mount Tamalpaias in California - gnarly trees, moss, rushing streams. We saw a Nepali deer - very small, about the size of a medium sized dog with long ears that made me think he was some kind of mutant rabbit. Near the end of the day as the clouds were closing in and we were struggling along, Heather told us to stop and look behind us. A huge snow-covered peak was shinning brightly, lit by the sun above the clouds and framed perfectly in a gap in the cloud cover.

We stopped at a more typical (more rustic) lodge in Dole tonight - no heat in the bedrooms, rougher construction (1/4 inch plywood walls), and a toilet that will probably give us nightmares for months. There are four other trekkers - two Brits, two Swiss women - and us. Trekkers, porters, and guides gather/huddle around a small wood stove trying to stay warm, drying our wet clothes on our laps. We have dinner of Daal Bat with spicy curried vegetables, then sit and read, or chat. Soon Pemba starts a conversation with one of the other party's porters, which develops into him regaling everybody with a long involved story. Nobody but the Sherpa porters can understand what is being said, but because he is so animated and enthusiastic in his telling, I am fascinated nonetheless, and listen for over an hour, carried along by his gestures and intonations. To bed at 9:00. Some of the porters pull bedrolls out of the benches and wrap up in the dining room to sleep. Two of them pull out a deck of cards and begin a very energetic game of ... something or other that I don't recognize, but that involves a lot of slapping down of cards and mock arguments, loud shouts of triumph, and laughter.

This is a very democratic place - trekkers and porters side-by-side around the unifying fire, playing games, reading, chatting, with no sign of class distinctions. Yet, as close as we get, I still realize the economic gulf between us and think of how hard a porter's life must be - carrying heavy loads over difficult terrain, followed by hours of boredom waiting for the trekkers. Pemba tells us that they start young - one of our porters, Chukpa, is 14 years old. They can make better money for their families this way than by anything else they could be doing in their home village. Chukpa is still a boy - I see him get a distracted look when he sees the rare toy, he has shy smiles, and plays games and jokes whenever he has a moment free. Yet he is away from his family for months at a time finding work where he can; and he carries Mary Jane's luggage, my luggage, and his own - about 45 pounds.

Friday, Oct. 4 - Dole to Machermo (4 hours)

It was cold overnight, but we were warm in our sleeping bags. We went out to the cherpi at 3:00 am to pee (the Sherpas won't go out alone at night here - this is Yeti country, and they believe), it was a very clear night, and the stars were RIGHT THERE! Some nights in upper Michigan you can see the milky way as a band where there are a lot of stars; last night in Dole, the milky way was a white streak across the sky, so thick with stars it was almost as bright as a full moon.

We got off to a slow start today. Breakfast was toast with jam and peanut butter. We hit the trail at 9:00, and of course it started out straight up! Up and up, as Heather likes to remind us. Eventually we hit some relatively flat, or at least not so steep parts. We passed several groups of Yaks going down carrying hay and firewood. Views of the mountaintops are amazing, the sky defines the term Azure Blue, the air is so clear you can see the craggy details from a long way away. It is hard going, though - the altitude just takes your breath, but a slooooow pace works best.

We made it to Machermo in four hours. This is a village of about a half-dozen large lodges, and most seem relatively new. There is a group in tents set up in a field next to one lodge. We get rooms in a large lodge. It seems O.K. (better than Dole), and not very crowded. They will heat water if you want to take a bucket/sponge bath in the shower booth they have built out front. We keep seeing familiar faces from previous nights. The Brits and Swiss who were with us last night are here. They got here much earlier than us and have rooms in another lodge. We meet a young German couple in our lodge who are on their honeymoon. They are taking a leisurely pace, staying extra nights at places they like, not in a hurry to get anywhere, just enjoying themselves more than the scenery (understandable, since it is their honeymoon.) They spend long hours in the dining room, reading and giving each other long massages. Lunch is Ra-Ra noodles with vegetables and egg. We have the afternoon off, and will take baths and relax.

We have looked at the map, and we should be able to make Gokyo tomorrow Mary Jane and I don't think we will actually do the climb up Gokyo peak (18,093 feet) but there is a walk that we can take further up the glacier valley for views of Everest. We are feeling better - Heather says attitude is everything. Heather really wants us to go up Gokyo peak, but the idea of 3,000 more steep feet, especially when starting at 15,000 feet, seems almost too much right now.

I have been noticing the carpentry in Nepal, especially up here in the mountains. The Nepalis seem to be very good at it. There is quite a bit of interesting technique, and you just know there are no power tools involved. Tables are made with through-tenon braces; cabinets have through tenons and intricately carved trim. I saw a central support post in a lodge that had a splice in it that fit together like fingers. I have also seen some of the tenons with wedges in the outer ends for making the joint tighter.

Saturday, Oct. 5 - Machermo to Gokyo (8 hours)

There are spectacular mountain peak views in the morning from the windows of our lodge while we have breakfast. There is a frost on the ground. The big British group in tents started breaking camp at 6:00 am when I went out to the cherpi. They have about twelve big (probably two-person) tents and a bigger double-sized kitchen tent, and several small toilet tents. Each tent is assigned to one porter who carries the tent and all its contents to the next camp. There are probably three porters for every trekker in the group, about fifty people in all.

Once again the trail starts out with an hour of steep uphill climbing. This is followed by several long sections of gradual slope along the flank of the hills forming the river valley. However, even a gradual slope at this elevation is a strain for breath. The only way to make progress is in half baby steps. Toward the end of another hour-and-a-half of steep uphill with lots of loose, wet rock and rock "staircases", we reach a short log bridge over the beginning of the river, which we see now is gushing out from under the end of the glacier. We turn around to look down the valley toward the villages we have come through. From here they look like toy houses.

Now we come to the first of a series of turquoise lakes. These are sterile lakes formed and fed by the glacier. The color of the water is a brilliant, deep, almost opaque turquoise that matches the stones that Mary Jane bought in Namche exactly. This is a fairly flat area, a wide valley floor that is the start of the terminal moraine of the Ngozumpa glacier (say that three times, fast!) It is basically just a huge rockfall or rubble field of castoff boulders from the glacier. People have built lots of Cairns of balanced rocks all over the field. It looks like the surface of the moon populated by so many petrified prairie dogs all sitting up to see what we are doing here. I take a minute to put up a cairn of my own to mark our passing, but quickly find that a ten-pound rock feels more like a hundred pounds here. I build a short pile and move on.

As we approach the third lake we see lots of prayer flags strung between piles of stones, then around a corner, the village of Gokyo comes into view. It is a small collection of lodges built on a slope just above the lake. Our lodge (whose sign announces 15,650 feet) is still partially under construction, so our room is very new and quite nice, as these things go. The door has a regular latch (instead of the typical Nepali hasp and lock) and there are actual beds just like in the hotels in Kathmandu. The toilet at the end of the hall has a gravel floor, two western-style camp toilets (sit down but no flush), a sink and a container of wash water. Very luxurious. The windows of our room overlook the lake and the huge peaks on the far side. We have no problems breathing when we are still, but we run out of breath after climbing a flight of stairs. It actually takes your breath away rolling over in bed at night, but you recover quickly.

This brings up the subject of fitness. We were very proud of ourselves for doing so much hiking in preparation for this trip, but we now realize that except for Bird Hills Park in Ann Arbor, we didn't do many real hills (if you could call Bird Hills hills), and certainly no high altitude stuff. I now believe the better plan would have been to do a lot of hard aerobic exercise to get our hearts and lungs in shape, not just our legs. The longest hike we took this summer was only about six hours on fairly flat land. Here, in our first week we have already done at least two eight-hour-plus treks, mostly up very steep hills. We would recommend to someone who is interested in a trip like this to work a lot harder than we did to get ready. We actually were in better shape a year ago before we canceled after the September 11 disaster - we were regularly going to the gym to do stairclimbers and a lot of time in Michigan Stadium climbing up and down the steps for hours. Age has nothing to do with it - I have seen plenty of people older than me cruising right past me without stopping.

There is a real mix of people on the trail and in the lodges. We have seen German, British, French, Swiss, Italian, Spanish, Canadian, Japanese, Chinese, Indian, and Eastern European countries represented. Americans seem pretty scarce. Sitting around the stove in the dining room is a very cosmopolitan group. They are generally young, fit, and adventuresome, talking about where they have been and where they are going next, mostly exotic places. Tonight a French guy is telling a British guy how to sneak across the border into Tibet without papers. We keep seeing the same people here and there and hearing their impressions of places we are thinking of going.

For tomorrow there are three options - vegetate here at the lodge, enjoying th e sun and the view; climbing up over the small ridge behind the lodge to see the glacier; or hike up the valley to the fifth lake to view Everest. We have ruled out climbing Gokyo Ri which is about 3,000 steep feet above us. We can always buy a postcard of that view - or borrow one of Heather's photos.

Sunday, Oct. 6

Our room on the first floor is located directly below the dormitory area on the second floor where the porters and guides sleep. At about 4:00 am, one of the guides for an Italian group gets up to knock on the doors of his group to wake them for an early start. He has very heavy, hard-soled boots that make rather a lot of noise on our ceiling at 4:00 damn am.

We woke this morning to find ourselves fogged in. The clouds are slowly rising, we may see sun later. People are getting up slowly. Some talk of heading up to the Cho La pass, which leads over to the Everest base camp. One woman has had a headache for two days and is debating going down to Machermo until it goes away, then back up here. The big British group has already broken camp and headed over the pass. Lodges seem to all follow a basic pattern. There are dormitories for porters, rooms for trekkers, a kitchen, and a big dining room. The dining room is square with benches around the perimeter, individual tables in front of the benches, a few plastic chairs, and a stove in the middle. These stoves burn either wood or dried Yak dung. Most places only run the stove in the evening from sundown until about 9:00. Otherwise you bundle up.

We were feeling a little blue at the prospect of a day of inactivity, so we decided to take the walk up to the fifth lake. Heather set out for the top of Gokyo Ri at 9:00, and we loaded up our packs and headed up the valley toward the fourth and fifth turquoise lakes. It is a rock-strewn valley with scattered lumpy hills like the bottom of an egg carton - rough going. The rocks range from grapefruit size to house size, and the trail isn't easy to follow. We get to the forth lake in about an hour and fifteen minutes and feel pretty good. Looking at the map the fifth lake looks like about another hour and a half. However, the moguls get bigger, the rocks rougher, and of course the altitude is always higher. The trail, such as it is, also gets less distinct the farther we go, probably because there has been less traffic up this far. We finally figure out that following the valleys between the hills works better than going over the tops of them; then we reach an impasse, so must once again go up one of the hills. At the top we find ourselves on the edge of the glacier. There is a steep precipice where the glacier has worn away the hills and there is a drop of a couple hundred feet. This makes for rather nervous going. We take shelter from the wind in the lee of a big rock and sit down for a rest. We are sure that we are only a couple of ridges away from the fifth lake, but as we snack on trail mix, a big black cloud comes over a peak below us headed this way, and it starts to snow. The views are magnificent even though we haven't gone quite far enough to see Everest, but it would be shrouded in cloud at this point anyway. We can see huge glaciers coming down the mountains, sunny snowcapped peaks with snow blowing over the tops. We can hear an avalanche high up one of the mountains - it sounds like a lightening bolt cracking nearby. Before we leave we take pictures of Mary Jane in her Food Gatherers shirt and me in my Mud Hens shirt with glaciers in the background. I took almost three hours to come up to this point, and I am interested if Heather's theory about going down being faster is true. It is very rough, rocky going, especially since now we have howling cold wind in our faces roaring up the valley.

Yes, the theory is true, but it doesn't matter as soon as you hit the first uphill (there is always an uphill) after the first five steps you are out of breath at this altitude (approximately 16,800 feet.) It was only two hours back, but it was a grueling trudge. Mary Jane is exhausted, lies down on a bench in the dining room and is asleep in minutes. Heather is here and says the climb to the top of Gokyo Ri was a hard two and a half hours, only to find her view blocked by clouds too. Then she had a two-hour climb down. We have had a glorious walk with spectacular views, but we are tired now. Mary Jane says this was definitely the pinnacle of our hiking career. We have a snack of tea and popcorn, watching the Yaks through the windows as they mow the front lawn of the lodge. Later we discover a bookstore in the lower level of the lodge. It is pretty well equipped with novels, sci-fi, mountain climbing books, etc. Who was it that got the lucky job of carrying all these books up the mountain?

Over dinner we talked again with Megan Cleary and her friend Fred the Frenchman. She is a professional downhill ski racer originally from Seattle, currently living in France. She is determined to be the first woman to ski down some significant mountain to make a name for herself. She and Fred have sponsors lined up, and are confident they will succeed. She is energetic, positive, gregarious, tall, and fit. Fred is quiet almost to the point of being morose or brooding. He is huddled in layers of wool sweaters and week-old stubble. We also talked again with a young French-Canadian woman named Caroline Simard, whom we had met earlier at other lodges on the trail. She is in her twenties, wafer-thin, curious, and enthusiastic. She speaks passable English (certainly better than our French), is outgoing, and friendly. She is traveling alone, but is accompanied by Gi, a Nepali guide that she hired in Kathmandu. Gi seems somewhat more of a city person who may have taken this trek out of economic necessity, and he seems just a little too personally familiar with Caroline, which makes us uncomfortable. We like her a lot, but are wary of Gi, and wish her the best of luck.

Monday, Oct. 7

Observation - Kitchens and food at the lodges:

The kitchen is usually a small, dark, smoky room with one or two women running the whole thing. Menus are almost standard everywhere - potatoes, rice, noodles, bread - lots of carbos. Eggs are cooked all sorts of ways. Most places use a small wood stove, some have kerosene. Rice is cooked in a pressure cooker to save time (and fuel.) When meals are ordered, they are cooked one at a time, unless several people are having the same thing. This can be a slow process. At most places all the cookware, plates and utensils are stainless steel. We have tried a wide variety of dishes and have had no stomach problems. The people who run the lodges are required to attend classes and take tests, which assure uniformity and a predictable level of cleanliness. The rule of thumb seems to be as long as the food is hot when it gets to you, it should be all right. The food is vegetarian (mostly) and bland, but seems clean and healthy. Tonight we are in a fairly small lodge, but it seems crowded. There are about fifteen trekkers and at least that many porters and guides. Mealtime should be interesting. There is one woman in the kitchen to feed this crowd, using a one-burner stove.

Steve Olsen
onespeed@umich.edu