Hira’s brother met me at the airport and a car took me to the International Guest House on the outskirts of Thamel.  The hotel was not too bad but its position in relation to its surrounding was a bit of a let down. It was perfectly adequate for me but not really suitable for a group.  Like so many hotels in Kathmandu it lacked some of the finer details.  The bathroom was quite basic and the only cosmetic available was a small bar of green soap.  It would have been no trouble to provide a small basket with a selection.  The white towels were really off-white veering towards grey. Things looked up a bit when the cupboard beneath the antique television set contained a minibar fridge.  Sadly it was not only empty but also not switched on so I couldn’t even keep my bottled water cold.  Beyond the room the public areas were quite pleasant but could probably do with a fresh coat of paint.  Slightly disconcertingly, there were easy chairs on the open corridors.  I had one outside my door and beneath my bathroom window.  I never did get used to opening my door and finding somebody sitting there.  The small square garden also doubled up as a dining area with tables on two sides.  Half were under cover, which during daylight hours were preferable as the outside tables were plagued by flies.  The most disappointing aspect of the area was the sullen, somewhat dishevelled waiter who shuffled around, could not muster up a smile and appeared to be totally disinterested in the customers or the job he was doing.  Plates of food were ungraciously placed before me. Clearly he was not working on receiving a tip. He would have been more at home at Fawlty Towers.

You would have thought that by being in Kathmandu that communication using a mobile phone would have been easier.  Far from it.  My mobile, which had worked almost anywhere in the mountains, now was rendered useless.  It was impossible to both make and receive calls. It was the same for texts, unless they were very short and to the point. Fortunately email worked but, having decided that I would use my time to deal with all the charitable issues, communication became a bit of a nightmare.

One of the reasons for returning to Kathmandu was to make best use of my time instead of idling the days away in Lukla. One of my objectives was to hand over a significant sum of money to Tashi Waldorf School for whom KSWNT had accrued funds. This was beginning to prove to be a lot more difficult than you would imagine. Before I left England I emailed the director to advise her of my intentions. Unfortunately that communication bounced back because her in box was full. Never mind, a visit will not go amiss, particularly as I have unexpected time on my hands. So, having showered and breakfasted, I first visited my friendly money changer and exchanged a large(ish) bundle of £20 notes for an even larger bundle of Nepalese Rupees.

I cannot visit the money changer without Azam, the next door jeweller, coming to see me because he has recognised my voice. Over the years I have put quite a bit of business his way. I think he is good but he is never happy about the level of business he achieves on a day to day basis; he is not right in the hub of the tourist area and there is lots of competition nearby. However, on this occasion he does not want to sell me any jewellery but would like to chat about marriage, if I had time. I explained that I had to visit Tashi Waldorf but then I would come and see him. By this time a taxi driver I have known for years and who hangs about outside the Marshyangdi Hotel opposite came to see me.
All these acquaintances took time and it was clear that I was not going to get the job done before I had to meet Hira for lunch. Tashi Waldorf would have to wait until the afternoon when I would return to have a chat with Azam before my friendly taxi driver took me to Tashi Waldorf.

Meeting Hira at Pilgrims Read ‘n Feed we chatted openly about various aspects of the trip, the pros and cons of the hotels we were using, the need to maintain high quality service at the beginning and end of the trek and that if it was necessary to increase the cost slightly as a result, it would be appreciated and understood.

After lunch he took me to have a look at Samsara Hotel on the edge of Thamel and the hotel he is recommending we use in October. It is not the Shangrila but it is adequate. It has a garden and is close enough to all that Thamel has to offer. At the moment (and it looks as if it may continue for a great many months to come) the road passing the Shangrila is being widened. The road is gridlocked. There are no pavements and they are taking the frontages off buildings too close to the road. The Shangrila would not be ideal at the moment.

I was now able to focus my attention on Tashi Waldorf, after, of course, I had my fatherly chat with Azam. Sitting on stools in his shop he told me his mother wanted to see him married. She is ill with diabetes, and, reading between the lines, wants to see him married and settled before she parts this earth. Before I realised it was to be an arranged marriage I asked him if he was marrying for all the right reasons! His mother wants it done quickly, in April, but he does not want to rush. Weddings are expensive affairs worldwide but in Indian/Nepali society there is a huge financial burden on the groom. He prefers to have a few more months to earn more from his shop so that he can feel more financially able to cope. It is easy to understand his dilemma. He does not want to offend his mother. He is marrying someone he does not yet love and if he is struggling financially it will make love even harder to come by.

Then came the crunch question. Can you come to my wedding in September? I pointed out that I was coming to Nepal in October and that I couldn’t possibly prefix that trip with a wedding in India.

Excuses made, it really was time I sorted out the transfer of funds to Tashi Waldorf. Finding my taxi we drove through the slow, horn reliant traffic. During the journey he told me how expensive petrol was and how it was in such short supply, how expensive everything was and how useless the government was. All a pretext for a generous fare from me. On the other side if the ring road we turned into the little side street that led to the school. The school was no longer there. Instead, there was a large, new house and all evidence of there ever having been a school had disappeared. We canvassed information from the local community but nobody was particularly forthcoming or helpful. We were given some indication as to the new location of the school but when we went there we could not find it and nobody seemed know what we were talking about.

Eventually I gave up and got my taxi friend to return me to Thamel. When I asked him how much he said, “How much you want to pay?” I hate questions like that and it did not matter how much I cajoled him for a figure, none came from him. In the end I handed him 1000 Rupees, probably way above the odds, despite the fact that he gave it a rather disdainful look. All being well I won’t have to see him again. Any thoughts on sorting out the Tashi Waldorf problem would now have to be delayed until tomorrow.

Paradise Lodge is immediately behind the control tower

There are only so many times you can walk up and down the one street in Lukla in a day. There are only so many Sudokus you can do in a day. There are only so many chapters of a book you can read in a day. All of these activities are accompanied by the constant roar of helicopters taking off, landing or just idling while they wait. The helipad is adjacent to Paradise Lodge as is the airport runway with its busy schedule of planes coming in and out throughout the morning rush to get people to the mountains and others back to Kathmandu.

Helicopter at Lukla Airport

The prospect of six days having my ears and chest cavity rattled and vibrated held little appeal so I asked Hira to see if he could organise a flight for me from Kathmandu to Lukla on Friday or Saturday so that I could ask Ang Passang to get me a seat out on Tuesday.

To break the monotony, I went out in search of Pradip and his group, returning from their own trek. It did not take long to find them at the Shangrila Lodge at the top of the runway. I have used it as a base at the start and finish of a trek many times. They had had a good time but it had not been without incident with a number of illnesses, including one girl who kept passing out and had to wait in Namche for five days with a member of staff. We chatted for a while but as they had things to sort I did not stay long. Having been invited for supper there would be plenty of time. I admit to looking forward to something other than lodge food.

More time killed at Paradise Lodge being rattled by choppers. At least not all the flights were of fancy as there was a mission to rescue one of the ice doctors who had fallen down a crevasse. Sadly it proved in vain and although he was retrieved he did not survive the ordeal.

In the evening I wandered back up to the Shangrila Lodge for a welcome change of diet from the normal lodge food. Leaving the children and some staff to enjoy their soup, Pradip took me, Dambar and a couple of the Tudor Grange staff into the lodge proper to share a plate of delicious buffalo strips and a glass or two of red wine. It was only when this ritual had been completed did we rejoin the rest of their group for the main course, a traditional Nepali rice, dhal, vegetables and chicken. Delicious! This was followed by end of trek chocolate cake, bought from the bakery in Lukla. Prem, Pradip’s father, baked many ‘end of trek’ cakes for us over the years and would be unimpressed with his son resorting to a bought cake. After the pudding I made my leave, wishing to know what my flight arrangements were for the next day. It was good to talk to Kevin Hall from the Worcester branch of Tudor Grange and his Australian counterpart from the Solihull branch.
Back at Paradise Lodge I learned that I was on the first Sita Air flight and had to be at the airport at 6.00am.

I had a terrible night’s sleep waiting for the alarm to go off. For a brief moment after we took off I felt the emotions surge – not only was I leaving the mountains but, more importantly, I was creating even more distance between myself and the group. The horizontal view from my portal in the plane was as stunning as ever and I tried my utmost to put names to the multitude of peaks, so recognisable from the ground but so difficult from a plane. The view below was virtually obliterated by a thick haze. Just occasionally the vivid pinks and reds of rhododendron trees penetrated the murky atmosphere. Kathmandu was even worse and seriously needs some rain to bring the dust down. But it is not all dust in Kathmandu; it is pollution from traffic and hundreds of brick factories belching out thick smoke from their furnaces. Immediately the heat hit you as you stepped from the plane. Fighting Kathmandu traffic, I eventually arrived at the International Guest House on the outskirts of Thamel, not really a hotel I would want to bring a group to but very satisfactory for my individual needs.

Sometimes things do not always go according to plan. It is never without good reason but in the business of adventure travel one has to be adaptable. At the time it is always hugely disappointing but at the end of the day you stand by your decisions.

In 2005, while climbing Mera Peak, the Sherpas, who have much more experience than ourselves regarding the conditions, deemed the crevasses in the glacier too dangerous. In 2006, an attempt on Menthok Peak in Ladakh was thwarted by bad weather and a particularly dangerous looking cornice, which proved the wisdom of our decision to abort by collapsing into the gully we would have been climbing at the time. Ladakh has provided more than its fair share of problems over the years with collapsed moraines releasing a glacial lake, cloud bursts causing devastating landslides, killing hundreds. All these have to be managed with the safety of the group or individuals of paramount importance.

Sometimes, it is only the individual that has to accept change. Over the years one or two have had to return to lower altitudes or even the UK. To experience it is to understand the emotional impact this has on the individual. It has happened to me more times than I care to remember. In 2003 it was a damaged ankle, in 2011 pneumonia and now, in 2013 a chest infection initially brought out from the UK but made worse by heavy breathing while exerting at altitude and yak dung burning stoves in lodges. Long periods of coughing in the night were producing a slight pinking of my sputum, a classic indication of the early stages of pulmonary edema. I really had no choice in the matter.  If I went higher it will inevitably get worse, making a descent lengthier and more difficult.  Common sense dictates the actions you take but it does not make it any easier, even more so when you are the group leader. There is no easy way to tell them that you are leaving. You hope, above all hopes, that nothing really changes for them, that they still have an experience of a lifetime. What has made this particularly difficult is that I was having a special shared experience with Stephen, whom I rarely see as be lives on the other side of the world.

The two dots in the centre of the picture are Karma and me leaving Phortse

Having made the decision, I informed Tanka that I had no option but to go down.  He appointed Karma to walk down with me.  After an emotional announcement and parting, the group headed on up the hill, while I retraced our steps of the previous day and headed for Namche.  There was no real alternative to having to drop 200 metres to Phortse Tenga to then climb steeply the 350 metres up to Mong.  The reward was a long rest at the top.  The rest of the journey to Namche was relatively easy with a long, gentle downhill section to the point where you turn into Khumjung, only we continued to traverse the hillside all the way to Namche and the Camp de Base Lodge.  Karma was very patient, carrying my kitbag on his back and his own rucksack at the front.  He made it all look so easy.

In Namche I had a little wander to pass away the time and finished up in one of the bakeries for a bite to eat and a proper coffee.

Setting out from Namche at 7.45am it took just an hour to reach the foot of the hill that took so much effort to climb a few days previously. another hour saw Karma and me drinking coffee with Ang Darki and Nima in their lodge at Monjo, just yards outside the Sagarmatha National Park. It began to occur to me that we could go all the way to Lukla, thus giving Karma a good chance to meet up with the group while they were still high.

Main street, Lukla

Stopping for an early lunch at Phakding meant we still had plenty of time for the final leg of the journey to Lukla. I was coping well with anything downhill or on the flat but struggled with my breathing on anything that resembled uphill. Karma predicted that it would take about four hours to walk to Lukla from Phakding but we actually did it in two and a half. The upside of completing the walk today is that I no longer need to put further stress on my chest. The down side is that instead of spending five days in Lukla, I now have six days to kill. How best to use this time? There is certainly not enough here to keep me occupied and boredom might feature fairly quickly. It occurred to me that I might best use my time by returning to Kathmandu on Tuesday in order to fulfil my duties for the charity with Saptagandaki and Tashi Waldorf, so that I can return to Lukla on Friday or Saturday to meet the group. The benefit of this is that my time with the group before their return to the UK and my time with Hira after they have gone will not be interrupted by other pressures. It all depends whether I can get a seat for a flight from Kathmandu to Lukla at a very busy time of year. Fingers crossed.

I went to bed at 8.00pm convinced I was about to be sick. I went to sleep and had a pretty good night achieving 10 hours without too much interruption. When I woke at 6.00am I had the same sicky feeling I had gone to bed with. I had little motivation for the walk ahead and was not looking forward to it at all. Others were feeling the same without being ill and I could only attribute it to the lack of variety in our diet and the reliance on the potato, cheese and eggs with no room for anything fresh. I talked to Tanka while the rest of the group set off for the gompa. We agreed to simplify the diet with rice, dal and vegetables.

Prayer tablets of Khumjung Gompa

I caught up with the group at the gompa and waited for the key holder to arrive to open the cabinet containing the yeti scalp. There has been tight security since someone stole it a few years ago and got as far as Lukla before they were apprehended. Still the key holder would not open it until I had paid a donation.

We made enquiries about the deaf and dumb artist, Pemba, but nobody seemed to know what or who we were talking about. Sadly we had to give up and make a start on our day’s journey to Phortse. It would not surprise me if he has gone to live in America.Walking through a labyrinth of narrow stone wall tracks between potato fields awaiting their seedlings, we left Khumjung

As soon as we had left the village the track began to climb steeply up a series of steps hugging the cliff face. Since I last walked this track a hand rail has been installed in places suggesting that health and safety is creeping into Nepali society. At the top or the track it turned a corner out of the hanging valley that is home to Khumjung and Kunde into the main valley, all be it several hundred metres above the river below.

Mong

Before us the track climbed steadily up to Mong where there is a cluster of tea houses around a chorten. Despite taking it slowly we reached it at 10.30 and as this was our designated lunch stop we had plenty of time to relax and enjoy the stunning views of Tamserku and Kantega towering over us and Ama Dablam’s dramatic shape a little further away.I was, by now, feeling much better and more positive about the trek. Although I couldn’t eat all my lunch, it was a very welcome change of diet, also much appreciated by the rest of the group.

Phortse

After lunch we dropped down 350m to Phortse Tenga where we crossed the river for the 200m climb up to Phortse. It is quite a windy spot but the sun is still warm out of the wind. We are surrounded by huge mountains, to the east those already mentioned and to the south the wall of mountains which make up the southern side of the Gokyo Valley. I am looking forward to watching the change of light as the day draws to an end.

One of the new, successful rubbish bins

The Everest Trek was always known as ‘The Pink Tissue Trail’ but not any more. It is almost litter free. Every so often there are stone built waste bins segregated according to type – tin cans, plastic bottles and general waste. It is not only good to see a scheme in place but to see it working so well.

There are other differences. Virtually all of Nepal has mobile coverage and everybody has a mobile phone. Porters, as soon as they put their loads down, pull their phones out of their pockets and start communicating. Young people are plugged into their music and, as a result, there are fewer opportunities to say ‘Namaste’.

Porters in the Thami Valley

Namche has grown enormously and there is a chorus of hammers hitting stone from 6.00am to 7.00pm as yet more lodges fill in the odd vacant plots of land. In front of our lodge, Camp de Base, work is in progress building a new lodge surrounding and incorporating an existing lodge.  To one side huge lumps of rock, clearly needing to be disposed of for building work to commence, were being split and disposed of.  Under normal circumstances this would be a relatively simple task for a piece of heavy machinery to achieve.  Hear in Namche it is far from normal.  There is no heavy machinery, only young men armed with hammers and chisels.  The amount of effort these young men use is phenomenal, yet, somehow, they achieve their aim and the obstructing rock gets smaller until such time as it is no longer an obstruction.  At the end of each day there is noticeable progress, fine testament to the skill, determination and perseverance of the workforce. The broken lumps are carried to the other half of the building site where construction is taking place.  There, an army of stone dressers are chipping away, creating square edged building blocks, which, as soon as they are ready, are cemented into place.  Again the growth rate of the building is rapid and proves what can be achieved if there are enough people to working on it despite the lack of equipment.  What is happening in front of the Camp de Base Lodge is being mirrored in two or three other places in Namche.  More and more land is disappearing under buildings.  There is now very little room for camp grounds as, increasingly, people prefer to stay in lodges. This is in many respects a much more comfortable option but there is certainly less variety in diet with virtually no fresh vegetables and fruit.  At the start of the trek I made comment on how good the food was and how efficient the service.  Now that we have stayed in a number of lodges it is apparent that the menus are virtually the same with a ‘heavy’ reliance on potatoes, eggs and cheese.  Already I am beginning to tire of what is available and on offer and am experiencing early cravings for something fresh.

Internet connection is available in most of the lodges. The 21st C has reached the Khumbu. It is good to know that they still light stoves with dried yak dung.

Helicopters fly overhead constantly re supplying the increasing needs of the region but, sadly, denying many porters of work.

Looking back along the Thami Valley

Leaving Namche, we headed into the Thame valley walking through forests of pine. The trail was generally uphill but at a relatively gentle gradient. We passed through the village of Thamo where Ang Rita Sherpa has a house, although he now lives in America. His claim to fame is that he has summited Everest 14 times. At the next village we stopped at a lodge for tea. There we were introduced to Dawa Nuru Sherpa who has climbed Everest 12 times and will shortly be joining an American expedition for his thirteenth. He looked about 35 but was in fact 49.

The beautiful Thami Valley

Dropping down to the Dhud Khosi we crossed the river and climbed up to the village of Thame. This valley and the villages within are much as the Khumbu was when I first came in 1993. We settled into our lodge run by the wife of Kami Temba Sherpa, the doctor at Kunde hospital. Later in the afternoon we climbed up to the monastery and watched the light change on the surrounding spectacular mountains. In the distance, to the east was the towering bulk of Cho Oyu, the world’s sixth highest mountain.

The following morning we retraced our steps. The going was good and we covered the ground well. Instead of returning all the way to Namche we took a detour up to Shyangboche airstrip and on to Kunde for lunch.

Dr Kami Temba explains the work of Kunde Hospital

After lunch most of us went up to Kunde hospital to have a look, to meet Dr Kami and for him to tell them something of the work of the hospital. We had to wait a while while he treated some rather elderly Americans. He was very welcoming and warmly received us. He is a great ambassador for the achievements of the Himalayan Trust, a former student of a Hillary school who then went on to become a doctor after learning the skills as an assistant at Kunde Hospital.

From Kunde it was just a short walk to Khumjung and our lodge for the night opposite Khumjung School. Not only did the lodge have hot showers, it also had a washing machine in the front porch.  This really is progress.  Fraser decided to do his washing, paid his money and then spent ages trying to understand how the machine worked.  It was clearly a latest model as it kept giving out verbal instructions.  What it failed to tell him was that the machine was not plumbed in!  After much effort, reading of the handbook, support from the lodge proprietor who poured water into the machine, Fraser ended up with wet, not necessarily very clean, clothes. That evening a shield of wet clothes separated us from the yak dung burning stove.

Khumjung School. The building on the immediate left is the one we helped repair in 1996.

Ignoring the temptation to do some washing, I had a very welcome hot shower and   popped over to the school to see Mohendra, the head, but he wasn’t there and it looked very much as though the school was on holiday. There were a number of children playing football and volley ball in the school grounds so I had a wander around to see how it had changed.  There are so many more classrooms and facilities, largely as a result of international fundraising from a variety of countries.

During the evening the temperature dropped but we had the luxury of sitting in the lodge with a yak dung burning stove chucking out a lot of heat while we watched Fraser’s washing dry.