Leaving Namche and Tenzing's wonderful family at the Khumbu Lodge was an emotional morning. Tenzing and her daughters and neices and nephews accompanied us to the edge of town. The last look at Namche and all the goodbyes were memorable. Why did I wait 25 years before returning? I feel like I've left another family behind.
All that was ahead of us was downhill. For 8.5 hours we walked. Over bridges too many to count. Most of them suspended too high over the Dudh Kosi to even look. The biggest bridges secured by huge cables to prevent wind gusts from bouncing you off were an effort. The yaks loaded with kerosene, soda, cement, toilet paper and all manner of things were old veterans at these crossings. We waited for their passage and then bravely started. Some of these bridges took several minutes to cross. Some I had to grab the cables the whole way until a group of tourists in the other direction mandated that I let go. By the end of the day I could let go about 3/4 of the way with no hands holding on to dear life. A Sherpani took pity on me at one bridge. She grabbed my arm and whisked me across. My feet could hardly travel as fast as she was going. She said supportive things the whole way. Delivering me safely she was off at a pace we could never have matched.
There were waterfalls in every directions. Mountains on every side. Many people were coming up the trail with their clean clothes and boots. October is the busiest month in the Khumbu. We were jealous of their adventure to come. Little did we know how tough our next few days were going to be.
It started to rain. We turned off the trail of the Tourists to the lesser used trails of the Solukhumbu. We past pastoral settings and grain fields, children stared at us. Rebecca wore a lovely blue pastic bag from head to toe. Our porter was similarly attired. I wore my raincoat over my back pack. By 4 o'clock we were ready to look for shelter but we still two hours away from a town. The plastic bag was plastered to Rebecca's face. More waterfalls, more bridges of stone and wet slippery trails. Within five minutes of daylight we found a hotel. The electrical power was off. We sat in the dark, wet and tired. Had a hot meal served by a lovely family and went to bed. I laid there for several hours awake in the dark listening to the rain wondering how we would get out of there. Rebecca sat up and looked out the window. "I see stars." she says. "How could you?" I ask. She says "It's clear out." "Huh?" We were next to a waterfall. The noise I heard for hours was not a monsoon but our own river ballad. I fell into a well deserved deep sleep.
Next day was foggy. We could hear the planes landing at Lukla. At the first village we arrived in the woman of the house came out with her cell phone. She told us of the crash at Lukla. We climbed a little higher and could see the wreckage. Very somber morning as we met and traded what we knew with everyone on the trail. The news traveled fast. We arrived that night in a town that oddly enough had tv reception. We treated some kids in town with infected bug bites from playing in the mud.
Third day, hot, humid and really steep rocky trails. We climbed a hill so steep that when we stopped for a break none of us could talk. Chandan our guide looked at my red face and said "Susan you better put some water on that." We appreciated the power of Snickers as we sugared up for the rest of the climb. Another hour not anywhere near the top of Tuksindu pass. After 5 hours we stopped for lunch. We unfolded the map and I declared a holiday. Now way no how I am not moving from here. It's flat, they'll feed and shelter us. There is a lovely baby to google at. Nobody had any argument against staying. We rested.
Fourth day: We still had a pass to climb, another descent to the river bottom and another climb. The pass was intoxicatingly beautiful, the foothills and rivers went on forever in their rolling way.
The forest was filled with huge pine trees, the bird life abundant, the breeze refreshing, the mood good, the Snickers were fully consumed, even the Coke was appealing. Sugar take us home.
Junebesi a lovely town and an apple lovers paradise. Five monastaries to visit. One was over 500 years old. One was 1.5 hours away and worth an extra day of traveling to visit. This is one my husband Richard mentioned in his update. When we entered the main monastery and took off our shoes little did we know what was behind the curtain. When we stepped in to the room the presence of 600 monks chanting literally took our breath away. All three of us flattened ourselves against the wall with a kind of gasp of incredulous-ness. The nuns lined along the back wall with us thought this rather amusing. We were stunned with our mouths wide open. What a sight. The chanting stopped. They all took a tea break, adjusted their robes, blew their noses, talked to their neighbors, repositioned themselves and began again within a few minutes. When we left and walked out to the bright sun it was hard to believe what we had just seen. It was like we had just crossed over from another world.
And then off again jiggety jog to another town with an airstrip. Tickets back to Kathmandu and we were ready for that hot shower. Rebecca applied acupressure to her wrists in a kind of mudra that helped to hold her breakfast in while we were landing. We arrived with only a little sweat on our brow. Our porter carried our bags to Pemba's car. He halted as we entered the parking lot of the airport and declared "I'm lost here. I need a guide."
After showering and grooming for hours we all met for pizza that night. Our porter Chandan and now our dear friend arrived with new purchases. He had his first cell phone and shoes for his trade. He had been to the doctor's. His extracted tooth from the week before had not healed. He was given antibiotics. 225 Motrin later his ordeal and our trip was over. He solemnly gave us the katas for a blessing (the white scarves). More tears and more goodbyes.
Pemba then sat with us and told us stories of rescuing tourists from all kinds of places where they should and should not have been. Being a helicopter pilot with more than 4000 hours has put him in many unimaginable places. Pemba loved trekking. His pictures were great and it was fun sharing the rest of our trip with him.
This morning we sat on the banks of the Bagmati River watching cremations. We watched two monkeys stalk and attack a 10 year old boy while Rebecca and I tried to shoo them away. The boy clung to us as we helped to his feet and then guided him safely away. After that experience we went back to the hotel, recovered our normal heart rates and went to lunch. While chatting with a young couple from Wales on an outdoor terrace an old most disgusting banana was dropped on to my lap from a crow above in the tree. I thought it was a rat. Yicccck. It was almost too startling to laugh but laugh we did.
Tomorrow photos or maybe later tonight. And then we are home soon enough.