JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi, page 12
Curtis nodded. So did Chris.
“Remember the scene when they are all lying in a circle and Antonio Banderas says, ‘I am not a warrior…’”
Curtis interrupted me. “…And the little guy, the tough Viking, says ‘But soon you will be…! Hah! Yeah, I get it.”
“I think very soon she will be. Yes.” We settled into our thoughts, then and watched the sun set over the valley roof. It would be long time before it grew seriously dark.. Evenings last long in the high country.
“Is Bim seeing to supper?” I asked.
“He’s talking to the innkeeper,” said a voice from behind me, Celine.
“How’s your sister?” I asked.
“She isn’t happy with the room. She says it smells.”
I laughed. “If it’s anything like my room, it does.”
“In Muslim countries it isn’t usually like this.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation this may be the nicest room you stay in for a while. If we need to use tents we will, and there are some nice, clean inns along the way, always primitive, though. There may be problems and she will just need to adjust. I remember the last time we were traveling behind two large groups and twice ended up sleeping in a stall for yaks and once out in a rock field.” I held my hands up and shrugged.
“She will adjust. She just likes to be the center of attention. She is my father’s favorite and the youngest and has been pampered her whole life.”
At the word, ‘pampered’ Chris sat up and I held my hand up to stop what I knew would be next. Curtis started to laugh, and Celine looked concerned.
“I’m sorry, Celine. I’ve been rude. Can I get you something to drink? A coke? A beer?”
Curtis said, “I don’t think Muslims drink, Sensei.”
Chris said, “She drinks.”
Celine blushed and I realized that much, much more had been going on without me than I had imagined. “Celine..?” I pointed to the stall.
“I’ll have a beer,” she said.
Chris got up and waved a hand at us and went over to the stall. He brought back four more. Esra came walking over to us then and we settled down to storytelling and laughter and the effects of the beer took away some of the bruising we had suffered at the hands of our driver. We relaxed as the evening grew dark.
***
I awoke the next morning to a knock on the door and Bim entered with a bowl of steaming water. A second bowl was brought to Chris who had shared my room. I dug into my kit and found my camp towel, an 18X24 inch microfiber cloth that could be wrung nearly dry and would shed any remaining moisture while tied to the outside of my duffle over the course of the day. They can be purchased at any outfitting store. I soaked the towel and began my daily bath. Chris watched me out of the corner of his eye and got the idea. He had a small cotton dish towel. We ignored each other as we went through our morning ritual and when finished I told him to pack everything carefully and put his duffle outside the door and meet me downstairs for breakfast. I placed my duffle next to the door and checked the room one last time wondering what I should do with my mandolinden and decided to take it with me to breakfast.
While we were eating Bim would get the porters to pick up our gear and then it would be weighed and the porters would decide who would carry what and it would be divided and tied into the shape they wanted for carrying. I went outside when I had eaten and saw Bim with a number of other Nepali men. They looked concerned.
“Good morning, Sahib.” (Author’s note: Sahib can vary in its meaning, but usually means anything from proprietor, to friend, or, someone who you consider to be worthy of respect or friendship)
“Namaste, Bim.” I put my hands into the prayer position and turned to the others. “Namaste,” I said. They returned the salute and I looked at Bim with a questioning tilt to my head. “Is everything all right?”
Bim looked across the street and I saw Celine and Esra looking at the children walking to their school. “One bag is too heavy,” he said.
I knew which one, of course. “By how much?”
“Ten kilos.”
“Good grief!” I said. “Celine!”
She looked up and smiled ruefully and came over. She pointed to her sister’s bag. “Too much weight?”
“You know it is. I was very specific about weight. I will not have a porter carry more than sixty pounds. I told you that.”
“I told her, but she says it is not heavy.”
“Not hers alone, but the porter carries two duffels, not one,” I said. “Celine, listen to me. I was very specific. Go get her and tell her that she has to take out absolutely everything unimportant and cannot take more than thirty pounds. There is a scale, right there. If she hurries we can send her belongings back to the Kathmandu Guest House with our driver, but once he is gone, she can kiss anything left goodbye.” I started away, then turned back around. “And you stay with her. Don’t let her leave her down coat or her sleeping bag. Make sure she has what she needs but you have to make her get rid of her make-up and most of her pretty clothes and toys.” I left and went back inside to see what was keeping the guys.
They were sitting at the table laughing when I marched up the stairs. “You knew?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me? Curtis, we shouldn’t have to be doing this right now.” He looked out the window at Esra standing over her belongings and making two piles and arguing with Celine.
“I told her, Sensei. So did Chris and we just got tired of telling her. I figured she had weaned it all out by now, but as soon as I saw the porter stumbling sideways with their bags I knew she hadn’t. I would have if I had known for sure.”
I motioned for him to follow me outside. He came and we walked down the steps and around the side of the building and into the manager’s office. It was empty.
“Curtis, you are the group leader if something should happen to me,” I said.
He smiled. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Sensei”
“Please don’t patronize me. I am not doing this because I think something is going to happen. I’m doing this because you always do it. Every team has a back-up leader.” I handed him an envelope. “Put this in your day bag and don’t let it out of your sight. It has all the emergency numbers, a back-up stash of Nepali money, our itinerary, the names of inns and other important information. It also has photocopies of all our passports, our flight information and photocopies of our returning airline tickets.” I handed it to him.
“Oh. Wow, you’re serious.” He picked the envelope up off my outstretched hand. “Okay, Sensei. I see. No problem.”
I turned around and went back to the front of the lodge wondering if we were ever going to start mountain climbing.
When everyone was finally outside and Esra had quit whining and wailing I had Bim introduce our team. He had each porter come forth and say his name and then our Sherpa guides, Nawang Sherpa and Hadim Sherpa. I turned to the group and explained how things would be.
“Okay. From now on we are a team. We have four porters and Cook. He has two kitchen boys. You’ve met them. Each morning our guides will bring you hot water and tea. That is their job. I will be served by Bim because he is Sirdar and the head of his people. Once you are finished with your business you will pack your kit and place it either outside your room or your tent. The porters will gather the belongings and leave immediately. We will eat breakfast and then Bim will either leave the group and go ahead to make arrangements for us for lunch, dinner, and lodging, or he will send one of the other Sherpas to do this. When we leave, either Bim or the remaining Sherpa will lead us out onto the trail and then all of us will follow. The remaining Sherpa will bring up the rear so there is no chance of anyone ever being left behind. Either Hadim or Nawang will do this. Bim will either be in the lead or taking care of arrangements. Get to know these guys, and be respectful. They all started out as porters and have worked their way up to this position. It is entirely possible that Nawang and Hadim are Sirdars in their own right. It is a great honor here to lead an expedition and these are respected men so please treat them accordingly.
“Cook will carry a few items and will be responsible for arranging either our meals in inns or he will purchase local produce and vittles along the way and prepare meals for us. The fourth porter carries his kitchen along with three lightweight tents, a latrine tent and some emergency rations. He never carries anything of ours. He belongs to Cook and Bim.” I looked around. “Now how about a nice picture with all of us looking the best we will for the next month?”
We got into a tight group and Bim snapped pictures with all the cameras that had appeared with this suggestion. I realized that another group was forming in front of the inn. That was where the scale was. It was time to go. We needed to have some separation between trekking groups. I couldn’t understand what language they were speaking, but they looked northern European. Who knows, maybe Swiss? Scandinavian? Somewhere like that. Maybe from Finland? I motioned for everyone to follow along and we were off. Bim walked up to me and took my mandolinden off my shoulder and slung it over his by the long strap of the black cordura case. I didn’t argue with him. He wouldn’t hear of me carrying this. He then stepped in front of me and walked off down the cobblestone road that led east out of Jiri and we followed.
I walked behind Bim for about half an hour and then Christian was beside me chattering away like a puppy growling over a stuffed toy. I realized that Chris and Curtis were right behind me, so I stepped off the cobblestones and bent down to tie my shoe. They followed Bim and I knew that the natural order of this walk had just been established. Celine and Esra were a hundred yards back and Nawang dawdled behind them. Hadim had left while we were taking pictures. He was long gone. It was painful for the Nepali Sherpas bringing up the rear. They walk so much more effortlessly than any Westerner and so much lighter and quicker that to be following the slowest trekker in the pack must make them want to break into a dead run once in a while. I guess that is why they rotated this task.
After another hour I saw Bim and the guys standing on the road near a clay trail that climbed vertically up the side of the hill. As I came up I heard Curtis saying that he thought the road would be worse than it had been. I pulled my water bottle out and took a good long drink because I knew what was coming next. The rest of the team arrived and then Bim started climbing up the clay trail using a hand-over-hand climb while carefully finding footing on the sharp rock and clay. He went up forty or fifty feet and then turned and beckoned us to follow.
Chris turned to Nawang and said, “What’s up there?”
Nawang pointed and said, “Trail…”
“Oh, I guess we have to detour up to get to the next trail,” he said to Celine. The girls nodded and up they went chattering away in Turkish. Chris looked momentarily uncertain as he stepped up and into the clay and rock strewn path. He stumbled and then grabbed a branch for a hand hold.
“Get out your hiking poles,” I said. I showed him how I used mine and then he began to work his way up the steep, treacherous trail. I’d waited until last because I figured with my knees it would be a while before I could manage to stay in front of anyone. And I had walked this trail before. We weren’t going up to find the trail. This was the trail. It would be like this for the next 120 miles and I didn’t want anyone to figure that out until they couldn’t go back.
We climbed steadily for two hours and then took a break in front of a mani (prayer) wall that stood overlooking an immense valley of terraced fields. Marigolds were everywhere and they lit up the valley like a golden necklace that had shattered and spread its broken beads in an explosion of color. Everyone was tired and I could see the questioning look in a couple eyes, but no one was complaining about the extreme vertical nature of this trail, yet. I looked at my climbing poles and opened them to a pre-adjusted length. Right pole longer than left going up, the opposite coming down. Christian watched me and I saw daylight dawning, but he didn’t say anything, he just fell-in behind Bim as he stood and started up again.
We climbed steadily for three more hours and suddenly the trail fell away and we were standing at the top of a wide pass going over the crest of the hill. A small village, perhaps five or six huts stood here and there was a vendor, the first of many, waiting and hoping for some trekkers to come by and purchase Snickers bars and Coca Cola. I smiled and started humming the old Leonard Cohen song, Suzanne. We fell onto the hard earth beside the trail and I pulled off my shoes and let the sun and mid-day breeze cool my feet.
Bim walked away and came back a few moments later to tell me that there would be a lunch in a short while. We could rest and relax. I asked Celine if she would like a coke. When she said yes I gave her some money and asked if she would mind getting them for us. She smiled and jumped up and fairly danced down the trail to the vendor’s shack. Even the Nepali men admired her and though they outwardly considered her bare legs outrageous, they would be thinking of her later and laughing amongst themselves and remembering her.
When she reached the shack she was suddenly surrounded by children who stared at her so intently that I became concerned. I stood slowly and walked over to the trader and watched as Celine looked from one child to the next and how they stared at her in complete fascination. I suddenly got it! “It’s your earrings,” I said to her.
“Oh,” she smiled at me. She nodded and then bent low so the little girls could get a closer look. They were completely enthralled by the cheap, dangling glass beads of her earrings, and I was once again reminded how poor most of these people were. They literally had nothing and sometimes something that an ignorant trekker casually bundled up and threw to the side of the path would become something quite precious to one of these hard working natives. On my first trip here the guide asked if at the end of our trek we would be willing to hand our old dirty towels to the porters. They acted as if they had received cashmere coats when we did as he asked. I was so ashamed of my wealth that I nearly cried. They were so grateful and happy to receive something that we would have just thrown away, it was humbling.
One of the little boys reached out and wanted to touch the jewelry, but I warned her that an earring wrenched out of her ear might cause her to be more careful and she patted him on his head and stood up. Celine is a big, handsome woman and stood much taller than most of the Nepali people, both men and women. We got our cokes and I bought two Mars Bars and put them in my pack. I would need them, I knew, later. They, like the cokes, were from the Chinese side of the border and came over on pack trains that were run by Tibetan silver miners who smuggled low grade silver and semi-precious stones into Nepal on the old trade route through the mountains. These smugglers were a fierce looking bunch with ragged scars running down their cheeks and filthy yak skin vests and hats. We would eventually run into one of the frequent pack trains they walked beside and when they passed I would make sure that everyone got well out of their way.
Christian came over and squatted beside me and said, “That wasn’t so bad. Will it all be pretty much like that?”
“Sure,” I said. “Except we’ll be going downhill next.” I pointed to the trail and he saw that it did, indeed, run over the side of the mountain and begin descending into the next valley. “The way it is, here,” I began, “is that everything moves from west to east. You understand that in the northern hemisphere most rivers run from north to south unless they are in a mountain flood plain or in a tropical tidal pull? Okay, well we are going to move east over each mountain pass and then descend to the bottom of the valley. There we will cross a bridge over a river and do it again. Up and down, up and down until we reach the Dudh Kosi… the Milk River, and then we turn north and follow it until we reach the Solo-Khumbu, the Everest region where the rivers flow from the giant glaciers that surround and separate these mountains. The Dudh Kosi is fed by all these streams that pour off these glaciers and so we have to climb up to the crest of the glacier, cross the stream and then go back down to the river, follow it along for a while and then back up and down again. We do this for about two weeks until we get to Namche Bazaar. I’ve been over all this with you and the map.”
“Well, it doesn’t look anything like it did on the map. I can’t believe how high we climbed today.”
“Christian, we’re only about 8,000 feet. We have to go back down to the Yelong Khola, that means river, at about 5,800 or 5,900 feet and cross that and the Khimti Khola… wait until you see the swinging suspension bridges… and then we get to climb again.”
“How high?”
“Around 7,500 feet in altitude, and it is really brutal. We’ll be at it in the morning after a good night’s sleep and it will be okay. We’ll have lunch at a small lodge at Sangabanda and go on over to Bhandar after lunch. The pass tomorrow will be almost 9,000 feet, so it will be a lot higher than today. But tomorrow you will be in better shape and more accustomed to it, so it will actually be easier.
“How many days will it take to get there?” he asked.
I smiled and looked at him. Then I made an elaborate show of looking at my watch. I looked at him again. “You might want to sit down and rest a while,” I said.
***
Cook served lunch. It was stewed greens of some type with bit of rice and lentil beans. I waited until everyone had been served and taken plenty and then filled my plate. I‘ve been here before. The last time I lost thirty pounds in thirty days and was hungry all the time. I just could not eat enough of the local foods to satisfy the calories I was burning. I squirreled away Snickers and Mars Bars for emergencies. I was aware that the Italian and French expeditions brought mountains of food with them, cooks and bakers and portable ovens and what have you. Every meal has wine and several courses and they pay hugely for this monstrous extravagance. We would eat local foods that were bought by Cook along the way unless some emergency caused us to dip into our small stash of freeze dried emergency rations. We also carried a half dozen MRE’s in case we found ourselves unable to cook. This was unlikely as we had good lodges well spaced along the way and were in no particular hurry to get anywhere fast.
