The Epic Trek: Sweet, Sweet Descent

Heading out of snowy Loboche

It's finally time for the last installation of our epic trek in the Himalayas.  Welcome to the sweet, sweet descent portion of this really, really long walk.  Matt last left you up in Gorak Shep, and I'm going to take you all the way back down to Lukla for one more hair-raising flight. 

We walked the few hours back to Loboche with our new Hungarian friend (he had summited Kala Pattar with Matt) and it was nice to have some company along the way.  We didn't talk much, as was the norm in such exceedingly grand spaces, but there was a communal sense of accomplishment at having completed part of this great adventure we had each undertaken for our own reasons.  I think we all felt particularly victorious at this point.  While wishing those we passed on the ascent a hearty "good luck," I was thrilled to instead be descending.

View on our walk out of Loboche

As we approached Loboche, the weather began to change.  Our Hungarian friend continued on down, and we called it a day as we just didn't feel like walking in the rain.  We had purposefully built in a few extra days in our itinerary, and had plenty of time left for the descent.  The plan was to take it slow and soak up the last of the spectacular views.  What we didn't know was that we were in for 3 straight days of lots of clouds, some snow, and pretty consistent rain.  

The eerie landscape of memorial stone cairns

We slept well in Loboche, and awoke in the morning to a Midwestern-like Christmas scene; it was gray and snowing, the rocky terrain now covered by a fresh white fluffy blanket of the white stuff.  Under normal circumstances, I like walking in fresh snow, but I didn't exactly fancy a trek down the mountain with my pack in such poor visibility.  A good portion of the trek down would be on trail that was new to us, and we didn't feel much like getting "misplaced" in a snowstorm.  Our worries, thankfully, were short lived as over the course of our (purposefully) drawn out breakfast, the snow slowed and visibility improved.  We seized the weather window and busted out of there.  The goal that day was the village of Dingboche.

A pretty burst of color along the wet trail to keep us going

En route, we passed though the scattered stone cairns and memorials to trekkers and climbers who had perished on Everest.  It was a haunting scene with the clouds, fog and intermittent snow – the cairns appeared and disappeared with the changing weather and prayer flags were eerily suspended as if hovering without moorings in the low clouds.  In retrospect, it was the best possible way to wander through this hallowed section of trail.  There were certain moments on the trek when one was surrounded by such unparalleled quiet majesty, mystery, and power that one almost couldn't fully comprehend that such a place existed here, on this earth.

Stupa & ridge just above Dingboche; me in the foreground

It was a cold trek that day, and I was thankful for my "Northface" waterproof pants that I had purchased in Kathmandu for they kept my legs toasty warm.  We walked over long, barren hillsides and lamented the missed views up the valleys that were shrouded in clouds.  At the same time we were grateful for all the good weather we had had along our trek so far, knowing how lucky we really were.  Several days later, we would find out that flights from Kathmandu to Lukla were cancelled for 3 days in a row, and that the snow near base camp stranded many hikers at Gorak Shep due to impassable trails.  Luck had indeed been on our side.

Matt with pot #1 of milk tea in Dingboche

We passed a very cold afternoon in our Dingboche lodge and worked our way through 2 pots of milk tea and countless games of solitaire and rummy.  That night in our little room, we snuggled into our sleeping bags with increased fervor.  The window pane (like so many windows in plywood lodge rooms), wasn't exactly the same size as the window frame, and Matt had a small, but not insignificant, frigid draft coming in over his head.  By the next morning, the word "mummy bag" exemplified Matt's appearance – all I could see when I looked over was Matt's nose and a tuft of hair peeking out of the cinched drawstring head opening of the bag.  It was quite the sight.  Our bags certainly did us proud that night.

Lovely view from Dingboche -- for 30 minutes =)

For 30 minutes the following morning we were treated to clear skies and awesome mountain views, and then the thick clouds returned.  We trudged on to Pangboche, where JB (Steve's guide) had a brother who owned a trekking lodge.  We were planning to find it and stop in for tea.  As the days of being in the mountains extended, I began to fantasize about unavailable items on the trail, and that day it was strawberries.  I simply couldn't get them out of my head – their bright red color, their simple but delicious taste, strawberries with cream, strawberry ice cream, strawberry shakes, strawberry shortcake – the list got longer and longer as we descended.

En route to Pangboche

After a few hours, we arrived in Pangboche, a long strung-out village.  We were nearly through it and almost ready to give up on finding JB's brother's place when we crested a small hill and too our left was Javi, their porter, hanging up some laundry!  We instantly recognized each other and smiles, hellos, and waving followed.  And as luck would have it, Steve and his boys had spent the previous night there and were gone on a day hike when we arrived.  We dropped our bags, met JB's brother (who looked exactly like JB), and ordered – get this – STRAWBERRY tea (the first time I had seen in on a menu on the trek!)  It was meant to be.

My fabulous pizza in Pangboche

We decided to stay for lunch and see if Steve and the boys would show up by early afternoon so we could at least say hello one more time.  It was there that I had the best pizza (with OLIVES) on the whole trek.  Just as we were finishing, JB, Steve and his boys strolled in.  Again, smiles, hellos, and hugs ensued.  It was so great to see them!  As we sat chatting, it started raining heavily outside.  It only took a few minutes to decide that we were all staying the night.  We passed the afternoon swapping stories and laughs until supper.  It was then time to pass the Yaniv card game tradition (the game we had learned from our Israeli friends) on.  We played, heckled each other and laughed until late in the evening.  Despite the cold and the rain, it had been a perfect day out in the mountains.

Epic game of Yaniv in Pangboche; Matt with Steve & his sons

The gang on the rainy trail to Tengboche

The next morning, we all hiked together (well, the boys all hiked faster than I did, but you get the idea) into Tengboche, another milestone on the trek.  It rained the whole time, but we had a brilliant walk anyway.  At Tengboche, Steve and the boys had a snack, and then we said one last goodbye as they were heading on to Namche.  We made a plan to all meet up in Kathmandu in a few days time to celebrate the completion of the trek.  Matt and I secured a room for the night, and then wandered in the rain over to heaven…I mean the Tengboche bakery.

Pretty sure my expression sums this one up...

We had been dreaming about this place since leaving Namche almost 2 weeks ago.  We went wild – ordering chocolate cake, little chocolate donut things, apple strudel, and for me, a cappuccino.  I cannot describe to you how amazing this thing tasted.  I had gone for 3 weeks without coffee, something that I now see no reason to ever repeat.  It was magical.  With full stomachs and a slightly nauseous-but-oh-so-satisfied feeling, we headed back to the lodge to slowly metabolize our spoils for the remainder of the afternoon.

Tengboche in the morning

To our surprise, marvelous clear blue skies greeted us in the morning.  The peaks were once again visible, and the stunning Tengboche monastery was framed perfectly in their midst.  We spent a pleasant hour or more descending, and then braced ourselves for one final, brutal, ascent back up toward Namche.  It was grueling, but tolerable, and we were giddy with how much oxygen there was to be found in the air at this lower altitude.  And then, for the first time in a long time, we reached familiar trail.

Trail nearing Sanasa

Alongside the mountain we went, walking with a new spring in our steps despite the weight of our packs, until that last, glorious turn into Namche.  We were "home!"  We went straight back to our Khumbu lodge and requested a "deluxe" room.  I took the longest, hottest, soapiest shower I have ever taken.  Three rounds of shampoo were needed to get my hair clean enough to form a lather -- yikes.  Matt did the same.  We knew we couldn't totally celebrate yet, but we were only 2 days from Lukla.  While in Namche, we hit up the bakery for a brownie and some masala tea, relaxed in the relative warmth, and let the enormity of the undertaking begin to sink in.

Heading out of Namche

As we departed Namche the following morning, I had many mixed emotions.  I felt more than ready to get out of the mountains and back down to where the Coke, beer, and hamburgers lived, but was also saddened to be parting ways with such an incredible experience.

The beautiful entrance/exit to Sagamantha National Park

While descending, the throngs of people who had been stranded in Kathmandu were now streaming up the valley, solidifying our gratitude that we had chosen to hike early in the season.  They were mostly in large, slightly unmanageable groups, and we pondered how very different their experiences might end up being from our own.  We had gotten lucky, that much we knew.  We had had brilliant weather and unmatched views, we had met the nicest, kindest people, and most importantly of all, we had had the place almost all to ourselves.  Feeling perfectly contented with what was indeed an epic adventure, we whiled away a day in Lukla, being sure to have one more chocolate pastry before reconfirming our flight out in the morning.

Beautifully spinning prayer wheel

 

Near Phakding on the descent

True to trekking routine, we awoke early, quickly packed our bags one last time and ate a breakfast.  At the airline office (there is only one in Lukla) we had been told to just show up at the airport around 0600.  So, as dawn approached, we circled over the scary-looking runway and were thrust with the dozens of others into the tiny terminal.  We squeezed our way up to the counter and were once again handed a standard-looking boarding pass, this one with the number "4" scrawled onto it.  It was devoid of the usual things printed on boarding passes; there was no seat number, flight number, flight time, or gate.  The solitary number "4" meant simply that we would be on the 4th flight to come in from Kathmandu that day.

Runway & plane in Lukla the day before flying out

So, we took our seats, swapped a few laughs and stories with some fellow 4's, and waited as flights 1 through 3 arrived, deplaned, boarded, and departed.  You could easily see the ridiculous gradient of the runway from the terminal, and the planes seemed to basically launch themselves into the air using the momentum gained from the ramp that was the runway.  Within 45 short minutes, flight 4 arrived.  We tramped across the runway one last time, crawled in, graciously accepted the piece of hard candy from the flight attendant, and strapped ourselves down.  We held our breath as the plane sped down the runway and dropped off the edge of the mountain for a split second before gaining altitude in earnest.

Just before takeoff in Lukla

The majesty of the mighty Himalayas faded into the horizon as we made our way back to Kathmandu.  We felt triumphant, enlightened, and both strengthened and exhausted.  The days spent climbing those mountains were perhaps some of the most meaningful and humbling of my life.  Certainly they were among the most trying (at one point I told Matt that I would rather redo my first day as an intern on 30 hour call than climb over that blasted Cho La Pass again), but they were also infinitely rewarding.

We silently said our goodbyes to the Himalayas, knowing deep down inside that it really was more of a "see you later."  If I have anything to say about it, we'll be back for more.  And you might just be able to convince me to go over the Cho La Pass again. 

Click below for more great photos from our last days in the Himalayas.