The pictures are getting sparser. I have very few of Lobuche. It’s probably the combination of hurt back, chest cold, and being way more tired than a person would ever want to be. That doesn’t take away from the scenery.

We kept walking up the Khumbu valley and reached Lobuche. I climbed a hill behind the tea house trying to get a cell signal but failed. The view was good, though. I don’t remember anything about the place. Hopefully someone else will have some more pictures and more memories.

I thought my trip was over this morning. Packing my duffle in the room, I simply turned and felt something seize in my back. Not to belabor the story, I sat down for about ten minutes, tried to relax, took a couple of alleves, and shuffled into breakfast. someone helped me on with my pack, I started hiking because there was nothing else to do, and I hoped for the best. Over the course of the day it would act up occasionally but generally got a little better. Dodged a bullet.

We crossed Thukla pass, a windy, desolate place where we saw all the memorials (stone chortens) to climbers who had died in tihe mountains. There were hundreds of them. It was sobering.  There were a couple of particularly large ones, including the one for Scott Fischer.

Thukla Pass

Chortens along the ridge line to fallen climbers

We had two choices today…take a harder hike or an easier one. I took the harder one because it gave more insurance against altitude sickness. But no guarantees.

We walked a mile or so up the trail then turned right, crossed the river, and headed straight up a slope that was literally about 45 degrees. The slope was covered with a reddish brown low-growing bush that smelled like incense or perfume. It turned out that’s what they make one kind of incense from. It was soothing. Like Dorothy and her friends walking through the field of poppies on the way to the Emerald City except that it didn’t make us fall asleep.

A couple of thousand vertical feet later were were on a plateau area behind our friend, Ama Dablam. There were amazing turquoise lakes at the base of the mountain. We tried to get some air for the camera but couldn’t get the timing right!

Back at the tea house, we compare notes on our different hikes.

Walking to Dingboche (14,800′) took us up the valley into the arms of Ama Dablam. The trails were getting dustier, the air colder and dryer, and it was more and more important to wear our buffs over mouth and nose to diminish the ‘Khumbu cough’ we were all destined to get anyway.

Dingboche had an internet cafe and a bakery, but I opted for neither. I went for the shower and trying to get a little rest as it was not happening at night. Abby, my angel of the day, brought me an awesome-looking cinnamon roll that took me an hour to eat, bite by bite, forcing it down. You know the altitude is setting in if a pastry makes you nauseous.

As darkness and cold set in, they fired up the yak-dung stove which put clouds of thick smoke into the common room. Watery eyes and coughing spells. They managed to work out the venting and improve things a little after awhile.

On the spring EBC trek, Deana took the group to visit a Buddhist nunnery on the way out of Tengboche. They learned about how much the nuns’ lives would be improved by having a gas stove; it would mean they wouldn’t have to spend hours a day finding and chopping firewood and they could spend that time in prayer and learning.

The group donated enough money for the stove, and we stopped by to see it. The nuns were ecstatic about the change it made in their lives. Small things, big results.

We arrived in late afternoon after the clouds and fog had rolled in. In fact it was the first day we had seen anything other than good weather. At 12,687′ it is the site of a significant monastery and the largest gompa (look it up) in the Khumbu region. We sat in a service for awhile. The colors, chanting, and incense were intoxicating and were more than enough, combined with our being so far from home, to blot out everything else in the world.

From the temple area, Deana took us to a small room to meet the Lama and receive a blessing for our journey. Those with prayer flags also had them blessed. We received prayer scarfs, a thin red cord, and a warm smile. In the same room was a man suffering from what Deana thought was food poisoning. He was moaning like he was dying and had been brought for a blessing as well. On the chance he was suffering from something contagious, we were not thrilled to be spending 30 minutes in the same small spaces with him.

We found our tea house rooms to be basic…two beds. Welcome to the outdoor long drop toilet. Then, we went over to the bakery for some apple strudel, apple cake, and some other apple things along with cups of tea. Colder, higher altitude, worse weather, Buddhist monks,,,all combining to give the feel that we weren’t in Kansas anymore.

Did not really sleep. This was the beginning of the same story that would go on for the next week. I just don’t sleep well at altitude. The body will start running on adrenaline.

The morning did bring a nice turn in the weather…crystal blue sky and views of mountains we suspected were there but hadn’t yet seen. Our friend Ama Dablam was there to watch over us.

The “mother’s necklace” with arms open.

Clear skies in the morning, moon over Namche, a perfect day to set out to Tengboche. Also Rachel’s and my 28th anniversary. I called early in the morning my time, late in the (previous) day her time. Good to talk to home. 

We went downhill through a strange canopied forest of overgrown shrubs, and stopped for a taste of yak cheese. Not memorable.

Encountered our first real yaks on the trail soon after. Note the difference in the horns compared to the dzokios. Yaks are also shaggier (is that a word?) and more powerfully built.

morning routine, oxygen saturation and pulse. and chris with an attitude.

the big, flowery thermos is what they keep boiled water in. it’s what we drink.

I supposed they could be related. I just didn’t want a separate post for each.

Dung is valuable here. It is collected, dried, and used for fuel. It’s really only slightly processed grass after all. It’s what heated our tea houses. Wood is scarce and expensive. Dung patties drying in the sun were photogenic. In fact we had a dung photography contest which, in the end, only Tara and I contributed entries. More on that later.

Not many wildflowers at the altitude and season. In the spring the hills are covered with rhododendron blooms. But now there are only a few sources of color