.wish you were here (part 1/3)

“Running over the same old ground, and the same old fears”

The jetlag is still fresh, but I managed to get up early and  put on my running shoes when this gentle voice queries over my shoulder: “Excuse me, do you know where 5^th Avenue is ?”. With a little sense of pride and a confidence as if I  have been living here my whole life, I reply that he has to take a right on 55^th and go straight down for one block. For some odd reason, this city feels a bit like home and I am getting too quickly used to this life. On my way to Central Park I was thinking of and looking back at my trip to the Himalayas with great feelings of joy.

Sunday, October 9th, impatiently, I am scanning the horizon of Heathrow terminal 4 for other mountaineers. There is something about airports that give me a feeling of freedom, the start towards the unknown. I am finishing my standard airport food supply of water, chips and triangular sandwiches, until I spotted the first Jagged Globe sew-on badges. Time to go. Not that I don’t enjoy flying, but being stuck for 8,5 hours between a little window and crying babies, is even too much for me. But the relaxed atmosphere, good food and Kungfu Panda 2 on the small screen made it all up. Almost done now. Another 2 hour flight to Kathmandu and a crazy busride to the hotel. Here I was, Nepal, the country where Edmund Hilary and Tenzing Norgay wrote history (I am leaving the Mallory discussion out of here) and home of the 8000m peaks. The least I could say it is a humble experience to be here. Not much time to rest, since we had to repack our bags, meet the teamleader and get ready for tomorrow.

I do not have a lot of heroes, and if I had them, they are already long gone. But I just want to dedicate the next paragraph to our teamleader: Pasang Tenzing Sherpa. He is 28 and youngest of 7 brothers born and raised inNepal. They are in the Guinness Book of records for all summiting Everest. Not did he Everest once, but 8x. There is more: 3x Ama Dablam (Himalayas most technical mountain), 3x Cho Oyu, 1x Shishapangma, 1x Baruntse and numerous times on Island and Mera Peak. The least I could say, I was in good hands. If he had been European or American, he would have been famous, had sponsor patches all over his down suit, written 2 books and got a school named after him. But here, he was just a Sherpa, there to look after us.

Time for the last vegi curry and a good midnight sleep, because we were off the next day to Lukla. Another day, another airplane. Anyone recall the flying doctors ? We had to fly exactly the same plane to one of the highest airstrips in the world. There is a dog on the runway. Nobody seems to care. A noisy flight with great views. Our pilot was reading his newspaper. Occasionally he pushed some buttons and pressed the throttle to give the engines that extra horsepower. He was discussing local soccer result with his co-pilot. But don’t be mistaken, these are the best pilots in the world. Before you are allowed the land a plane in Lukla, you must have acquired 10.000 flying hours. We were soon to find out why. After a calm 30 minutes, things were stirring in the cockpit. The newspaper got wrapped up and more buttons were pushed. The pilot took the nose down. I felt like a Junkers 87 Stuka from the Luftwaffe going in for the final attack. The engines were howling. I looked to my right and I was crossing my fingers that the wings were not going to fall off. But there it was, the Lukla airstrip. We touched solid ground. I couldn’t help it, but I was so happy to get out of the airplane. In the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rocky giants. You only get one chance to set a plane down on this strip. After we landed, we got informed that this was the most dangerous airport in the world, with the most accidents and fatalities on an annual basis. Good. We survived.

We were welcomed by our 2 other sherpas: Tsering (4x Everest and Cho Oyu) and Dawa (7x Island Peak). We even got our own yaks, with a yakboy included. Time to repack again. Climbing gear goes up separately and we loaded the kitbags on the yaks. No time to lose. We have to make it to Phakding today, a small village on the well-worn Everest Basecamp trail. This would also be our itinerary for the following 3 weeks. Part of the deal was also we were going to sleep in the so called tea-houses, comparable to mountain huts in the Alps. Basic accommodation with common toilets and for a few rupies you could take a shower, which I currently postponed to ‘later’. This was an expedition, so you are not supposed to take showers nor change underwear. Drink, eat, climb and rest. Everything else is optional. After a nice 3 hour trek, the occasional suspension bridge and amazing views, we arrived at our first tea-house. Earplugs in and goodnight.

 One of the things we soon realized, is that the higher you go, the more expensive everything gets. A Snicker or Mars bar was ‘only’ 2 EUR at this stage. I was not too confident on the boiled drinking water we were provided every night, so the water snob in me forced me to buy a fresh bottle every day. The holes in the floor that represented the toilets did not really invite to get sick up there.

 As we continued our way up, making our way through endless legions of yaks, donkeys and porters, we were stopped at a viewpoint. In the distance, there she was: Chomolungma, top of the world, 8848m of pure beauty and despair. The fierce winds blowing the snow of the summit. This was a special moment. I caught myself making a little bow to her. We will meet. Soon. But first things first. With my head still in the clouds, we arrived at Namche Bazaar at 3400m, a magnificent Sherpa trading village and the capital of the Khumbu valley. We stayed here for 2 nights to get acclimatised. Time to get some rest and look at the souvenirs you we’re planning to buy on the way back. I caught a glimpse of  the Ama Dablam summit, by far my absolute favourite mountain. We will meet her tomorrow. Exciting times coming up. Oh right, time for tea now.

To be continued…