Three months ago I receive an email from my climbing gym friend urging me to join their late November, 17-day Trek through the Three High Passes in Nepal.
I immediately say no for a whole host of reasons - I'm busy, the weather will be too cold, the Trek is at way too high of altitude, the Trek is too far and will require too many days, getting to Nepal involves too many flight connections, it is all too expensive, I have no trekking gear, etc.
But serendipitously the previous night I had listened to a podcast about "Vagabonding" which had evangelized about the merits of long-term adventure travel, as well not waiting until one is old to travel. The reasons I should go on the Trek started to weigh on me:
- I am already pretty old.
- Late November is a time when I have little work and am free to travel
- Nepal is not expensive (the whole 3+ weeks of travel will cost less than $2,000).
- Decades ago, back when I had never left Seattle, a close friend traveled to Nepal and talked of his transcendent experience. As I kid I had a 3-D globe - and in all the world it was the huge mountains of the Himalayas that always intrigued me most - rising above everything else.
- Most of all I need to break out of my daily routine and travel routine I had fallen into. I need to get out of my comfort zone and to challenge myself: I didn't need a transcendent experience, I just need to survive the trek.
So I found myself in Kathmandu after a convoluted, low-cost flight via Myanmar of all places. I found myself in pre-dawn darkness waiting to get on the "most dangerous flight in the world" - a small prop plane from Kathmandu high into the mountain town of Lukla.
Day 1 - Lukla - The Most Dangerous Airport in the World
The flight to Lukla lives up to billing. I remind myself that flying is statistically much safer than driving and any number of other ordinary activities. But from my seat toward front of small prop plane I could see pilot's view of Lukla's teeny, tiny airfield perched on a towering mountainside.
The airfield didn't look THAT much bigger than the aircraft carriers I had been on in Hawaii and San Diego. It is thrilling and unnerving to think we are going to land on the little airfield, and all the passengers are on the edge of our seats as we get closer and closer. We slam down on rutty uphill runway and scream toward the wall at the uphill edge of the airfield. At the last second, a sharp right turn up a steep hill right brings the plane to an abrupt halt right in front of the small terminal.
Attention then turns to meeting our recently assigned porter/guide which turns into a tricky, awkward negotiation. Essentially we (mostly me) are only seeking a "porter" (someone to carry our 18 kg. of extra gear) - and my stronger trekking mates are reluctant to tie ourselves to a porter or guide at all. The original "porter" obtained through our high-level relationships in Kathmandu quickly abandons us for a better guiding gig - and so we passed to another fellow who speaks limited English. We would have a funny, ambiguous relationship with our "porter" over the next 16 days.
The drama at end of first day is particularly disconcerting - he threatens to quit when we fail to introduce him as our "guide" when arriving at the Teahouse that we chose for the night (as a "guide" he is entitled to free food and lodging, whereas if he is defined as a porter he must fend for himself). More importantly there is an issue of status - the role of guide is much more exalted than the humble job of lugging some tourist's stuff. We manage to placate him, and from this point on for the rest of the Trek we strictly refer to him as our "Guide".
Day 2 - Monzo to Namche
My first night in Teahouse in Monzo I don't sleep well.
As will become a daily pattern, I feel much better as we head out onto the sunny trail - over pedestrian bridges that are suspended high over deep gorges
And to spot where crowds are stopped gazing up at something, and taking photos like mad...what could it be? a waterfall?, a rare animal? No, Of course -- What else would cause the trekkers to take pictures like a group of paparazzi - it is our first glimpse of Mount Everest (a rather unimpressive sight to be honest, barely poking up its dark, pointy peak behind a group of more magnificent snow-covered mountains).
Day 3 - Namche Bazaar: The Last Civilized Outpost?
Namche is a fascinating town - an authentic, historic Himalayan trading town that has morphed into a Trekking Destination Shopping/Entertainment Complex set in the most beautiful natural bowl
That night I wake in dark in a bit of panic gasping for breath -
and we are only at 3,440 meters! The trek will take us so much higher.
I haven't slept in a sleeping bag in 30 years and the constricted feeling keeps waking me up, and then once awake I have to make a cold, dark journey to a dirty bathroom (apparently high altitude makes bladder more active). The worst of it is that the returning trekkers keep saying how comfortable and luxurious the town of Namche Bazaar is compared to the higher elevation and Teahouses that lie ahead as we ascend into the wilds of the Himalayas..
Day 4 - Amazing Trail to Tengboche (3,860 meters or 12,750 feet)
We emerge out of Namche past long lines of Yak
And onto the kind of trail you dream about when imagining Himalaya treks: a wide, smooth traverse along a ridge trail lined with Stupas and with world's highest snow covered peaks looming on horizon in front of you.
Day 5/6 - Dingboche - So cold my drinking water freezes in my room
After spectacular sunny morning hike and long, long lunch break (when you order fried potatoes in the mountains of Nepal they actually chop up the potatoes which are then fresh and delicious, but the process is terribly time consuming), we arrive in Dingboche just as thick afternoon fog rolls in.
We look at five different TeaHouses before "splurging" ($5 rooms versus $3 rooms) at the Bright Star Lodge.
You have to understand how important it is for us to be able to pick the best TeaHouse.
By Trekking in Nepal during late November and early December we have the luxury of getting a whole room to ourself and spreading our gear out on the second bed that we don't use for sleeping and choosing rooms with spectacular mountain views.
The high altitude has significantly reduced my appetite and I don't desire the starchy carbohydrates that dominate the TeaHouse menus: pizza, pasta, chow mien, fried rice and dal bhat, Bright Star serves a fine garlic steak and vegetables:
As nice as the Bright Star Lodge may be by Dingboche standards, it is incredibly cold leaving the cozy dining room fireplace and then trying to brush my teeth and get into sleeping bag. In the morning most of my drinking water is frozen.
Day 6 - Acclimatisation Day - Over 16,000 feet! And I am Woefully Prepared
I was never a Boy Scout during my youth and it comes back to haunt me now -- I am woefully poorly prepared for the wilderness. For one thing I simply don't like to buy a lot of stuff. My impression of "true Trekkers" is that have innate passion for logistics as well as taking a deep delight in buying and comparing the most cutting edge gear. I, on the other hand, am an urban runner who likes to carry as little as possible, hate to spend any time planning (versus actually doing) an activity like a trek, and am absolutely passionate about maintaining a minimalist lifestyle.
I cobbled together some gear I had from other sporting endeavors, along with some knock-off gear I quickly acquired in Kathmandu during my short stopover before the Trek. Trekking poles are rather simple tools but I am still quite clumsy with them. And I am amazingly slow in accessing food and water from my pack.
At sea level it would not matter a great deal. But at 16,000 feet when I stop to grab a drink of water and drop a few meters behind my mates it is all but impossible to catch up -- accelerating my trekking pace even a little bit consumes too much energy at this altitude.
As we ascend Nangkartshang Peak to prepare our bodies for the higher altitudes in the Passes, I am already far higher than I have ever been in my life.
Last night I slept fitfully waking up a half dozen times struggling with both altitude and a room that is so cold that the water in my water bottle freezes. I sleep in my down parka and try to remind myself how much more challenging it would be sleeping out in tent rather than in this room in Dingboche's most upscale Teahouse. I wake up gasping for air and calm down by blowing out two breathes and counting off three strong breathes as deeply as possible into my lungs. The focus on breathing and staying in moment seems particularly appropriate here in the heart of Buddhist Nepal.
It is easier in some respects to be climbing than trying to sleep though the ascent is pretty much straight up.
A climber descending the mountain tells me we are at 16,000 feet.
Fog rolls in again today and I decide I have acclimatized adequately.
It is technically a "rest day" and I wish to visit Dingboche's legendary Cafe Himalaya,
It may not look like much from outside, situated on this lonely hillside on the far edge of nowhere, but when i step inside it is the most amazingly, lively friendly place packed with the hardcore Trekkers and serving the most wonderful garlic soup and Cappuccino -- and providing an increasingly scarce opportunity for charging devices and reliably connecting to the internet.
Day 7- Chukkung: Happiness Starts When You Stop Comparing Yourself to Others
Or so they say,
but even as I remind myself of this saying, I am obsessed to gauge how I compare with other trekkers.
If you just took like 100 random American guys my age off the street wouldn't I be stronger on the mountain than most of them?
Well, who knows, but I am certainly way slower and clumsier than the ten or so, self-selected trekkers climbing on remote Chukkung on this late November afternoon.
Maybe I wouldn't be so self-conscious but for the fact that the other trekkers at this point keep asking me with great concern - "Are you OK?"
Do I look that bad? I don't think so, but certainly everyone else who has trekked out here to Chukkung looks like a very strong and experienced independent trekker.
We are well off the "EBC trekker highway" and I feel more of a sense of being in the remote and distant Himalayas -- the Shangri-la place that has always enchanted my imagination.
Our Acclimatization climb is pleasant despite all my introspection-- I set out on my own, at own pace and am encouraged by the stronger climbers descending, and despite all their worry that I will somehow perish on the mountainside. I am able to practice bending knees and running down the mountain.
A group of a dozen climbers and Sherpas gathers around fire that night to discuss mountaineering. I say very little, lacking any true climbing experience,
Day 8 - Kongma La Pass: The hardest day
Only a hardy small band of 10 Trekkers are tackling Kongma La Pass on this day and all of us are in sight of each other as we cross a freezing river and begin to ascend in the 6:30am stark early morning light and meanly bitter cold.
At one point I wander slightly off the path and my oxygen-deprived brain starts to melt down. I am a mere 20 meters behind the group, but at this altitude it seems like miles. I stand there in a daze staring blankly at a rocky field. I feel like I just want to lie down and cry. Somehow I summon the will to clamber back across scree to the trail.
My muscles scream with each step as we approach pass and trail becomes very very steep.
When I finally reach the top of pass -- a good 15 minutes after the rest of groupI -- I feel no triumph, no desire to high five the other stronger hikers.
At this moment I am just concerned about descending on the steep rocky terrain that lies on the other side.
It takes 7.5 hours to reach Lobuje - a cold, dreary Teahouse compared to others. I just lean on my poles gasping for breath when we finally arrive and the gregarious guide Vikram welcomes us.
I struggle to eat the ubiquitous solution for dealing with the high elevation-- garlic soup. A reunion with a sympathetic young German couple we met earlier lifts my spirits a little bit. I am told that this will have been the most challenging day of trek.
Lying in my cold, stark Teahouse room I feel no sense of accomplishment after this epic day. It is unsettling for me to be the "weakest link" and in this moment of complete fatigue and exhaustion I feel somehow"defeated" by the mountain - at least relative to the image I had formed of my abilities.
Day 9 - Everest Base Camp - The "Brand Name" Destination
No one back in the real world seems to have ever heard of the Three Passes, and my triumphant message of crossing the "epic Kongma-la Pass" fails to elicit much of a reaction back home.
But that changes today when we trek out to a place with global recognition -- Everest Base Camp.
Over half of the Trekkers hiking through the greater Lukla area seem to simply be trekking directly to Everest Base Camp, turning around and coming straight back. Most all the packaged tours seem to market this as a 12-day package. On the other hand, my cynical, jaded trekking partners question whether we should even bother taking this single day to visit Everest Base Camp at all. I point out how life today is all about social media and our followers are expecting pictures from EBC, and they agree to make the afternoon 4-hour journey beyond our Teahouse destination (fortunately they seem to have forgotten that I don't even use social media myself).
We all agree it is wonderfully scenic hike along ridge out to EBC. Of course as anticipated the camp itself is an unimpressive field of rocks. But it seems to have taken on significance for many of the Trekkers for which it has served as a major personal goal for six, long days of challenging trekking. I pause for pictures and slap high fives with large tour group from Canada.
As I leave the camp area I exclaim to a middle aged, European woman - "Congratulations - you did it! Welcome to EBC!" To my surprise she becomes somewhat emotional. We share an awkward, poignant moment as she struggles for breath in the thin air and I can't really determine if she is laughing or crying.
Day 10 - Gorek Shep to Zongla
We spend the night in far and away the darkest, grimmest, nastiest of Teahouses, and the highest altitude at which I would sleep. Rodents scurry nearby, bitter cold wind blows through cracks around windows and every other trekker in surrounding rooms seem to be coughing their lungs out.
It is hard to crawl out of sleeping bag after rough night, but when I emerge from the cave-like darkness I sense a turning point in my trek.
Even though the ominous Chola Pass still lay ahead, I knew that for most part the trail ahead would get easier for me, and at least figuratively I would feel that I was mostly going downhill now. And sure enough it is a wonderful day on ridge trail to remote Zongla Teahouse at foot of the snow-covered Chola Pass.
Day 11 - Chola Pass: Crossing the Icy Barrier
I imagine a lot more Trekkers would combine the popular Everett Base Camp Trek and lovely Gokyo Lake trek into a more elegant loop if they were not frightened off by breathless warnings about the life-threatening dangers of crossing Chola Pass.
I have bought micro-spikes with me just for this day. Microspikes are a lighter version of mountain crampons that fit over the Trail Running shoes I am using for the hike -- and I am really, really glad to have them.
A few of the other dozen, grizzled trekkers crossing Chola Pass this day do not bother with spikes, but given my poor balance and lack of agility, the spikes give me a great deal more confidence. Still I make sure to follow our Guide's steps as precisely as possible and we make it across the snow in less than an hour.
It is hard for me to gauge how much actual danger we faced. For me this is the climax of the Trek and I want to paint a picture of rugged achievement.
Day 12/13 - Gokyo Lake
I awake to beautiful view of Gokyo Lake from my TeaHouse room at Tokyo Namaste Lodge - the best room in the village of course.
So I linger for hours over breakfast in the loveliest of dining room overlooking the impressive Gokyo Lake. 
I strike up a conversation with a young guy from France who is doing the Three Passes Trek in reverse to our order and he seems quite concerned about crossing the ice field. I was hoping to stop lugging my crampons now that Chola Pass is behind me, and offer them to him. He asks me what I want in exchange and I consider trying to recoup a few of the $12 I spent on them, but think better of it and tell him he was welcome to them and I was glad if I might help make his journey a little safer. It was touching how grateful and relieved he was with my concern and with the extra security of the micro-spikes. The sun comes out - this means we should climb Gokyo- Ri, the mountain that rises straight up next to the lake. So in the mid afternoon we head up, taking way longer than the Lonely Planet's suggested time to ascend.
While I suffer residual fatigue from the dozen days of trekking, lost weight from lack of appetite and nights of cold -- overall I feel much stronger on this climb, mentally knowing the hardest part of Trek is behind me. Still I take my time in order to frequently look back at one of the more amazing vistas in the world.
At the summit, a guide points a finger out to the north and the east and identifies four of the world's six highest peaks - Everest, Cho Oyu, Lhotse, and Makalu and the six of us Trekkers gathered at the rocky summit of Gokyo Ri all look out appreciatively and murmur-- "whoooa - how totally cool"
But in fact from this vantage point at 18,000 feet, did these mountains really look as significant as there global pecking order indicates? From near sea level in Seattle the early- spring, snow covered mountains of the Olympics and Cascades would loom as large despite being rather "pathetic" in comparison? Perhaps it is the reputation or perhaps it is something inherently awesome or some combination of both that makes the view our little group so reverent in our appreciation of the sight.
As wonderful as the view is, I start getting cold and and don't bother to bring headlamp, and descend in tranquil twilight on mountainside (while the other 6 Trekkers watch sunset).
Once again I have no appetite whatsoever when I get back to our upscale TeaHouse. I stare absently at the menu for longest time and finally resign myself to trying to get down a mushroom pizza. Surprisingly when it does arrive it turns out to be one of best pizzas I have ever eaten.
Day 14 - Descending into more and more oxygen
We decide it will be more enjoyable to return to Namche via the main Gokyo Lake Trail, meaning that essentially we do not complete "The Three Passes" -- I am sure Renza-la (the Third Pass) is gorgeous, but I would still recommend our overall route to other trekkers.
I feel gloriously stronger and uplifted on smooth ridge trail from Gokyo Lake to Machhermo. I feel guilty about being in such a /happy/energized state- one of my trekking mates is terribly weakened by diarrhea. We stop at peaceful alpine cafe for garlic soup and watch baby yak frolicking blissfully with his basket in an adjacent field.
The river roars beneath us, and then after leisurely 3.5 hours of trekking and late morning start we turn a corner to see a surprisingly large Teahouse village. I am struck by odd flashbacks to childhood during today's trek and now feel like I am walking past my old elementary school (elevation must be still affecting my brain I warn myself).
Most of Marchhermo's Teahouses are closed for winter and the third of the three open Teahouses satisfies our high standards. We chat with a remarkable German couple who are doing Annapurna and Chola loop amidst epic five year bike journey from Germany to New Zealand. I am eager to tell them that I am also more of cyclist and when I learn that they are from Frankfurt I am of course so quick to drop the fact that I completed the Frankfurt Ironman triathlon five years earlier.
Day 15 - Back to "Civilization"
It is a glorious journey out of Marchhermo in morning sunshine on wide hillside trail.
We descend into cute town of Dole and then descend past frozen waterfalls to Phortse Thanga.
My sick trekking mate is way ahead of us on descents but struggles on climbs, especially the long ascent to our lunch spot. I enjoy the afternoon stretch of hiking along a smooth ridge trail, but fog rolls in as we arrive in Namche and it is another effort to find optimal Teahouse, though in the end we are quite content with Nest, the Teahouse we had rejected on our outbound journey.
Day 16 - Back to Lukla
I enjoy the largely downhill journey through flowers and waterfalls and towns from Namche to Lukla. I take my time and savor the sights and sounds -- even as all the other Trekkers I talk with exclaim how much they want to race to get down and that they simply want to be done with their stupid Trek and be back in civilization.
I feel I could keep trekking past Lukla. I wouldn't mind a few more days of trekking - I am enjoying the trail now and the act of trekking. I am always curious what lies over the next ridge.
A couple guys just starting their Trek ask me about the trail ahead and I erupt into a long stream of advice and encouragement, like I am some sort-of Nepal trekking guru -- amazing what a little knowledge will do.
Our Guide is delighted with our tip and farewell dinner at the charming cozy Paradise Teahouse.
I am pleased to end my Digital Sabbatical (8 solid days without checking the internet) at a comfortable cafe with view of sunset on distant hills.
Wildfires are threatening Lukla as we retire for the last night of Trek - the final time bathing with wet wipes, spitting toothpaste into icy pit, and sleeping in all my clothes with sleeping bag and duvet wrapped around me in unruly clot.
Day 17-19: Kathmandu Days
I take childlike delight again in the frightening flight out of Lukla - roaring downhill and lifting off just a bit before the runway drops off a cliff, and then flying so close to the deep, green, terraced hillside villages that I can clearly see villagers going about there business in the early Sunday morning sunshine.
Kathmandu is essentially only halfway back to true civilization for someone accustomed to Seattle and Tokyo - but after 17 days in mountains it is jarring to see the streets jam-packed with cars, motorcycles and pedestrians- and glorious to have electric lights that actually light up the room, warm water coming out of the tap, and power outlets to charge my 3 devices.
I resolve to see the top sightseeing attractions of Kathmandu during this 72 hour stopover (a cushion of extra time created by uncertain trekking and flight schedule).
Dunbar Square, the historic town center is sadly still largely a mix of rubble and reconstruction - and I tell myself that my $10 foreign tourist admission fee is contributing in small way to worthy rebuilding effort.
More interesting are the side streets I wander off into where a large group of woman dressed up in dazzling colorful saris captivates my sense of exotic (this is essentially my first visit to "South Asia").
I continue search for authentic Kathmandu as I journey to the Monkey Temple wandering through neighborhoods that start to strike me as squalid. The dark narrow streets remind me of trip to Naples two years ago. The Monkey Temple itself affords wonderful view of sprawling Kathmandu along with all the monkeys and the impressive hilltop temple complex itself.
The rest of time in Kathmandu is largely devoted to more decadent hedonistic trek recovery. At least as decadent as one can be on a $30 per day budget -- big western breakfasts, cappuccinos in sunny rooftop restaurants, and lots of burritos, kebabs, pizza, and French fries. My appetite seems to have returned with the our descent back to this more normal elevation above sea level.
My trekking mates seem dazed and exhausted by the Trek experience - for me it has been more of triumph over my fears, and a triumph over the elements. By this standard it was an extraordinarily successful adventure - I did survive, I did get out of comfort zone, I feel better about returning to my daily routine, and can remember a bit of transcendence
