Nepal: Khumbu Trek

Mt. Everest and Lhotse

Hiking to Everest Base Camp seems to be the bucket list item for many but as we've discovered over the years, bucket list destinations are not always what we seek.  We've been caught too many times is crowds, queues and tourist traps to still believe that the holy grail of Arches National Park or Stonehenge or the Isle of Capri is somewhere that we have to go.  There are many just as spectacular sites that do not demand the cost of crowds and aggravation.

So it was with Nepal.  We decided early on that we wanted a solitary experience away from the madding crowd. We have followed this tactic in the past, notably with a decision to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro via the remote and low-travelled Rongai route which gave us seven days of almost solitary climbing.



Macaque monkey at Swayambunath temple in Kathmandu

As we discovered during our trek, this was a fortuitous decision.  That wasn't apparent when we landed in Kathmandu, a bustling, crowded city of traffic jams, pollution and dust and dirt everywhere.  Kathmandu is both wonderful and terrible.  The people are friendly, the food is exotically delicious, the sights and sounds are overwhelming. But not what we came for and after two days of acclimatization we are off to the jump off point for our trek, the village of Lukla.

Prayer wheels, walk on left, spin clockwise for good luck

New Years Eve in Kathmandu

Steps up to Swayambunath temple.

Oxen on the trail.

Buddhist monks at Khumjung temple.





Yak train

 

Lukla is a tiny village in the foothills of the Himalayas, a ninety minute plane ride from Kathmandu--if you can get a plane in.  The notoriously unpredictable weather in the mountains means that about fifty percent of Kathmandu-to-Lukla flights are cancelled due to bad weather.  Which is how we ended up stranded and waiting for clear weather in the Kathmandu airport until we could stand it no more and saw one day of our trek slipping away.  We chartered two helicopters to fly us, our gear and guides into Lukla.  Helicopters are a viable alternative if the weather is not too bad since they can maneuver below the cloud cover if it's not completely socked in.  So we're in a bucking helicopter, skimming below the clouds with monstrous mountains looming in the windshield.  Fingers crossed that the pilot sees it also before we splatter into its flank.



Our ride into Lukla

Lukla airport

Tenzing-Hillary airport in Lukla sits at 9334 feet, is only 1700 feet long and rises abruptly 1000 feet from the valley below to immediately in front of the landing strip.  The back of the landing strip ends terminally at a vertical mountainside.  It is the most dangerous airport in the world with regular and frequent fatal accidents.  No go arounds here; the pilot gets it right the first time and doesn't get another shot at it.  So it's a great relief to come out of the clouds, spot the landing strip and come into a safe if bumpy landing.

After overnight in Lukla we start our Khumbu trek.  So why the Khumbu trek?  As I said, we opted out of the base camp trek after reading too many accounts of crowds and disappointing scenery.  Khumbu is known for its relative isolation and remoteness and lack of trekkers.  And spectacular scenery for the duration of the trek.

We were not disappointed.  Our first stop was the historical trading center of Namche Bazaar.  This village sits at 11,000 feet and is still an active trading center for locals as well as the starting point for all treks onto Mt. Everest and the Himalayan highlands.  It is a busy center of locals bartering and selling vegetables, meat, clothing and other essentials and trekkers prepping for their onward efforts in the mountains.  We caught our first sight of Mt. Everest and Lhotse that day.  It was an iconic sight with wisps of clouds blowing downwind from gales at the peak. Unforgettable.

Buddhist icon at Khumjung temple.

After another night of a acclimatization we pushed on into the Khumbu region.  For the first half-day out of Namche Bazaar we share the trail with base camp trekkers and it was a long and heavily traveled route.  We were never out of sight of other trekkers and occasionally met with backups at particularly awesome vistas.

Teahouse in Khumjung

So we were happy when we veered off to the west to begin our climb into the Khumbu region.  Khumbu does not attract the huge numbers of trekkers that the base camp route does and for the next six days were saw less than a dozen trekkers.  We were totally immersed in the local culture, interfacing with tea house owners, farmers and kids on their terms.  We walked thru Thame, Khumjung, Jorsalle and many villages too small to merit a name.  We passed porters, yaks, oxen, caught incredible views of towering mountains, slept in ice-cold tea houses, huddled around yak dung fired stoves, ate Dahl baht, entered sacred temples, met buddhist monks, saw a yeti (OK maybe not).

And it seemed like we had the whole region almost to ourselves.  After eight days of trekking we returned to Kathmandu, recuperated and left an incredible region behind to be discovered by other trekkers who have their own idea of a bucket list. Namaste.

Thanks to George Lee for many of the photos!

Antarctica

Cold? For sure.
Bleak? No way.

Argentinian research station

So I was half-right on my assumptions about Antarctica. Yes, unrelentingly cold, windy, icy and with a bit of snow thrown in (believe it or not, snow is a rarity in Antarctica).  But bleak is the not an adjective you use to describe the scenery.  Glowing, illuminated, surreal, captivating--knock yourself out, the colors and terrain are entrancing.  Glistening glaciers, sparkling icebergs and translucent blue waters are everywhere, dominated by the higher end of the color spectrum with any variation of the color blue a writer can conjure.  Cerulean, azure, cobalt, sapphire, turquoise take your pick, they're all there in stunning brilliance.

Antarctica as you would guess is unlike any other place on earth.  It is the coldest, least inhabited, most inhospitable and driest continent.  There are no permanent year-round residents other than a small number of scientists and support staff that stay over through the brutal winter.  Wildlife is less varied in terms of species than any other continent but (at least for now) present in huge numbers.  Penguin colonies of a half-million are present, seals are omnipresent always hunting penguins or crabs and other prey.  Large pods of minke and humpback whales cruise the Southern Ocean, trolling for krill and plankton.

There is a price of admission for all this wildlife and beauty and that is the Drake Passage.  The most viable way to reach the continent is by ship out of Ushuaia, the southernmost town in the Americas. This Argentinian outpost, perched on the edge of the Beagle Channel of the Southern Ocean, is the jumping off point for almost all excursions to Antarctica. And it requires a transit across the Drake Passage, recognized by mariners as the roughest water in the world.  Here the warm waters of the Pacific Ocean meet the cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean and these two do not mix well.  Imagine a battle royale between thermoclines, roiling the ocean into massive angry waves.  Add in high winds generated by two clashing weather fronts that often produce winds to 90 knots or more and you have a crazy quilt sea of currents and waves that produces stomach-churning conditions.  The two-day passage that we experienced produced 27 foot waves, 90 knot winds and

enough bumping, dropping, pitching and yawing to reduce even the hardiest to handfuls of Dramamine and commode hugging.  Not a trip for the fainthearted or seasick prone.

But it was well worth the sacrifice.  A week long trip of kayaking, zooming around in Zodiacs, photography, wildlife viewing, hiking and, yes, a polar plunge added up to an exceptional trip.  And you haven't experienced anything until you've walked through an active penguin colony.  Thousands of clumsily endearing penguins squawking and falling, stealing small stones from each other, crapping, vomiting and warding off marauding skuas trying to steal their eggs--it's as chaotic as it sounds.  And the smell is overpowering.  Decaying fish, excrement, vomit; delightful.

We cruised from to a different island or land mass each day aboard the Ocean Adventurer, an ice-hardened 101-meter long ship that accommodates 128 passengers. The ship is comfortable if not luxurious with cozy cabins and a first class dining room with three delicious squares a day. Our daily routine was up at seven for breakfast followed by a short briefing and then a shore excursion; either Zodiac cruising, kayaking or a landing to explore a local penguin colony, scientific base or historical landmark.  Back to the ship for lunch and then another afternoon excursion.  Back to the ship again for dinner and an evening program--photography, geology, history, birding.  Late to bed, early to rise, repeat.

I didn't mention the birds.  They were everywhere; skuas, Antarctic terns, sheathbills, petrels, albatross all in incredible numbers.  They followed our ship everyday, gliding gently off the stern or aside the rails.  Dusky dolphins and Peale's dolphins rode the bow wave, cavorting and surfing alongside.

Everything is so different, so strange that you feel totally disconnected from the rest of the world. There is no frame of reference, no saying this reminds me of...   Because it doesn't remind you of anything, it's all too new, too unique.

Too soon, it was time to go back to the world.  Once again we pay the price of the Drake Passage but our Russian captain sees a storm passing through on radar and slow boats back across, following the storm in on relatively calm seas until we spy Cape Horn and the end of our voyage.

It was, by all accounts, perfect.  It was my seventh continent and although each is unique and wonderful, Antarctica was my favorite.

Thanks to George Lee for many photos!