121 - Lukla to Tengboche (Three Passes Trek, Nepal)

"In the presence of eternity, the mountains are as transient as the clouds. "

-Robert Green Ingersoll, lawyer and orator (1833-1899)

I AROSE AT 4:30 A.M., packed my shit, and headed to the Kathmandu airport at 6 a.m. I landed in Lukla, the gateway to the Khumbu Region and home to Mt. Everest, before 8:00 a.m. After a quick breakfast, I set out for Namche Bazaar. Most trekkers go as far as Phakding on the first day. I reached the village by 10 a.m. with plenty of reserves, so I pushed ahead. Two months prior, I’d tested my mettle at altitude a bit and felt confident I’d be copacetic. It was a solid six hours to Namche from Lukla, and I was, admittedly, a tad pooped. The hike wasn’t strenuous, but four hours of sleep caught up. Upon arrival, I ate what felt like half my bodyweight in grub before settling on a lodge for the night.

I knew costs were elevated on Nepal's most popular track, but I wasn’t prepared for hyperinflation. Food and drink were as much as ten times higher compared to Kathmandu. What, what, whaaaaaat! I understood the general concept of supply and demand. I realized it’s a tourist destination. I realized almost everything is carried by humans (some bearing up to 100 kg) or beasts of burden (yaks, horses, yetis, etc.), but shiny new menus at every guesthouse and lodge pointed beyond traditional economic forces.

The closer you get to peak seasons (Nov–Oct; Mar–Apr), the less space for the hoards. My early March arrival ensured I beat the masses of Gortex-laden globetrotters. I left the region twelve days later, just as the cattle started making their way toward Everest en masse. As the season progresses, it’s not uncommon to find folks sleeping on the floor in the tea house dining areas. The dearth of lodging leads to “whatever-the-hell-they-want” pricing. And by “they”, I’m not referring to individual establishments. Room rates are low but all must eat, drink and be merry. Prices are fixed by agreement or some Tea House Cabal to prevent a vicious price war—great for the well-established, not so ideal for recent entrants. I’m guessing that’s the point.

It wouldn’t have bothered me had I been expecting it. I was concerned my money supply would evaporate. The accelerated pace cut the journey from an anticipated three weeks to thirteen days. Calorie intake was obscene, so my hiking exuberance came as a great relief to my wallet.

I had ants in my pants and was ready to hit the throttle, but I somehow reined myself in for an additional day of acclimatization. This was a wise decision and allowed me to explore. Namche’s mountain backdrop includes Kongde Ri, Khumbila, and Ama Dablam. I completed a loop around the nearby hills, passing through the picturesque villages of Khunde and Khumjung. I also made a stop at the Hotel Everest View (allegedly the world's highest) for the vista-less vista (overcast sky) and some fried noodles before heading back to Namche for an early dinner and a snooze.

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A funny thing happened en route to Tengboche, something difficult to describe. I think it only happens when you’re alone and somewhat unguarded. Per usual, I took a less-traveled route, which led back to the Hotel Everest View and then along a ridge that was more of a yak trail than a trekking path. I was struck by an odd awareness, a presence that gripped hold and wouldn’t let go.

It’s safe to say there’s an underlying energy or force pervading the universe and everything in it. The source. The terminus. The beginning. The end. It has a thousand different names ascribed by a thousand different peoples. We’re here because of it. God (Yahweh, Allah, Zeus, Odin, etc.), qi, dark energy, the “Force”, so on and so forth.

Can we tune in, achieve coherency with that primordial mover? I’d like to think so. I’d like to think it can happen by intention, through deep mediation or otherwise. I’d also like to think frequencies can align randomly, through sheer cosmic serendipity, as if the cosmos compels notice. I’d like to think all that.

Could walking alone on a Himalayan path under a clear blue matutinal sky increase a person's conductive potential? I’d like to think that too. As I meandered along, some thing overwhelmed me. I was no longer hiking through Khumbu. I was on a journey through memories, emotions, and experiences from my past. It was beautiful. It was debilitating. It was… overpowering. The universe might compel our attention, but that doesn’t mean we’re prepared to be a cosmic tuning fork. I was not. The tears flowed, and once the flood gates opened, there was no stemming the tide. I suppose there’s something ridiculous, farcical, and even melodramatic and histrionic about a man bent over his trekking poles on the path to Tengboche sobbing like a child.

Trite? Hackneyed? Corny? Jejune? All good adjectives. I can’t expect anyone to understand when I grapple with the significance myself, or whether the significance is significant. Moments like that bring life into stark relief. You know you’re alive. You’re present. You are, well, you. Not a drug out there could measure up. A glimpse into Buddhist nirvana? Maybe. Self-delusional existential fecal matter? A real possibility. Whatever the case, it was a gift, even if nothing more than an anomaly of brain chemistry. I rejoined the traditional path and the rest of the tourist convoy. I had a bounce in my step as if shedding a proverbial monkey or two, free to move forward.

I arrived in Tengboche just after noon, more than enough time to reach the next village. The beautiful monastery girdled by Himalayan giants makes it a place worth loitering in, so I hit the brakes. Just another perk of going it alone sans guide. I made the schedule. Besides the monastery, there’s a small stupa on a lower ridge beneath Mt. Kangtega with one hell of a view. It begged to be climbed, so I threw on a wind jacket and went for a stroll. I was not disappointed. The steep gradient, along with some recent snowfall, almost made me turn back, but I persevered and was rewarded for my ambition with my inaugural peek of Mt. Everest. Alone again, engulfed by scenery that defies human comprehension. Oh, the places you’ll go…

I was in such a stupendous mood upon descent, I began singing Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah out loud. It would have been much more gratifying if I could remember (if I ever knew) the f***ing lyrics. For those who might lose sleep otherwise, here you go: