Everest Base Camp (Part II- Cliff notes)

Everest Base Camp (Part II- Cliff notes)-

The stories surrounding the flight woes into Lukla for the EBC trailhead are wide spread In Nepal. There are countless reports of people being delayed several days at a time. Most online forums strongly suggest giving yourself a 2-3 day buffer on both sides of your “planned” travel date to account for this. The flights are not available through a website and you need to use an agent. I tried to search online, but the flight doesn’t exist on Kayak type sites. I typed in the name of the airline my hotel recommended, “Sita”, and google auto fill took it from there- Sita Air crash 2008, Sita Air Crash 2010, Sita Airlines 19 die, Sita Air crash 2012 no survivors… Fantastic! The airport in Lukla is commonly known as the most dangerous airport in the world! As much as I try to be a hard ass, I’m not a fan of small plans… Especially those with documented mortality rates. When I wake up the morning of my flight I look out the window to see pouring rain. I try to get my hotel to confirm what I assumed to be a canceled flight so I wouldn’t have to waist a trip to the airport. Because cancelations are so common they have an actual system for it. I’m told I need to go to the airport anyway so I could get a stamp on my existing ticket which would move me up in the cue the following day. The domestic terminal for Kathmandu is just a single room about the size of a basketball gym thats lined with kiosks. It looks more like a job fair than airport. Most kiosks are nice, clean, presentable, have electricity running to them to light up their name and have people on the other side wearing pressed shirts and ties with helpful smiles… I’m looking, I’m looking, I find it. Sita Air! The kiosk that looks like a blind kids first attempt at constructing a lemonade stand. The piece of the sign with the airline logo thats still in tact has adhesive scars where stickers of some kind used to be, biohazard or black flag I’m guessing. The remainder looked like the back window of a van after a cross country road trip and I had to resist the temptation to write in “wash me” with my finger. I had plenty of time to think about doing it too because there was nobody even there to answer questions. As I’m standing there looking around I notice other airlines putting up signs saying the Kathmandu to Lukla flights have in fact been canceled do to poor visibility. Ok, that’s what I expected, just give me my damn stamp and I’ll be on my way. After about an hour standing there, and ten minutes before the original departure time, a plain closed guy with beard stubble finally arrives to the kiosk. I hand over my ticket and he asks if I have any baggage. Um yeah I have a bag, but isn’t the flight canceled? “No, we are leaving in 15 minutes, I need your bag” I hand over my bags, say a little prayer and an hour later I’m on the ground in Lukla.

On the trail I’m surprised by the number of retirees braving the heights (on a side note; the youngest person was a SIX year old). The apparent fitness level of the hikers was also suspect. Because of that I’m NOT surprised by how many times the rescue helicopter flys overhead. I’m confident that, at any given time, there are more helicopters overhead here than Compton. AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) is no joke. Its your body not adjusting to reduced oxygen levels brought on by ascending to fast. The only remedy is descent. On rare occasions you can sleep it off, most times your hike is over and you need to get off the Mountain. When I sat to have breakfast just before starting the trail a young guy in good shape sat down at the table beside me looking well spent. I asked if he just finished the track and he told me he just walked down after felling he couldn’t continue on DAY TWO! This reinforced my plans of taking it slow and take advantage of the rest (acclimatization) days. Along with people dropping off due to AMS, there were some reports of food poising sidelining hikers. There are many names for it; upset stomach, dysentery, diarrhea… in mexico its Montezuma’s revenge. This part of the world its referred to as Delhi Belly. Whatever you call it, easily half the people on the trail had it on some level. I overheard a lady saying she went 26 times overnight. Another guy I became acquainted with along the way was holding it back and turning green when he reached Base Camp. I was not fortunate enough to escape its grasp either, but not bad in comparison. Regardless I went from treating water, to bottled water only, to treating bottled water.

The guest houses along the way were surprisingly decent inside, but the structures themselves very basic. Just 4 ply wood walls and a roof really. There was zero heat retention without insulation and I could swear it was warmer outside than in my room a few times. A room for the night costs 200-300 rupees ($3-4 US). Fun fact #1: to use a battery charger for an hour cost about the same price as the room. The few places that offered wifi was 3 times the cost of the room for 1 hour.

Out of all the stops along the way Namche Bazar stole the show. After an unrelentingly day of hiking steep switchbacks you turn the corner to find yourself in a small valley surrounded by terraced, Machu Picchu like, hillsides splashed with color. The buildings themselves are all a muted gray brick color, but the rooftops are bright green, blue or red with matching shutters. It’s almost what I would imagine a Swiss alpine village to look like minus a few women dressed in dirndls and a man yelling Ricolla. It was by far the most developed town on the trail. There are countless guest houses to choose from and the town center is full of souvenir shops, outdoor stores and grocers. It’s like a more laid back sample size of Kathmandu. I was surprised to see a Quality Inn among the lodging options, as well as an illy coffee shop. There was also a feeble attempt at a Starbucks logo replica and a Pizza Hut that made even less of an effort and just hung a small cardboard sign painted red with white stencil lettering. The town also came complete with its very own Irish pub. The more I travel the more convinced I’m becoming that Irish pubs are more universal than orange juice.

As mentioned in my previous post there was a group I found myself with half way through the hike. The travelers Craig (28 year old construction foreman from Melbourne) and Max (19 year old German out of high school), as well as their hired help Lax Man and Yak Man (described in last post) became friends of mine. The day we were to reach base camp we got an early 5am start. We get to the last town on the map (Gorek Shep), drop our bags and continue along the final few miles to base camp. Within 2 more hours we reach our final destination! We take a few (several) photos, exchange high fives and bro hugs, crack open a beer each and stand in awe of the splendor… looking up at… Wait… huh? Fun fact #2: you cannot actually see Mt. Everest from Everest Base Camp! Come on really!?! This is definitely a disappointing revelation. I had long dreamed of the moment standing at the base of the epic mountain soaking in the grandeur of the world’s rooftop and it was not to be. Throughout the entire trail you are only afforded a few tiny glimpses of Everest and its always like someone trying to point out a star constellation in the distance. It wasn’t until the day after reaching base camp that we hiked the summit of Kala Patthar (my highest peak ever at 18,209 feet) that you could get a really solid view of it. And even then, because it laid behind a few closer peaks, it still didn’t even appear to be the tallest of the range. This, by no means, takes away from the absolute majesty of the Himalayan mountain range landscape that we were afforded along the way. The 10 day hike was breathtaking. There were more than a few 360 degree views that were pinch yourself moments. These are the Himalayas we’re talking about! The bucket list moment of seeing Everest itself though?… Meh. And it hurts me to admit it.

On the second to last night we made that Irish pub in Namche the stomping ground for our celebratory going away party. By this point Craig and Max stopped calling me Bob and I just became known as Vegas. Yak Man, the kindhearted and fun loving porter, gave me the name “Jung ebba”(Nepali translation: Father Beard). After warming up with a few (many) drinks at the guesthouse we make a grand, Kramer style, entrance into the Irish Pub to the breakdown of Gun’s and Rose’s- Sweet Child O’ Mine. We are instantly “those guys”. The few other people in the bar were quietly playing pool or fooseball and we just shattered the peace of the room like a vinyl record scratching. As professional as the 2 guides have been it all went flying out the window once we traded in Johnny Walker for their special home brew moonshine. Both the guides, that combined didn’t weigh more than 200 lbs wet, were passed out and puking before long. Max, the young German, had to take them back to the guesthouse (carrying Yak Man) where they puked some more. Somehow Yak Man lost a shoe along the way, which is always the telltale sign of a good time. We continued into the night and it rivals one of my funnest nights out on the road. At one point Max, with the support of a steady beat, broke into some German freestyle rap. I have no idea what he was saying, but it was amazing. When I came out of my room the next morning I see Yak Man walking behind the guesthouse owner with his sleeping mattress draped over his shoulder. It was obviously on the way to get washed… I don’t even want to know, I told him.

As is usually the case the company you keep makes the difference. I was very fortunate to have met the group that I ended up with. Craig offered me a place to stay whenever I make it back to Melbourne and Max and I may meet up in India as we both plan on being around there in about a month. I’m taking Lax Man’s recommendation on hiring a guide he knows for my next hike, which starts tomorrow. The 17-20 day Annapurna Circuit.

Bob