A High Point
Trip Start
Apr 03, 2007
1
12
17
Trip End
Jul 31, 2007
Langtang National Park,
Nepal
Friday, June 8, 2007
It is our fifth evening into the trek and we are holed up at the Lovely View Guesthouse and Lodge in the tiny village of Kenzing Gompa. Incidentally, a Gompa is monastary in Tibetan and we can see it perched high up on a hill behind the village. Most of the villages we have been visiting are populated by Tibetan Buddhist tribes who wandered across the border hundreds of years ago. Since we left our starting point, the town of Dhunche, we had been pretty much just heading up, up, up every day. The weather had been gorgeous; blue skies and bright sunshine almost everyday, though it is getting cooler and cooler as we go up. We are on the very edge of monsoon season which usually starts around June. Since we left on May 27th we were thanking the weather gods for our good luck. Because it is off season, the trek is deserted. For our first three days we see no one else besides the occasional porter lugging rice and bottled water up the track (it's utterly amazing the amount of crap these guys can carry on their heads!) and a yak or two. Often we are the only guests in the entire lodge. This circumstance only contributes the feeling of complete remoteness.
At Kenzing Gompa we had reached that highest altitude that we would be staying for the trek. The air is thinner and breathing is harder. The following day we were climbing up to Kenzing Peak to view the glacier and than stay another evening at the Lovely View before making our way back down to Dhunche.
We are lounging in our room after a six hour day on the trail. It had been relatively flat that day but we were still pretty wiped out. After a nap and a cup of tea we are called down for dinner. Compared to our village trek, this trek was five-star. We got (semi) hot showers almost everynight and because it was off season we did not have to pay extra for the privilege. And instead of eating dhal bhat every night we actually got to choose off the menu. Though the selection contained no meat and very few veggies, at least we got to vary our carb selection. Instead of rice we could have noodle soup, chowmein, pancakes, porridge, bread, pasta, or my personal favourite, "cream of packet soup." We also experimented and discovered some new favourites, among them was the hearty sherpa stew and the delicious snickers momo.
At this elevation (around three thousand meters), its much colder than when we started out. As soon as the sun goes down the temperature drops. We huddle around the stove in the main dinning area as the proprietress of the lodge shoves dried yak dung patties inside. Hot tea is not only enjoyable but necessary. We play cards for a bit, have a rousing memory tournament with our guides and the other tourist in the lodge, a lone Korean girl. Given the various language barriers, memory seems like the easiest choice. At nine o'clock we head to bed.
Back in our room we put on every piece of clothing we have brought. Secretly we are both kind of glad that we did not drag thermal underwear and toques all the way to Nepal for no reason. I almost broke out my emergency blanket but thankfully the lodge lent us some yak's wool comforters that weigh like, thirty pounds each. We read for a few minutes by candle light and then go to sleep.
A Narrow ridge
Except I can't sleep. It is so black outside I can't see anything beyond my window ledge. It would be deadly silent as well, the village is completley shut down for the night, except for the wind that is screaming down from the mountain and blowing into every crack of our little wood cabin. I am warm underneath my many blankets and I am wrapped around my water bottle which has been filled with boiling hot water. Though I am completley comfortable, for the first time on my entire trip I think of the safety and comfort of my own bed. I am not scared, or even homesick, I guess I just felt very tiny, like this little, insignificant speck lost in the far reaches of the earth that could be blown away forever. Even though I can hear Amelia breathing in the bed beside me I feel very alone. Not lonely, it's not the same thing. Just like I am one of the last people on earth, small, powerless and surrounded by imposing and intimdatting natural forces that could wipe me off the face of the planet and that hardly register the blip that is my meager existence.I sleep fitfully that night, waking up often. I have been told that it is a sympton of mild alttitue sickness. I think more likely it is the alien and awe inspiring landscape in which I find myself. I look at the clock and it's a quarter to five. Time to get up soon anyways. I begin my painful morning ritual of dragging myself out of my warm bed and into the freezing cold morning. Breakfast is at five-thirty. I order tibetan bread and peanut butter and nescafe coffee with milk. When the bread arrives I am informed that there is no peanut butter, so I am offered yak butter instead.
Amelia on the Trail
Why not? I think. When in Rome.... besides, yak cheese is delicious. As I sip my coffee and yak milk I decide that the cow kicks the yaks ass in terms of dairy products. Amelia and I are in the habit of saying that everything is "yaktastic" or "yakalicious" but that is really more because we think that yaks are cute and that the word itself is just so bloody versatile. Take it from me, yak butter is definitly NOT yakalicious. We walk into the early morning light, I am rubbing my freezing cold hands like crazy. Up untill now our Sherpa guide (affectionatly nicknamed Jackie Chan) has been shouldering the bulk of our stuff while we carry our day packs. Since we are coming back to the lodge, Jackie grabs our day pack and all I have to carry is my walking stick. This turns out to be a real blessing. We set off up the mountain directly behind the guest house. We have been climbing up the entire trek but this mountain was seriously steep. As we go higher and higher I start to get a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. The village we have just left is now just a tiny speck and the drop down is so steep it hurts my calves just standing still. As I hunch over my walking stick panting for air, Amelia asks if I'm okay. "You know," I say, "I think that I might be mildly afraid of heights." She laughs and say "well everything you've said on this trek up untill now would indicate that." I think about all the suspension bridges we have crossed to get here and how I practically ran across each one. By the time I got to the other side I would comment with my usual "I did not like that." Funny, I guess I am afraid of heights and never really realized it. Bad time to realize it. The track just keeps going up and I try not to look down. I remind myself that hundreds of tourists do this hike every year. And not one fatality. Not one that you know of, thinks the evil side of my brain. As the sun pokes over the mountain, the temperature skyrockets and the sweat drips of my chin and nose. Every few feet I have to pause and suck back air which makes my throat and chest burn. At this altitude the particlesof oxygen in the atmosphere are 57% of what they are at sea level. I don't know what is making me more queasy, the lack of oxygen, or pure, unadulterated fear. We finally reach what I think is the top, but my relief is short-lived. Instead I find myself standing on a narrow ridge; the track about two feet across. Coming up I was scared because there was always a sheer drop to one side. But at least I could put my hand on the other side and touch the side of the mountain. On the ridge there is a sheer bloody drop on both sides and the wind is blowing like a banshee. Psychologists say that a phobia is an irrational fear of something. But seriously, is it so freaking irrational to be worried about plummeting to your death several thousand feet up the side of a mountain? I mean it doesn't seem too plausible to just spontaneously fall off, but what if I tripped, lose my footing? Get vertigo? Oh my god, oh my god. Now you might not think it's so scary.
Buddhist Chortens
Maybe you think I'm just a big baby. But I can admit my fears. I think I know my own limitations pretty well. I would never go bungy jumping or sky-diving. I just don't like being terrified. "So", I wondered to myself, "If you're so smart how the hell did you find yourself up the side of this bloody freaking rock?" The answer was simply due to my usual, and sometimes overly passive style. I let Amelia do all the planning, figuring I was in for whatever. I like to think of myself as a go-with-the-flow type of chick. So as a result I had no idea how high we were climbing. And even if I did I doubt I would have known how it was going to make me feel. We stopped for a rest on the ridge. I sat down next to a big a rock and wrapped my arms around it; hanging on for dear life. Our little sherpa bounded along the edge like a mountain goat and perched on a rock that was overhanging the edge of the cliff. My stomach did a sommersault and I wiped sweat from my brow. Then Amelia climbs onto another dangerously steep edge and chirps "Can you take a picture of me? It's on landscape setting though so you have to keep it really still." I make a supreme effort to stop my hands from shaking but fail. As we get up to go I debate just waiting for them where I was. I mean I had pretty nice views from where I was and the trail up ahead was as steep as it was narrow. I am loathe to admit this but looking up that trail made me feel like peeing my pants. You're probably laughing but I'm serious. I haven't felt like that in longer than I can remember...As if reading my mind, our guide said "We go up one way, come down another." Shit. "Is the way down less steep?" I ask. Jackie laughs and says "yes" which means absolutly nothing. He speaks very little english and answers yes to every question.
"Mathi, mathi" yells the guide and up indeed we go. Finally, after what seems like an eternity but is more like about two hours, we reach the summit. I have never felt so relieved in my entire life. I literallly feel as though I am standing on top of the world. Not only are the views totally out of this world, but I feel pretty proud of myself for not giving up. I did it! I conquered my own mini Mt.
Coming down
Everest. We spend about an hour on the summit and I actually relax. The top is flat so I don't feel like I am constantly teetering on the edge of oblivion, and the top of the mountain face overhangs the cliff side so I can't actually see the bottom. If I do somehow fall off here, I should stop after about thirty feet instead of like, a thousand. So how high were we? After checking on the map, we learned that Kenzing peak is 4,450 meters above sea level, or about 15,000 feet. From the village we had climbed 1,500 near vertical meters. I was pretty astonished. Sure its not like insane or anything, but not bad for someone with an irrational phobia. Everest base camp is located at around 17,000 feet so we were pretty close to that. Who woulda thunk it?This may sound cheesy to some, and over the top to others, but standing on top of that mountain gave me a sensation of being close to God. I am not a religious person, obviously everyone knows this. But I have always felt really inspired by nature; it's beauty and it's power. I think it's the closest manifestation of the power of God, or Mother Nature, or what ever you want to call it, that I have ever felt. I can throw around words like awe-inspiring but the word does not approximate the feeling. Words never do. Suffice it to say, that the experience was something I will never forget, and a high point not only in my trek but also in the experiences that add up to the sum total that I call My Life So Far.
As we left to go down, my fear returned. You don't have to look down going up, but you do have to look down to go down. As we got ready to leave, Amelia shot me a sympathetic look and said "Do you want to go in the middle?" I nodded pathetically feeling somewhat safer having someone both in front of me and behind me. As we walk the tight-rope that is the ridge coming down I stay glued to our sherpa, walking in exactly his footstepsand praying that he can somehow grab me if I tumble over the edge. Probably wishful thinking considering I had at least 40 pounds on the dude. But they are strong little bastards.....
Once we got off the ridge I calmed down, and my breathing returned to a semblance of normality. Coming down I could really see just how high we went. By the bottom I was looking at the base of the mountains across the valley; at the top their peaks were at eye level. Back at the Lovely View we jubilantly celebrate our victory with over-priced beers. I can't tell you how great I felt! It really was an accomplishment for me, considering I was so freaked out! Would I do it again? With my two feet firmly planted on the ground I can unequivocally say yes. Get me back up on a mountainside and I can't rightly say. But I like to think that I would. Regardless, what a great memeory.
First Day at Kenzing
I will never forget the feeling I had standing up there! 
