Orsho

"He had gone trekking among their lower reaches, but had never attempted to climb them to the summit: it seemed to him a sacrilege" - The Mountain is Young, Han Suyin.

Much easier day today, downhill from Lobuche to Orsho. Beautiful quiet campsite by the river, and we're all more relaxed.

I feel as if I'm headed for home, now. And yet I could keep walking. I have a much better sense right now of what it means to be ME than I have had in years. Not sure where I'm going to go with that, but I can only think it's a good thing.

Base Camp

This morning, Base Camp. It was very emotional. Today more than ever I was thinking that Dad should be here.

The walk from Gorak Shep isn't a difficult walk, there's a bit of uphill but it's mostly flat. "Nepali flat", Dilli says, and laughs - he means there's flat bits but there's also ups and downs. There is only one trail at this point, so all the traffic, yaks, climbers, trekkers, some Japanese people in puffy purple down jackets and running shoes, everyone's on the same track. Two young girls are driving six or seven medium-sized yaks in front of us, Razkumar and I have gotten ahead of the rest of our group. We pass the two girls sitting on a rock, and we catch up with the yaks. The yaks walk for a bit and then they stop. The trail is too narrow for us to pass the yaks, so Raz picks up a rock and throws it at the back one. It bleats a bit and starts to scamper, the others move too. We walk for about a quarter of a mile with the yaks, Raz throwing rocks and making "haaa" noises. He turns to me and says, "Yak driver." When the girls catch up again, they move in behind the yaks and shout at them, but they don't say anything to us. The yaks are carrying provisions for Base Camp, mostly instant noodles.

We didn't go all the way down to the tent camp at Base Camp. We took pictures and sat around for a bit enjoying the 'being there' and then we headed back. Some of the group started talking about wanting to have a quick route back to Kathmandu, they'd seen what they came for, but I am still liking the walking and liking the fact that we still have almost a week of walking to get back.

We're back in Lobuche this evening.

Gorak Shep

Hard walking, today. The ground is very rocky, and the air is paper-thin. You breathe it in and it doesn't do anything. We got to Gorak Shep at lunch time, and my headache from yesterday had returned. I wanted to go up Kala Pattar, though, to see the views of Everest, so I lay down for a while in my tent, hoping the headache would go away.

It did. After lunch, those of us who felt able (and not everyone did) started to climb up Kala Pattar. It's a big black lump, in fact I think the name means 'black rock', and we were headed for the top.

I've read about climbing at altitude, and how you take a few steps and then take a few breaths, but I wasn't ready for the reality - four steps, six or seven breaths, four steps - at first, then later on it was one step at a time, like moving through water. I even went into a sort of dream state, at one point, and found myself being annoyed that the girl behind me was crying. Her husband was encouraging her, but my brain was saying, "Why is she whining in my dream?" Can't sustain a thought, though, really, for a while I was counting breaths and steps and thinking, I'm walking, but then it seemed I was just thinking, "I am. I am."

The views from the top were spectacular. Everest is so black, inbetween the whitenesses of Nuptse and Lhotse. You can't really see it from the valley, because Nuptse and Lhotse are in the way, you have to climb up the other side of the valley, hence our little sortie.

Climbing Kala Pattar, I think, was the hardest three hours of my life so far. And that's saying a lot, after having given birth three times, But I did it, and I've got the pictures to prove it.

Lobuche

My head hurts this evening, a bit. Lying down helps, though, and apparently altitude sickness gets worse when you lie down. So I guess just a headache.

We are traveling through hill farm country. There are yaks and the occasional farmer, planting potatoes, I think.

I'm reading a beautiful book, that I bought in Kathmandu - The Mountain is Young, by Han Suyin. It's set in Kathmandu in the fifties, and I'm enjoying it. When I bought it, in a tiny bookstore in Kathmandu, the owner said to me, "Very good book." It's sort of strange, the characters are flamboyantly dramatic and absurd, but the story is very simple.

Easter Monday - Pangboche

My right hand is a bit stiff. I walk. Most of the morning I am feeling weak, not capable. We have covered a lot of ground. One step at a time. There is less traffic now, and we move out of the trees after lunch. Basu is leading. He sings a never-ending song, in front of me. He points out another trail, says, "That's the Everest circuit". I say, "Next time." He turns to look at me and says, "Really, next time?" "Yes", I say.

Last night it was very dark and I felt some, I think, altitude-induced confusion. I hope tonight will be better.

I'm looking forward to my dinner. I am a stomach with legs. I think the food is awesome, lots of vegetables and rice, pasta, potatoes - I especially like all the different 'pizza' they produce, with tuna on it, yak cheese, spinach. It's oatmeal for breakfast every morning, which makes the others groan but that's what I eat at home every morning anyway. In some ways I think I'm not feeling anywhere near as deprived and uncomfortable as the others - I'm used to there being limited water, no fast food, no coffee shops. I'm accustomed to cold and sleeping out, I don't need poles to walk because I'm not finding the walking difficult. In fact, with little stores selling chocolate and candies along the trail, stops at tea houses serving tea, someone cooking for me, I'm perfectly content.

I'm glad I waited until now to come here. I am a grownup and my epiphanies are natural - not forced. If I had come when I was reading about Buddhism, I think it would have interfered.

"I feel I stepped out of the wilderness, all squint-eyed and confused, but even babies raised by wolves they know exactly when they've been used."

Tengboche

Duncan is very ill. He has been helicoptered out. We congratulate our leader on his care and concern - untreated altitude sickness can be fatal. We feel, what do we feel? Sorry for Duncan, glad it's not us.

We visit the monastery, briefly. Everyone has to take their shoes off, and when we get inside it smells awfully like sweaty feet - all the hikers having walked on the same carpet we are treading on. The monks need some Febreze...

Some of the others are still feeling crook, as they put it, being Australians, to varying degrees, and some are starting to feel better. Will, Lloyd and I are at the front today mostly. I feel pretty good, overall, but I've been having strange dreams.

We walked a long time today. I begin to forget that I'm walking. My brain is starting to think of the future - what do I want to do? The answers are simple. Walk, pray, work. My head is clearing. I'm remembering what it is like to be ME, just me. What I can do. At the moment, I can do this. Tomorrow? Who knows. I'm not frightened. I trained so hard and tried to imagine what it would be like to do the trek, but this is so far beyond my wildest dreams.

I am not alone, somehow, but I don't know how to explain it. Someone keeps talking to me in the night, last night whoever it is told me to put my fleece pants back on again, woke me up to tell me. So I did.

The way up to Tengboche is steep. Steep and hot. But not nearly as busy as the road to Namche.

I am lying in my tent. I can smell the kitchen staff cooking dinner, frying potatoes. The yaks in the next field are ringing their bells. I can hear Vishnu, I think, talking softly in Nepali, over by the lodge we are camping next to. The river, down in the gorge, is moving past. It starts to get dark. The mountains are shrouded in cloud. I hope for a good view tomorrow.

In the last half hour of the trek, downhill from the monastery to Deboche where we are camped, I was walking with Razkumar and Nawan, and we had gotten ahead of everyone else. They were walking fast and talking in Nepali, and I just kept up. It felt good that they were ignoring me. I don't want to be treated like a tourist...