[Written Tuesday, October 7]
We are in a lodge in Jorsale, some distance beyond Monjo and the entrance to the Sagarmatha National Park. It is our second day en trek. Before us tomorrow is the long 2,300 foot climb to Namche Bazaar. We stopped here early this afternoon to rest and acclimatize. Our net altitude gain today was modest. We are still no higher than Lukla. Our 60-something bodies are not liking the altitude here, about 9,000 feet.
So how did it come to this? Our early Monday morning departure was frantic as usual. Searches for things misplaced, the hotel failing to to arrange for an early breakfast, etc. We departed the hotel at 6:30 AM, expecting to find the streets of Kathmandu empty, but they were fuller than ever. It is the beginning of Desai, we understand, approximately what Christmas is to Christians, for Hindus. Kat is 85% Hindu. Big family, big travel, a week-long celebration. I guess the Buddhists just watch and spin their prayer wheels.
The Kat airport was a madhouse. Yeti and other airlines literally shuttle people to Lukla and other places. The plane lands, taxis to meet the bus of passengers, may not even shut down the starboard engine, loads, and then hustles back to wherever it came from. This goes on throughout the morning hours, while the flying weather is relatively good. Anyhow, the airport was a madhouse, from parking lot to boarding. Fortunately, Dawa, our hero, was there to meet us, get us through security and baggage, and into the boarding area. While others, scores, maybe hundreds of climbing and trekking group members stood in what might have been queues, a couple employees, came out from behind the counter, tagged and grabbed our heavy trekking porter bags (supplied by Dawa),while Dawa got our printed tickets (Yeti's telling you your e-tickets are confirmed means nothing; you still need paper tickets).
The 45-minute flight aboard the aging Twin Otter was interesting. We sat right behind the cockpit, taking pix through the windshield, getting up to about 11,000 feet, but never a whole lot above the ridges. (Jungle-like mountains all the way from Kat, sparse family farms here and there, mostly on the ridges.) The interest of the flight was enhanced in that we sat next to a US Embassy employee who was spending the Desai holiday trekking from Lukla. Lots of interesting information about the various refugee issues in Nepal (Tibetan, but mostly Bhutanese),
The single 300 meter (less I'd say) airstrip at Lukla also is interesting. Imagine that an aircraft carrier had run aground at the very end of a box canyon at 9,000 feet. You land from the west; you take-off from the east. You need really good brakes on landing, and really good lift on take-off, except that the ground falls away precipitously, thousands of feet, after the end of the run-way.
Fortunately, very fortunately, first-timers like us know little of this beforehand. I sensed changes in rpm and prop pitch, and saw the pilot adjust the flaps...and the ground come up quickly...and then a bump and screech...and then we were taxiing—a hard-right turn, almost 180 degrees, 90 feet or so--and then you're at the terminal and they're hustling (Namaste!) you off to the exit. The plane is almost fully re-positioned for take-off as the next batch of passengers is hustled on. And it as well as the next flight are both airborne before you get through the exit, collect your bags, and head into the waiting throngs.
Fortunately, again, Dawa's sister was there to meet us—she owns a guest-house in Lukla—as well as our guide, Mingma Sherpa, who immediately began watching carefully over us. I guess he knew we were going to be difficult when I insisted on photographing a take-off from Lukla. I guess I was reminded of those famous old films of Doolittle's Raiders taking off from the deck of the Hornet to bomb Tokyo in 1942, first disappearing off the bow, then eventually coming back into sight, in the distance, aloft. Lukla's kind of like that, except for all the mountains and trees and clouds.
At the guest-house we repacked again (some day I'll explain why all the different styles of travel and transit require different packing), met our porter, got 2 cups of coffee I'd missed earlier, and set forth with Mingma, registering at the police station, and spinning prayer wheels in the temple-things on the way out of the village. I at first felt guilty about the load we gave the porter until I saw him later carrying our stuff and much else.
Lukla to Thakding is mostly downhill. It was enough of a chore for us, laden as we were, and we'll regret it when we have to climb it on the way out. The path is mostly paved with large stones and steps, many doubtless of some age, generally 2-3 meters wide. The are trekkers, sometimes groups of trekkers, and many, many porters, each hurrying past the tourists, up- or down-hill carrying astonishing loads. And there are the occasional beast of burden, usually in small group with a driver/herder/whatever. These are not yak. They look pretty much like cows, longhorns, but are generally smaller and black. They are sort of like yak/mules. We'll get the name and spelling..
We stopped at a cafe for lunch. It took more than an hour to get a small pizza and an omelette, but we were glad to be off our feet. We stopped at a lodge just past Thakding. About 30 people there, a few in groups, several couples obviously independent. Our room had two hard single beds and just enough room for our bags. For dinner I had dahl bat with meat (unclear what type, but it was grilled and good). We sat with a well-traveled couple from the Netherlands and had a long, enjoyable conversation, mostly about travel in Asia and Europe. Exhausted, we were asleep by 9.
The next day was hiking from Thakding to Monjo, again mostly downhill, but with any number of climbs out of the suspension bridge river crossings. These are fairly modern, all metal, not the rickety wooden things you seen in the videos. They sway, they bounce (one kind soul galloped a horse across just for our benefit), but there's no way you could fall. Which is fine, because the Dudh Kosi (Milk River) is raging below, fresh from monumental glaciers. We arrived at Jorsale about 3, exhausted, but by dinner we had decided to press on to Namche, where it is nicer and and better to acclimatize. Mark
We are in a lodge in Jorsale, some distance beyond Monjo and the entrance to the Sagarmatha National Park. It is our second day en trek. Before us tomorrow is the long 2,300 foot climb to Namche Bazaar. We stopped here early this afternoon to rest and acclimatize. Our net altitude gain today was modest. We are still no higher than Lukla. Our 60-something bodies are not liking the altitude here, about 9,000 feet.
So how did it come to this? Our early Monday morning departure was frantic as usual. Searches for things misplaced, the hotel failing to to arrange for an early breakfast, etc. We departed the hotel at 6:30 AM, expecting to find the streets of Kathmandu empty, but they were fuller than ever. It is the beginning of Desai, we understand, approximately what Christmas is to Christians, for Hindus. Kat is 85% Hindu. Big family, big travel, a week-long celebration. I guess the Buddhists just watch and spin their prayer wheels.
The Kat airport was a madhouse. Yeti and other airlines literally shuttle people to Lukla and other places. The plane lands, taxis to meet the bus of passengers, may not even shut down the starboard engine, loads, and then hustles back to wherever it came from. This goes on throughout the morning hours, while the flying weather is relatively good. Anyhow, the airport was a madhouse, from parking lot to boarding. Fortunately, Dawa, our hero, was there to meet us, get us through security and baggage, and into the boarding area. While others, scores, maybe hundreds of climbing and trekking group members stood in what might have been queues, a couple employees, came out from behind the counter, tagged and grabbed our heavy trekking porter bags (supplied by Dawa),while Dawa got our printed tickets (Yeti's telling you your e-tickets are confirmed means nothing; you still need paper tickets).
The 45-minute flight aboard the aging Twin Otter was interesting. We sat right behind the cockpit, taking pix through the windshield, getting up to about 11,000 feet, but never a whole lot above the ridges. (Jungle-like mountains all the way from Kat, sparse family farms here and there, mostly on the ridges.) The interest of the flight was enhanced in that we sat next to a US Embassy employee who was spending the Desai holiday trekking from Lukla. Lots of interesting information about the various refugee issues in Nepal (Tibetan, but mostly Bhutanese),
The single 300 meter (less I'd say) airstrip at Lukla also is interesting. Imagine that an aircraft carrier had run aground at the very end of a box canyon at 9,000 feet. You land from the west; you take-off from the east. You need really good brakes on landing, and really good lift on take-off, except that the ground falls away precipitously, thousands of feet, after the end of the run-way.
Fortunately, very fortunately, first-timers like us know little of this beforehand. I sensed changes in rpm and prop pitch, and saw the pilot adjust the flaps...and the ground come up quickly...and then a bump and screech...and then we were taxiing—a hard-right turn, almost 180 degrees, 90 feet or so--and then you're at the terminal and they're hustling (Namaste!) you off to the exit. The plane is almost fully re-positioned for take-off as the next batch of passengers is hustled on. And it as well as the next flight are both airborne before you get through the exit, collect your bags, and head into the waiting throngs.
Fortunately, again, Dawa's sister was there to meet us—she owns a guest-house in Lukla—as well as our guide, Mingma Sherpa, who immediately began watching carefully over us. I guess he knew we were going to be difficult when I insisted on photographing a take-off from Lukla. I guess I was reminded of those famous old films of Doolittle's Raiders taking off from the deck of the Hornet to bomb Tokyo in 1942, first disappearing off the bow, then eventually coming back into sight, in the distance, aloft. Lukla's kind of like that, except for all the mountains and trees and clouds.
At the guest-house we repacked again (some day I'll explain why all the different styles of travel and transit require different packing), met our porter, got 2 cups of coffee I'd missed earlier, and set forth with Mingma, registering at the police station, and spinning prayer wheels in the temple-things on the way out of the village. I at first felt guilty about the load we gave the porter until I saw him later carrying our stuff and much else.
Lukla to Thakding is mostly downhill. It was enough of a chore for us, laden as we were, and we'll regret it when we have to climb it on the way out. The path is mostly paved with large stones and steps, many doubtless of some age, generally 2-3 meters wide. The are trekkers, sometimes groups of trekkers, and many, many porters, each hurrying past the tourists, up- or down-hill carrying astonishing loads. And there are the occasional beast of burden, usually in small group with a driver/herder/whatever. These are not yak. They look pretty much like cows, longhorns, but are generally smaller and black. They are sort of like yak/mules. We'll get the name and spelling..
We stopped at a cafe for lunch. It took more than an hour to get a small pizza and an omelette, but we were glad to be off our feet. We stopped at a lodge just past Thakding. About 30 people there, a few in groups, several couples obviously independent. Our room had two hard single beds and just enough room for our bags. For dinner I had dahl bat with meat (unclear what type, but it was grilled and good). We sat with a well-traveled couple from the Netherlands and had a long, enjoyable conversation, mostly about travel in Asia and Europe. Exhausted, we were asleep by 9.
The next day was hiking from Thakding to Monjo, again mostly downhill, but with any number of climbs out of the suspension bridge river crossings. These are fairly modern, all metal, not the rickety wooden things you seen in the videos. They sway, they bounce (one kind soul galloped a horse across just for our benefit), but there's no way you could fall. Which is fine, because the Dudh Kosi (Milk River) is raging below, fresh from monumental glaciers. We arrived at Jorsale about 3, exhausted, but by dinner we had decided to press on to Namche, where it is nicer and and better to acclimatize. Mark
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