Adventure Journal Onespeed Part III- Sent jan. 10

Hello Adventurers,
I hope you savored some time off and were able to rest and relax during the holiday season. Happy New Year! Enjoy the snow. I wish you fresh air and star filled nights in 2003.

Below you will find Part III of the adventures trekking with Of Global Interest as narrated by Steve Olsen, a participant in my recent October 2002 trip to Gokyo. The third part of Steve's journal begins at 15,585 feet in the Everest region of the Himalayas and follows our return trek back to the tiny airport (9,190 feet) in Lukla.

A few announcements. . .
Look for the review of my documentary movie Altitude, the story of the first cancer survivor to climb Mt. Everest, in this month's issue of Current Magazine (a color picture too!). The movie will be showing at Leopold Brother's Brew Pub, 529 S. Main Street in Ann Arbor this Wednesday, January 8 at 5:30 PM, and twice at The Eighth Street Trekkers' Lodge Bed and Breakfast, 120 Eighth Street in Ann Arbor, this Friday, January 10 and Thursday, January 23 -- both nights at 8:00 PM. Call for more info (734) 369-3107. Free.

How adventurous are you? Would you consider a three week trip to New Zealand in March, two months from now? A small group is forming. Let me know ASAP. (734) 369-3107.

Show your support for the Ann Arbor Blues and Jazz Festival! Benefit concert at the Firefly Club, 207 S. Ashley in Ann Arbor, Friday and Saturday, January 24 & 25, sophisticated, cool-burning jazz vocalist Patricia Barber brings her combo to town. Four shows 9:00 and 11:00 PM both nights. Always a real good time!

Play the bells in the tower at Kerrytown every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, 12 noon to 12:30 PM. Located between Fourth and Fifth Ave at Kingsley St. in the heart of Ann Arbor. The Chime Stand is on the second floor below the bell tower. I am your guide Wednesdays and Fridays. I guarantee you'll smile.

. . . Now back to the Himalayas.

Steve Olsen's Journal Trekking in Nepal Part III

The start of the return trip - Gokyo to Dole (7 hours)

We looked out the window this morning at 6:00 to see perfectly clear deep blue sky, brilliant turquoise lake, and gigantic black rock peaks with snow on top. Another look out the window a half an hour later, and we were in the middle of a cloud. After breakfast at about 9:00, we started on the trail down. It is easier going down, but Mary Jane was nervous when we got to a particularly steep, wet, narrow, loose rock staircase on the side of a cliff, hanging over an abyss where the glacier runoff was roaring below. We passed the same family group we had seen a few days ago. We chatted with them and found out that the father is in fact a missionary doctor in Kathmandu from Australia. They have lived in Nepal for nine years, and have four kids, ranging from three years old to thirteen. We also met a young couple in their twenties who work in a Nepali Medical school, she as a teaching doctor, and he as an administrator. They were very enthusiastic and encouraging about finding work and living in Nepal. We pass lots of Yaks - these are the real thing - big and woolly. We see a huge Italian group going up with the KE Adventure Tour company. They use tents and many porters and Yaks, all heavily loaded - some of the porters in fact seem overloaded. It must be a logistical nightmare to oversee this many people and all their supplies and equipment.

We made good time and passed Machermo in a little over three hours (it took five going up), stopped for lunch at Lutz at a small lodge. It is very cozy inside, brightly decorated with movie posters, pictures of temples, and curtains made of material printed with a cute kitten pattern. As we eat, it starts to snow and spit rain. This tapers off and we begin again. Two more hours and we are in Dole. After some dithering and indecision over the relative qualities of the cherpis at the different lodges, we select a small crowded one. Just as we check in and sit in the dining room, the rain gets more serious. So here we sit, about 20 or so people in a fourteen-foot by twenty-foot room with a roaring wood stove in the middle, with one kerosene lantern supplying light for the entire lodge - kitchen and dining room. Dinner tonight is at 6:00 (daal bhat.) Afterward we all chat for a while (I talk a little with a group of three Indian trekkers - tall bearded men in turbans - with Indian porters), then people start heading for bed around 7:00.

Observation - Toilets and washing at the lodges: O.K., let's talk toilets (or cherpis). We have seen a broad range. The very basic, and most common is a small box about the size of a phone booth with a hole in the floor. This usually has very crude construction, sometimes a bucket for wastepaper, and sometimes a bucket of water for cleaning. They don't want toilet paper down the pit because when they empty it out, they use it for fertilizer. Stink? Some do, at all, but you just have to put your mind in a different place and squat. Yes, squat. This is awkward and clumsy for those of us who aren't used to it. Be forewarned - it takes practice or you will -- beep -- in your shoes. You wonder what the hell you are doing in a situation like this, but more people in the world do it this way than us westerners with our fancy flush toilets. Yes, we did see a couple of flushers, but still not up to the standards we are used to. The cherpi here in Dole is about as bad as we have seen. We plan to avoid it if at all possible.

Washing (your hands and face) is done with water only, no soap, out in the yard (keep your Purel handy.) Baths, when they are available are usually just a bucket of warm-ish water and a modicum of privacy provided by a booth or tarp. Shampoo first, then use a washcloth and soap, being judicious with your water so you have enough at the end for rinsing. Prepare to be cold, towel off quickly, dress and head for the warmth of the lodge stove. Brushing your teeth is a matter of wandering over to an out-of-the-way place, dipping your toothbrush in your drinking water, brushing, and spitting in an inconspicuous spot. Inelegant, but effective.

Observation - Clothes for the trek:

Everything you take on the trek should fit into a small duffle or your backpack and weigh twenty pounds or less, no matter who carries it, you or a porter. This is not much in terms of numbers of times you can change clothes. I found that lots of layers of wick-away material seem to work best. I tried a fleece shirt one day, but because I sweat like a pig while hiking, the fleece got soaked very quickly and took forever to dry out. Hiking warms you and your wick-away will keep you dry. You will need a windproof outer layer for the times the wind is blowing. If it rains, you can either wait it out in a lodge, or cover up as best you can and walk. As long as you don't freeze, you can dry out at the next stop. Because of the lack of bathing facilities, changing into clean clothes doesn't happen often. I am in the same clothes I have had on for about five days now - and I sleep in the same long underwear I have on during the day. Sounds awful, but when in Nepal do as the Nepalis do. Nobody seems to notice because everybody else is in the same boat, it's not because you are more of a slob than the next guy.

Tuesday, Oct. 8 - Dole to Namche (7 hours)

We wake to a cold, damp morning in Dole. There is new snow dusting the mountains around us, and no fire in the stove in the dining room this morning. We plan to make Namche today, probably a long hike; a part of which we already are worried about is a very steep 400-meter uphill. Soon after we start Heather tells Pemba that he can go ahead, not to wait on us. With that, he runs off down the trial. It is hard to describe how Nepalis, especially the Sherpa, practically dance down these rocky trails. They race, they glide, they float over the jumbled rocks and steep slopes.

Just after we come to the beginning of a rhododendron forest, a big bird crosses the trail just in front of me. It looks like a peacock. It is remarkably beautiful. It is as big as a turkey, with an iridescent blue body, orange/yellow tail, some red on the wings, and a bright red topknot. The topknot looks like a pheasant's. When Heather and Mary Jane catch up to me, they see him still slowly wandering up the hill in the thick brush. Heather tells us that it is an Impian Pheasant, or Dampe in Nepali, which is the national bird of Nepal. He has brilliant colors, which are a bright contrast with the uniformly green forest.

There are several series of steep stone steps on this part of the trail; fortunately they are going down. We pass Portse Tenga on the other side of the valley, and now the day's dreaded long uphill begins. Our time spent at higher altitudes seems to pay off. While this is probably the most difficult uphill we have encountered, I can at least keep moving if I concentrate and maintain a steady, slow pace. Mary Jane is also able to keep going at a steady rate. One hour and fifteen minutes to the top! At the top there is a small stone stupa and some old mani stones and strings of prayer flags. There are also a couple of small lodges and restaurants. I sit and ask for black tea while I wait for Mary Jane and Heather. Just as I sit down on a patio adjacent to the trail, a pair of Nepali guys arrive from the other direction. They are fairly well dressed, and one is hauling a large load of brightly colored bolts of cloth. The other is carrying a large bundle, which he sets down on the porter's rest wall. When he unwraps the bundle I see it is a sewing machine. No sooner has he unwrapped his machine than the owner of the restaurant brings his jeans to the tailor, who starts right into patching. He pulls out a scrap of denim and a huge pair of shears. He cuts a patch then goes to work right there on the side of the trail with his hand-crank sewing machine. Within five minutes there is a line of people with clothes to be mended. One woman brings what looks like an old dress and the second tailor takes her measurements by holding the old dress up to her. He pulls out a blue tarp to sit on in the dirt of the trail and goes to work with a pair of scissors cutting out a new dress modeled after the old one (Pattern? We don't need a pattern!) When the man operating the machine is finished with the patching, the second tailor starts sewing the woman's new dress on the spot.

Mary Jane and Heather arrive and we order Ra-Ra soup for lunch. While we sit in the sunshine watching the tailors, we also see several Yak trains pass by. These are hairy Yaks of all colors - black and white, gray, and brown. They all have bells, which give a very musical, deep tone. One has a string of jingle bells around his chest. The different groups of Yaks snort threateningly at each other. One driver is having lunch and his Yaks wander

the area grazing. One of them wanders onto the patio of a lodge up the hill, and the driver has to round him up with much yelling and commotion. Yaks are all over the place, walking across the tailor's tarp, blocking the path. We share our lunch spot with a group of Dutch people with small kids. He is working on development of the National Park (Sagarmatha) with the Ministry of Interior. The family is on holiday on the way to Gokyo. As we leave to head down, there is a Yak accident - a whole group of five Yaks has had a fight of some kind and they have all lost their loads - bundles and boxes are scattered all over the trail, almost blocking it, some have tumbled down the hill. Yaks, people, luggage - much confusion - this is going to take a while to sort out.

From here to Namche is mostly level-to-downhill. When we reach the spot where the Gokyo and Everest trails fork apart, we stop at a lodge where there is a display of Tibetan jewelry. We strike up a conversation with the lodge's hostess and talk soon turns to politics. While we were up the mountain, almost the entire government changed - the Prime Minister wanted to delay the election that was scheduled in the next couple of weeks so he dissolved Parliament, then the King, in frustration dismissed the Prime Minister and the rest of the cabinet. We had no idea this was going on until now. The hostess thinks this latest turmoil could turn out for the best. She thinks democracy is not for Nepal - the politicians are all corrupt, steal all the money, fight with each other too much, and nothing good ever gets done. She thinks that in the old days before democracy (before 1991) when the King was the government, everything was good. Nepal is a rural country and most people outside Kathmandu don't understand government or what they are voting for, nor do they see any tangible results from their voting. She feels that if the King is going to be the government by himself again, it should be an improvement.

Back at the Himalayan Lodge in Namche, there is another big group of LOUD Germans. The place is packed tonight. Mary Jane and I dash down to the jewelry shop where she bought her amber necklace to get something for a friend and Mary Jane wants some turquoise beads for herself. I also got that Yak bell that I have been wanting. Then we head back to the lodge for a HOT SHOWER before dinner. The 'Hot Sawer' is a real dungeon. It is a dank cement room built into the hillside with a slimy, broken wooden pallet for flooring, illuminated by a very dim bulb. If you were nervous about whatever you might be stepping in, no need - you can't see the floor in this light anyway. For 150 rupees you get twenty liters of hot water. The water is heated in the kitchen where it is poured into a vat that connects to the shower by a hose through the kitchen floor. With only twenty liters, you have to hurry. But it feels wonderful after five days on the trail with no bath.

While we were having dinner, it started to hail, then rain. We could hear it on the metal roof overhead. It sounded like the kind of steady rain that would last for a while.

Wednesday, Oct. 9 - Namche to Bengkat (4 hours)

The LOUD Germans, true to form, got rousted at 5:00 am by their guide for an early departure. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, we could roll over and go back to sleep. Except that this morning the couple in the room adjacent to us decided to have an argument for about 45 minutes while they packed. Due to the thin walls which allowed us to hear them breathe, they might as well have been in bed with us when they were shouting at each other. Of course, not knowing any German we didn't understand a word they said, but the gist of the thing seemed to be something of the nature of, "What the hell have you gotten us into? Why did I let you talk me into this insanity?" etc., etc. Accompanied by lots of slamming things around the room, stomping boots, and throwing packs. Highly entertaining but for the time of the performance. It reinforces the observation that we have never heard an angry word from any Nepali.

The sound of rain was with us all night. We really don't want to hike in the rain, so we decide to wait to see if it will let up or stop. For a few minutes it snows - big fat fluffy flakes. The rain slows and comes back hard a few times. I think of the clouds that we have seen following us up the valleys as we hiked. Sometimes they have been at eye level; sometimes we have been above them. But I had until now dismissed them, thinking, "It's only a fog bank." But no, they are actual clouds. Clouds that contain water. Lots of water. We pack up and leave the lodge, go down into the center of town to the German Bakery to kill some time. The place could be an old-style bakery back home. A big room with a wooden floor, a glass display case with breads and rolls, all looking yummy. There were two guys in the back making pizzas, just like in a Domino's store. We chatted with another customer who was from Holland on his sixth trip to Nepal. He likes to come to Namche and relax for a few weeks. He is in his late 50's and is quite a fan of mountain climbers and their exploits. He and Heather swap tales about mountains and climbers they have known.

We go over to the jewelry shop again as the Tibetan woman had said she was going to have some scarves for us blessed by her brother who is a monk in the local monastery. She is very nice and gives us her address so we can write to her. We give her a picture of us with our address.

Finally the rain stops and we head out at 11:15. This section of the trail is the steep downhill from Namche to the river. We are almost the only people going down today - there are lots of French, Italian, and Dutch trekkers going up. I am smiling because I know what they don't. They are going up their first really difficult climb and they are wondering just what the hell they are doing right about now. But after nine days on the trail I know they will get to the top and it will have been worth it. But it sure feels better going down. This downhill is difficult because of the rain - mud, slippery rocks, and lots of fresh Yak dung. There is a traffic jam at the high bridge. Several groups of Yaks are having a hard time coming down the steps on the uphill side of the bridge. These steps are steep, narrow and take several sharp turns. I am amazed the Yaks can do it at all. After crossing several long, swaying suspension bridges (which sway in the wind, and bounce like a roller coaster) we go through the National Park entrance again. We pass several very lush vegetable farms with carrots, cabbage, turnips, even some corn.

We decide to stop for the night in Bengkat at the Flower Garden Lodge. It is a new lodge, and they are eager to do a good job, even if they don't have the routine down pat yet. It is run by a pair of brothers who have built this lodge and are taking care of their mother. There is a picture of their dead father hanging prominently in the dining room.

Mary Jane and Heather see a woman in the yard of the house next door weaving a basket. It is a large Doko - the basket carried by men and women on their backs to gather crops or carry heavy loads. They go over to ask if they can take her picture as she works. Her fingers are strong and nimble, and she works very fast. She finishes her basket and offers to make small ones for them. It takes her about an hour to weave the first basket. Heather is videotaping the process, and is quickly surrounded by a group of about six kids who want look into the lens of her camera. Lots of laughing and jostling among the kids. Heather is not getting much footage of the weaver.

We have a good dinner. Mary Jane and Heather have a potpourri of fresh vegetables stir fried from the garden over spiral macaroni. The porters and I have Daal Bhat with curried vegetables. The basket weaver brings the small baskets over to our lodge. Mary Jane pays her 60 rupees (about 75 cents) each for the baskets and gives her a hair brush and three sets of the Groucho glasses, which are very confusing to her until we figure out the Sherpa word for "joke." Mary Jane takes pictures, and there are smiles all around. Mary Jane and Heather are very excited about their baskets. We are ready for bed at 8:30, and soon we are all snug in our sleeping bags with the sound of the rushing river just outside our open window.

Thursday, Oct. 10 - Bengkat to Lukla (6 hours)

We're off at 8:30 am, headed for Lukla, our last day on the trail. It starts out a beautiful day, sunny with blue skies. We are passing many lush vegetable farms. There is a lot of traffic on the trail today. Lots of freight porters with huge loads, lots of Yaks, and lots of fresh-faced tourists. As we get closer to noon, there is a large influx of people who have come from the morning flights into Lukla. They are all clean, rested and excited to be starting their treks. We smile and quietly wish them luck. They wouldn't hear our advice, and we don't want to spoil their surprise. Mary Jane and Heather get curious looks and comments on their baskets (Doko), which they have strapped to the backs of their backpacks. Kids stare as they pass, women laugh, men shake their heads in amazement; we even get kidded by the police and soldiers at one post we pass. I explain the baskets to one guy we pass by shrugging and saying that women can shop anywhere - he nods and smiles in understanding.

We stop for lunch at the same place with the patio and umbrella tables where we stopped on the way up. The view is still magnificent. We met and talked with an American guy who was on a trek with Journeys - by himself. He started at Jiri and took a week to climb the hill to Lukla, and is now heading up to Everest base camp. He originally was booked to share the trip with one other person, but that person cancelled at the last minute. We were stunned when he told us that he started with about thirty porters and guides. Journeys had him set up with so many tents and so much equipment and food and provisions that many porters were necessary. Incredible excess for just one person - we don't feel guilty for using porters now.

Up and down, over good bridges and some very bad, even scary ones. Soon after lunch it starts to drizzle. We break out the rain gear and press on. You know how you want the last leg of the journey to be perfect? You want it to be all downhill, with the sun shining, and smiling faces? Remember how I said eleven days ago that the first day out of Lukla was downhill, and that would be significant later? Well, this is later. We are hiking in drizzling rain, getting cold; the trail is a muddy mess, or slick wet rocks. And it is all uphill from here to Lukla. One last big climb to finish. It is gloomy and we are tired. The rain seems to abate as we reach town. We turn the corner and up the steep stairs to the Lukla Guest House, Pemba's Uncle's house. We are ready to be done, but reluctant for the trek to end.

Steve Olsen
onespeed@umich.edu

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