It's the people that you meet, walking down the ... track

Pictures

Some, even some I am related to, say that a holiday is where you sit back and read a book. Maybe, if you are energetic, you could socialise with some friends. Just so long as they do all the organising and preparation. Others, such as my Father, can not sit still. They need to busy themselves and it is not what they do as long as they are doing something. Roselin is most certainly one of the latter, but I guess I would fall into the middle ground somewhere (if I had a choice). When you see tourists trekking up these valleys, straining, gasping like a grounded guppy, you ask yourself the question "are they having a good holiday, are they enjoying themselves?"

Roselin was first to read about this trek; 'The ultimate Everest circuit ... Only for the truly adventurous.' [Lonely Planet : Trekking in the Nepal Himalaya 2009]. But then regretted it when she handed the book to me and saw the excited smile on my face. Why would anyone "choose" the Three Passes? Is it a macho thing, for the bragging rights, as Roselin I-am-just-doing-this-walk-for-you, would so often decry? Or is it because the one walk encompasses all of the highlights of the Everest region? Perhaps it is a little bit of both. It was also Roselin's idea to start the walk from Shivalaya and walk to Namche Bazaar rather than fly. This would add another week of walking and, because the trail runs west to east crossing a deep valley every day, the folklore says that by Namche you have accumulated as much ascent as the height of Everest and descended the height of Ama Dablam. Not for the feint hearted, which I must assume Roselin is most surely not. A trip to Nepal is considered incomplete, at least to friends and family, if Everest (Chomolungma in Tibetan, and Sagarmatha in Nepali) is not viewed, photographed, bagged and tagged. But Nepal is the kingdom of the Himalayan range, there are so many snow capped peaks, walls of peaks. They form a labyrinthine of snow, rock and ice. There are sacred lakes and forests and rivers. And dotted between are tiny villages that eke out a living from potatoes and tourists. And literally sitting on the top of all of this is the spectre of altitude. Not a trivial factor, as we are reminded by those that have succumbed and are carried down on the backs of porters and horses and sadly those that have died, days from where we walked, days from when we walked there.

The trek started like most epic voyages, with a bus trip. For some reason seating numbers are merely indicative. Indicative that you may get a seat or alternatively there is always the aisle to sit or stand in as you prefer. We managed to get a seat above the rear axle (no correlation to allocated seat numbers) by evicting some locals, but then that is the privilege of not paying local prices I guess. Our driver was not worried by the near vertical drop on one side of our narrow road nor the apparent solidity of the rock wall on the other as he sped along mountain roads entertaining ludicrous speed only when sighting another vehicle in front of him. The road soon deteriorated to a dirt track, and I think I have had smoother rides bouncing over grass downs in pursuit of recalcitrant ewes. Roselin had bruises, I had mild whiplash, but to top it all off we had a drunk join us for the last 15 minutes who insisted on serenading us all the way to Shivalaya with about 3 words of his ballad that would be repeated until he insisted on trying to stand and rummage through his pockets and then fall back to his seat to sing again.

And so the walk began, with such an auspicious start how could we fail in our quest. We walked through Rhododendron forests, potato fields and occasional tea plantation. Generally by 3 in the afternoon the clouds moved in and the rain began as is typical for this time of year. They were long days of 7 to 9 hours including an hour for lunch. You could generally see where you were headed that day, but the way to get there either meant dropping far below to a river, crossing a suspension bridge, and then regaining all that altitude again OR climbing to a pass and then dropping to the river. It was a few days after that we confirmed the curious herding trait of guides. A village may have as many a 8 lodges, but invariably as evening approaches, they would gather their wide eyed and staggering clients into a single lodge. My pick of this section of the walk would have to be the village of Junbesi. After walking through cloud we crossed a small pass and descended through Rhododendron forest. We were then pounded by hail and had to take refuge and Tibetan tea (easier drunk if you consider it soup). Finally we rounded a turn a looked down on the picturesque valley, the village of Junbesi nestled in its fold, the first real snow caps as a backdrop. The valley had a little of everything: pine forests, grassed hillsides, bright green barley crops in terraced fields, smartly painted buildings, stupas and gompas, and of course, with those white peaks, the promise of giant mountains around the corner. We passed doughnut parity with Australia at around Phakding; a little bit bigger, not quite as tasty, and a little more expensive at AUD $2. We were now on the main tourist highway between the airport at Lukla and launch site for all the treks of Namche Bazaar (3420m).

There is a Sherpa saying: "Yaks do not function below Namche. Above Namche, tourists do not function". On the 'highway' yaks have replaced mules. The mules have been the semi-trailers of trail, hauling important supplies but ripping up the trails and reducing them to slippery rocks in pools of mud. From now on it is the dominion of yaks, At 4000m you have 60% your normal oxygen, villages at this altitude are seasonal, artificial, they exist only to service tourists and climbers. There are no trees, no grasses and only a few shrubs. At 5000m you are down to 53% of the oxygen at sea level; you have to take two breaths for every one you would normally take. The landscape is mostly brown earth and grey rocks; glaciers and ice dominate the spaces between the peaks. There is no running water because it does not 'run' at the subzero temperatures of the night.

In ten days we crossed Renjo La (5345m) from the Bhote Kosi to the Dudh (Dude) Kosi, climbed Gokyo Ri (5360m); crossed Cho La (5420m) to the Khumhu Khola and climbed Kala Patthar (5550m); finally crossing Kongma La (5535m) to Imja Khola and ascending Chhukung Ri (5546m). We never once dropped below 4500m. It is the first time our guide has done all this in one trip and it is not surprising that he didn't expect us to be so insistent to do every pass. But we did complete it, and whatever I did Roselin did as well with short legs and a persistent cold (she broke). Perhaps all the second takes she got from porters and guides are warranted, not only does Roselin look like a Sherpa but she has the heart of one as well. A special thanks to Samir Tamang who guided us and helped along the way, we would recommend him and did.

Trekking is 25% slog and 75% sitting around reading, writing, playing cards, or just chatting to fellow walkers about the usual subjects (where you have been and where you are going). Still, even then, the slog part is for me almost a walking meditation because you spend it alone (even if you are in a group), silent and generally reflecting. Even after 2 months of travelling I was still thinking about work. It wasn't that nagging feeling like I had left a light on somewhere, but more of that urge that walls had to be knocked out and the bathroom renovated. But as those thoughts crystalise and even though that email to the CEO fails to be written, mostly because you are kilometres from a computer rather than your own discretion, then you can let go. I know that some have already forgotten about the frustrations of the day by the time they have walked out of the office front door and bid adeiu to the receptionist, but this is my curse.

It is in this 75% time that you meet doctors training for the Everest marathon. We met a Canadian working in Nepal for 15 years for various UN agencies. He claims to have originally got that gig because he was a writer for Sesame Street. In Gorak Shep we met a member of a Pakistani expedition to summit Everest; to him Everest is 'easy' compared to the technicalities of K2. We started off with a Kiwi father and his two young daughters in Sete staying at the Shobha Lodge; we lost them near Junbesi, one daughter suffering from altitude. In Junbesi we met a young Australian trio on their gap year and celebrated Nepali New Year with raksi (home made whiskey). In Lukla a British couple on a 6 month holiday hoping to go back and work on Oz. There are so many that you meet - they help wile away those in-between hours and fill you with ideas and possibilities for further travels.