Adventure Journal Gokyo Part 1- Sent Nov. 27
Hello Adventurers,
During my customized tours in Nepal I keep a journal of the daily adventures,
and this is what I usually send to you. This time, however, I am sending
Steve Olsen's journal instead of mine. Steve (57) and his wife Mary Jane
(57) were my most recent trekkers.
We left for Kathmandu September 26 and returned to Michigan October 18.
During our visit we trekked to Gokyo (and beyond), a small village high in
the Himalayas at 15,675 feet. This town lies next to the world's largest
glacier at the base of Cho Oyu, the world's sixth tallest mountain (26,906
feet). It is a spectacular 12-15 day trek in the Everest region. The
journey is similar to the Everest Base Camp and Kalapathar trek, however,
Gokyo is west of the Everest trail. On a clear day, great views of Everest
can be seen from the top of Gokyo Ri, a rocky peak above Gokyo at 18,000
feet. What follows is Part one of Steve Olsen's Journal. It describes
arriving in Kathmandu and the first three days of the trek. Enjoy!
The Onespeed Expedition
Sunday, September 29
At the airport in Kathmandu, we breeze through customs with the whales (huge
wheeled duffels) to find Heather and Pemba Sherpa (Heather's Nepali/Sherpa
business partner) waiting for us with marigold garlands and a video camera,
which is a horrible thing to have pointed at you after almost three straight
days on airplanes. A quick cab ride into town to the Thamel district and the
Tibet Guest House. Our room is quite nice, considering the price and
location.
Right away we spend a couple of hours strolling around the crowded, noisy,
dusty city. We saw lots of temples and shrines, stupas, sadhus, and street
hawkers hustling tiger balm, carved elephants, chess sets, and flutes. It is
cacophonous, tumultuous, unbelievably disorganized. But the real wonder is
that it all seems to work pretty well. Having been here before, it is
familiar and somehow comfortable in spite of the commotion. It is noisy, but
no one is angry or tense, everyone makes room for everyone else. Everything
is done by hand - I see people digging holes to fix water pipes, setting
rebar for foundations, sorting gravel, filling cement bags, piling bricks.
There is no machinery at all. We have dinner at a secluded courtyard garden
of the New Orleans Café. I had Red Beans and Rice (not). It was passable at
least. We stopped at a small internet café on the way back to the hotel to
e-mail back home, then to bed at 9:30.
Monday, Sept. 30
Neither of us slept more than four hours total. Our clocks are just not in
sync yet. Actually the room was very quiet for being smack in the middle of
the Thamel, one of the busiest sections of town. A few dogs barked in the
night, and we also heard roosters crowing and what sounded like ducks flying
overhead. Got to get rolling, off to the airport for the dreaded
puddle-jumper flight to Lukla, the town whose tiny airstrip is literally on
the side of a mountain and that everyone who has flown to has a horror story
to tell about the landing. I hope Mary Jane can stand it.
The Kathmandu domestic airport is truly a Kafka-esque scene. It has the
flavor of a Calcutta train station that has crashed into a Yemeni customs
house. Teeming humanity amid heaps of freight and luggage accompanied by
riotous noise and indecipherable directions given by impatient uniformed men.
We are fortunately greeted by Heather's friend Wonchu Sherpa, who is an oasis
of calm competency, and who with a wave of his hand gets the attention of the
right people, and we are whisked through the confusion. We learn that among
his other enterprises, Wonchu (who has summited Everest twice) is an
organizer and logistics expert for large mountaineering expeditions, and
commands a large amount of respect wherever he goes in Nepal.
The flight turns out to be a hoot! The plane was a DeHaviland Otter, a
well-used 15 - 20 seat turboprop. I jockeyed for position and got the front
row center seat, close enough to the instrument panel that I could have
switched the radios for the pilots if they had asked me. Mary Jane sat in the
back. We climbed steadily from takeoff to 10,190 feet, and after about thirty
minutes, just as we barely cleared another ridge, there in the distance in
front of us was Lukla at 9,250 feet. A speck, a postage stamp on the side of
a mountain.
We were descending straight for the runway. The runway slopes up at what must
be a 20-degree angle. It seemed as if we would fly right through the
mountain. At the far end of the runway is a stone wall, then nothing but
rocks and trees. I was videotaping over the pilot's shoulder. Everyone in
back was pale and mumbling various prayers. The pilot hit the runway right on
the first ten feet of the pavement, touching down exactly when the stall
alarm sounded, a perfect landing, no wasted space. At the top of the runway
we veer off onto a flat apron in front of the terminal building, spin around
and come to a stop. I was thrilled, Mary Jane was fine.
Once out of the plane on the tarmac we stood and watched a couple of
takeoffs. The planes just turn back onto the runway, point downhill, roar the
engines and disappear. Can't wait till we have our turn when we leave.
We step out the back door of the terminal directly onto the trail (there are
no roads). We make a brief stop at Pemba's Uncle's house for tea. Pemba will
rearrange our luggage and sleeping bags, hire porters, then follow us up the
trial later.
We set out through the streets (street) of Lukla to begin our adventure.
This trail is a lot rougher than those we remember from our previous trip in
the Annapurna region. The term trail applies only because there is a more
obviously-used beaten track in one area of the boulder field than other
places, and it heads in the general direction of the next landmark. Sharp
rocks, mud, Yak dung, and loose gravel. But the scenery is immediately
magnificent. I mean truly breathtaking. Steep valleys, rushing rivers,
incredibly green vegetation, mountain vistas in the background sometimes
screened by wisps of cloud, scenic little villages with lush vegetable
gardens. Chamber of commerce, picture post card stuff. Mary Jane wanted me to
pinch her; she couldn't believe we were here at last.
We hike over lots of ups and downs, but we will end up lower than Lukla
tonight (remember this -- it is significant on the return trip.) We pass our
first Yak trains (these are 'Zup Yaks' -- cross bred cows and Yaks), walk to
the left around huge Mani stones (boulders with prayers carved into them) and
prayer poles. We have lunch (Ra-Ra noodle soup) at a restaurant's stone patio
with Cinzano umbrellas on the edge of a ravine with a river at the bottom, in
bright sunshine with mountains framing the view.
We stop for the night after about three hours' walking at Phakding village in
a lodge by the trail. The bottom floor is the family quarters, kitchen, and
dinning room. Upstairs is a central dormitory and on one side are small rooms
with beds (cots with foam pads) with rough planks for walls -- complete with
sizeable gaps for the convenient viewing of one's neighbors. The only heat is
the potbellied stove in the dining room; the only light is a single bulb in
the dining room powered by a solar-charged battery. The toilet (cherpi) is
outside, and there is even a hot shower (a blue tarp supported by sticks with
a bucket for water)!
Heather and Pemba took us for a short hike before dinner for acclimatizing;
we went up a steep trail above the village for an hour and a half, then back
to the lodge. We had dinner (I had daal bhat -- lentils and rice -- with
black tea.) Then we sat around the warm stove chatting until about 8:00, then
to bed. First Mary Jane and I had another Chinese fire drill trying to find
what we need for the night in the duffles with no light. To sleep about 8:30.
We woke in the night to go outside to pee, and the stars and a sliver of moon
were bright overhead.
Tuesday, Oct. 1
We finally got some good sleep, about nine and a half hours. We feel great.
We sit in the dim kitchen to drink our morning tea and chat with the lodge's
hostess and play with her little boy who is about three years old. He has one
stuffed animal (a rabbit, I think) carefully stored on a shelf. We have
breakfast of eggs and toast with plum jam.
We're off again at about 8:30 am. We are eager and excited to be on the
trail, (and are extremely naive about what is in store.) According to
Heather, this will be the most difficult day. We find out later that she is
not kidding.
Early in the day we come to the first suspension bridge over the river. This
is a long, swaying, narrow bridge made of metal (one of the better ones we
will cross) built by the Peace Corps. The deck of the bridge moves side to
side with the wind, and up and down with no predictable rhythm to it. You
just have to keep your knees bent and try to look like you know what you are
doing, and don't look down at the roaring river (the Dudh Koshi) of white
water, which is runoff from the glaciers where we are headed. Some of the
other bridges we see later are not nearly so nice -- broken or missing wooden
deck boards, no side netting, and creaking under-braces. We have to time our
crossings so that we don't meet any Yaks on the bridges -- there isn't room
to pass them. But if you want to get to the top, you have to cross these
bridges, not to mention having to do it all over again to get back down.
We see lots of people carrying large loads, like metal tables and folding
chairs, 10-gallon jugs of kerosene, lumber, and tents and equipment for
expeditions. We see one guy carrying another guy who has a broken leg encased
in an elaborate steel cage. We also see a large group carrying someone on a
stretcher, all wrapped up in sleeping bags to stay warm. I can't imagine how
they negotiate the trail with loads like that. But most amazing of all was -
The Washing Machine!
As we left our lodge this morning, I saw a couple of guys struggling to get a
big box out the door of a building a little way down the trail from us. It
looked like they were going to deliver something to someone nearby. Then as
the day progressed, we kept seeing the same guys with this big box. We would
pass it, and when we stopped for a few minute's rest, it would pass us. This
went on for hours. When we looked closer, we saw it was a washing machine.
It was clearly marked as weighing 56 Kilos. Two guys were alternating
carrying it using a head strap, and a third, better-dressed guy was walking
along with them. The third guy was carrying a satchel and didn't help carry
the washing machine. We decided he must have been the plumber carrying his
tools to install the washer at the hotel.
These were small guys, how could they carry this machine? Their knees quaked
when they lifted the thing. Every step they took was painful to watch. There
are parts of the trail that I had difficulty with because of narrow places,
poor footing, overhanging trees and rocks, etc. I couldn't imagine how they
negotiated with this bulky 56 Kilo load on their back. We chatted with them a
bit at a rest stop and found out they were taking the washing machine up past
Namche Bazaar to the Everest View Hotel (a very fancy place at 13,000 feet),
and expected to take three days to make the trip from Lukla.
For the remainder of our trek we were perpetually the slowest trekkers on the
trail, always the last to arrive at our next stop every evening -- we just
told everyone that we were going at 'washing machine pace'.
We stop for lunch (I have fried rice with cheese) at Monjo at a new
restaurant, sitting in the sun outside on a deck next to the trail under a
young apple tree. We set out again at 1:00. At the entrance to the Sagarmatha
National Park we pay for our permits to enter the park. (Sagarmatha = Everest
to the Sherpas.)
After an initial steep rocky downhill where we pass more Mani stones and a
stupa being repaired by a lone monk, a couple more bridges, and some brief
ups and downs, we see a tiny bridge in the distance high over the river
draped in prayer flags. After a twisting, narrow, slippery climb we find
ourselves crossing the same bridge, swaying very high over the river, trying
not to look down. Heather says that the huge number of prayer flags is known
as Sherpa engineering. This is where we begin the climb to Namche Bazaar.
This is the start of the serious UP, and I do mean UP!! Everything until now
has only been a hint. The trail gets steep like I have never seen anywhere
before. The trail is rough with big rocks, high steps, and lots of
switchbacks. Sherpa porters with incredible loads pass us like we are going
backward. Other porters come down the hill with lighter loads, practically
dancing down the rocks. Amazing and beautiful to watch, like ballet. We are
reduced to one small step after another for about 20 yards, then stop to let
our hearts calm down, then repeat. And repeat, and repeat...for about four
hours. We finally get to Namche (the outskirts at least) and then with a last
push over the top we reach the town (at 11,300 feet.)
It is a beautiful place. Lots of big buildings scattered around a bowl-shaped
valley. The buildings are mostly 3 - 4 stories high, built of dry-laid stones
(no mortar) with an interior structure of post-and-beam construction, and
roofs of corrugated metal painted blue or red. There are open fields among
the buildings, some look like they may be used for crops like potatoes, but
most look like pasture for Yaks. This place is famous for a weekly bazaar on
Saturday, when people come from far and wide to trade all kinds of stuff.
There is a contingent of Tibetans who come over the border (probably
illegally) with goods for sale from China - brightly colored cloth and pla
stic ware. As we stroll through town we see shops with all kinds of
souvenirs, jewelry, outdoor equipment, and trinkets you can't imagine. I make
a note that a Yak bell will look good in our house.
We get to the lodge which is huge, relative to what we have become used to --
four stories, indoor cherpis (with western-style toilets that even flush!),
and a hot shower. Our room is on the third floor (more climbing!!) next to
the common/dining room. The common room here is large enough to seat maybe
forty people, with very well made tables arranged in front of benches on the
outside walls. All the wood is varnished; there are lots of pictures on the
walls, curtains on the windows. There is a steel potbellied stove for heat
and a big cabinet full of canned beer, bottles of whiskey and wine. You can
take all this for granted until you realize that all of it -- furniture,
stove, toilets, food, beer, even the roofing and windows had to come all the
way up that hill you climbed today on someone's back!
There is a group of 10 Germans here and they are having a rousing game of
Yahtzee. I hope they eventually quiet down so we can sleep. We have spaghetti
with real tomato sauce for dinner -- homemade (cooked under Pemba's
supervision), and not bad. I wrote a few postcards to friends at home and
put them in a letterbox. It will be interesting to see how long they take to
get there (about a month, as it turns out.) To bed at 9:00.
Wednesday, Oct. 2
Today was a 'rest day' to acclimatize to the altitude. We went on a four-hour
walk around Namche, and over a ridge to a smaller village. I was amazed at
how fast I was out of breath at first. Well rested, full of breakfast, and I
could barely crawl uphill. Yaks were passing me (Yaks are none too fast). We
first went up a hill (about a quarter-mile that took at least 45 minutes to
climb). Overlooking the valley we came up from yesterday -- we could just
see the last bridge with its flags fluttering. Then we turned around for our
first view of Everest in the distance. It is a black rock shaped like a
pyramid with a snow plume blowing off its top.
We visited a dim but interesting cultural museum in the middle of an army
post manned by some very serious-looking soldiers. The whole place is
surrounded by many lines of barbed wire, with foxholes and gun emplacements
all over. They are nervous because this is just the type of place the Maoists
like to attack (so far, not in this region.)
We had a long walk high above the town on a trail that goes all around the
bowl for some great views of this unique place. Then along the side of a hill
with some mild ups and downs through a beautiful pine forest. I am still
huffing and puffing, but find that if I pace myself I can keep going without
having to stop. I go very slowly, but I begin to think I will be able do
this. Mary Jane seems to be doing fine too. We are chatting a lot along the
way with Pemba about his prospects, marriage, etc. He is young, intelligent,
has a very good command of English, and is very personable. He doesn't want
to go back to his village and tend the family farm.
We came back to Namche at about 1:00 for lunch (Ra-Ra noodle soup with
vegetables.) Then we spent a couple of hours shopping in the street markets.
Mary Jane is looking for some Tibetan jewelry. She finds a shop run by a
young Tibetan woman who talks about traditional designs, old turquoise vs.
new (imitation) stuff. We spend an hour or more with her while she restrings
a necklace that Mary Jane likes, replacing the imitation stones (coral and
turquoise) with real ones of better quality, and helping Mary Jane pick out
turquoise stones for a friend at home. She is very friendly and talkative.
She tells us that she came over the mountain from Tibet seven years ago, and
has a brother who is a Lama in the monastery here.
Back to the hotel for dinner (fried potatoes with vegetables.) There is a big
crowd tonight -- one group of about ten Brits, and several smaller groups who
are on the way down. There is one guy who can't stop grinning because he has
just had his first bath in two weeks. Lots of celebratory smiles here -- one
trio even has a bottle of French wine with dinner.
Typical items found on the Himalayan Lodge & Restaurant menu:
"Black tea Rs 20; Private room, two beds Rs 110; Can Coke Rs 150; Hot shawer,
20 liters water Rs 150; Carlsberg beer Rs 150; Makaroni noodle, veg. Rs 170;
Daal Bhat with Takari Rs 120; Ra Ra noodle soup with veg. Rs 80; Vegetable
Momo Rs 110; Yak sizzler, roast potato Rs 270; Two egg omelete Rs 70; Tibetan
bread with jam Rs 80; Apple pie, piece Rs 85." $1.00 U.S. = 76 Nepali Rupees
-----Stay tuned-----
Steve Olsen
(734) 763-6183
onespeed@umich.edu
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