Himalayan Giants - The Khumbu
alright, the full trip report is written... wow, it is really long. props to those who can stay with it for so long... 9k words! lol
The Khumbu
The Khumbu
This is supposed to be “easy” trekking. Really, how hard can this actually be, walking only a few kilometers a day, stopping for tea every couple of hours, sleeping in proper beds, relaxing by night in heated dining rooms, and having every meal prepared by someone who isn't me? This is like backpacking, but without any work! No food to carry, no sleeping pad, no shelter, and little else besides some clothes to keep us warm and a lofty sleeping bag. And all this, among some of the most amazing scenery on earth. This is trekking I can handle. It's almost too good to be true!
Maybe because it is. Or at least, it was for me.
For the last two months, I've been wandering the Himalayas, chasing sunrises and sunsets, hoping to be inspired by fleeting views of the biggest peaks on earth. I sweated uncontrollably those early days, walking through the hot and humid middle hills, only to gasp for air a week later in the arid alpine valleys. I shuffled across breathless passes battered by wind and snow, sliding my feet along at a speed of slow that makes a glacier's progress seem inspiring. I celebrated in style atop the highest point of my life with a ridiculously expensive Snickers bar, only to retreat 90 minutes where the thicker air would mean that damned headache would actually disappear.
I pounded all the dahl bat a man could ever stand to eat, and then refilled it one more time, only to lose it all to the worst gastrointestinal bugs ever imagined. Twice.
I spent fitful nights trying to sleep, only to be roused time and time again by the sounds of a brother battling the all-too common Khumbu Cough. And after a blizzard sent us out of the Gokyo Valley, we spent 3 days waiting for planes in Lukla where I was convinced I had become immortal, because I'd swear to the Flying Spaghetti Monster that we'd been there forever.
And perhaps the moment that hurts the most – the cloudless evening at Everest base camp, and the sunset I was so keen on photographing. The one where the moon would rise as the sun would set, and the alpenglow would light up Everest, Lhotse, and Nuptse. It should have been perfect. I should have had my camera on a tripod, just waiting for the perfect moment to capture one of the world's most classic views.
At least, that's how I imagined it.
But instead, I lied frozen in my plywood room, curled into the fetal position beneath the insulation of my sleeping bag, grimacing in pain as my intestines cramped uncontrollably. I tried in vain to squint through the window at the scene I knew was unfolding. But I also knew it would only make my disappointment more intense. Slowly, the condensation on the window pane solidified to ice, a nearly full moon rose unobstructed over the towering east face of Nuptse, and the light fully faded, along with the photo I came all this way to make. An opportunity lost.
Yet somehow, we always managed to laugh it all off (often while gasping for air). We were a strange crew indeed; Brandon and I, the sarcastic American Brothers. Phil the Brit, who spared no opportunity to take the piss out of anyone so fortunate as to share a dining room table with him. And the Isra-Aliens, Dana, Nadav, Gilad and Yoav, who were quite possibly the finest Yanef players in the Khumbu. All of us at obviously different stages on the path of life, but all of us brought here by a common theme; the seemingly gravitational pull of experiencing Mt. Everest.
And that's part of what makes the Khumbu so interesting. It's one part mountains, one part local customs and culture, and when it's peak season for trekkers, it's one giant part international tourist. As we crossed into Sagarmatha National Park in Monjo, a hand written sign behind the desk tallied the trekkers for the month prior. Nearly 10,000 people.
Ten. Thousand. People. October 2010 had been the busiest month in the history of the park. Ever. That's the equivalent of 300 people a day, on average. Sometimes it was 800. We were astonished.
Yet, from here, it only takes a few kilometers to realize why it is so. Within a few hours, we knew we'd have our first views of the biggest mountain on earth.
My brother and I sweated our way up the way-too-demanding-to-only-be-the-second-day climb into Namche Bazaar, constantly wondering where this place really was. The landscape just didn't seem capable of holding such a large village. It was like a super-sized game of hide and seek, and there was multiple times we figured we had to be close, but no town in sight! Finally, we rounded the final small corner and caught a rather anti-climatic view of the town, the most famous Sherpa village in all the Khumbu.
This place hardly strikes me as a village. This is nearly a city! The small dirt roads are packed with all sorts of climbing and trekking shops, crowding out the dozens of multi-level hotels, all designed to handle the massive crowds of trekkers, guides, porters, and yak trains. The place even had an IME, stocked with all the best new Patagonia clothes, not to mention the official Mountain Hardwear shop, and the seemingly countless other stores selling North Fake and all other imaginable type of knocked-off outerwear.
We quickly grabbed a veggie burger (yes, you read right...) at the bakery, and randomly picked one of the many stencil-stamped lodges and settled in. The streets were chaotic, buzzing with souvenir hunters, shop owners, hard-core mountaineers, and local traders on their way to region's biggest market. The lodges all looked new, the menus packed with dozens of interpretations of popular western foods, and every corner had an internet cafe. Money seems to be pouring into this place.
As fast as the afternoon clouds effortlessly float up the Dudh Kosi valley, a realization swept through my head. Of all the places in Nepal I've seen, I think this may be the place that has benefited the most by tourism. Or is crippled?
One can't help but wonder. But as the eyes scan a seemingly infinite landscape of mountains, each twice as tall as anything I can reasonably call home, the mind is quick to find a different sense of wonder. There's clearly a few reasons this place isn't a secret.
Namche sits at around 3400 meters, pretty close to treeline. And once the trees start to thin, and you've climbed above the steep gorges of the middle hills, it's simply one jaw-dropping view after another. And it's definitely not just because of Everest. From here, it's hardly inspiring at all. Some go so far as to call Everest the fat ugly man in a room full of beautiful women. Lhotse, Taboche, Arakam Tse, Thamserku, they are all awesome, and worthy of every clich
