My "day off" in Namche ended up being a lot more hiking than I had planned.  It seemed that I was utterly exhausted after pretty much any kind of physical activity, but I just couldn't stop hiking in and around the villages, soaking up the culture and how amazingly different everything was.

I still hadn't seen the mountains yet, not really anyway.  But, between the beautiful summer flowers, the vast amounts of unique stupas, and the refreshingly unashamed aura of spirituality, my cup of inspiration ran over.

Sitting in the grass, watching the random rays of light catch the stupa in front of me, I was totally content.  I remember a cool breeze would blow down from the mountains once in a while, and cool me off just enough to be comfortable again.  Naturally, just as I was ready to stay forever, I heard,

"OK guys, let's head out!  Ready?", Kiesche, my guide, said with a big grin.


"I'm gonna stay Kiesche.  You go ahead and I'll come back a little later," I replied.


And off he went...

Just a few moments later, something amazing happened.  The clouds parted, the sky opened up, and the sun came down.  Standing on top of a grassy hill, an ancient burial ground between me and the horizon, a large peak revealed itself in front of me.  It was so beautiful.  I excitedly grabbed my camera and composed a shot.

Suddenly Kiesche was back again, which was weird to say the least, but I was too happy to think too far into it.  I took in the view and savored the blue sky and icy peaks.  I eventually walked back down the hill, relishing the warm sun on my face, and on the views around me.

It was a good day.. and a good lesson:  


Don't Listen to Kiesche! 

Early mornings and late evenings were the times to be outdoors and see the views.  From then on, I wouldn't miss either.  We began our walk back, and just as quickly as the sun had come out, it disappeared again, covering the hills in big clouds and deep fog.  On the plus side, it wasn't without its certain charm.

I went to sleep that night, telling Kiesche I wanted to be up at dawn the next day.  After a fair bit of him whining, I finally gave in to 6:30.  I went to sleep that night, piled high in blankets, and dreamt of all the promise of the days to come.

The next day I awoke with the sun.  Kiesche was supposed to be my alarm, but I didn't want to miss another beautiful morning.  Up and into the chilly morning air, I dressed and packed, and made my way downstairs to wake up Kiesche.  The sky was clear, and after a quick bite to eat, we were on our way.  Porters were carrying their inpossibly heavy packs, yaks were eating giant breakfasts of endless potatoes, and it was rapidly getting warmer.  Everything seemed to be glorified in the morning sun.

(Pic of the Week)

 I felt like I was finally getting a hold on everything.  The way things worked, the way of life, the patterns.  My pack on tight, and a long road ahead, I was feeling cautiously optimistic about the days ahead.  The future seemed full of potential, and I was ready for all I could get.

Namche Bazaar

The last major town on the way to Everest is Namche Bazaar. It sits at 3,500 meters, or about 11,500 feet, and was around long before the silly tourists starting coming to see the mighty Himalayas.

Up until then, we had hiked about 4 hours a day, and there was a surprising amount of hiking downhill.

Although I was constantly winded from the altitude, I felt confident about how well I was doing. That is, until we started the climb to Namche.

Without any warning from my guide, we plunged into a 10 hour hike that was about 90%, grueling uphill. Packed to the brim with photography gear, water, and everything else I had brought, I was exhausted about halfway through. My guide continually promised we were almost there, but hours passed and it seemed we would NEVER arrive.

My guide's name was Kiesche, and was not at all what I expected. He was a nice guy, had pretty decent English, and was a very solid hiker. All in all, everything I needed. But, he was annoyingly goofy, would never give straight answers, and started every sentence with, "Alright Guys", even though there was just me.

We followed a beautiful river half the way, and although my legs burned and head pounded, the views lifted my spirits again and again. This was truly a beautiful place.

Finally, late into the evening, we arrived in Namche Bazaar. It was one of the most exhausted I had ever been. The "city" was beautiful. Paved in stone, porters darting this way and that, and nestled on the side of a mountain, I was too happy to have arrived.

They were more than setup for local or tourist business, and you could find everything from a yak hair parka to a snickers bar. Kiesche told me that we would rest here for a day, because it was important to acclimatize to the altitude before we went any further. The news couldn't have been any sweeter...

That night Kiesche told me to sleep in the next morning. He said it would be cloudy and rainy, and that there would be no views of the Himalayas. 

This was a risk that I knew I had taken. It was late in the season, on the brink of summer and the monsoon rains. There was every possibility that I wouldn't have but short windows of the infamous mountain views.  And maybe, no windows at all...

I woke up late the next morning, and looked out the window to a sweet surprise. A VIEW! It was beautiful. I grabbed my camera and ran outside to snap what I could. It disappeared behind a giant cloud about as fast as I could snap it, but it was truly amazing while it lasted.  I was completely hooked.

I found Kiesche in the dining room, playing solitaire and drinking tea. "Subha Prabhat", I said, "Good Morning". Although it seemed there were no views that day, I decided to hike up to a hill where you could see the top of Mount Everest, and a lot of other peaks. Kiesche said he would come along.

I noticed that all the other hikers and their guides were on their way back down, talking excitedly and smiling. "Oh you should have seen it!" they said. "There were the most unbelievable views this morning!" 

Apparently every one elses guide had gotten their crew up well before dawn, and reaped the benefits. "Why didn't we wake up early Kiesche?" I asked diappointedly. "It was so early," Kiesche said with a guilty smile, "and we needed to sleep". I was trying not to be annoyed, but couldn't help and wonder if I had missed my only window.

"Do you want to hike to a nearby town?" Kiesche asked, "It won't be that great and there will be no views," he said in a pessimistic tone.  

I was confused, so asked a group of hikers if they had gone. "Oh definitely!" they replied, "You have to go its such a cool town". Keische didn't want to go, but when I told him I was going without him, he said he'd come too.

Although completely engulfed in thick fog and rolling clouds, the town was unbelievable. It had so much character, and I was immediately glad we came.

It had the most gorgeous "stupas", or Buddhist shrines, and the people were so curious and friendly. 

I started practicing my Nepali with an old man that had one eye. I liked him instantly. He didn't speak a word of English, and I didn't understand everything he was saying, but we used a lot of hand signals, and he laughed constantly.  It put a smile on my face.

"I used to be a guide," Kiesche translated for him, "but that was when I was young and could get a boner!" He then shot a fist firmly into the air.  We both howled in laughter.

I couldn't help but realize what an incredible portrait he would make. His deeply wrinkled face, and one eye glazed over, but with a depth to it like somehow it could see things a normal eye could not. 

"Mo photo kitsu?" I finally got the courage to ask. "May I take your photo?" But he immediately shook is head , and walked off.

I immediately regretted asking, feeling that I had somehow spoiled our nice conversation.  The last thing I wanted to do was offend him.  I guess I still had much to learn about these people...

Hiking through the Himalayas is hard

Hiking through the Himalayas is hard.  

The air is thin, to the point where climbing a staircase would leave you huffing and puffing at the top.  Headaches were common.

The wind chaps your face and lips.  The air can swing from warm to downright frigid.  The sun is bright and deceivingly powerful.

And you can see it on the faces of the people.  Marks of healed frostbite, premature wrinkles on the faces of children.  

The elderly exponentially so.  They were a photographers dream, but everytime I asked permission in my broken Nepalese, I was greeted with a smile, a laugh, and all but certain rejection.  

I fell in love with the houses, the incredible spirituality, and the unbelievable perspective on life everyone had.  

It was contagious, and I felt at peace.

Everything seemed like such a fairy-tale.  

And around each corner, a new surprise.

Pic of the Week!

A parade of horses.

A house on stilts.

A small dog sleeping on a windowsill.  

We stayed in "Tea Houses".  Small homes that would offer a bite to eat, a cup of hot tea, and a place to sleep for the night.

And believe me when I say, there's no sweeter sight than a cozy tea house at the end of a long day.  Breathless and exhausted, a warm smile and hot cup of milk tea thrust into you hands.

I felt like I was just getting started.  Just barely scratching the surface of this truly magical place.

Ya, hiking in the Himalayas is hard.  

But what a price for such bountiful reward.

I had to keep my eyes open.  Take in as much as I could in this oasis of simplicity.

Alas... the Journey continued.  

Up and up we went, a painfully slow, steady pace to the top of the world.