I wake at 0425hrs having gone to bed at 2000hrs. I am excited at the prospect of trekking back up the trail to meet my team.
I get downstairs too early for breakfast and chat with the sirdar and porters of Trek G. The sirdar is a very experienced climber and has accompanied Alan Hinks on expeditions. One of his porters (Husan Sunawar) exchanges email addresses with me so we can keep in touch once I return to the UK.
My thoughts wander back to home, to my wife and family. It will be strange to get back to normality. I will have things to catch up on... to get back on my computer, read and answer my emails, sort out my finances and continue renovation work on our cottage. I will also need to sort out my Xtreme Everest photos, write up my blog and plan my next trip (the Crib Goch ridge walk on Snowdon with my son). So many good positive things to look forward to, but for now I need to pack my rucksack and get on the trail after breakfast.
I have my normal diet of porridge, omelette on toast and lemon tea and finish before Trek G come down for breakfast. I return to my room to pack my rucksack with the essentials. I pack my sleeping bag, wash kit, waterproofs, medical kit and extra layers... fill my water bottle, use the loo and then leave a note pinned to my holdall of my route, plans and timings. I lock the room, pocket the key and walk out of the lodge.
I wander past the crashed helicopter, up the steps and out through the entrance arch to the lodge grounds. There are a number of locals around as I head through the narrow alleyways leading to the open hillside and the trail to Tengboche.
I set out at a good pace and it is great being on my own again. I find that when trekking alone there is a sense of freedom. Many of the porters carrying loads are more inclined to stop and chat. The locals carry huge burdens up the mountain to supply the lodges with goods and materials.
This is the main highway to get goods up the trekking trail in support of the climbing industry. Helicopters can be used, but this form of transportation is so much more expensive. I suspect only the very wealthy expeditionary forces can use this as a norm. It's not just adults that act as porters - there are children, perhaps as young as twelve, carrying massive loads too. Some of the sights defy explanation, but I'll try.
One particular guy is carrying four sheets of thick ply roped together. Each sheet must be 6' x 3' x 0.5" and the weight immense. I would have difficulty lifting just one sheet... and yet here he is with this load suspended by a band around his forehead. His tendons and muscles are straining with the weight as he walks... in flip flops... heading for Tengboche and beyond. The weight must have been well in excess of 60kg!
With my lightweight pack I continue to romp along, the route and places now very familiar. I take more photos of Everest and particularly of Ama Dablam, and soon arrive at the base of the climb up to Tengboche. I make sure I have a rest at the bottom, taking the opportunity to use the loo, get fluids inside me and refuel with a Mars Bar.
The temperature has risen and it is still only mid-morning. The trail up to Tengboche snakes its way, ever upwards. The dust is powder dry, coating my boots and filling my nostrils. I keep resting where I can in the shade to take on more liquid. I am soaked in sweat.
The porters also take regular rests. There seem to be convenient points where there are ledges in the stone walls, so they can lean their loads without having to remove them. I am in awe of the carrying ability and stamina. It is all I can do to keep going uphill, placing one leg after another... and all I am carrying is a measly rucksack.
There is another porter who has a towering basket. It is full of crates of San Miguel beer, with boxes of confectionery beneath. He is toiling upward ever so slowly, his brow furrowed with the weight and strain of carrying. Someone else has a carcass of some meat or other on his back, open to the elements, with flies buzzing around in the heat.
With great relief I finally top out at Tengboche - it is just 1045hrs having set out from Namche at 0745hrs.
I am still feeling strong and the weather is excellent, so decide to push on through Deboche to head up to Pangboche. I know permission for this has not been granted for this extension. However, I consider the risk low. In any case, Trek D will be descending down the trail, so we will bump into each other sooner or later.
This section of the trail is delightful... much of it through colourful rhododendron forests, high above the Dudh Kosi.
Just after Deboche, I meet one of the Trek D porters. He recognises me instantly and comes over to give me a hug. He seems genuinely pleased to see me, and me him. This makes me feel a million dollars. I discover the team are about an hour away. This gives me plenty of time to head further up the trail, as they are descending from Dingboche.
I arrive at the distinctive bridge below Pangboche. This is not a hawser suspension bridge like most, but is constructed out of scaffolding tube. I arrive at the archway which welcomes the trekker to Upper and Lower Pangboche. Unsure as to which route Trek D would have taken, I decide to wait on an outcrop of rock, high above the valley.
I have my normal diet of porridge, omelette on toast and lemon tea and finish before Trek G come down for breakfast. I return to my room to pack my rucksack with the essentials. I pack my sleeping bag, wash kit, waterproofs, medical kit and extra layers... fill my water bottle, use the loo and then leave a note pinned to my holdall of my route, plans and timings. I lock the room, pocket the key and walk out of the lodge.
I wander past the crashed helicopter, up the steps and out through the entrance arch to the lodge grounds. There are a number of locals around as I head through the narrow alleyways leading to the open hillside and the trail to Tengboche.
I set out at a good pace and it is great being on my own again. I find that when trekking alone there is a sense of freedom. Many of the porters carrying loads are more inclined to stop and chat. The locals carry huge burdens up the mountain to supply the lodges with goods and materials.
 |
| Ideal resting place |
 |
| Lovely walk through the forest |
This is the main highway to get goods up the trekking trail in support of the climbing industry. Helicopters can be used, but this form of transportation is so much more expensive. I suspect only the very wealthy expeditionary forces can use this as a norm. It's not just adults that act as porters - there are children, perhaps as young as twelve, carrying massive loads too. Some of the sights defy explanation, but I'll try.
One particular guy is carrying four sheets of thick ply roped together. Each sheet must be 6' x 3' x 0.5" and the weight immense. I would have difficulty lifting just one sheet... and yet here he is with this load suspended by a band around his forehead. His tendons and muscles are straining with the weight as he walks... in flip flops... heading for Tengboche and beyond. The weight must have been well in excess of 60kg!
With my lightweight pack I continue to romp along, the route and places now very familiar. I take more photos of Everest and particularly of Ama Dablam, and soon arrive at the base of the climb up to Tengboche. I make sure I have a rest at the bottom, taking the opportunity to use the loo, get fluids inside me and refuel with a Mars Bar.
The temperature has risen and it is still only mid-morning. The trail up to Tengboche snakes its way, ever upwards. The dust is powder dry, coating my boots and filling my nostrils. I keep resting where I can in the shade to take on more liquid. I am soaked in sweat.
The porters also take regular rests. There seem to be convenient points where there are ledges in the stone walls, so they can lean their loads without having to remove them. I am in awe of the carrying ability and stamina. It is all I can do to keep going uphill, placing one leg after another... and all I am carrying is a measly rucksack.
There is another porter who has a towering basket. It is full of crates of San Miguel beer, with boxes of confectionery beneath. He is toiling upward ever so slowly, his brow furrowed with the weight and strain of carrying. Someone else has a carcass of some meat or other on his back, open to the elements, with flies buzzing around in the heat.
With great relief I finally top out at Tengboche - it is just 1045hrs having set out from Namche at 0745hrs.
 |
| Nice to stop and chat |
I am still feeling strong and the weather is excellent, so decide to push on through Deboche to head up to Pangboche. I know permission for this has not been granted for this extension. However, I consider the risk low. In any case, Trek D will be descending down the trail, so we will bump into each other sooner or later.
This section of the trail is delightful... much of it through colourful rhododendron forests, high above the Dudh Kosi.
 |
| Rhododendron trail |
Just after Deboche, I meet one of the Trek D porters. He recognises me instantly and comes over to give me a hug. He seems genuinely pleased to see me, and me him. This makes me feel a million dollars. I discover the team are about an hour away. This gives me plenty of time to head further up the trail, as they are descending from Dingboche.
I arrive at the distinctive bridge below Pangboche. This is not a hawser suspension bridge like most, but is constructed out of scaffolding tube. I arrive at the archway which welcomes the trekker to Upper and Lower Pangboche. Unsure as to which route Trek D would have taken, I decide to wait on an outcrop of rock, high above the valley.
Shortly, a small group of porters ascending the trail stop for a rest. I offer them some of my biscuits and soon the whole packet has been devoured. The porters are chatting between themselves and seem to be looking at my rucksack. I discover they are laughing at the solar panel and my GPS fastened to the side. I'm sure this causes them great amusement, as it is really not that difficult to follow the trail. Certainly not for those who use this route regularly to transport goods ever higher with nothing more than flip flops, trousers, shirt and jacket.
It's not long before the porter group continue leaving me on my own again. I have a great view up towards Ama Dablam, my favourite mountain. Ama Dablam means 'mother’s necklace' because the long ridges on each side of the mountain are like the arms of a mother (ama) protecting her child. The hanging glacier is thought of as the dablam (a traditional double-pendant containing pictures of the gods) worn by Sherpa women.
The sun is beating down and I have removed my rucksack to settle down to wait for Trek D to arrive. Lying on my back, enjoying the warmth, I hear bells clanking in the distance. These warn anyone on the trail to get out of the way. The yaks soon come into view, heavily loaded with blue Jagged Globe expedition bags.
I get up and go to speak with our yak herder who grins in recognition. She tells me the group are not far away. It's not long before I recognise Deborah's (Trek Leader) yellow rucksack bobbing down the hill.
The group seemed surprised to see me, but with many hugs and handshakes, I am back in the womb of my team again. Two of the group (Dennis and Nadia) have taken an extension to their trekking holiday, so are no longer with us.
Mike comes over to greet me. It is great to have his company again and I am eager to hear of their experience at Base Camp. We walk back to Tengboche chatting and catching up with the news. I also have to fill them in about what has happened to me since being left at Pheriche.
Many have had an uncomfortable time at EBC, especially with the effects of altitude and cold. A number have bad coughs. It is clear they would not have wished to have missed it. On the other hand they wouldn't want to repeat the experience. I don't think they are saying this just for my benefit. I remember looking at Trek C after they had arrived at Dingboche and thinking how drained they looked. Trek D now have that similar gaunt look.
I am talking to Llakpa (our Sirdar) climbing the hill out of Deboche, when we are surprised by three horses thundering downhill around a corner of the trail. One poor animal has his leg caught up in a saddle that has slipped. We only just manage to leap out of the way as they crash into the undergrowth near a steep precipice. Fortunately, they manage to regain the trail, but are heading straight for the rest of our group.
It's not long before the porter group continue leaving me on my own again. I have a great view up towards Ama Dablam, my favourite mountain. Ama Dablam means 'mother’s necklace' because the long ridges on each side of the mountain are like the arms of a mother (ama) protecting her child. The hanging glacier is thought of as the dablam (a traditional double-pendant containing pictures of the gods) worn by Sherpa women.
 |
| Waiting for Trek D to arrive |
 |
| Ama Dablam |
The sun is beating down and I have removed my rucksack to settle down to wait for Trek D to arrive. Lying on my back, enjoying the warmth, I hear bells clanking in the distance. These warn anyone on the trail to get out of the way. The yaks soon come into view, heavily loaded with blue Jagged Globe expedition bags.
I get up and go to speak with our yak herder who grins in recognition. She tells me the group are not far away. It's not long before I recognise Deborah's (Trek Leader) yellow rucksack bobbing down the hill.
The group seemed surprised to see me, but with many hugs and handshakes, I am back in the womb of my team again. Two of the group (Dennis and Nadia) have taken an extension to their trekking holiday, so are no longer with us.
Mike comes over to greet me. It is great to have his company again and I am eager to hear of their experience at Base Camp. We walk back to Tengboche chatting and catching up with the news. I also have to fill them in about what has happened to me since being left at Pheriche.
Many have had an uncomfortable time at EBC, especially with the effects of altitude and cold. A number have bad coughs. It is clear they would not have wished to have missed it. On the other hand they wouldn't want to repeat the experience. I don't think they are saying this just for my benefit. I remember looking at Trek C after they had arrived at Dingboche and thinking how drained they looked. Trek D now have that similar gaunt look.
I am talking to Llakpa (our Sirdar) climbing the hill out of Deboche, when we are surprised by three horses thundering downhill around a corner of the trail. One poor animal has his leg caught up in a saddle that has slipped. We only just manage to leap out of the way as they crash into the undergrowth near a steep precipice. Fortunately, they manage to regain the trail, but are heading straight for the rest of our group.
We shout out warnings before a breathless monk comes into view. He continues running after his wayward mounts.
Arriving back at Tengboche for the fourth time (for me), it is incredible how a place becomes very familiar. Mike decides to billet with me again. After dumping our bags in our allocated room, I ask him if he would like to walk up the ridge to the prayer flags.
I mention I had found it quite spiritual. In the event I had left my scarf tied to a bush and said a prayer for the health and happiness of my family. Mike offers to say some words in prayer for me too, but I kindly decline and he takes a photo of me instead.
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| Prayer flag ridge at Tengboche |
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