Today we saw our first tree in weeks! And now the yaks are mostly dzopkyos. And we can breathe again!
Actually, we zipped down to lower elevations two days ago to a lovely teahouse in Pheriche that we’d taken a break at 14 years ago – sunny tea room, clean, friendly, they light the yak dung fire when the sun goes behind the mountain, they have a small shelf of books you can read while there - most are in other languages, and Marc rated his pick as a 1.5 out of 10, but hey, it’s not zero out of ten! (We do have some books on our phone, but that takes power.) – AND the guy running the place is incredibly hospitable and nice, AND has cool hair reminding us of our kid and their spouse, who both have cool hair!
So we pampered ourselves and bought TEA for the first time in a while (it gets more expensive the higher you go – a small pot can cost as much as your dinner).
We’ve been up in the Chhukhung Valley (15,500 ft.) and Gorak Shep (just over 17,000 ft.), the village just before Everest Base Camp. Climbed up from these to over 18,400 ft. And how did that make us feel? TIRED! A bit miserable, actually. Okay, a LOT miserable. Like I never want to go uphill again in my life. No altitude sickness, just no air, so we are the slowest turtles in the world, plodding endlessly. Walking that slowly, some say, can be very meditative. I bet those people were walking at sea level. On a warm tropical beach. With papayas and coconuts in abundance. And a quick dip in a warm ocean to switch things up.
For me, it was endurance. Frankly, really, three hours of miserable, cold, slow, tedious plodding to get to a viewpoint? Or an iconic spot? But then you stop, cinch your hood against the wind, breathe frantically for several minutes, and look around.
It's absolutely stunning. But more of that shortly.
We saved the Everest area for the end of our trek, in case we didn’t have time, you know, been there, done that, but shucky-darn, we DID have time, which meant MORE up up up, LESS of that essential ingredient, oxygen, MORE turtle’s pace.
But I’d forgotten how incredibly, fabulously, stupendously, knock your socks off STUNNING that area is. (But it’s also an ice world, so keep your socks on!) The Khumbu glacier is unbelievably HUGE. And it’s not nice and smooth. It’s broken into enormous chunks and seracs and there are ice cliffs and ice lakes, and ice, ice, ice. And of course there’s Everest, big chunk of rock that it is.
There’s one peak up the Chhukhung valley, Island Peak, that is about the height of Denali in Alaska, but it sits in a cirque surrounded by some of the highest mountains in the world, and anywhere else it would be HUGE, but here, the Denali wanna-be looks puny, just a tiny chunk of rock and ice.
It was cloudy much of the time we were up in the Everest region. And it did snow on us a few times. Woke up one morning to socked-in white stuff. Our immediate thought (since we did not want to hike higher into who knows what and who knows where in this inclement weather): “ACKKKKK” (yes that was the exact phrasing), “we are now going to have to spend ANOTHER freezing day and night at the WORST teahouse ever!” (Don’t ask.) But mid-morning things started to clear off, so we high-tailed it out of there and made RECORD time from that village to the next (these turtles were really moving!) – we did NOT want to have to turn around and return!
So there’s been some misery – mainly fighting the ubiquitous COLD, lying under sleeping bags and quilts waiting for the yak dung fire to be lit, feeling like we are enduring more than anything, barely able to breathe.
So why do it? When sometimes I can hardly wait for it to be over, when the memories are often sweeter than the actual doing?
There is something about being out here (whether here, or the North Cascades, or the canyons of the SW, or any remote area really) that infuses your being with something unique, something magical, that puts you in touch with the universe, the uncaring immensity of the universe; and that makes me profoundly connected, and profoundly privileged to witness some small part of its beauty, its harshness, its endlessly varied and amazing manifestations.
And you learn things.
Like how to make one roll of toilet paper last a month and a half.
Like not caring how your hair looks when you haven’t washed it in five and a half weeks.
Like how hard some people’s lives really are.
Like how friendliness and hospitality can transform an experience.
Like how to find water when they don’t give out tap water - one lodge at 17,000 feet where we stayed three nights, and it’s four degrees out and everything is frozen. (It’s understandable. But they want you to buy bottled water, which everything you ever read says NOT to, due to the huge problem of plastic garbage.) So water, HEY, there’s huge barrels of water in the toilet for flushing (Mom, you didn’t read that). We did sterilize it three times!
Like which dogs are okay to pet, and which to stay away from (and yes, we did get our rabies vaccines, but even so you still have to get more shots if bitten).
Like the incredible beauty people can create, and the messes they can cause.
Like how amazing are VEGETABLES.
Like how amazing yak dung is, and without those yak dung fires the world is cold, icy, and unrelentingly trying to kill you.
Like how Western graffiti has come to Everest Base Camp.
Like how napkins don’t need to be the size of a tablecloth. Many tea houses now provide “napkins” – basically two squares of T.P. And it’s enough.
Like how people have all kinds of beliefs – but if they are based in kindness and goodness and respect, that’s what matters.
Like the amazing, indifferent beauty of the universe, from mountains and glaciers, to stars and galaxies, to fluffy dogs sneaking in to curl by the yak dung fire, to the glittering rocks and sands that look as if someone has dropped a whole load of craft glitter (think costume glitter, or hair glitter, or face glitter – yes, I am a glitter expert) over the landscape, to the IMMENSENESS of it all, a sparkling, brilliant, incredible universe.
And we are specs, so happy and amazed to be here, now.
To be alive.
To be.
Oh, just a couple of other things: We saw some Himalayan tahr, a type of mountain goat I think. But to us they were straight out of a fantasy novel: part lion, part goat, part hyena, and part wart hog. They have these big fluffy ruffs that billow in the wind, and weird bodies, and one followed us for a ways – probably waiting for us to pee so it could have a delicious, salty snack!
We also saw a Himalayan wolf (pointed out to us by a yak train driver). And some snowcocks (a type of pheasant), Himalayan chuffs (a bit like crows), and a Himalayan pika! AND some beautifully ornamented yaks – little red wigs, colorful ear tassels, beautiful Tibetan rug packs.
So we continue to learn, and grow, and hopefully become better people for it.
And yeah, we have a new appreciation for the sun!
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