We got up at 6 AM and prepared to hit the trail. The weather was ominous - cold, cloudy, and drizzling rain. We expected no mountain views today. For breakfast, I had scrambled eggs with Tibetan bread, a puffy fried flat bread, similar to Indian fry-bread in the American south-west. By now, Lal had figured out how to open my lock, but he still could not do it consistently and sometimes asked for help.
We started walking at 7:30, and stopped first at the police check-post to have my permit checked. It was not open yet, but Lal was able to round up the policeman quickly to open it for us. I would not have recognized him, since he was not in uniform. Police here usually wear blue sweater-like uniforms, and soldiers wear similar green uniforms. Both are usually unarmed, but police sometimes carry a short stick.
We followed the trail out of Namche Bazaar that I had started down yesterday. On the way, we saw a couple of small antelope-like animals down the hill, which were musk deer. The path followed the side of the steep hill on a gentle uphill grade, until we began a steep descent through a forest, where the trees had a kind of Spanish moss, to the Imja Khola river. We passed the Irish man, who had started long before us but was walking slowly. He had met some Irish women in Namche Bazaar, and was walking with them today.
After crossing on a swinging bridge over a waterfall, we stopped for lunch in the small village of Phunki Thanghka, at 10650 feet, before starting the long climb up the ridge to Tengboche. A stream channel ran through the village, and along it were numerous small buildings containing water-powered prayer wheels. The Irish group caught up with us at the lunch stop, while I had Ra Ra soup with coconut biscuits. His guide gave Lal and me `Speed Everest' stickers from his expedition to put on our packs. He also put one on the tea house where we had lunch. Mine would not stick, probably because I had sprayed my pack with water repellent before leaving home, so I put it on the cover of my notebook instead.
After lunch we continued up the ridge together with the Irish group. As we climbed, numerous yaks were coming down, carrying gear for a large French expedition. Some were purebred yaks, but most domestic yaks have been crossbred with oxen or cattle. There were so many yaks and porters coming down that we could not climb very fast. The trail became gentler toward the top of the ridge, and we left the Irish group behind. It was foggy, and before coming to the top, we entered a cloud. Soon the light drizzle changed to snow. As we entered Tengboche, at 12887 feet, it was snowing hard, with little visibility. We passed through a small arch-like building with an elaborately painted ceiling, decorated with Buddhist icons, to enter the town. Ahead we saw the famous monastery, which is the largest in the region and has a popular festival, Mani Rimdu, later in November featuring masked dances. The monastery had burned down a few years ago, but was rebuilt using millions of dollars donated from around the world.
We tried a couple of lodges, which were full or unsatisfactory for some reason, before deciding to stay at the `Trekker's Lodge', operated by the National Park. The private rooms were full, but there was space in the dormitory, which occupies the central large room in the building, where there were a dining room table and stove. This lodge was somewhat unusual, architecturally, because it has a concrete floor, and a large room-wide picture window above the dining room table. It was built by New Zealanders.
Two monks were at the table, dining on momos. They said this lodge has the best food in town. The lodge owner seemed to be uncomfortable accepting payment from them. The stove in the middle of the room kept it very comfortable. Lal made sure it stayed warm. A young lady from Washington state was staying at the lodge for three weeks, studying with the monks to learn about the preparations for the Mani Rimdu festival. She said tomorrow was the beginning of a 19 day preparation period leading up to the festival, and that there would be a ceremony beginning at 8 AM. A young German lady we encountered in Phakding was staying here as well. The lodge manager had a radio, and an election song played on it, followed by old-time rock and roll. Everyone was sitting around the table near the stove, as it snowed outside. My guide's friend arrived also, but the Irish people were staying elsewhere. He put up a `Speed Everest' sticker in the lodge.
The snow eventually stopped and the clouds lightened a bit, and I went out to see the monastery. A number of other tourists were there as well. It was open and we could go inside. After climbing the front stairs, the first doors led to a courtyard. Across it was a second set of stairs, leading to the gompa, the central ceremonial room of the monastery. Before entering, it was required to remove one's shoes. This was not requested at the smaller gompa in Namche Bazaar or at the Monkey Temple's gompa, where there was a wooden walkway above the floor for tourists. This gompa was much larger and more elaborate than the one in Namche Bazaar. The Buddha statue in front was very large, and you had to be close to it to see the whole thing. Since the monastery recently burned down, everything was very new, and the paint was very bright. The center of the room had rows of pads where the monks would sit during ceremonies, and in back was a pair of large drums, hung vertically.
When I returned to the lodge, Lal ordered us plates of highly-spiced yak meat and a pot of chhang, the home-brewed rice beer available at many lodges. I would have never ordered these things for myself. I was suspicious of the meat after seeing the butcher shops in Kathmandu, and seeing how it was carried on the dusty trails on the backs of porters. This lodge had a large leg of yak hanging in the kitchen, from which this meat had come. Lal said it was fresh, having come from the Saturday market in Namche Bazaar, two days ago. The small spicy meat cubes were in fact well-cooked and delicious. The spicy meat was supposed to encourage the drinking of chhang, which is also something I would not have tried if Lal hadn't ordered it, since it is reportedly made with unpurified water in general. I drank only one glass. It must be an acquired taste, and I had no desire for another glass of the warm, milky, mildly alcoholic liquid. Lal drank the rest of the pot.
A group of mountain climbers arrived at the lodge, where the leader's girl friend was already staying. They were attempting a first ascent of a new route up Ama Dablam, but they were delayed by the bad weather, which was far worse on the mountain than here. They made one unsuccessful attempt, in which they discovered the route was more difficult than anticipated, and were worried that unless the weather cleared soon, they would not have time for another attempt. Nepali regulations require fall climbs to be completed by November 15. Climbing permits are valid only for a specific season. The leader was a full-time professional climber who writes for climbing magazines, and is the author of several books. He had lost several finger-tips to frostbite climbing Mt. Everest. The climbers ordered ``umpteen pots of chhang'' throughout the afternoon and evening. The lodge manager here had provided food and other support for the expedition.
For dinner, I had yak-cheese momos and Sherpa stew, a soupy mixture of potatoes and vegetables. One lady was having a birthday, and the lodge kitchen made a cake, which everyone shared. Everyone went to bed around 8 PM, and then the lodge staff had dinner. After they finished, everything became surprisingly quiet, for a dormitory. A lot of stars were out tonight, suggesting that tomorrow's weather would be better.
Scott A. Yost, 1994. All rights reserved.