Apr 26 - 28; Lobuche, EBC, Gorak Shep, Dingboche, Island Base Camp

Saturday April 26 - Lobuche to Kala Patthar to Everest Base Camp to Gorak Shep

Wow! What a day on the docket! I told Lal and Khum that I could do a lot in one day, this will certainly put me to the test.

We set off at 4:30AM for Gorak Shep and after having breakfast there, we head up Kala Patthar. The views are spectacular. Everest, Nuptse, Pomo Ri, Lingtren, Ama Dablam, Everest Base Camp - they're all there. It is so beautiful, it brings tears to my eyes. Lal tells me that Pomo Ri is his mountain. He had to turn around before reaching the top and has vowed to return one day. 

I look at the 3,000 foot face on Lingtren and tell Lal that it has my name on it. He shows me the standard route and explains that usually the face is rigged with fixed ropes. I tell him if I do it, it will be in the classic style, protecting as you ascend. Lal says you must be really good to do that, implying that most clients are not sufficiently skilled to tackle something like this.

Kala Patthar Viewpoint

I talked previously about, "The Beer Shot", for Niall's calendar. This is where it happens. I set up the bottle but it is so windy that Lal has to stand beside it, ready to prevent it falling over if a big gust should come. 

We spend almost an hour atop the Kala Patthar lookout point before heading down. Rather than go down to Gorak Shep, we go cross country heading for Everest Base Camp. There is supposed to be a trail but it is very faint and we catch only traces of it. Much of the way involves boulder hopping but eventually we intersect the trail from Gorak Shep to EBC and then it is much easier going. The trail soon leaves the lateral moraine and cuts across the Khumbu Glacier itself. We can see ice in many places as the trail winds its way up and down ice hills and around crevices. A new trail to EBC is created every year since the glacier moves and changes the landscape.

From 400 meters distance, EBC looks like a colorful circus, with hundreds of small tents of every imaginable color and thousands of prayer flags strung from poles. Gradually a structure becomes apparent, with each country having a central pole sporting their national flag. These central poles are also strung with prayer flags flapping in the breeze.

Everest Base Camp

Eventually we spot the inevitable American flag and make our way to the cluster of tents in this area. I don't have any plan or ideas for what to say. "Hi, I'm from the USA and want to talk to a climber please." I'll figure something out. We eventually find what I can only call the, "Command Center Tent". Lal and I walk inside and I find four people eating plates of stew, they look vaguely familiar.

"Hi. I live in the US and its good to see some Americans here." I say.

"Uhhh, we met you last night. We are Canadian interlopers." Says one of the four.

I recognize them immediately and laugh to myself. I learn that a few American climbers were here but they have just set off to camp 1. They were kind enough to provide some lunch to the Canadian visitors. I'm disappointed not to meet someone from one of the expeditions that is here to climb Everest, and also disappointed at the body language of the Canadians which says we are not welcome here.

Lal and I beat a retreat and pass the Sherpa cook tent on the way. We talk to one of the cooks who invites us into the cook tent for tea. We have an interesting discussion with them. There are 45 Sherpas supporting the American expedition. The Sherpas arrived 2 weeks prior to the expedition members, secured a large site, chopped flat spots into the glacier ice to provide level pads for the tents, covered each of these pads with gravel to slow the melting. In the kitchen tent, they hauled in rocks and built a counter area on which to place their stoves. The expedition members have been here for 3 weeks.

The whole EBC consists of about 400 tents spread over many acres. I had heard horror stories of how much trash had accumulated but everything I see is neat and tidy. It is a bit chaotic in the sense that there is no map telling you how to reach a particular expedition. I hear from someone that a total of 43 expeditions are camped here. Lal and I make our way back to the entrance, where an enterprising soul has set up a small bakery. Anyone who has subsisted on climbing rations in the mountains for any length of time would guess that a bakery would do a booming business, and you would be correct. It's also a good meeting place. 

I meet an American climber, Ed, and chat with him about the Chinese situation. The Chinese have closed the mountain above camp 2 and Ed explains that in order to have a viable summit bid, climbers must get acclimatized to at least camp 3. The Chinese are about to close all the camps in a couple days until they get the torch to the summit. This puts a big kink in the plans of all the climbers. Best case, all 43 expeditions will be trying to acclimatize at camp 3 at the same time and then then all of them will be making summit attempts over a very compressed window. Worst case, the Chinese will not succeed in putting the torch up and keep the mountain closed throughout the climbing window.

Either way, Ed is pissed at them for interfering with hundreds of climbers who have paid big bucks. It might not be so bad if they had good reasons, but this is purely political. The Chinese don't want any Tibetean protesters at the top of the mountain when they summit. 

I query him a bit on where he has climbed previously and it is quickly evident to me that Ed is chasing the seven summits. He confirms when I ask, saying, "Yes, Everest is the last one." I ask him whether the expedition members are random (people who just plunk down their money) or if there is some invitation process. He admits that it is random. I ask him how he feels being on a rope with other folks he does not know well. Ed says that they spent 10 days together walking up the trail and everyone has a good idea who they are with at this time. 

As we part, he shares a funny story. Two days ago, a chopper arrived with a Chinese/Nepalese delegation of 12 dignitaries. They were immediately very ill, due to the altitude and all of them had to leave within 30 minutes of arriving. I wish I had been there to capture 12 VIPs all throwing up at the same time. That would have provided some good balancing coverage to the "official" news releases.

I am knackered by the time we get back to Gorak Shep for dinner. However, dinner re-invigorates me and I spend time chatting to Esther and Ian, a couple from Wales. Esther is a sociologist studying how different people react to risk. Although they are on vacation, she is taking the opportunity to talk to some Sherpas, since they seem to frequently be in risky situations. After a few interviews, (ie, not yet statistically significant), she finds that Sherpas view climbing as a job that puts bread on their table rather than a big thrill (contrast to Westerners who view climbing as fun). We spend a good evening together and I learn that they will climb Island Peak a day or so after me.

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Sunday April 27 - Gorak Shep to Dingboche

Going down is easier than going up. Lots of yak traffic and I spend a fair bit of time capturing yak photos. Hope at least one turns out. 

Gorak Shep to Dingboche

We stay at the Peaceful Lodge in Dingboche. I take advantage of their shower. It's the best 250Rs I spend in quite some time. It feels great to be clean, washing my hair and feet are especially satisfying. The trails at this elevation are extremely dusty and the dust works its way in through your shoes, through your socks and attaches itself firmly to your feet. Getting rid of the fine grit is wonderful. I also take the opportunity to wash my socks and my shirt.

A large group has booked in at the lodge and it provides some lively conversation in the evening. One of the group buys some Pringles chips from the hotel (all the hotel have basic supplies for sale). He opens them and finds the taste to be off, checks the date on the package and sees that they were manufactured in 2005, to be eaten by 2007. Makes me wonder what they put in Pringles that keeps them edible for 2 years???

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Monday April 28 - Dingboche to Island Peak Base Camp

There are 2 inches of snow on the ground! The whole area looks spectacular with a covering of white. I spend an hour or so running around taking photos. In fact, Lall wanted to leave by 7:30AM and its 8AM by the time we set off for Island Peak Base Camp. The views trekking today are awesome. We are directly underneath Ama Dablam for a good bit of the way and then under the ridge directly to the west of Ama Dablam.

Hike to Island Peak

As we move higher in elevation, the vegetation becomes sparse and it starts to look more like a moonscape. It is very windy when we reach base camp and the team have some trouble setting up the tents. I snooze for a while.

Lal sets up a fixed rope on the ridge behind our camp site and we practice ascending and descending technique. This is good for me to review and good for Lal to see that I know what I'm doing. It increases our confidence in each other, since we'll be on a rope together in 12 hours time. 

I crash immediately following dinner, 7PM. 

Apr 22 - 25, Benkar, Namche, Deboche, Periche, Lobuche

Tuesday April 22 - Benkar to Namche Bazaar

We cross many steel cable suspension bridges as we hike to Namche Bazaar, a famous Sherpa village, the last big town before Everest Base Camp. The trail climbs 2000 feet in the last mile before the town. There is a lookout on the trail from which you can see Everest (and is my first glimpse of Everest here in Nepal). We also walk past piles of Mani Stones, which have prayers carved on them. The trail typically splits and passes on both sides of the Mani Stone piles. Buddhists always walk past the stones on the left (ie, keeping the stones to their right).

Benkar to Lobuche

From Namche, I hike to Syangboche airport, which is a grass strip considerably higher than Lukla. They had a couple crashes a few years ago and there are no more commercial flights into this strip. I've included a picture for those pilots in the audience. Airport elevation is 3700 meters.

I meet a journalist here who is following the Chinese attempt to take the Olympic torch up to the top of Everest. According to this journalist, the Chinese are carrying the torch up Everest from the Tibet side, then they will carry it down the same way. They are paranoid that someone will get to the top of Everest and protest the way the Chinese have been handling things in Tibet, thus screwing up what is sure to be good footage for their Olympic run-up. The Chinese made a "soft" loan (whatever that means) to Nepal and in return, Nepal is cracking down on protesters, even when peaceful. They have stated that no satellite phones are allowed on the Nepal side of the mountain until the torch is safely down. They have also banned cameras from all the Everest expeditions.

I have no idea if this is all true, but will ask around when I'm at the base camp and try to find out the facts (and report them here, not quite live, that is, about a week after the info is current).

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Wednesday April 23 - Namche Bazaar to Deboche

Up before dawn to hike to a viewpoint which Lal tells me about. The viewpoint is located on an army base 600 feet above Namche. The viewpoint is like a small island in the middle of a military complex. You must walk along a small path that winds through razor-wire, ditches and land mines to reach the small island at the top of a hill. Lal explains that it did not used to be this protected but several bases were attacked by Maoists in the past and these precautions were put in place. I suppose that with the Maoists in power, they could remove this stuff?

The view to the west is superb, with Nupla, Shar and Lho all illuminated by the early sun. Everest, Lhotse and Nuptse are all visible to the north east while Thamserku and Kangtega, closeby to the south east receive enough sun to light up. We spend an hour taking photos before returning to Namche for breakfast. It is surprising to me that with a couple hundred tourists in town, we are the only ones watching the beautiful show as the sun comes up. Lal says that more folks would be up here in the fall, when the tourist load is heavier and the visibility is better.

I have a friend, Niall Battson, who creates a beer calendar every year. This is not your average beer calendar, but rather, as Niall travels the world, he visits many famous sights and monuments, taking a local bottle of beer with him. He takes pictures of the local beer with the local sight in the background. I've helped Niall with the printing of the calendars and they look great. I figure that being close to Mt. Everest, there ought to be a beer that I can use to augment his collection. Indeed, in addition to Carlsberg and several other European beers, Nepal has Nepal Ice and Everest beer.

My plan was to buy a bottle of Everest beer in Namche, carry it up close to Everest and get my picture. Unbeknownst to me, Sagamartha National Park (the park in which Everest lies), has a rule that no glass beer bottles are allowed. Neither Everest or Nepal Ice are available in cans, so I cannot get either of these beers! I'm in despair until another guide with whom I share my dilema suggests that I send Bhim, our porter, three miles down the mountain, outside the entrance of the park, where he can get the correct bottled beer. I discuss with Lal, my guide and he says we can talk to Bhim and see if he will do this.

I offer Bhim an extra day's wages (400Rs, about $10 (You owe me Niall!)) if he will go down the mountain, find a bottle of beer and bring it back. He agrees and we meet him in Deboche, our stop for the night, with a bottle of Nepal Ice. I would have prefered Everest beer for obvious reasons, but I think Niall with be happy with the Nepal Ice. In order to ensure that the bottle did not break, I end up carrying around this bottle for the next week. This is no thin budweiser bottle either, it is 650ml (about the size of a wine bottle) of thick, resusable glass. (Niall, you owe me again!)

We reach Tengboche around 1PM in the afternoon. Anyone who knows anything about Everest has heard of Tengboche. This is one of the highest Buddhist monasteries in the world. All of the early Everest expeditions, including Hillary and Norgay in 1953, have gone to the Tengboche Monastery to get blessed before climbing the mountain. Norgay's son, Jamling, in his book, does a beautiful job of explaining the importance of getting the green light from the monks in Tengboche. The majority of high altitude porters are Sherpa and almost all of them are relatively devout Buddhist. No green light, no climb.

I am surprised therefore when I am the only trekker exploring this monastery between 1PM and 2PM. During this time, between 50 and 100 trekkers pass by the monastery without entering. My guide, Lal, utilizes the opportunity to the fullest by prostrating his body at the front of the Buddhist prayer hall.

Our original goal is to stay at Tengboche but we are so early Lal decides to continue to Deboche, the next settlement on the trail.

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Thursday April 24 - Deboche to Pheriche

We are soooo close to Ama Dablam, one of the best known and most beautiful mountains in Nepal, but early morning fog has obscured it. I've heard at least three different meanings for the name. Lal tells me the name means, "Mother and Son". In this case, the main mountain is mother while the son is a smaller mountain off to the side. Wikipedia says the name means "Mother and Pearl Necklace" (the perennial hanging glacier is thought of as the pearl). The interpretation I had previously heard was, "Mother's Jewel Box". Dablam means charm box, a special pendent worn by elder Sherpa women that holds precious items. The mountain has a hanging glacier that resembles a dablam and the two extending ridges are outstretched like a maternal embrace. In any case, the mountain is very picturesque when you can see it.

The first part of our hike is through pine forest which gives way to open valleys as we move higher in elevation.

Sherpa stew is my new favorite food these days. It's made from anything and everything available. Rice, lentils, vegetables and if meat is available, it will be added as well. Very hearty. Lal and I arrange to have tchang at 5PM today. It is the local alcoholic brew but it does not come in a bottle. Millet is fermented in large plastic barrels and when someone (me) wants a drink, they pour hot water into the barrel and then push a burlap sack down into the mush. The liquid seeps through the burlap and is ladled off the top and into a jug for the consumer.

The Himalayan Rescue Association in Periche runs the only medical clinic above Namche. The clinic only has two or three beds, but this is sufficient to treat both climbers and the local population. They run a daily lecture at 3PM covering high altitude sickness, which I attend. Their bottom line message is simple, "If you feel crappy, stop ascending. If you feel really crappy, descend, immediately." They have a pulse-oximeter and I measure my hemoglobin to be 95. I'm stoked since they told us that non-Sherpas rarely get above 90. It says my body is adjusting well to the altitude and bodes well for the Island Peak Climb.

One trekker goes to the clinic later in the day, and they tell him to get lower, immediately, but he is too sick to walk himself. Three porters, including Bhim, our porter, carry the patient down the mountain. They put the patient in a large basket with leg holes and carry him on their backs using a tump line. One porter carries at a time and they rotate every 10 minutes or so.

Our tchang comes and I'm blown away by the size of the jug. I'm used to the tongba in Sikkim and worry that this will be as strong, Lal will drink me under the table and tomorrow will be a write off. As it turns out, the brew is strong enough to give me a buzz but weak enough that when consumed over the evening, it does not affect me adversely. In fact, it lubricates the conversation between Lal and myself.

He tells me a bit about himself. Lal is married, age 46, has a 12 year old son and has been a climbing guide for 5 years. Prior to that he was a trekking guide and before that he was a cook. He still keeps his hand in cooking by going to Tibet during the monsoon and teaching at a school for trekking cooks. As the evening wears on and gets colder, we and a half dozen other trekkers and guides gather ever closer to the heater in the center of the room. I'm still amazed by the fact that yak dung provides most of the heat in this part of the world.

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Friday April 25 - Pheriche to Lobuche

The trail from Pheriche to Thokla goes down the center of a broad valley, with mountains on either side. After Thokla, we gain altitude and cross the Thokla pass at 16,000 feet. This location is significant as memorials to the climbers and Sherpas who have perished on Everest are erected here. It is a sobering experience because of the sheer number of cairns (50-ish). 

From this point, a long ridge of rock and gravel about 200 feet high, marks the edge of the famous Khumbu Glacier. I climb the moraine and see what looks to be a gravel pit, but I know that a thin layer of debris is on top of the glacier and I'm really looking down on ice which is hundreds of feet thick.

We arrive in Lobuche before noon. It is a cheerless place of about a dozen buildings, surrounded by rock without much vegetation. The rooms have been getting more and more spartan as we head higher into the mountains. Prices for food have been escalating as well. It is interesting to note that although rooms are a rather consistent 200-300Rs per night ($5-$7), the food is where these lodges make their money. Each meal is typically between 200-300Rs and trekkers will typically eat dinner and breakfast. Beers are an additional 200-300Rs each and although one beer goes much further in the mountains, it is nice after a hot day in the sun to have at least one. 

There is no electric power beyond Namche so the lodges will typically have a small solar system charging a battery to provide power for a few low wattage electric lights in the evening. They can charge small electronic appliances like ipods and the cost of doing this is 150-300Rs. Although I've been using local water treated with my iodine tablets, most trekkers buy bottled water at 100-200Rs per liter. You can see how the lodges make their money. To be fair, EVERYTHING must be hauled in to these lodges on the backs of porters, hence prices must be quite a bit higher than in Kathmandu.

An old Swiss gentleman entertains us at dinner with his stories. He tells us how he and his wife worked for 5 years after completing their education, saved every cent and then bought a VW camper and drove through Asia and Africa for the next 27 months. He recalls they climbed Kilimanjaro in 1974 for a total cost to them of $76. Earlier this year his wife gave him a surprise present for his 60th birthday. He learned only as they were boarding the plane that they were headed back to Kilimanjaro, this time the total cost was $3200 to climb the mountain.

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April 19 - 21, Kathmandu, Lukla, Benkar

Saturday, April 19 - Kathmandu

Arrive Kathmandu after spending the night in Delhi. The previous day was spent on planes from San Francsico to Delhi. I took some ambian, a drug to help you sleep, and slept for about 7 hours. This is a first folks! I will be a repeat customer.

I have a window seat on the north side of the plan from Delhi to Kathmandu which gives me a great view of the Himalaya in northern India and eastern Nepal. I see Machupachare and Annapurna just before landing in Kathmandu.

Khum Subedi, one of the principals of Unique Adventures, the trekking company I have signed up, puts a beautiful (but smelly) flower wreath over my head upon arrival. It's nice to be greeted, I'm able to brush off all the taxi drivers pestering me. The Australians I was to trek/climb with have bagged their trip and I re-evaluate my plans. Decide to do the Everest Base Camp trek followed by Island Peak climb. Previous plan was to climb Mera Peak but in reviewing a detailed map here in Kathmandu, the views will be much better from Island Peak, and doing both peaks is prohibitively expensive.

I spend some time talking to Khum about the recent Maoist election win in Nepal. He says he was surprised at the result, but Nepal needs a change and he is optimistic that things will improve. His fear is that the maoists tend to be poorly educated and will struggle initially with a lot of the government infrastructure already in place. Khum acknowledges that the government has been plagued with corruption and that the populace needs to be better educted to have a chance to reduce the corruption. Khum is also worried about the reception the rest of the world will give the new Maoist government. If the US and other countries reduce their already small investments in Nepal, it will hurt the country.

I thought the air was full of goo in Delhi but Kathmandu is much worse. It makes for a nice red ball sunset but aside from that, I want to escape to the mountains (I'm assuming they will be relatively clear).

The couple in the room next door are Kathmandu regulars (4 weeks per year) and suggest I walk three blocks down the street to the Kathmandu Guest House for dinner. They think it would be a smooth intro to Kathmandu for me. I concur, heading down the street and immediately get horribly lost. Being male, I use dead reckoning with stoicism to get further and further from my goal. After thirty minutes I capitulate and decide to employ a strategy that worked in India, asking school age children for directions. Immediately, a small group of young children approach me and speak a few words of English to me. They jabber amongst themselves and when I repeat my question of, "Where is Thamel?" (Thamel is the tourist part of the city is likely the best known quarter in the city.) They fix me with blank stares and babble some words in Nepali. I repeat a similar exercise several times and determine I need to modify my plan.

Plan B - I seek out a chemist shop (pharmacy in the US). I figure that many of the drugs have English names and the "chemists" are likely better educated than most Nepalis. I hit pay dirt. He points me up a hill and says go left. I hurry along as I'm getting hungry. I see another tourist consulting a map and approach with my best, "Are you lost too?"

"No", he replies, "Just looking for a restaurant."

"Can you please point me to Thamel?"

Soon I'm at the Kathmandu Guest House restaurant sipping a margarita (hey, this place is pretty civilized! I had a hard time finding margies in India), and enjoying tandoori chicken. Predictably, I get lost on the way back to hotel and this time use my new strategy to quickly find my way.

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Sunday, April 20 - Kathmandu

Khum introduces me to the guide who is to lead my trek and climb. I get concerned when they ask me if I brought a rope, snow pickets and ice screws. I relate to Khum that I asked him repeatedly for a gear list and the short list that he returned had no such gear. Frankly, I'm stunned that a climbing outfit would not have a supply of this stuff and I tell him so. He backpedals and says he will provide this gear. He tells me of other trips that Lall, my guide, has lead up Everest, Pumori, Ama Dablam, Dahlagiri and other gnarly mountains. It emerges that each of these big expeditions brought all their own gear. Slowly he restores my confidence but I will reserve judgement until I see Lall in action on the mountain. (Lal turned out to be a very good guide who speaks pretty good English and ensured that I had a good time.)

Khum takes me to lunch. It is obvious that he is concerned that I am unhappy and he very much wants to make sure I am happy. I am happy, just concerned that Khum's company seems flaky compared to US standards. I vow to work with Khum to put in place a proper check list that he can send out to clients and avoid these misunderstandings in the future.

Kathmandu has rotating power outages to conserve energy. They don't have enough energy for the whole country to be on the grid at same time. I go with the flow and update my blog on the computer as power permits.

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Monday April 21 - KTH to Lukla to Benkar

Flying from Kathmandu to Lukla is like nothing I've ever seen. When landing, you come in way high and then drop like a stone at the last minute. The airstrip is about 1000 feet long so there is no margin for error. It rises with an 8% grade which helps to slow planes. To take off, the planes fly down the runway in the opposite direction. One direction to land, the opposite direction for take off, regardless of wind. Oh, and the chances of doing a go-around are very low, you must nail the landing on the first try. Quite an experience.

Lukla

Lal hires a porter to carry, "The Mother of God", my big Jansport wheeled bag. It contains my plastic climbing boots, ice axe, crampons, a bunch of camping gear like sleeping bag and pad, as well as extra clothes. I think it is enormous (hence the name), but when I look at some of the loads the porters carry, I realize it's no big deal for them. 

We hike for 3 or 4 hours before stopping in Benkar for the night. It is common for trekkers to feel that each day is wimpy, but the stopping point each day is dictated not by how many hours you hike, but by elevation gain. They recommend that you limit elevation gain to 1500 feet per day.  Most of the dwellings along the trail are constructed of stone. It is the most readily available building material, even though it takes longer to build a stone house than a house from wood.

Watching the Nepalese build a house or lodge is quite something. The first step is for porters to carry baskets containing as many rocks as they can carry (usually about 220 pounds) and deposit these rocks at the job site. The rocks will typically have dimensions between 6 and 18 inches and are irregular in shape. Two groups set to work on this large pile of rocks, one group reduces the rocks down to 1 inch in size to be used in making concrete. The other, more skilled group, uses hammer and chisel to create rectangular blocks. After some of these blocks have accumulated, a yet more skilled group of laborers join the team and fashion walls from the blocks. 

In one location I see men with a large sledge hammer breaking up a 10 foot piece of bedrock that is located where they want the basement to be. It is amazing to see what can be done with primitive tools if you have time and manpower at your disposal. The dwellings look great when they are completed.

The locals seem more reserved and talk less than the people I encountered in India. The tourist density is higher along the main trekking corridor and the locals are likely more jaded here. 

April 15, US Citizenship Day (well, at least for me)

Apr 15 - Mountain View
Wake up about 3:30AM. Can't sleep. Finish extracting all my trip pictures to date and putting them onto my home computer. Take last look at immigration questions befored heading off at 6:15AM. Homeland Security Office is loced in south San Jose and I am to meet my attorney at 7AM prior to a 7:25 appointment. I arrive 20 mins early. It is really cold (60 degrees - back less than a week and I've become soft like most Californians) and the coffee shop owner, who is set up outside, moves a table and chair inside for me. He asks whether I am waiting for Richard and it turns out that Richard handled his immigration case. Coffee-guy says Richard is very good and his cases breeze through.

My inspector is sick and they hastily find an officer from a different branch to fill in. He is apolegetic and my attorney knows this officer quite well. It makes for a quick interview, especially as he can see that I speak English, uhh, somewhat decently (although he is still required to see me write a sentance, probably so they have some written record of my having passed a written English test. A key part of the test is when they hand me a page with 10 written questions about US Government. My questions are easy, the hardest one being "Who said the words, "Give me Liberty or give me death." (Patrick Henry) I confess that I did not know the answer until going through the 100 questions prior to the exam and seeing the answer. Having all the questions available ahead of time makes it easy for people like me that are good at rembering a bunch of facts for a short period of time.

They will schedule a "swearing In" ceremony for me sometime after I am back in the US, June 2. I found it anticlimactic to be through this phase of the immigration process. I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting, perhaps I wanted to see the wizard behind the curtain???? In any case, I felt happy and a bit smug and finally treated myself to a moca at the end of the day.

April 13, Mt Hood

Mt. Hood

April 13 - Mt Hood

A brief note on the therapy that Dunkley and I employ. We have each found that climbing/hiking in the back country provides a healthy release of pent up frustrations, while providings some great conditioning. Dunkley has climbed Mt Hood (11,249 ft) more than 75 times in his life. Very few people have bettered his record of one hour forty-five minutes from the Timberline parking lot (6,000 ft) to the summit. I had never climbed Hood and it was a natural place to test out my new plastic boots. We leave the parking lot at 4AM and reach the summit about 10AM, a leisurely jaunt on a beautiful day, almost cloudless till we reach the summit when a weather system starts to blow in. My boots do fine and aside from a brief "moment" at the top, I do fine.

The normal summit approach to Hood is up a feature called the Hog's Back and then to the right and up a steep snow slope through "The Pearly Gates". The gates are covered in bulbous ice rime pearls up to 12 inches in diameter. The picture makes the name obvious. However, a steep ice ridge has blocked the path up through the Pearly Gates and the trail now heads west and then up an alternate steep snow slope. My "moment" comes as we traverse the ridge to the summit and make our way to the summit. We come to a section that is 12 inches wide and 8 feet long. On the north side of this narrow bridge is a 1000 foot sheer drop. I mean, you have zero chance of survival if you fall that way. On the south side the slope is only 75 degrees and there are obstructions (seracs) between 50 and 100 feet below. If you fell to this side and immediately did a proper and effective self arrest with your ice axe, you would stop in a few feet and could easily regain the the ridge. If you failed to arrest your rapid slide down the south side, you would become a large pinball, crashing into the seracs between 50 and 100 feet below. You would be battered but likely survive. I'm ahead of Dunkley and as I approach, I think of the line from Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade. "Ask Yourself, In What Do You Believe?". My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I think this is Walter Donovan talking to Jones immediately after shooting the older Dr. Jones. The connection for me is, "Do I believe in myself?". I drop to hands and knees and am across in less than 5 seconds, breathing a huge sigh of relief. And yes, my palms are sweating as I write this!

The view from the summit is good but there is a bit of crud in the air preventing the view from being stellar. To the north we see St Helens, Rainier and Adams. To the south, Jefferson is most prominent with Bachelor just visible through the goo. Winds are about 40mph (added bonus while crossing my favorite 8 ft section of real estate) and still mostly sunny, although with the wind we start to chill after 30 minutes and head back along the ridge. I reach my little bridge and spend a few seconds contemplating my navel before Dunkley arrives and says, "Dave, this is the the crux right here (Duhhhh Dunkley, what planet do think I'm from??) And it's best not to sit and comtemplate, just walk over, like this....." I sigh, step gingerly over this section and in 3 seconds am back on the "relatively" secure portion of the ridge. After I'm safely over, Dunk tells me that next time I should have the ice axe in my other hand (the one facing the survivable slope). It makes it more likely that if I do fall, I will fall in the "good" direction. I learn something new on all these expeditions.

April 8, Back in the US, Back in the US, Back in the US of A....

I did not want to jinx future events by disclosing my plans early. I flew to the US on April 8 in order to attend an interview with the US Immigration service on April 15. For details of the interview, ..... look at that day's post!
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Apr 8 - meet Ramona for lunch. Ramona lives in Delhi and we met at the Cherrepungee Resort. She and her good bud, Micheline, love to go on unusual trekking adventures. After lunch Ramona takes me to several spots which are popular with visitors to Delhi. I did not think I would buy anything but ended up getting several shirts, and a few small presents for freinds & family. The Khan Market is one the places we visit. It started out many years ago as a collection of shops that catered to the western crowd. As India's appetite grew for things that appeal to western taste, Khan Market has flourished. Ramona says Saturday morning the place is packed with half the expats in Delhi shopping here. It is only moderately crowded today, a Tuesday, with a mixture of local Indians (65%), teenage Indians (20%, love the coffee shops), foreign expats (10%) and tourists (5%). It is sufficiently crowded that parking is a challenge. Ramona finds a likely area with cars parked 2 or 3 deep and waits till a young "parking attendant" shows up (abt 10 seconds). We get out, hand the keys to the attendent, and walk off. He and his buddies will find a spot in the sea of cars, often shuffling the cars around, using the fact that they are all parked in neutral and can be pushed around. It reminds me of the small games I played as a child, where 15 or 24 small plastic tiles are arranged in a square grid on a plastic holder. The tiles can slide up, down or to the side. There is always one free opening and the trick is to slide the opening around such that the other tiles are left in place leaving a message or picture. This is just on a bigger scale.

Next stop is a government market established for artisans to sell their work directly to the public. This is good for buyers since it collects a lot of good handicrafts in one place, it allows you to bargain by playing artisan's off one another, and it's good for the artisans because there are no middlemen to skim the profits. It also makes for a more pleasant customer experience, for the artisans are not the professional, slick, huckster type sales people as found in Varanasi. It is 6PM when we've seen enough and I bid Ramona adieu, taking an auto-rickshaw back to the hotel to collect my bags and then giving the auto driver a bonus by having take me to the airport.

The flight, well, lets just say it was a long, long night with many trials along the way. I tried as much as possible to employ the techniques learned from the various books read over the past few months, maintaining a cheerful demeanor throughout. I know some of the airline employees and customs officials appreciated it, and it cost me nothing to remain calm and cheerful!

April 8 - California.
My plane left Delhi at 2AM and I arrived back at SFO at 2:30PM. Just in time for a 4PM dentist appt. Part of a crown fractured off a rear molar while eating dirt laden vegetables on the Goechela trek. I arranged the appointment a week in advance, giving myself what I thought would be some margin. My margin turned out to be marginal but sufficient. Fortunately the crown retained its seal and my dentist was able to do a bit of buffing and send me on my way again. The real repair happens in June when I have more time.

My time in the US is split between
- studying the immigration questions I will be asked during my US citizenship interview
- shopping for stuff that I will use on the remainder of my travels. Near the top of the list is what Jamie calls her, "Mother of God" duffle. It's the largest gear duffle I can find and ITS ON WHEELS! The other key item is a pair of plastic climbing boots.
- a quick trip to Portland to visit Jocelyn and wish her good luck with her final month of studies as well as visiting my good friend Gary Dunkley. Gary had not had many visitors of late and it was good both of us to connect.
- oh yes, the last thing I do while in the US is make sure all my pictures are backed up on my home machine. I won't bore you with details but the failure of my traveling laptop made it extremely painful (and time consuming) to do this backup.

April 3, Darjeeling

Thursday April 3 - Thapa Dara Busti to Darjeeling

Leave Bhim's family today and head to Darjeeling. It is a family affair getting down the hill to meet the jeep which starts me on my journey to Darjeeling. Bhim leads the way and we make a few more photo stops along the way, to take pictures of family members that we haven't seen in the past few days. Giwan, Bhim's brother, has another trek for which he must cook and he needs to catch the same jeep I do. Bhim's father also goes down the hill carrying my big pack. I feel ashamed that I am not carrying my own pack but the reality is that any of Bhim's family, probably including his mother, could carry more than me and go faster so this really does make the most sense.

We are still 500 feet above the road and the jeep arrives, and I need to pee in the worst way. A quick deliberation ensues. If I don't pee, I'll be in the jeep for hours and I will burst. Not an option. On the other hand, the occupants of the jeep are watching Bhim and I scurry down the hill and I don't really want to stop for all the world to see. Whew, I find a spot where the trail switchback's out of sight of the jeep.

I say a hasty good-bye to Bhim and his father while they drape a golden silk scarf around my neck. The tradition of draping a silk scarf has its roots in India, where flower garlands are used for this purpose. However, in Tibet, they have very few flowers so the tradition evolved to use silk scarves instead. This modified tradition is standard practice today in Nepal and Sikkim.

Before leaving this morning I give Bhim my headlamp. I believe that out of all my gear, this will be of most use to him. Both while trekking, where having a hands free light is a Godsend, and at his home, where unscheduled power outages happen with regularity, and having light be instantly available is quite useful. However, I feel it is a pretty meagre exchange compared to the beautiful blanket made by his mother. I hope that a large packet of photos will compensate.

Our average speed to Jorthang over very rough road is 15 km/hr as we descend from 6000 feet down to 1800 feet on very steep switch backs. Jorthang is on the Sikkim border and I catch another jeep headed for Darjeeling. 

The vegatation changes almost as soon as we leave Sikkim. It is wild forest, almost jungle in Sikkim, while on the Darjeeling side of the border, the tea plantations soon start. The hills are still steep, but instead of the long shaggy look of Sikkim, the hills look like they've received a military crew cut. To be totally accurate, the tea plants grow in 5 foot diameter clusters about 2-3 feet high, so following the hair analogy, Darjeeling hillsides look like they were bald at one time and got sprayed with a lot of Rogaine.

Bright green tea plants are used for green tea while dark green plants are used for black tea. The processing steps for tea are far more complex than I realized. The temperature and humidity are carefully controlled after picking in order to dry the leaves. When the proper moisture content is achieved, the leaves are allowed to ferment, which is necessary to unlock the flavor.

After a few miles of slow going, the driver switches to first gear and we proceed up the longest continuous section of road requiring first gear that I've ever seen. The rise is from 2000 feet to above 6000 feet. The jeep conveniently overheats at a small community which has a tea house. While the driver douses his engine with water, the passengers have tea and snacks. I buy a couple bananas and a few pieces of the hardest cheese I've encountered. It takes 15 minutes in my mouth to break down a 1cm cube of this cheese. I'm concerned that it might damage my teeth.

After checking in to the Dekeling Hotel, I go to an internet cafe and print out the list of questions I may be asked when I go for my US Immigration interview. Answering 80 correct out of 100, with no studying, makes me feel more confident about the upcoming interview. Read  more on this in the April 15 post.

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Friday April 4 - Darjeeling

Back in December 2007, before heading off on this trip, Raj Patel at Xilinx tells me that if I make it to Darjeeling, I must have tea at Tiger Hill while watching the sun rise on Kanchenjunga. I catch a jeep at 4:30AM to take me up the hill. There is a regular convoy with between 50 and 100 jeeps making the run up the hill every day. I can't see any stars so I'm a bit skeptical but figure it will be an interesting experience at a minimum.

Darjeeling

My skepticism is warranted as Tiger Hill is shrouded in cloud. 249 people have their eyes riveted on the place where the sun would appear should the clouds lift. One person has his eyes riveted on the 249 people watching for the sunrise. 

My jeep carried 10 people up the hill, but 8 of them are a French group that is walking down the hill back to Darjeeling, leaving Mia and I as passengers on the way down. She is Korean, with remarkably good English. Most Koreans I've met over the years have difficulty with English pronounciation. I later learn she is a coordinator for English teachers in Korea... She tells me that to teach English in Korea, you MUST be from one of UK, US, Canada, Australia, NZ or South Africa. Others need not apply. 

We chat about many things and I ask her to walk around Observatory Hill, especially as it is 7AM and the restaurants in Darjeeling don't open till 8AM. Instead of mountain views, we watch the trees and prayer flags emerge from the mist. We are amused by the monkeys, until one comes close to stealing Mia's backpack and camera. She's had a dream to see the world and has taken a year off to see it before she gets too old.

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Saturday April 5 - Darjeeling

I must be a glutton for punishment. I do the jeep ride to Tiger Hill again today, although I can see some stars so the odds of a clear morning are much higher. 

249 pairs of eyes are looking east and watching the sunrise. One eye is glued to a viewfinder pointed west, watching the early morning rays bathe Kanchenjunga with orange and yellow. Several people ask if I am with the press. Tiger Hill must attract more of the camera-in-cellphone crowd than the camera & tripod crowd. Some old ladies ask if they can look through my long lens and I do my part to counteract George Bush's US PR campaign. Thanks Raj for the good tip to come here!

The walk back from Tiger Hill affords even better views of Kanchenjunga than from the hill itself. An old chalet on the ridge is boarded up and half burned. With the date of 1916 above the door, it looks like it would fit in Stephen King's, "The Shining". The back road to Darjeeling has very little traffic as it winds its way on the steep hillside.

The Darjeeling zoo has some interesting cats, many colorful birds, red panda and a few antelope-like ungulates. The Himalayan Mountaineering Institute, just down the street from the zoo, has some great Everest memorabilia donated by Edmund Hillary, Tenzing Norgay and a host of other famous climbers. The history of Everest climbing is well documented, with supporting news-clips, stories, anecdotes, period climbing gear and a three dimensional topographic map of the Himalaya.

But the highlight of the afternoon is Kiran's "Hot Stimulating Cafe". I found this place on my walk to the zoo late this morning. Kiran takes great pride in having the best momos (pot stickers) and the best tea in Darjeeling. It is a hole-in-the-wall place that is perched precariously on long stilts over the steep hillside. It sticks out from the side of the hill and a small wooden deck in the back has awesome views of the southern side of Darjeeling. Kiran has Bob Marley tunes cranked up and the only thing missing from the afternoon is a supply of beer. After asking Kiran about this, he points me to the nearest beer store and says, "I'm in!"

A good afternoon just got much better. The sun is warm, the view is great, the tunes are perfect, food is excellent, company is good, my feet are up on the railing and I'm leaning back in my chair feeling a good buzz from the beer. Doesn't get much better than this! I feel so relaxed, so content, things have just come together.

Kiran shuts his shop at 6PM and we head into the city for dinner and a couple beers. Like most people in India, he wants to move to the US. He figures his ticket might be the fact that he is the best momo cook in the world (his words, not mine). The US is always interested in new cuisine and he thinks he could talk a high end restaurant into bringing him across. I don't tell him that a momo to him looks just like a pot sticker to me and there are plenty of chefs in the US who know how to make pot stickers.

We go to one of his favorite haunts and I take photos of the kitchen staff and some of the patrons. They all get a big kick out of it. After a couple more beers I share some of the Nepali words that I learned from the trekking crew. Laro-ca (suck my dick), in particular, causes him to break into huge guffaws and tears stream down his face. As we wander around looking for a suitable bar after eating dinner, he keeps seeing friends and wants me to repeat my Nepalese words to them. Every time he hears me say them, it brings a new round of laughter. 

I tire quickly of this and have had enough to drink by now and head back to the hotel, where I pack for the journey home.

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Sunday April 6 - Darjeeling to Delhi

A driver picks me up at 6AM and drops me off at the Bagdogra airport at 8:30AM, in plenty of time for my 11:30 flight to Guwahati, connecting to Delhi. Reach Delhi by 4PM and check into the Ajanta Hotel providing basic accommodation for the night.

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Monday April 7 - Delhi to San Francisco

Up at 5AM, go to the roof terrace and with lots of dust in the air over Delhi, I watch a red ball sunrise. Finish reading my book, "Eat, Pray, Love", by Elizabeth Gilbert. It's taken since India to complete the book but what a gem! Gilbert writes about her life with an openness and candor that are refreshing and her sense of humor aligns closely with mine. I can see many parallels between parts of her life and parts of mine. The past few days I have deliberately put the book down after reading only a few pages, so that I could enjoy it for longer. 

At 7AM a waiter comes to the roof terrace and asks whether I would like some coffee. He has not shown up by 8AM when I finish the book and I figure the coffee would likely be cold even if he did come, so I head off. 

I've arranged to meet Ramona, who lives in Delhi. We met while staying at the Cherapunjee Resort. We have lunch at a beautiful outdoor cafe (Ramona tells me it is refreshingly cool today - we are lucky). She spends the afternoon showing me the best places to buy things in Delhi. There is one store which sells funny T-Shirts. Ramona points to one with a picture of an auto whose meter breaks whenever it detects a foreigner stepping into the auto. We burst into laughter realizing that the joke only makes sense to someone who has traveled in India. Send me a note if you don't get it.

The Kahn market is one of the trendy shopping places. Ramona says it used to be where flight attendants would come to purchase things to take back with them. Now it is full of locals, foreigners, ex-pats, anyone with money to spend. We find what must be the trendiest coffee shop in Delhi, full of 15-22 year old kids. Ramona and I stand out as oldies, but we don't care. I have the first proper espresso I've had in three months. 

When parking in this sort of place, you find the lots are full, but if you wait for a minute someone comes and will park your car. They leave the cars parked in neutral so they can shuffle them about and create openings for more cars. It reminds me of the cheap plastic games with 15 tiles and 16 slots, you keep moving the empty slot around in order to arrange the tiles in a particular pattern. 

We part ways as I have to catch a flight to the US. 

It's been a good day, which is good, because the next 24 hours are going to be rough. Let's just say Delhi airport is  not particularly user friendly (massive construction), the airline employees in Delhi are not particularly user friendly and American cancelled their flight to Chicago yesterday so today's plane is way overbooked and I need to get booked on another airline and it takes 5 hours of waiting in lines past 2 AM, shuffling back between American and Indian Airline counters before I finally have a boarding pass in my hand. I make it back to San Francisco, tired but safe and healthy. 

Mar 31 - Apr 2 - Thapa Dara Busti

Monday, March 31 - Kecheperi to Thapa Dara Busti

Today's major objective is traveling from Kechiperi to the village where Bhim lives, Thapa Dara Busti. Shared jeeps are the most common form of transport in Sikkim, operating on a hub and spoke system, similar to buses or airlines in North America. Pelling is the "hub" while Kechiperi and Dentam (closest town to Bhim's village) are the spokes. The jeep to Pelling doesn't leave till leave till 7AM so at 5AM I take advantage of the early morning silence and go to the sacred lake to get some early morning photos and do some self reflection.

8:30AM finds us in Pelling, the place where tourists go for "easy" views of Kanchenjunga. Easy means the tourists look out their hotel windows and see the big mountain. We do indeed see it but the haze at this time of year quickly obscures it. October is the clearest time of year for good views.

A hotel owner stores my bag at no charge. He makes his money by charging me for internet access, the first in three weeks, and I eagerly plough through pages of emails in the next hour. Bhim and I have time to kill before the jeep to Dentam, so we hike up to the Pemayangtse Monastery. I'm surprised to see a German couple balk at the 20Rs entry fee ($0.50). You spend thousands of dollars to come to this remote location only to quibble over fifty cents? Go figure. In addition to the normal prayer hall and chanting monks, they have many old stone houses in which the monks live. The location also commands a view of the surrounding countryside, including the old Sikkimese capital of Rabdentse.

Returning to the hotel, I have on their balcony. Bhim says he's not hungry, and heads downtown, but I think he is uncomfortable entering, "my world". The hotel restaurant is expensive compared to his norms and the clientele are much different than his usual crowd. I enjoy a great meal, having a beer and basking in the sun before our jeep arrives. 

The ride is over the roughest roads I've yet experienced in India, and slows to 10 km per hour at times. The houses along the way are well cared for and the area exudes an air of modest agricultural prosperity. The terrain gets increasingly rugged, with extensive terracing necessary to support farming. Bhim's mother has called in an order to the store nearest their village and our jeep stops while Bhim collects the order. The cellphone is a Godsend in situations like this, saving much walking.

Thapa Dara Busti

Bhim's younger brother meets us at the Palung Bridge and we divide all my gear between Bhim, his brother and me. You can guess who has the lightest load. The path seems like the stairway to heaven as we keep climbing steps ever higher up the mountain. After thirty minutes, the stairs stop at a small rest point. Bhim shoots me a sly wink as he lights a cigarette, telling me not to mention smoking to his parents as they would not approve. Thinking that this is his last cigarette just before his village, I say, "Is your village around the next corner?"

The reply, "No, it's another hour away," catches me off guard and I think Bhim is joking. I learn soon enough that it's no joke as Thapa Dara Busti is about 8000 feet elevation, 2000 feet higher than the road. Now I know why Bhim's younger brother came to greet us, it would have been a tough slog for Bhim and I to haul all my gear up this hill. 

Passing through a small village enroute, Bhim meets one of his sisters. Bhim's father has five sisters and eight brothers, each of whom have their own families. In local parlance, cousins are called brothers and sisters, so you can imagine how many sisters Bhim has. He jokes with me that every girl within miles of his house is a sister so he must look far afield to find a girlfriend. 

About an hour later, I'm beginning to grit my teeth and settle in for the long climb over the ridge in front of us, when Bhim announces our arrival. Bhim and his brother let me use their room, while they sleep downstairs in the common room. The bedroom is spartan but comfortable, having two beds arranged in an L shape, with a small table holding a stereo and some knick-knacks. Room size is about 8' x 11'. 

The family is assembled downstairs. Bhim's father is 5'-11", very trim and it's apparent that he is very strong with large powerful hands and huge feet. A permanent fixture is his wool toque. Bhim's mother is petite, very attractive and seems the model wife for this area, deferring to the man, but at the same time making things happen. They welcome me warmly and feed me tea and biscuits. 

Thapa Dara Busti is a small agricultural community with about 30 dwellings surrounded by heavily terraced fields which are immaculately tended. They grow potatoes, wheat, maize, peas, spinach, brocoli, and cabbage. The only crop not represented is rice, which grows down the hill, by the road. 

The Chetri's have one water buffalo with calf, three cows, each with calf, three chickens, six goats, one kitten and no dogs. There are two barrel-shaped bee hives hanging under the eves which are harvested twice per year for honey, an operation done at night when the bees are asleep. 

The house is a two story of wood frame construction having walls of woven bamboo mats covered with mud and painted. The ground floor is made from mud and cow dung and must be regularly (weekly?) maintained. The second story floor is made of hand sawn boards. The upstairs contains the bedrooms while the downstairs is a large open community room, which means mostly kitchen. 

They have a two burner wood stove, but it is unlike anything in the West. The basic stove is 8" high and made from a mixture of mud and cow dung, having two 8" slots in which wood is inserted and burned. A wrought iron pot stand sits in each of the slots and supports any pots put over the flames. Smoke rises to the ceiling and escapes through holes to the outside where the floor joists are supported by the exterior walls. This is pretty standard construction for all of North India, and depending on wind conditions, it can get smokey inside, but usually the smoke rises cooperatively.

The kitchen is very spare, with the only permanent work surface being the floor. They have a couple of wooden boards upon which they chop vegetables, they also have a couple of 10" diameter stones, 1" thick, upon which they grind their spices. For example, when making masala tea, they first take cardamon seed pods, break the skin off the pods and remove the seeds by hand, putting them on the round stone. Then they take a fist sized stream cobble and rock it back and forth on the flat rock, crushing the spices into fine powder. It works well and is quite efficient in the hands of a skilled user.

A stone hand mill sits in the corner. It consists of a bottom stone, 16" in diameter, 3" thick with a flat top surface that is rough. The stop stone mates with this and has a 1.5" hole in the center, through which maize or other grains are dropped, a handful at a time. The grain is ground between the two stone surfaces (stone ground!) and gradually works its way to the periphery, where it accumulates on the floor and is collected after grinding is complete. The grindings have the same consistency as our corn meal. 

For making flour, which is a much finer grind, they use a giant wooden mortar and pestle. The bowl is about 12" exterior diameter and 10" deep. The pestle is wooden rod about 3" diameter which lifted 2' and then driven forcefully into the grain contained in the wooden mortar. They use it for making rice flour while I am visiting. After a few minutes of pounding, they take the pounded grain and put it into a 2.5' diameter flat woven basket (perhaps better called a tray). A skilled operator (Bhim's mother) flips this tray and the crushed grain flies in the air, with the larger particles making their way to the bottom of the tray, while the fines stay at the top. The fines are separated out as they are now flour, while the coarser ground particles are dumped back into the mortar to be ground more finely. 

Bhim shows me another device, called a tika, that looks like teeter-totter. Two men push down one end of the teeter-totter with their feet, raising the weighted end into the air while a helper pushes wheat under the heavy end. The men release their feet, the weighted end smashes into the wheat, breaking off the chaff. This gets used at harvest time and only one of them is needed by the whole village.

There are many other tools and farm implements which I don't have time to investigate, including different sorts of knives and a wooden plough that is hitched to their water buffalo. 

They make me a fancy dinner with several different dishes and serve me before the rest of the family eat their simple rice and dahl. I explain to Bhim that I feel very awkward being singled out this way and would much rather be treated as one of the family, eating the same food at the same time, even if it is just rice and dahl. 

After dinner, I fire up my laptop and show them a slide show of our trekking. Bhim prepped me ahead of time and asked that I remove any pictures showing meat being eaten and any pictures of people smoking. Everyone enjoys the show. Unfortunately my computer stops working after this show and I can't use it for taking notes or processing my photos. It is a major pain and prevents me from keeping my blogsite up to date. I've since had it fixed in the US and will use it on future trips.

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Tuesday April 1 - Thapa Dara Busti

Bhim humor's me by getting  up before sunrise and taking me to a good lookout where we can get good views of the valley. As we walk, he is constantly on his cellphone. He tells me that it is April 1 and he has a conversation with one "sister" that goes something like this.

"Tina, your father is deathly ill. He wants to see you before he dies so you need to walk the ten miles from where you are living and go home immediately."

Tina, Bhim's sister, is all tears and asking some incoherent questions when Bhim breaks in.

"Haha! It's April Fools today."

I grin to myself, realizing that Bhim and I are cut from almost the same cloth. I say almost because I can't remember ever telling anyone that their parents were near death.

The early morning photos show houses clinging to steep heavily terraced slopes. You must work hard to make it in agriculture here. Fortunately, the entire population are hard workers, hence people are reasonably prosperous. Money is tight, to be sure, but I don't see any hungry people, and the homes and fields are all well tended.

Bhim wants to show me the Singshore Bridge today. He and his friends keep telling me that the drop, 700', from bridge to water below is the second or third highest in the world. They are all excited by it and I conclude that it must either be brand-new or perhaps it's in the final stages of completion.

We set off at 9:30AM to visit the bridge, collecting a couple of Bhim's friends along the way. I tell them that if there are any old people in the villages on the way to the bridge, they are very photogenic and I would like to get pictures of them. Bhim and his friends do a good job ferreting out all the old people for miles around and I get some good photos as a result. At all the photo shoots, I do my best to get people to smile and look happy. Their natural inclination without this prodding is to look very formal, rigid and serious, very similar to early Native American Indian pictures I've seen.

One consequence of meeting people in the villages is that we are constantly invited in for a cup of tea. It's impolite to refuse, so I have seven cups in two hours, more than my bladder can hold. I think of Mortenson's book, "Three Cups of Tea", and wonder how it would read with, "Seven Cups of Tea", or, "Ten Cups of Tea". I also remember an old movie about wolves, where the main character is living in the wild amongst some wolves and in order to, "mark his territory", he drinks vast quantities of tea to generate enough urine.

Bhim is 18, his two friends joining us (Sam and Barney), are 17 and 19. They are used to going up and down the 2000 feet to the road at least once per day. You can imagine how challenging it is for a 49 year old to keep up with these youngsters. I do my best to keep up and they slow down a bit from their normal pace.

When we reach the Singshore Bridge, imagine my surprise to find a 14 year old suspension bridge which has been recently de-commissioned because the bridge engineer will no longer certify it for vehicle traffic. I'm flabbergasted at the shoddy result my engineering brethren have created and tell Bhim and his friends that the responsible engineer ought to be publicly humiliated to make an example for other Indian engineers. Despite my feelings for the engineer, I join Bhim, Sam and Barney as they spit over the side of the bridge and watch the tiny blobs disappear from view. Funny how this seems to have such universal appeal, like laughing when someone farts. 

Sam and Barney (the names they give themselves for my benefit), want their pictures taken in every accessible location on the bridge. It affords me the chance to see the bridge from all angles.

For a snack in the afternoon, we pull down a couple cobs of maize hanging from the eves of Bhim's house, scrape off the kernels and make pop corn. None of this packaged stuff. What a kick! They know I'm also interested in churning some butter so we do that as well. Ghee is what they call butter, and we have it on rice with the afternoon meal. Butter milk is another result of churning and it is delicious. They make me a lassi by boiling some of the butter milk over the fire. Bhim's mother also demonstrates making a bowl from leaves, stitching together many leaves by using fine shards of bamboo as a coarse thread. This is traditionally what the Nepali people have eaten from. Note that this area of Sikkim is populated by people who left Nepal 200 years ago, and the language spoken today is still Nepali.

Bhim heard my comments of not wanting to be singled out with different food at dinner and I eat rice and dahl along with the rest of the family. However, he does give me a knife and fork to eat with. I point at everyone else eating with their hand and do the same.

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Wednesday, April 2 - Extended-Family Photo Day

I spoke earlier about the size of Bhim's extended family. Bhim would like to visit as many of them as possible today and have me take their pictures. I promise to send a packet of photos to Bhim in June (I'm running out of time as I write this June 28!) of all his family and many of the other photos I've taken while visiting. 

Our first port of call is Melling, a village an hour's walk from Thapa Dara Busti. The walk is through forest that the Sikkim government set aside as a preserve. No development takes place in the forest, and no trees may be cut. The Sikkimese are very forward thinking in protecting their environment and attempting to be as "green" as possible. 

The first house we reach is owned by Bhim's sister. We are immediately invited in for tea. The smoke from the kitchen is overpowering and both Bhim and I must escape outside periodically to boost our oxygen levels before another stint in the smoke. We spend an hour chatting before heading to the other end of the village. All the residents take great pride in surrounding their houses with beautiful flowers, including orchids, nasturtiums, and many others whose names I don't know. This love of flowers exists all over northern India.

I feel like the Pied Piper as I walk through the village, ending up with about 15 followers. We go to a lookout point and I set up my tripod and long lens. The villagers are very inquisitive, poking, prodding, and playing with my camera. Bhim can see I'm nervous and asks about it. I tell him the camera costs more than these people will make in a lifetime and can he please pass this along to the folks? I realize as soon as I've said the words that it's a very cheap thing to say. Fortunately, Bhim filters my words appropriately and I lighten up a bit at the same time.

We do the rounds at this end of the village, shooting several more aunts and uncles. Each time we leave someone, I say, "Fairy betoon", or something that sounds like it to me. This is a standard adieu phrase, except I can't pronounce it quite right. The locals howl with laughter and want me to say it again and again. Then they try me with other Nepali words and the guffaws continue. I'm happy to provide some good entertainment at my expense.

On the way out of the village, a couple of older men stop us, wanting their pictures taken too. I tell Bhim that yes, I can do that, but please, NO more tea! He laughs and says its OK, they are older and single and will be glad not to hassle with making me tea.

Bhim's father and older brother, Giwan, have gone down the hill with many of the uncles to carry up pieces of corrugated roofing, to be used to build Bhim a room of his own. Bhim's mother and Giwan's wife are slaving away in the kitchen rustling up an enormous amount of food to feed the hungry men when they arrive. This is like a mini barn raising, in that the community have banded together to help one family, Bhim's, to accomplish an onerous task, carrying corrugated iron up a 2000' hill, that would otherwise take the family days to complete. In return, everyone is fed as much food as they can eat. And believe me, they eat fast and they eat a lot. Two heaping plates of rice each are devoured in minutes. After they eat, they have me repeating Nepali words, causing them to laugh while rolling across the floor on their distended stomachs.

Dinner this evening is Nepali roti. This is made from rice flour (pounded by Bhim) and many spices mixed together and then drizzled into boiling oil. They are shaped like pretzels but a bit softer. Getting the degree of softness correct is an art. They are initially too hard and baking powder is added to the batter until the proper cooked consistency is attained. The roti are delicious. 

Before going to bed, Bhim and his father come to my room and present me with a goat's wool blanket, hand-made by Bhim's mother. I'm stunned, and can only mutter some feeble comments that they will be pleased with the photos I will send in June. I spend a good bit of the night fretting about what I can give Bhim in return. I know he was eying my hiking poles. In the end I decide that my headlamp is probably the most useful thing I can give to Bhim. It is useful around the house during the frequent power outages. It is also useful while trekking, both in the early morning and evening. Currently, he either gropes in the dark or lights a candle. The instant light afforded by a headlamp, and the fact that being on your head provides the light where you need it, is sure to be useful. At the same time, it feels like a very lopsided exchange. I sure hope those photos turn out well....

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Observations from my time with Bhim's family. Although they have a fraction of the wealth owned by a typical western family, and don't have any of the modern conveniences which we take for granted (washing machine, in-house toilet, 24/7 electricity, cars, espresso machines,...) they appear to be very happy. It takes them longer to prepare meals, but they use the preparation time to chat amongst themselves, so it is not "lost time". I can't help but wonder whether we in the west have become obsessed with squeezing every minute out of the day and have lost out some of the simple pleasures of life that come from direct communication with others of our species.

Another observation is the degree to which cell phones have permeated the lives of these people, probably endangering the point above. The people Bhim's age in particular, spend a large percentage of their time talking to each other or texting each other. This is, I think, the start of western commercialization starting to erode their traditional way of life. I've seen it happening in remote areas all around the world. The price of progress!

Mar 30 - Khechuperi

It takes forever to prepare for departure. The yaks need to be found, our gear packed, then loaded onto the yaks. Everyone's mind is on Bikash's situation and it's hard to focus on anything else. Bikash is able to sort it out in the end, but it takes him most of the day. He ends up calling a friend in the government who has risen quickly. This friend is able to cut through the bullshit that is being thrown at Bikash and tell the police and other local officials that if they don't put aside their petty grievances, they will regret it. This changes the police from being aggressive assholes into boot licking suck-ups. Bikash says they were amazed at the horsepower he was able to bring to bear on them and they won't be messing with Bikash any time soon. This whole episode highlights the corruption that occurs every day at all levels of government within Sikkim and within greater India. 

We set off at 10AM and hike on heavily terraced slopes that have crops planted. The contrast between this and the park, which has no farming, is marked. We drop 1000', cross a river and then start the long climb up the other side of the valley. It takes waaay longer than I expect, and I'm starving and very thirsty by the time we reach the small village outside the Khechuperi Sacred Area. 

I order drinks and momos and am well on my way to recovering when who walks in but the American climbers. We joke about following one another around, chat for a bit and exchange email addresses and websites. They are a good bunch and there is a good chance I will see them again in Darjeeling. 

Yuksom to Khechuperi

As one of the most sacred places within Sikkim, you would think that the name of Khechuperi would be accurately documented somewhere. I have taken my spelling from a sign by the waterfront of the small lake. However, checking on the web uncovered no fewer than six different spellings, including Khecheopalri, quite different than the one I'm using. Many of the names in Sikkim are like this, probably passed down orally without written documentation until today, resulting in many spelling variations.

The Sacred Lake of Khechuperi is tucked into a valley and surrounded on three sides by hills (what they call hills here, perhaps mountains for most). As such, it is quite protected and the surface of the lake is usually calm. The east end of the lake is the most sacred, or at least, its where the most prayer flags and mani flags have been placed, and there are a lot these flags. In many communities in California, it's popular for school children to plant trees. Perhaps in Sikkim, school children plant flags? No matter how they got here, there are thousands of them. There is also a long double line of prayer wheels on a wooden platform that stretches out to the water's edge. For as beautiful at this is, and as important as it must be to the local Buddhist community, Bhim and I are the only people here. I'm not complaining, just observing.

Bikash does make it to our "Last Supper". It's both happy and sad at the same time as Bhim, Jiwan, Gyalpo, Tashi and Bikash all gathered in the cook tent one last time. I'm happy that it's been a fantastic trip and sad to be leaving my newfound friends, although as you'll read in the next few days, Bhim invites me to stay with his family in Thapa Dara Busti, a very small village, so I get at least a few more days with Bhim. They bake me a cake, not sure how you do that over a kerosene burner, but they do, and it's a great ceremonial ending to a great trip.

Would I do it again? Absolutely! Would I do it with Bikash's young company? Yes, especially if I could have Bikash on the trek, as his English is so good and he is very knowledgable about the whole area around Kanchenjunga. I've read accounts of other trekkers having awful guides that are either not knowledgable or cannot speak the trekker's language. Either case is bad. Bikash has also promoted Bhim to a guide and he is a fine guide, with good English skills, good knowledge of the countryside, lots of energy, and most important, a positive attitude.

 

Bikash's email address to contact him is

bob_czetry@yahoo.com

He uses the name Bob for international clients as its easier to remember and spell than Bikash.