Nepal

I had a different blog lined up for today and I’ll publish it in the future. But last night and this morning I have been hearing about the devastating earthquake in Nepal and the appalling death toll. I’ve only been there twice but the country and the people left such wonderful memories that I feel very sad at the images I’ve been seeing.

My impression of Kathmandu was of a random jumble of buildings thrown together, with the narrow streets of Thamel seemingly unplanned and impossible to follow on foot. With little room to develop, buildings went upwards and what started off as a single story house or shop would have a floor added as the wealth of the owner increased. Adding storeys was a sign of prosperity. This might not have been the wisest method of expanding but it was the only option. I do not criticise.

My lasting memory of the people, both in Kathmandu and on the winding footpath to Everest Base Camp was one of friendliness. To a westerner, experiencing this for the first time, I looked upon it with suspicion – ‘what does he want?’ came to mind. To my shame. The reality was, they wanted to be friendly and they wanted to know more about this western visitor that had spent not far off their annual income for a flight to Nepal. I learnt to bargain with shop keepers with a smile on my face, and although the actual process was played to a few rules which felt serious at the time, it was worth it for the post sale banter. One woman selling little hand sewn purses sold me five for a little under £2 and as I put them away and walked off she gave me three more for free! The poor rickshaw driver who barely reached my shoulder in height and yet who pedalled my friend and I the two miles to Durbar Square for less that £4 (we gave him more in the end, despite having to get out and push when we reached a small hill).

The guides, porters and other local crew on out treks couldn’t be more helpful. The tea house keepers went out of their way to make sure we were comfortable. A great place to visit and I will be going back someday.

But some of the most significant historical places in Kathmandu have been ruined by the earthquake. I saw images of the little temples in Durbar Square that had survived invasion and revolution reduced to little more than piles of bricks. The Monkey temple, Swayambunath, is a complex of little temples and shrines and from shakey footage I’ve seen on Twitter, one of the two large temples has collapsed. It goes without saying that I hope no one was injured there, but since the place was over run by mischievous monkeys, I hope they managed to escape the devastation too.

I’ve heard on the news and in Tweets from a couple of people I’m following at the moment and who were about to climb Everest, that base camp has been partially obliterated by avalanches from nearby Pumori and that up to 17 people have been killed there. I haven’t heard news about the villages through which we trekked. Namche is situated in a natural amphitheatre – in other words, built on terraces on the side of a mountain. Dingboche is similarly situated on the side of a mountain. In the past, bridges and buildings have been swept away by floods caused by collapsing moraine dams releasing melt water from the glaciers further up the valley. I pray these villages have escaped the damage and their inhabitants are safe.

Oxfam and Save the Children have set up appeals to help the victims of this terrible disaster.

My thoughts are with the people affected by this terrible event.

Namche Hill

The one question I was asked more than any other when my fellow trekkers found out I’d done the Everest Base Camp trek before was ‘what about Namche Hill’? From those that didn’t know I’d been before, I heard all sorts of stories; it’s eight hours of climbing, it’s really steep, some people fail on the way up.  I always gave the same answer: It’s not as bad as you think, don’t let it get to you. I was very careful not to make too much of it as it seemed to preoccupy the thoughts of a lot of people.

I don’t remember knowing that much about Namche hill before the first trek. I’d read the itinerary and could see that it was potentially the hardest day, with a minimum of 850m of ascent from our start point to Namche itself. That didn’t take into account the undulating route that probably added another 300m of climbing to the day. But I had been doing 600 – 1000m climbs in a day as part for my training. Of course, I forgot to take into account the altitude. On Namche Hill, we’d be breaking through the 3,000m barrier and could expect the first real signs of altitude sickness.

On the day, we suffered a bit from being a very slow group. I was helping one of the group to make a video diary and he had asked me to film him crossing the high level bridge just before the hill began. I went ahead and had to wait in the chill wind while the bridge cleared so he could lead the rest of the group across. By the time I’d finished, I was at the back and that threw my pacing out completely. I was going slower than I liked and strangely, that made it harder.

From the bridge, the path drops slightly on steep concrete steps before heading up in a relentless dry and dusty slog. Right from the start, our guides wrapped scarves around their faces to combat the dust. We couldn’t help but kick up clouds of the stuff and everything was quickly coated in a gritty, light brown film. A breeze helped to cool me down, and took the worst of the dust swirling away into the trees. As I struggled with the pace, we passed trekkers and sherpas coming down having completed their quest. They seemed excited and talkative and full of energy. I realised later how good it felt to be going home. For now, with few exceptions, they were annoyingly patronising with their ‘not far to go now’ chants.

I stopped to talk to two guys from Wales and that was a welcome break. But then immediately afterwards, an American told me ‘only another 90 minutes to go’ and for some reason that made me feel very angry towards him. Not long afterwards, we reached a halfway halt and spirits were raised when we caught our first glimpse of Everest through the trees.

The rest of the tramp up the hill went easier for me because I was back in the front group, which suited my pace. Nevertheless, as a group we were very slow and by the time we reached the village of Namche, it was dusk. We nearly got lost after our guide disappeared in the gloom and we were left wondering which guest house we were in.

On my second trek, I was careful to be more prepared for the hill. I took advantage of all the rests tops on the way and I’d brought a buff along to use to filter out the dust. I made sure I had plenty of water and that I was in the right place in the group so that I could go along at my natural pace. It was warmer second time around, and there was no breeze. Despite the buff, I could feel and taste grit in my mouth. This time we were having to stray from the path to avoid frisky yaks who, being free of their loads, were enjoying the easy downhill path. There was an almost constant deep jangle of bells from around the necks of the yak, with a higher pitched tinkle of bells around the ponies’ necks.

I drank frequently, avoided eye contact with the people coming down so they wouldn’t tell me how far was left (I know it was with the best of intentions, but it didn’t help me) and kept going. After the first 50m of climb, the views of the river we’d just crossed disappeared through the trees and I kept my head down and concentrated on the slow plod that was working for me. There was little to indicate how far we’d come.

Before long, we reached the halfway stop, and it was packed with trekkers going in both directions. You could immediately spot the ones going up and the ones coming down by the looks on their faces and the noise. The climbers were quiet and red faced. I looked for the view of Everest, but cloud and trees masked it.

We set off once more and before long were nearing the top, where the slope flattened out. In the distance, thought he trees, I heard a sharp crack followed by a deep rumble, like thunder. It was an avalanche on the mountains opposite and I watched as tons of ice and water cascaded down the rock face. Then, literally around the corner, Namche appeared.

As we walked into the village, we came upon two young yak who were fighting in the street. Our group scattered and I headed for a gap in the wall, below which was a fast flowing stream heading steeply downhill. Unfortunately, both yaks also headed for the gap, horns locked and pre-occupied with their own issues. I stepped behind the wall and they brushed me as they went past. It was a great end to the day.

It certainly felt easier the second time I did it, perhaps because I knew what to expect.

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The same but different

As you may have gathered, this time last year I was in Nepal for a stroll. One of the things I loved when I was there were the villages we passed through and the way motor transport had not changed the way they were laid out. Even in Kathmandu, the fact that cars, vans and bikes all rushed through the streets did not seem to have forced any changes; the streets were narrow and the buildings competed for space by overhanging and having several storeys.

Walking through Robin Hood’s Bay and Whitby on Friday, the similarity suddenly struck me. Despite my promise to myself, I ended up uttering the fatal phrase ‘this time last year’ to Em (sorry Em) and mentioned it.

When I got home, I decided to have a look at the photos to see if it was just my mind playing tricks. It wasn’t, I can still see the similarities. So I’m posting a selection here.

Ok. This time last year, we were climbing the hill to Tengboche, which we reached at about 10:46 BST.

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This time last year…

… I was flying high over Europe on my way to Nepal and the start of  a trek to Everest Base Camp.

I was thinking about it last week when I was backng up image files. I flicked through all the photos I’d taken during the 17 day trip. It brought back a lot of happy memories of the places, people and achievment. And a few unhappy memories of stomach upsets and long drop toilets.

But overwhelmingly it was a trememdnous experience and one I’d jump at the chance of doing again.

I apoloise to all who know me and who over the next fortnight will probably be subject to ‘this time last year…’ comments from me. Please be tolerant.

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