I woke up at exactly 4 in the morning. I put on my trekking clothes and made a last minute decision to use only one layer under my windbreaker; a decision I would regret later in the day. The phone in my room rang. It was Saput, the owner of the guesthouse I was staying at, checking if I was already awake. He told me that the car would be arriving in about 10 minutes but there's no need for me to hurry. I said I just have to put a little more stuff in my backpack and I will be set to leave.
Downstairs, I left all the things I wouldn't be needing for the trek. Saput escorted me to the car and wished me a safe trip and reminded me to send him a message once I land in Lukla. He knew how anxious I felt about taking that flight. No matter how much he assured me that it's as safe as any other flights, I couldn't help but be paranoid. Lukla wouldn't be dubbed as one of the world's most dangerous airports for nothing.
We reached the airport a few minutes past 5. I thought I would be rushing to the check-in counter but the entrance was still locked. There were only a few people - trekkers - loitering outside the building. I stood there and watched more people arrive in trickle - trekkers, porters, guides, and their gargantuan duffel bags. And then people poured and I realized that the building has opened. I had no choice but to go at the end of the line. That was half an hour after I got there. I should have queued earlier.
I looked for the counter of Simrik Airlines and queued for check-in. But no staff could be seen. We stood there while all the passengers of other airlines do their business. My flight was scheduled at 6:20am. In any other cases, we all would have missed our flight.
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| Aboard the plane. We were all (not) excited. |
Finally, there was movement in our line. When it was my turn, I was asked to stand on the scale. I lost a little weight despite spending a week in Pokhara and Kathmandu not doing anything but eat and read and sleep. My backpack was at 13.3kg and there was no drinking water in it. I was still holding a few stuff in a paper bag. 15kg wouldn't be a problem, right? I was glad I didn't bring my Shantaram book.
Amazingly, we boarded our 15-seater plane on time. The flight attendant gave us a few candies and cotton balls. Odd. I think it was to plug our ears because the engine was too loud. I wasn't sure. The plane taxied on the runway, preparing for take off. I closed my eyes and clutched the armrest. The plane accelerated and I felt it leave the ground. I opened my eyes and saw how beautiful the morning was. The super moon was low on the horizon. The mountains were bathe with the soft orange glow of the early morning sun. The valley was enveloped with a thick mist. It could be the perfect last sunrise of my life. But it wasn't. The flight wasn't as bad as I expected it to be.
We left the valley and flew north among the mountains. At some point, the plane was flying really close to the slope that if someone was there, I could spy on what they're doing. And then I saw the runway. We landed a few minutes later and collected our backpacks. Everyone was with a group, or a guide. Some people were met by their porters outside the terminal building. I felt a bit sad. Why was I trekking alone again? Ah, that's because I decided that I would do the trek just 3 days prior. I had stopped responding to people sending me messages at the Trekking Partners website a month ago and by that time, people already had made plans.
I walked following the throng of people. I was cold but for some reasons, didn't take out another layer from my backpack. I found myself at the fenced-off end of the runway. A plane was about to take off. I stopped and watched among with a few other trekkers. The plane just gained enough speed before reaching the other end, which is a cliff. It seemed to dip a little before soaring. The return flight looked more daunting.
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| Lukla airport in the early morning. See the end of the runway? |
It was still very early so I stopped at the first teahouse that I saw, waiting for the sun to warm the air even just a bit. The milk tea cost 80 NPR. That was the price at the trailhead. As I sipped my tea, I fervently wished that I wouldn't run out of money before completing the trek.
Half an hour passed and I knew I must go even though the sun was still not high enough. I had my arms crossed across my chest while I walk, trying to fight the chill. A trekker on his way to the airport was laughing as he shouted at me. "This is warm! Up there is cold!" I smiled at him and went ahead, trying as fast as I can to reach the spot where the sun is shining.
The popular evening stopover on the first day is Phakding. Even with my sluggish pace, I reached the village in less than three hours. I put my backpack on top of a bench made with rock slabs and took it off. I looked at my map to check how far the next village was. It was too early to call it a day. The old man and his guide whom I had been walking with in quiet some time that morning saw me and stopped for a moment to chat. They told me they're pushing to Monjo and in terms of acclimatization, it is a better option. Monjo is about the same elevation as Lukla while Phakding is about a couple of hundred meters lower.
It took me another hour and a half to reach Monjo. I found a cluster of teahouses but they didn't feel sunny enough. I walked farther, going up stairs crossing the village, until there were no more buildings. And I had no choice but to go all the way back. I chose the teahouse with the most colorful flower garden.
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| Lukla's version of Starbucks. |
Once inside my room, I made a cocoon of my sleeping bag and fell asleep. It wasn't a very tiring day, the trail was relatively gentle but I was having trouble sleeping for the past nights. I was woken by the noise of more trekkers coming in.
I spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening at the dining hall. All the trekkers in there were in a group. I sat there remembering the conversation I had with a local while having lunch. She told me about the trekker who fell off the trail to Pangboche. Apparently, he took some sort of shortcut on a narrow trail, lost his balance and fell to the river. It happened several days ago but his body hasn't been found yet. I had goosebumps while she was telling me the story. If it happened to him, why wouldn't it to me? I tried to shrug off the idea. It was the first day. I should be thinking of the great adventure ahead.
Day 2: Monjo - Namche
The thing about not trekking with a group was that I had complete control of my time. I missed my Tsum Valley trekking friends but not the stress they gave me all mornings when they just wanted to leave early and I couldn't despite waking up way ahead of everyone else because I couldn't establish an efficient way of packing my stuff. That morning, I woke up, had breakfast and then went back to bed. I was cold and the warmth my sleeping bag offers was tough to resist.
Everyone else has left when I went out of my room. It was a mere 3.5-hour walk to Namche but with a net elevation gain of almost 600 meters. The trail started out easy, just following the river. And then I saw the "Everest movie" bridge. There was actually two of them but the lower one is not of use anymore because the trail leading to it has been damaged beyond repair. Seeing them felt surreal. Like, I was in the movie and it was all make-believe. But it was all real, because the fear I had with crossing hanging bridges felt very real. And the bridge was really high. Everest could be spotted while crossing the bridge. I didn't have time for that though. All I wanted was to get to the other end as fast as I could. But I still was at the mercy of people walking in front of me.
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| Crossing the Everest movie bridge. |
From the bridge, it was a steep walk up. A relentless uphill. The trail was busy with both people and yak porters, going up and down. The rule when coming across those animals is to stay at the mountain side of the trail. That's one thing I would never forget again. I learned my lesson the hard way on my previous trek. So I stuck to the mountainside, even when I was alone on the trail. But that morning, one yak packed with oversized duffel bags on its side decided to be a human for a moment. I could see it coming towards my direction but wasn't able to act quick enough. The yak came too fast and the bag it was carrying struck my right chest. I lost my balance and fell to the ground. Fearing of getting trampled by more yaks, I got up quickly and walked as if nothing happened. I should still be thankful that the yak wasn't carrying metal fuel tanks.
Two and a half hours after leaving Monjo, I reached the check post before Namche Bazaar. I showed my park ticket to the officer and he told me something I couldn't comprehend. I apologized and then he laughed saying that he thought I was a Nepali. That would be the first of the many times it happened during that trek.
When I entered Namche, it felt like going into a metropolis. Namche is the biggest village in the Everest region. I walked past book and souvenir shops and stores selling all trekking and mountaineering gears one would ever need. There were bars and restaurants. The aroma coming in from the cafes and bakeries was mouthwatering. I even found a salon.
Walking around the village and deciding where to spend two nights was not easy. I reached the western end of the village but had to go back because nothing felt welcoming. And then I saw a guesthouse with a "Sherpa" on its name and went to check it out. The interior was lovely and I saw a photo of a Filipino trekking group on display at the lobby along with other photos of previous guests. The price of the room was 400 NPR. I asked for a 50% discount but the owner was adamant that I pay the full price, arguing that he could earn double from the same room if there were two people. I understood his reason but who were we kidding? The trekking season was closing and he's lucky if he could even fill half the guesthouse's capacity.
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| Yak porters. |
I bid him goodbye and walked aimlessly. When something finally caught my attention, I was told that they weren't accepting guests. By then, I was already tired and hungry and I just wanted to lie down. And then I saw Tashi Delek Guesthouse. (Tashi Delek is roughly the equivalent of Namaste in the Tibetan region of Nepal.) I knew I had to stay there even though I had to climb a long set of stairs from where I was. It turned out to be a good decision because not only did they give me a discount, the room I got was overlooking the whole village and it was a really fine view.
While I didn't have a fix itinerary for the trek, I had this list of the top 10 detours off the Everest trek from Lonely Planet. I wanted to tick off as much of it as I could. The first on the list are the rock paintings just above the village's monastery. I went there but didn't see anything except for the huge boulders with carvings, which were common along the trail.
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| Namche Bazaar. |
In the evening, I had a chat with a guide who gave me some tips for the three passes. And then he offered to 'adopt' me. Considering what happened to me in the morning and the perceived difficulty of the trek I wanted to do, I found it hard to resist. The only drawback was that their schedule was not very flexible.
While waiting for dinner, I was given a big cup of hot black tea. I told the girl that she must be mistaken because I didn't order any. She said it was a free welcome drink and apologized she didn't give it to me sooner. Not exaggerating, but I couldn't believe it. I remembered all the arguments and hostility that resulted from the insanely steep cost of tea during our trek in the Manaslu region. If those guys were there, I'm sure they'd be more floored.
Part 2 of the Three Passes Trek - Acclimatization hike around Namche
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