As you will recall if you read my last blog Sunday morning began with a trip to the Dingboche Internet cafe and if you happened to see the Facebook post at around 8.30 (Nepal time) you will have seen the photo of that establishment with the helicopter hovering overhead.
Once my 30 mins of wi-fi was up Tim and I headed up the hill to be seen in the background of the Facebook photo, that being the first stage of the trek to Lobuche some 4 hours distant. Note that I quote distance in terms of time rather than km or miles. This far into the Khumbu time is a far more meaningful measure.
Once over the first hill the terrain moderated to a wide sandy plain. While there were rocks and boulders about the route was relatively easy in comparison with yesterday. Nonetheless legs were fairly weary so the easy going was welcome. Inevitably such ease was short-lived and as we approached the village of Dughla, at 4620m a height gain of over 200m from Dingboche, the terrain reverted to a more normal rocky rutted track alongside a river. Being well above the tree line the wind whipped across the land and additional layers, warm hats and gloves were donned. Another impact of the route narrowing was a greater awareness of how many people were heading for Dughla. Dozens. Actually hundreds. Due to the transport problems getting out of Kathmandu that we had circumvented by minibus and helicopter we had until now been in a lull. Having taken acclimatisation days in Pangboche and Dingboche the wave was catching us up. Boy, what a difference! We were alongside all shapes, colours and speeds of trekkers all heading for a single bridge over the river to the little settlement of Dughla. While it was good to see so much 'hard currency on legs' about to swell the Sherpa economy it detracted significantly from the wilderness quality of our experience to date. Nonetheless we duly joined the Gore-Tex and sunglasses clad masses in the open ground in front of the cafe across the bridge for a pot of ginger tea. We would have sat inside but it was packed so instead elected for a corner of the courtyard in sunshine and protected from the wind.
In the circumstances the service was very quick and after 20 mins we were off on the second leg of our trek, to Dobuche. Had we known what lay ahead we may have tarried awhile longer. The angle of the track notched significantly skywards while it's quality deteriorated into a very rocky and uneven climb. It probably wasn't that steep but at this altitude it sure felt it, not just to us but also to the poorly acclimatised masses huffing and puffing up the track alongside us.
After around 30 mins of this torture we entered a high glacial valley and the last stage of the trek was relatively flat following the lateral moraine of a glacier.
Eventually at 1:15 we arrived at the village of Lobuche, notably more rugged and with a distinct frontier feel to it, and checked into the Peak XV lodge. Peak XV was the the name given by the British to Sagarmatha (to the Nepalese) and Chomolungma (to the Tibetans) before it was recognised as the highest mountain in the world and called Mt Everest.
While the lodge was undoubtedly more rustic than previous overnight stops and some of the downstairs rooms were damp and smelled of drains, we were accommodated upstairs in clean comfortable twin rooms with a light. While there was no wi-fi at all in the village and the cellular network remained broken as expected, there had been sufficient sunshine to enable a phone charge, hence I am able to write this blog, if not actually send it.
The common room in the lodge was wonderful: about 6m x 9m with dark wood panelling partly covered by posters advertising treks or equipment, and with a low ceiling. There was wide bench seating covered by thick rugs around the perimeter fronted by polished wooden tables, and chairs gathered around a yak-poo stove in the middle. The room was packed: benches with people and various hats and jackets cast off in the heat, and the tables with pots of tea or lemon, and bottles of ketchup and condiments. Younger and older people, men and women and some older children too all packed together. Lit by just 5 low wattage bulbs the room was quite dark, although not so dark as to prevent a group to my right playing 'Uno' with more hilarity and enthusiasm that I recall being the norm, and a couple on my left playing chess by candlelight. Rarely have I been in such a loud, vibrant, fun atmosphere. It actually felt like a party! The fact that it was freezing outside and toasty-warm inside accentuated this. As I write dinner is being served. Calls of 'chicken noodle soup' or 'curry rice' ring out as the Sherpa guides, doubling as servers (not waiters!) try to locate who ordered what in the gloom.
So the aroma of food added another dimension to this most wonderful atmosphere. And then wonder of wonders, a man came round with a tray of hot towels. HOT TOWELS! Utterly utterly brilliant, with the only downside being too many people around for the application of these instruments of pleasure anywhere other than grimy faces! Given the cold of our rooms you will not be surprised to learn that the evening was long and only slowly and reluctantly did folks drift off.
This reluctance will have been particularly strong among the climbers heading for Everest, rather than the trekkers going as far as base camp. While the latter will be heading back this way shortly this will be the last time for several weeks that the climbers will enjoy such atmosphere and warmth.