Trekking in the Everest Region

The Discovery

While checking out used bookstores in Bangkok, I found an old guide of Nepal; through it I was exposed to the idea of trekking on the Himalayas. It looked as the perfect escape adventure; walking day after day in the open nature, neither buses nor technology would bother me there. A few days later, I landed in Kathmandu.

Cultures Clash

Nepal provided another point of interest. The rich culture of South East Asia was the result of the adoption of the Buddhism brought by monks from Sri Lanka by a population that has been displaced from China many centuries ago. This mixture evolved into new and fascinating cultures. Nepal was placed in another point of contact between the Chinese and Indian cultures, creating thus an exciting point for comparisons. However, in Nepal the result was different; each one of the many ethnic groups kept its personal characteristics and culture without mixing with the others. Tibetans rolled their prayer wheels and placed Buddhist prayer flags while Newaris carved wonderful wood windows and worshipped colourful Hindu gods.

Trekking in the Everest Region

The trekking season in Nepal is limited due to climate conditions, therefore there is a choice to be taken among the four main trekking areas as not everything can be covered in one season.

Annapouna, touching the western side of the country, is the most popular trekking area and is considered to be a relatively easy trek. It promised hordes of western tourists, hence this option was scrapped. Lantang was more appealing since it was just a few kilometers north of Kathmandu and was the least visited trekking area, but it was too small for a long trek. Mustang touches the Tibetan Plateau, just north of Annapouna, but a compulsory guide was imposed by the authorities, diminishing thus its attractiveness. The last option was the Everest, which is widely considered to be the hardest trek in Nepal; I expected the path to be relatively abandoned. Additional advantages were a close sight of the Everest Mountain and several paths to choose from.

The Everest Trek

My choice within the many possibilities of this path was to make the long, historical version of the Everest route. I began from the village of Jiri and ended in Kalla Pattar, the "Black Rock," at 5545m above the sea level, just above of the Everest Base Camp on the Solukhumbu glacier. The similitude between the Nepali "Pattar" (rock) and the Indo-European variations of the name Peter was a fascinating reminder of the shared roots of those languages.

Many years ago, following the first conquests of the Everest, a short runway for small aircraft was built in Lukla, much closer to the Everest than Jiri, causing the long way between Jiri and Lukla to be abandoned by most trekkers. Nevertheless, I had the time, wanted to be thoroughly acclimatized to the heights, and generally loved the idea of an abandoned route, used mainly by the local porters carrying rice and other products to the isolated villages of the area.

I reached Kalla Pattar in eighteen days; only then, while looking at the imposing Everest summit, which was still more than three kilometres over my head, I began appreciating the monstrous size of the highest mountain on earth.

The first part of the trip, from Jiri to Kharikhola, crossed three mountain ridges, since the mountain ridges flow here from north to south; it was an excruciating experience of climbing up and then down, again and again; it was done mostly under the rain. The second part of the trip consisted of a straight path northwards, which is usually called the Everest Highway. It ends at the Everest Base Camp from where the climb to the mountain’s summit begins. I reached it at the beginning of a snow storm and returned surrounded by a cold, white landscape.

Seasons

The trekking season in Nepal is limited due to climate conditions, the summer is hot and humid and the winter is freezing cold above the 4000m line; thus it is recommended to time the trek with the spring or the autumn. The autumn offers the added value of hosting the Indra Jatra festival, and it was my choice; I enjoyed the festival in Kathmandu and then left for the trek at the following morning.

The Guide

A good book or a detailed map is imperative in order to make the trek without a local guide. Those guides are hard to find outside Nepal, but once in Kathmandu they are readily available in the used books stores of Thamel. I strongly recommend the Trekking in the Everest Region by Jamie McGuiness.

The Permit

A permit issued by the Nepali government is needed to enter the Sagarmatha Reserve. The trekking permit can be issued in Kathmandu or at the entrance to the Sagarmatha Reserve, and since the costs are equal (1000NRP) in both cases the later option is the best so that it wouldn’t get lost in the way.

Other Costs and Needs

Once on the trail exchanging money or breaking down large notes is impossible, thus I prepared a large enough sum of money (at least 500NRP for planned day) in notes not bigger than 100NRP. The first days were cheaper, but as I got higher on the trail, the prices climbed up accordingly.

Iodine pills to purify the drinking water are not essential, but buying boiled water from the locals gets expensive on the higher zones, thus they are strongly recommended.

Regarding the rest of the equipment, the single most important article in the list are the shoes, a good pair of trekking shoes is essential.

Leaving Kathmandu: from Kathmandu (1350m) to Jiri (1935m)

I took a cyclo from Thamel to the Jiri’s bus terminal, just next to the Clock Tower. The old Tata bus left at 6:30am, but I arrived half an hour earlier because I wanted a good place. The ticket cost 250NPR and after buying it at the counter, I entered the bus with my luggage; I didn’t want a sudden rain to spoil it.

A seat by a left side window provided me with awesome views along the way, especially of the Lantang Range as soon as we left the Kathmandu Valley. The snacks I brought turned out to be a good idea since the terrain was difficult for the bus. It moved slowly and from time to time it did emergency stops to avoid collisions, sometimes travelling backward and forward to let other cars pass. As we climbed, the houses changed construction's materials from the regular, small red bricks in the Kathmandu Valley to irregular grey and big ones; the houses hang over dangerous slopes among rice and banana's fields. When it began to rain the driver stopped to coat the bus with a nylon sheet. The bus reached Jiri just before sunset.

Reaching Jiri

Jiri is a small village, just a few wood houses around a single paved road with a basic bus station at the end of the road; from there on there are no paved roads.

Once there, after registering at the police booth just before the village, finding a guesthouse was my first task. There weren’t many to choose from and all of them offered similar conditions. That was typical for the rest of the trek: I paid only ten rupees for a very basic room, but I was supposed to eat there; a shower cost extra. Since the villages were extremely small, usually just a few huts, the eating limitation was of significance.

After finding a guesthouse, I used the last lights to check out the right entry point to the walking path because there were two eastward exits from the small bus parking lot. The lower one was a path for heavy vehicles travelling to a nearby village; the upper lead to the village of Shivalaya, my destination for the next day.

Day 2: from Jiri (1935m) to Shivalaya (1800m)

The first walking day was one of the hardest since I was adjusting my equipment. Looking at the exit point and arrival points altitudes, the way did not seem impressive, but along the way was a small mountain pass at 2400m and the terrain was very wet and slippery after a rainy night. It was the only day I began carrying two liters of boiled water; afterwards I preferred taking one and purifying water along the way with iodine tablets.

I left at 6:30am after a big breakfast and following an easy climb through a thick forest I reached the Kharubas Pass at 8:30am. The heat prevented using a raincoat during the climb, thus I arranged a towel around my head. I had two backpacks, one on my back and the second over the chest; locals told me along the way that I was carrying too much weight.

Around eleven I arrived at Shivalaya (literally "Home of Shiva") after crossing a beautiful hanging bridge leading to the compact village. The blue bridge, the stones and wood houses and the handsome stone paths located by a strong, wide stream, all against a dark green forest created a magical image.

Wet with sweat and rain, I took a seat in the first restaurant-guesthouse I saw, the New Sherpa Guide Lodge, just after the bridge. Sitting there and drinking a hot and sweet tea, I took off my wet shoes and socks, put them to dry and changed into a dry shirt. Sipping my tea, I watched with interest two heavily loaded female porters approaching the path towards the bridge from the village’s center.

Curious at the pale competitor, they took a break in front of me by letting the big baskets (attached to their backs and supported with a rope passing around their foreheads) to rest over their walking sticks, improvising thus skeletal chairs.

The older, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, was calmly staring at me. I quickly pointed my digital camera at her and took a picture, disguising the movement by keeping the camera far from my face. She wasn’t aware of the camera’s back-screen, thus she was serene, giving me one of the trek’s better pictures.

Porters were ubiquitous along the path; they carried two bags of rice (90kg), much more than their own weight, walking barefoot or with light sandals. The rice was carried from Jiri to Namche (the last town before the Everest) in three weeks. A peculiar characteristic of their routes is their ignoring the slopes’ steepness by connecting two points with the shortest line. Thus, their mountain paths, which were the only ones well-marked, were quite difficult to cross.

After a few minutes, a man with his son and daughter entered and bought a big pack of batteries. He drank tea and ordered Dal Baht for the children, a staple dish made of lentil soup, rice and pickles. When the boy was looking away, his sister put half of her rice and lentils soup in his plate – taking care her father would notice.

For dinner I had a meal of small potatoes with yak cheese, eggs and green vegetables while the owner tried convincing me of spending next night at his sister's place, Ang Nima, in Bandar. "She is just ten minutes after you start descending into the village," he told me. It rained continuously from 18:00 and in the morning my clothes were still wet.

Day 3: from Shivalaya (1800m) to Bandar (2200m)

Next morning was dry and cloudy, providing excellent conditions for the very steep climb to Sangbadanda. One hour after the departure I reached it, breathless after a though climbing, and stopped there for a black tea.

I shortened the delay to a minimum and so avoided cooling down. After the tea, I continued walking up towards the village of Buludanda, at 2500m. Around ten thirty I reached the first house of Deorali which is next to the Deorali Pass. At 2705m, that was the second of the four passes in the route eastwards. I stopped there for a lunch and a rest at Highland Sherpa Deorali guesthouse 4, just left of the Mani Wall dividing the village.

Mani walls are low and long rectangular structures, bearing at their sides and tops black rocks with sculpted Buddhist prayers on them. Mahayana Buddhism (Big Vehicle Buddhism) aims to a worldwide enlightenment and believes that prayers on Manis or flags are carried away by the winds.

Although as promised yesterday the first houses of Bandar were only fifteen minutes down from the pass, the center of Bandar was far away, five hundred meters below the pass and I arrived at Ang Dawa guesthouse, at the low end of the village only after an additional forty five minutes walk. Nima’s sister was waiting outside, and when I commented he told me that she was only fifteen minutes from the pass I got a complimentary apple to silence me. Ang lives with her two daughters, while her son lives in a boarding school in Kathmandu; various pictures in her home tell the story of her husband death while climbing the Everest.

Day 4: from Bandar (2200m) to Kenja (1640m)

There were two feasible options for this day: one was to force myself halfway up to Sete or even to the Lamjura Pass (at 3530m) in one day or to take it easy by stopping halfway at Kenja. This is the first settlement in the Solukhumbu district, which encompasses the Everest area. The pass being a staggering 1900m above Kenja, I decided to make this day a short one.

Just after a late and lazy beginning at nine, a girl run out of her house at Bandar’s outskirts holding several walking sticks; after a short bargaining she sold me one and changed for good the quality of my walking.

The way was beautiful, along a gentle slope down along a narrow river and a cultivated valley delimited by a wild forest. Women made laundry by the shallow current using adjacent rocks as a drying surface; porters walked in both directions at high speeds, taking advantage of the comfortable terrain.

A new path exchanged the one marked in the guides; finding it was easy since it closely followed the western riverside; the island-like settlement of Kenja was just visible in the distance. Little after noon, I crossed three hanging bridges and entered that crowded village, built in a small area between the mountains and the river.

Other trekkers I saw during the day had decided to continue to Sete. Since it began raining at noon and it did not stop until much after it was dark that was a bad decision; it meant they reached the freezing Lamjura Pass completely wet.

An important lesson today was that a late leaving allows the moisture to dry up, making a descending way easier, less slippery. Today I succeeded to match the personal timetable in the book while moving down, but in the way up I matched only "the group time," apparently because I was carrying too much weight.

The family at the guesthouse was warm, welcoming and happy. Their children were delighted with my digital camera, specially the youngest girl, who giggled happily each time she saw her picture.

Day 5: from Kenja (1640m) to Sete (2575m)

Seeing that all the way planned for today was up, I started early to avoid the sun. After two very steep stretches, which took every bit of oxygen out of me, Sete was conquered a little after ten.

Despite the big temptation of continuing to the pass today, the rain that started pouring a few minutes after my arrival was too strong to make the attempt comfortable and I gave up for the sake of a hot tea at the guesthouse.

The main sign to the gain in altitude were the vanishing of the rice fields and the appearance of forests. Proudly showing altitude crops, the houses kept garlic’s bouquets drying from the ceilings. Garlic’s soup is here considered as a wonder medicine to all ailments.

At the Sherpa Guide Lodge at the village’s northern edge, I found two Dutch trekkers that were in their way to the Mera Peak, a popular Trekking Peak. "Trekking Peak" is a Nepali definition to relatively low mountains that do not require advanced equipment or professional climbing knowledge, although a local guide, porters and a special permit are required. Much later, while I was resting from the trek in Kathmandu, I met them again at the Pumpernickel Bakery and found that only one of the made it to the top; the other got mild symptoms of altitude sickness and stayed midway.

Day 6: from Sete (2575m) to Junbesi (2700m)

Eager to finally cross the Lamjura Pass (3530m), the biggest obstacle on the eastwards part of the trek, I left early. After a long, wet way up and several false peaks, I reached the pass shortly before eleven. It was marked by two decrepit Stupas; the colored Buddhist flags on them seemed to be their main support. The temperature drop and the strong and wildly cold winds were another clear of this place’s nature. It was my first cross over 3500m; it was rainy, windy and freezing, but I was happy.

The rhododendron trees delimited the road up and the beginning of the descent, but later the trees were cut for wood, leaving ugly empty spaces at the mountain flank. At noon I broke the descent with a light snack at the Thag Tok Tea House.

It rained all day, especially inside the slippery rain forest and the advance was slow, since the rain dictated a serene pace, a cautious movement on the slippery slopes. Under the heavy rain, I reached Junbesi around three, and following a quick survey I settled at Apple Garden Guesthouse.

A Day in Junbesi

The following day I stayed at Junbesi since the clothes left at night by the oven, including the shoes, were still wet.

In the area there were a few attractions: a Tibetan refugees camp with three thousand people half an hour from the town, further away and up was the famous Thubten Choling Monastery, and there were two more temples, one just above the village and one inside it. I visited the Junbesi Gompa, an old temple with beautiful wood carvings in its interior.

Junbesi being at the entrance to the apples growing zone of Nepal, I had an excellent fried apple pie for dinner.

Day 8: from Junbesi (2700m) to Nuntala (2350m) – the Two Passes Day

The driving force today was the Everest View at 3100m, the first place from where this mountain was visible. Henceforth, I left very early and arrived there around eight. However, the weather was foggy and the local guesthouse was overcharging the coffee, so I continued without waiting for the sight.

Later I stopped at Ringmo for a fresh apple pie and performed a wet climb to the Trakshindo-La Pass at 3071m. Nuntala, my final destination for the day was reached soon afterwards.

At the Moon Light Lodge I could appreciate a working Khu Kuri water heater. Those heaters heat water for the shower through pipes passing through the kitchen stove. This allows a more efficient use of energy and saves local woods; places using them charge less for a shower and are more generous with the water quantities supplied.

Since it rained all the afternoon there was no point to attempt the dangerous descent to Jubing, which passes through a slippery landslide area. It meant that the next day it would not be possible to start early, because before the sun heats up the ground everything is very wet; but at least the "Two Passes" day was over.

Day 9: from Nuntala/Manidingma (2350m) to Kharikhola (2050m)

I left late and following two hours of walking under a strong sun that dried the way very quickly, the first bridge over the Dudh Kosi River appeared. This river originates at the Solukhumbu Glacierand its name means "milky river" because of the white powdered rock it carries. This was the turning point of the journey from a walk eastwards to a walk northward into the Everest, in a path parallel to the riverbed.

Close to the village of Jubing, (populated by Rai people instead of the usual Sherpas) another trekker coming downwards told me that it was snowing above 4500m with and that the Cho-La pass leading to the Gokyo Ri Lakes was closed. That meant if the storm would continue I may not be able to reach Kalla Pattar. Today it was especially hard to believe that, since everything was very green with lots of flowers and huge quantities of colorful butterflies.

Once in Kharikhola I settled down in the Tashi Delek Guesthouse. Despite its Tibetan name, the family operating it is Sherpa. The friendly owner, Pasang Lhamu Sherpa let me take a picture while she was operating the tea machine, a kind of long piston of over a meter length filled with nak milk and butter, salt and black tea. Nak is the name of the yak's female, an animal that would appear later along the track, at higher altitudes.

Day 10: from Kharikhola (2050m) to Puiyan (2780m)

From Kharikhola the way continued north, roughly parallel to the Dudh Kosi River and mostly ascending, while the paths went along a ridge and not across it, a blessed improvement upon the previous days.

The arrival point of the path from Kharikhola to the mountain ridge was at the village of Bupsa, which was far above and to the left, just before the ridge did a sharp turn and disappeared. In preparation to the long climb, I left early and one hour later, I was at Bupsa with a sweat smoking T-shirt, since the strong evaporation rate did a rather graphical work on me.

The way from there was a gentle descent with the ridge, before a final and estimated easy climb to the Khari La Pass, at 2850m. The sun appeared in the middle of the walk and did it somewhat unpleasant.

In a short stop, one of those five minutes I took out of every walking hour, a leech attached itself to my right wrist and I managed to get a good photo of it before letting it continue its own path. Pulling out a leech is dangerous, since the place can develop an infection later; it is better to let them finish their meal or to put some salt on them. This last option causes them to leave quickly and peacefully.

Shortly before the Khari La Pass, I found a new way cut through the mountain, a new path that passes just below the pass itself, avoiding thus the need to climb to the ridge’s top. It was the first deviation of the Nepalese straight lines’ walks policy I saw; were they becoming decadent?

Shortly after noon, I arrived at Puiyan, 2780m, where locals were slaughtering a buffalo by the village entrance. At the colorful Bee Hive Guesthouse, I used the opportunity to do laundry, mainly the socks and T-shirts and put them to dry by the main stove.

The decision to sleep here was the result of the local altitude, allowing me gaining another high night, since the other candidate, the next village of Surke was only 2300m high. The place was quite comfortable with several rooms in three buildings built around a central yard, which in the late afternoon was occupied by a camping group. The porters staying at the place dinned with us, although they all ate Dhedo, a chocolate-like paste made of millet that the owner refused to let me taste. They roll it in the fingers like if it was sticky-rice and dip it in lentils' soup

Day 11: from Puiyan (2780m) to Phakding (2640m)

One hour after leaving, I heard for the first time in days a plane and shortly afterwards saw it landing on the Lukla plateau, thus revealing the location of the still hidden town.

The early start allowed reaching Surke through the shadowed side of the mountain and left only a half-day walk under the sun; after a healthy breakfast at Namaste Lodge.

Shortly after noon, I arrived at the junction leading to Lukla, but I skipped the steep climb to the town and continued north. From now on, I was officially on the "Everest Highway." The name refers to the many tourists literally running towards the colossus at its end.

On the way I spotted for the first time groups of three to eight yak-cows hybrids, a kind of animal that is sterile after the second generation. It is the favorite carrier at these altitudes, closing gaps between the physical capabilities of the pure breeds.

Two hours later, at the ‘Snowland Lodge and Sherpa’ I took a well-needed hot shower from their Khu Kuri stove. At the backyard, they have a tree nursery, mainly with pines, intended to reverse the intense deforestation of the area.

This day was another short one, nevertheless the next stop, Namche Bazaar, was still far ahead and reaching it today would have transformed the way into a punishment. I preferred enjoying the adventure.

Day 12: from Phakding (2640m) to Namche Bazaar (3450m)

Early in the morning, I crossed two long hanging bridges over the Dudh Kosi. The second and longer one took two minutes and ten seconds while walking at regular speed. At nine I arrived at the gate of the Sagarmatha National Park (Sagarmatha is the local name of the Everest). Since I bought the entrance ticket in Kathmandu, I only registered while watching a professionally equipped couple buying theirs.

I soon discovered they have started their trek from Lukla’s Airport and thus they were not acclimatized. Full of vigor, they began running as soon as they entered the park, advancing two times faster than I did. I lost their sight quickly and was left with a sad feeling that my previous walking did not help at all to gain any acclimatization.

Inside the park, on a casual rock between hanging bridges, there was a painting in red color of a farmer working the land, a clear Maoist sign, similar to others I saw earlier; however, this one was in an area supposed to be controlled by the army.

On one of the bridges along the way, a big group of yaks carrying big stacks of dry grass caused a delay while they balanced themselves slowly over it; surprisingly the bridge held up. After the last bridge was behind, on the long way up to Namche, I got my first glimpse of the dark pyramidal shape of the Everest while dangerously leaning my weight on the upper part of a tree growing on the steep northern side of the way. I felt to have accomplished the first target of the trip.

At noon, I arrived at Namche Bazaar. Shortly before the entrance, I spotted a couple of tourists crawling up very slowly. When I got near them, I recognized the couple I met at the park entrance. Feeling the lack of oxygen, they moved at a snail’s pace; they breathed loudly. The effect of this sight on me was as of an adrenaline shot, greeting them politely I literally run toward Namche’s Gate, now openly enjoying the results of my long acclimatization process.

Namche Bazzar is built in an amphitheater’s shape around a shallow stream, with a green cliff at its back. Along the stream were automatic praying wheels, endlessly turning around with the force supplied by the stream.

The last town before the Everest, Namche has many shops with anything a trekker thinks he may need, including several gompas (temples). At the upper limit of the town, I found the Moonlight Lodge, by far the cleanest place I have seen in the village. The dining room was shining with varnished wood and the owner served a tasty meal just after a few minutes of my arrival.

Having arrived after being two weeks on a strictly vegetarian diet within a population in a similar condition, I was surprised from the sharp and sour smell of the people in Namche. It was the smell of butyric acid (similar to the one of spoiled butter) a characteristic smell shared by all of us meat eaters, and usually ignored by our noses. Yak Steak is a popular dish here, though actually it is just buffalo meat brought from lower places; killing animals within the reserve is forbidden and the yaks live at altitudes that are all within the reserve limits.

I got an extraordinary picture of the Mt Kang Tega just before the sunset. Two minutes after taking the picture, a heavy fog covered everything beyond the closest buildings. A cow lost in the labyrinth of narrow streets enclosed within low stone walls, sadly called for help until the owner guided her back to safety.

Day 13: Namche Bazaar

I took a day off today, to allow further acclimatization; that was an excellent excuse to indulge in visits to coffee shops and shopping. Finally recognizing I was carting too much weight, I decided to leave much of it at the guesthouse; they accepted to store my big backpack for no extra charge, under the condition that I will sleep there in the way back. As well, I rented a sleeping bag for seventy rupees per day.

In the grocery shop, it was amazing to see food bags inflated as balloons, since they were packed at normal pressure and the pressure here was less than 70% of that. The Herman Helmers Bakery offered excellent pastries oriented towards the German taste and it turned out to be an excellent place for spending a pleasant afternoon.

Namche Bazaar, as Lukla, is under curfew after sunset and big searching lights on the top of the nearby hills eerily illuminate it at night. During the curfew hours, the Moonlight Lodge offered a movie about an Everest expedition; it was the perfect prelude for the last part of the trek.

Day 14: from Namche Bazaar (3450m) to Tengboche (3860m)

After improving my walking stick with a big long plaster at the top to prevent more blisters, I left around seven. I feared a snowstorm would block the Cho-La Pass, thus at the Gokyo-Tingboche junction I chose the last option, sealing thus my decision to skip the Gokyo Lakes.

A few minutes later appeared an isolated, snowed mountain with one wide shoulder: the Ama Dablam, which by many is considered the most beautiful mountain in the world. In the next day I walked around it until the shoulder disappeared, leaving an almost perfect cone. This first part of the day was an easy and scenic descent.

The second part, climbing to Tengboche started through a steep and dense forest and continued on an easy but narrow slope. Some busy yaks asked for a readily granted priority on the trail; these animals are extremely docile but once they start walking they do not yield way to anyone, thus they have bells attached to their necks to tell the news of their arrival before it is too late to move away.

At eleven, I was in Tengboche where the Kang Tega and Thamserku mountains joined the Ama Dablam to create a breathtaking view of the world’s roof. All the guesthouses in the small settlement belong to the big and famous Tengboche Gompa, which generates in such a way incomes for its maintenance.

Being a Tibetan monastery, I had here for lunch a thick and excellent thukpa soup. The monk running the place was dressed in purple. When I asked him do they use different colors as compared with South East Asian monks, he gave a Zen-like answer that in the mountains it is very cold so they need a dark color that does not get dirty, saving so the need of making excessive laundry.

At 3pm, I attended a service at the monastery. For an hour, the monks chanted pleasantly, monotonously playing their musical instruments. The youngest monk was serving the chanters hot tea periodically while the tourists watched them from comfortable carpets by the walls.

Day 15: from Tengboche (3860m) to Dingboche (4350m)

I descended to Deboche, at 3770m, through a beautiful, full of life, rhododendron forest. Since it was cold, I started the way for the first time with a long sleeves shirt, but took it off quickly.

At Pangboche I crossed for the first time the four thousand meters line and celebrated it with a milk tea heated on dried yak dung at the Exodus-Highland Sherpa Lodge. Today the Ama Dablam appeared from its other side showing an almost "single peak view," with only a trace of its shoulder.

The trees disappeared during the day. Although while walking it was hot, whenever I stopped, I felt cold; it was another sign of the gained altitude. Before noon, I arrived at Dingboche and crossed the entire village searching for a place to charge my camera’s battery. Unfortunately, although there were solar panels everywhere, nobody could supply the right connection. Finally, I picked up a room at the Peak Island View Lodge that in accordance to its name provided a view to the mentioned place (6173m), a popular trekking peak. In the guesthouse backyard, they were growing vegetables under cut open, wide spread rice bags. Except for some sad yellow leaves, the vegetables looked quite happy.

The guesthouse was cold and the blowing wind could be heard at all times, defeating even the Dudh Kosi River’s deafening sound, which accompanied me during the last days. A trekker told me that she was trying to reach Kalla Pattar for a second time, since the year before she failed at Tukla, my target for tomorrow, due to altitude sickness.

She was using the narrow and almost flat valley leading from here to the Peak Island as a further acclimatizing walk before continuing to the Everest, but the rumors of an approaching storm prevented me of taking that approach. Stormy weather or not, I wouldn’t give up so close to the end.

Day 16: from Dingboche (4350m) to Lobuche (4940m)

I left early and shortly after saw below me the village of Periche, sitting next to a teeth-shaped ridge; walking quickly along the oddly beautiful and sharp ridge I reached Thukla (4620m) in ninety minutes.

The landscape was completely barren, neither trees nor animals could be seen. Thukla was across two bridges that spanned a wild stream; the second one was just an old, shaky, half-rotten trunk. The village included only three houses generously spread out on a desolated slope; two of them were guesthouses.

By now, the sun radiation was very bothering and I used my sunglasses constantly; despite that, it was cold even under the sun direct rays. Yaks were eating the brown low grass on the slope above the place; I accompanied them with a big plate of Dal Baht.

While enjoying the sun, a helicopter passed over me, meaning it was flying well above 4620m, a significant accomplishment for such an aircraft. Later I found that it came to rescue a triathlon professional, suffering from serious altitude sickness in Gorak Shep.

In order to avoid altitude sickness, the daily gain in altitude must be moderated according to certain tables; therefore, the walking days in high altitudes are short. Getting bored, ignoring the beauty of the area and concentrating on the ritual picture at their final target, many trekkers overdue their efforts and are forced afterwards to descend prematurely, sometimes packed within pressurized oxygen bags.

The self-monitoring for altitude sickness symptoms is a complex and delicate task, since part of the symptoms are of dizziness, disorientation and a decrease of the same judgment capabilities that we need to perform the tests themselves. A failure to diagnose the symptoms’ beginning leads to an inability of diagnosing further deterioration.

After the meal I continued to Lobuche, though the daily altitude gain would be slightly more than the recommended. However, I was counting on a rest day at around five thousand meters to compensate for the loss and I wanted to take advantage of the good weather.

Following a though climbing, I arrived at the Memorials (4840m), where small piles of stones commemorate each one of the persons who died attempting to climb the Everest. From there it was an easy walk to Lobuche; the place was extremely small with only four lodges. The one placed over the river was much more expensive than the others, apparently because they have placed a sign "Eco" and nice carpets. Neither one of the guesthouses allowed charging my camera’s battery. There was a small lodge catering only for porters.

I chose the highest guesthouse, called the Sagarmatha Lobuje Lodge, where a poster in Spanish claimed: