We reached Lukla at last light. The trek back from Namche Bazaar was 5.5 hours and 25 km. And lo and behold: even the roof of the world has a Starbucks of its own. Probably with great wifi. I was not sure whether to laugh or to cry. I did neither – instead I went to our teahouse, FaceTimed with my sister (yes indeed, if you are looking for unspoiled Nepal do not do the Everest Base Camp Trail), and had some Tibetan hot tongba millet beer to get warm. One kids’ sandbox cup of fermented millet and refill after refill from a hot thermos of water is enough to get my head in a proper spin. A little like the helicopter’s rotor earlier that day.

Apparently one of the most famous contemporary climbers (David Lama) sat in the next table. I was educated on this matter days later, when I encountered the same bunch of German guys in Kathmandu. They could not understand my ignorance. Truthfully, I had much too good a time with the guides and our sherpa, who usually leave their guests alone and even dine in a separate table. Not this time. (Lukla, Nepal; November 2016)

What a day. 6.5 hours on the trail from Phakding. 3 hours of strenuous climbing, dodging half-yak-half-cow dzos and donkeys and sherpas. I had the heaviest packing (only 10 kg) and I was tired and light-headed. A little nauseous, too, from time to time. But my colleague went into sudden altitude sickness shock. Blue lips, chest pain, hyperventilation. After some mineral salts (that I originally bought for store in case of a stomach bug in Indonesia), we took 10 baby steps, counting them, and a break. And yet another 10 baby steps, and a break. The last 500 m to Namche Bazaar lasted 45 minutes.

Namche (elevation 3,400 m) is a gorgeous little Tibetan trading post, snuggling against a mountainside. Not that I saw much of it, as I was either watching over my sick colleague buried in down sleeping bags in our room, or down in the teahouse on a teleconference, donned in a down vest and a ski hat, trying to negotiate a deal with people on the line from Stockholm, London, and the USA (this was a work trip after all).

Later that night we debated for the need of supplemental oxygen. My colleague’s oxygen saturation was at 72% when she was already feeling a little better, so goodness knows how low it had been. As anything below 95% is alarming on sea level, I had to measure my own to believe it: 78% and I was not fainting or feeling sick. Thus, no oxygen and just sleep for her, and an alarm clock waking me up every 2 hours to check she was still breathing. How cumbersome, as the temp indoors dropped below zero at night, which meant sharing my down sleeping bag with both my iPhone AND the extra battery pack. All neatly wrapped in clothing so I wouldn’t crush them. What a fuss to unwrap every time the alarm went off.

As I lay there, cuddling my iPhone and charger, I could not help but think that, even including the cold, the quality of life here at the Tibetan border is probably better: no need to daily worry about iPhones, batteries, teleconferences, and wifi.(Namche Bazaar, Nepal; November 2016)

Moving on from Phakding, and what a beautiful day. Crisp, cool morning, and a t-shirt warm day (turns out this was the last week of warm weather that year – it snowed the week after).  Many bridges to cross.One was suspended about 100 m above an old one, now left to decay. And so we walked across the river a few hundred meters up in the air. Why not. It’s not like people aren’t accustomed to high altitude. After lunch it was only one alternative: up the steps, a steep 2-3 hour climb (or back down to Phakding). Endless steps and turns and one Everest lookout point, and more uphill and turns. We passed many tourists huffing and puffing like us, and many passed us like they were on a Sunday stroll. Donkeys and dzos had right of way, and tired and worn as they were, we had to watch our backs and push them towards the center of the path so they did not squeeze us against the mountain wall or push us off the steep trail.

Poor animals. They placed their tiny feet on wobbly stones, one by one, and in some cases clearly straining from the weight of the packing (everything from cooking gas to tourist groups’ bags). They were beaten and pushed and cussed at. Little kids, who wanted to make their parents proud of their herding skills, whipped them with sticks as they passed a family house. These donkeys and dzos easily walk for 6 hours every day, covering much greater distances than we visitors, unused to the thin air. Every day, from the moment they are big enough to the moment they can no longer walk. I thought of their sad life every time I ate my dinner, which probably had been mostly carried up by one of them.
(Everest Base Camp Trail, Nepal; November 2016)

Phakding. Yes. Sounds like something with an F and a U and a CK. Elevation just over 2,600 m (Kathmandu is at 1,400 m). We had a sizzling lunch and some Sherpa beer. Even me, the classical beer-dissing wine lover. It is strange indeed: what typically keeps me going on a hot trek day is the thought of beer at the end. It is another dimension. And I will not divulge into the beer craze that happened in the Polish Tatra mountains some years back. It is too embarrassing.

So, Phakding. Not a place to which you say phak dat, especially since the view across the river gorge behind the village is absolutely gorgeous. It did not even freeze over in our room at night, and I would estimate a pleasant +10 degrees that only required a down vest for the trip to the en-suite bathroom. Some people call this home. I call it an adventure. How very adaptable we humans are.(Phakding, Nepal; November 2016)

Bags of rice. Cooking gas. Plywood. Entire doors. And toilet paper and chocolate for the tourists. In the mountains, everything must be carried up. Some towns are fortunate enough to receive regular helicopter traffic, but most are simply grateful to the sherpas.

As we stood on the airport, watching a little prop plane unload, it was quite mind-boggling  to see that after the avalanche of people and backpacks down from the tiny aircraft, another avalanche of rice bags followed. That thing must have had rice bags in the cockpit, in the rear cargo hold, even underneath the passenger seats. Everything must be carried up. And, since most tea houses are proud to boast advertising for export beer (San Miguel is a favorite), all the beer cans must be carried up, too. Fortunately, bottled water for tourists is actually bottled in local village sources, so only the empty plastic must be carried up. If I ever settled on a life change to live up here, I would open a business in carrying up toilet paper and chocolate. One toilet paper roll costs more than a bottle of water, and the price increases the further you go from Lukla towards Everest. Chocolate is incredibly expensive, but of course it is easily traded because who can resist a bar of chocolate after a day’s trekking? I know I can’t.(Mt Everest Base Camp Trail, Nepal; November 2016)

“We cannot leave Nepal for the last time without seeing Everest”, I recall my colleagues stating. Our social business startup was doing great and it was time to let it fly unassisted. This visit was to be the last one for the project. And no, we could not leave Nepal without seeing Mount Everest.

One early morning I found myself on a little prop plane, skirting the mountaintops, on my way to the most dangerous airport in the world. Lukla requires clear skies, and small planes on full throttle going up and full brake going down. Just watch any YouTube video and you’ll see how the pilot slams on the brakes and maneuvers a hasty hairpin turn before hitting the rock wall at the end of the runway.

And if you dare, observe takeoff: leaving Lukla some days later, our pilot slammed full throttle before lifting brakes and sped on the readily downward-slanting runway like he had a death wish. Grown men screamed in their seats as we zoomed down the runway, where at the end the only options were either liftoff, or crash down over the precipice into the valley below.

We lifted, as you can guess. Thank goodness. To be continued.
(Lukla airport, Nepal; November 2016)