A June Hike Club Adventure
Nepal And Mera Peak
October 1996
Text and most photographs by Krzysztof "Chris" Danek
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My trip of a lifetime actually began much earlier than my arrival in Katmandu in October. I'd been dreaming of climbing a truly high mountain peak all my life. If you're going to do it for real, there's no better place than Nepal. During 1995 and 1996, I looked around for an outfitter-tour company to help me do it safely. For a reasonable fee, Himalayan Travel booked an expedition with Peregrine, and the rest is now in my memories and these pictures.
I didn't know what to expect of Katmandu. My only other expedition-style trek was to Machupicchu, and the arrival in Cisco, Peru gave me an old-world, historic feeling. Here, it was more crowded, bustling with both people and vehicles obeying the law-of-the-horn. We spent three days in Katmandu, getting acquainted with one another, getting acquainted with Nepal, sampling the food, beer, and wine, and seeing the sites. (The Bodhnath Stupa, the middle picture, is one of the largest Buddhist shrines in the world. Next is the Pashupatinath, a Hindu temple.)
I had a lesson in street smarts soon after arriving. While at Pashupatinath, I saw a holy man sitting on some stairs. I didn't know if he would make a good picture, but my uncle once told me that the least expensive piece of photographic gear is film, and I should not try to conserve it. So, I made the picture. The holy man, noting my freewheeling photography at his expense, followed me, looking for a donation. Apparently, there's a street rule that say one tips holy men when taking their picture. I didn't know that then, and when it was explained to me (by gestures), I didn't know what the going tip rate was. The smallest note I had was a 500 rupee bill. I gave it to the holy man to prevent an international incident. He smiled and went back. Later, I discovered I had awarded him well over $10 US dollars worth of good will. This far exceeds the norm. In my second encounter with a holy man, I was better prepared. I payed out the normal rate of 10 US cents. I think it's a better picture, too.
The trekking group's first meeting together was at a briefing at the Hotel Shanka. Later, we ate at the Third Eye, an Indian restaurant that had been recommended. When it was time to actually start our trek, we left Katmandu by way of helicopter to Phaphlu, a Sherpa village about 100 kilometers to the east. This would have been a three day walk for us, but in a helicopter, crowded as we were, it was only twenty minutes. It was the last "ride" we would get. The helicopter, itself, was a Russian model that had been purchased by the Nepalese airline sometime after the collapse of the Soviet Union. We hoped that, in addition to the helicoper, the airline purchased maintenance manuals and spare parts. We stayed in Phaphlu overnight, awaiting the arrival of our porters who were late. This set us back one day and we made up the time with a longer than normal first day hike. On our trek, we had both Sherpas and porters. The former are highly regarded guides, the latter are the workhorses. For us, and our safety, we would require and appreciate both.
Our hike out of Phaphlu to Ringmo, Nuntale, Kahri Khola, Pangum and on took us through a variety of countrysides with lots of friendly people. Children came out to greet us everywhere. Quite possibly, they were smiling at us all the time thinking that we would reciprocate with candy. One child even gave me a flower. We were warned, at our briefing, to not give candy to children. There are few dentists in this part of the world. Some of the trails ran through villages and some through beautiful valleys. This was a late monsoon season. Typically, monsoons end in September and, as a result, October hikers are rewarded with clear skies and spectacular views. We, on the other had, got lots of cloudy views. Nevertheless, there were times when the skies would open up enough to delight the eyes. This was especially true for early risers as the skies seemed clearer then.
After three or four days, our odoriferous qualities were sent into a declining direction - we really reeked! As with other times in my hikes through New England's White Mountains, or even Peru's Andes, when everyone smells, everyone smells the same. So you just don't mind as much. There were two ways to solve an odor problem. One, you could jump into ice cold streams. Or, two, you could get a hot shower at one of the village huts which were set up for this. We had been advised to not partake of these hot showers by the Peregrine folks. They reasoned that the energy for the hot water comes from burning wood and there's a deforestation problem in Nepal. Hikers, the world over, tend to be a conservation-minded lot. Very few of us opted for showers.
Let's talk about leaches. I think I did, a lot, on this hike. Leaches are not supposed to be a problem at this time of year. That, at least, is what travel books said. This had been a big concern for me and it's possible that, because I kept asking, over and over, about leaches, that the guides and hikers thought I might be a touch paranoid about them. While in the water, I found, on my leg, a black, worm-like thing. I said to James, our Australian trip leader, "James, are you sure there are no leaches this time of year?" He replied, "Yes, I'm sure. It's really too late in the season for them." A few minute later, Rod, a fellow hiker from Queensland, Australia, pulled an identical black thing from his leg and said to me, "Hey, Chris, this is what a leach looks like!" I guess the leaches were a second gift from the same gods who gave us the late monsoons.
There are many tea houses along the trails catering to trekkers. I knew there would be tea houses because my travel books mentioned them. What I didn't know was how delightful they would be. I had originally set my expectations low so as not to be disappointed. I found that, in many cases, the huts were as nice as what we have in New England with our High Mountain Hut system in the White Mountains. The features may be different, but the huts were equally nice. You could sleep in the tea houses for only a couple US dollars per day. The beds are about as comfortable as what we had in our porter carried tents, so we chose to sleep in tents. For convenience, some tea houses had nearby places where you could put up tents in groups. This was a boon because it meant the bathrooms would be nearby at night. Tea houses served more than tea. You could get beer and candy bars. The Australian's seemed to like Mars Bars. One even wanted a picture of himself on Mera Peak holding a Mars Bar! I think they were motivated because of a story about an Aussie mountaineer who survived for five days in a raging blizzard, possibly atop Everest or maybe K2, eating just Mars Bars. Or maybe they were just pulling my leg.
THIS EMAIL COMES FROM a FELLOW HIKER WHO SAW AN EARLY VERSION OF THIS PAGE. >>> Bill Leveritt 12/15/96 10:48pm >>> ** Low Priority ** . . . have just read your story about Mera. Very good. Thanks for mentioning me by name. The story about the Mars Bars is quite true. I wanted my photo taken with a Mars Bar on the top - I am sure I had one taken but I know my kids have "secretly" taken one out to get it blown up as a Christmas present for me - I suspect that's the one. The Mars Bar story comes from about 3-4 years ago when an Australian surname Scott (his father is professor of English Lit at one of our University's in Brisbane) got lost and supposedly lived in a cave in the Everest region for 40 days with one only Mars Bar before being found. Made big news in our local papers. Now every Aussie who goes climbing in Nepal has all his friends tell him to take a Mars Bar. Bill
The Sherpas were fun at the tea houses. They drank rakshi, a rice wine, and lots of home made beer, and then sang and danced a lot. They asked us to teach them a dance of our own. Given we, too, had been drinking beer and wine, the only thing we could come up with was The Limbo. It is, of course, the dance where you move your body under a bar - we used a ski pole - which is lowered each time you do it without falling. We also taught them the Macarena. This is a song and dance of Spanish heritage which is popular in the U.S.A. It can't be described in text; you have to see it. The Sherpas liked The Limbo, but I'm not sure if they like the Macarena.
We visited three monasteries. We camped near two of them, at Kahri Khola and Pangum. The monks gave us tours, which consisted mostly of showing off their beatiful Buddha statues. The monasteries also housed old books. I was told that the books were 3,000 years old, but then I thought that, at that age, they might predate paper. Maybe, they meant the books covered 3,000 year of history? I was never sure because of my language skill, or lack of it. At the third monastery, which was nothing more than a cave who's entrance had a man-made facade, there was the expected Buddha. It was here that the Sherpas asked for blessings for the expedition. They burned incense, held a small ceremony, and blessed the prayer flags which they would later fly at our base camp.
Our evening and morning meals were always at a table with folding chairs. The porters carried these for us for the whole trip. The evening meals were held inside a tent, but by the time morning rolled around, the tent was packed up leaving just the table for us. We typically ate eggs, bread, and porridge for breakfast. For supper, there was more variety. Lunches were less elegant. We ate at whatever comfortable place (rock or stump) that we could find. We had Sherpa Pizzas once. This was a pleasant surprise. Coincidentally, I had had a craving for Sam Adams beer and deep dish pizza the day before! The Sherpa-prepared pizza was almost as good.
Months before the trip, I had bought a flexible Frisbee at Easter Mountain Sports, a New England sporting goods chain. We used if often on the hike, especially wherever there were children. One of the Sherpa's took a liking to the frisbee and I gave it to him at the end of the hike. His name was Dundee.
You would think that, on a trip to climb a mountain, you would spend a lot of time actually on the mountain. That's never the case (unless someone flies you there - I've even heard of guides short-roping people to the tops of mountains, but we didn't have anything like that here). Here, we spent most of the time getting to and getting back from Mera Peak. The terrain went from stone-inlaid pathways to forest footpaths, steep hillside ascents, and river crossings. Everywhere, the mountains, valleys and forests were beautiful.
One could buy beer, Coca Cola and candy bars at all of the tea houses. Our last "convenience store" was at Tagnac, a stone house at the trail side about three hours from the Mera Peak base camp. (I wonder if the Australians bought all the Mars Bars here?) This place was a nice shopping stop on the way up, and it was especially nice on the way back!
Base camp was similar in setup to all our other camps. We would have tents near one another with one, special tent not so near. This was, of course, our toilet tent. It sat over a hole in the ground. One night, at Zattara Danda Ridge, well before we reached the base camp site, I got up to go to the toilet. It was foggy. Actually, we were up high in the clouds. I had my headlamp on but couldn't see more than three feet in front of me. I guessed at where the toilet tent was, but couldn't find it. After a while, I gave up on my quest to fulfill my biological imperative and tried to find my own tent. I almost couldn't! Eventually, though, I did and went back to an uncomfortable night's sleep. It wasn't until morning that comfort would be properly restored.
While at base camp, we were in the midst of glacial moraines surrounded by incredible mountain views. The pictures tell the story better. In the second photo is Pete. He's holding up a wash basin which is always left near the toilet tent. If one can ever find it, at night or otherwise, one washes in chemically treated water for hygiene's sake. This morning, it was so cold that the water froze in the basin.
The Sherpas invited us to participate in the prayer flag ceremony. The flags are left flying for the duration of the ascent to Mera Peak and are even left behind afterwards. The idea is that when the wind blows, and the flags flap, they release prayers to be carried to the heavens. The prayers, themselves, are written on the flags.
We acclimatized often. We needed to do this to be able to withstand the altitude changes that we would be experiencing. While at Tagnac, well before base camp and our final ascent to Mera Peak, we did day hikes to various high places. The exceptional view of a valley with a small lake in it was taken from a ridge there. The men in the picture are James, Trevor, and I. Rod took the picture. You can actually see Mera Peak in the third picture. It's a tiny point at the top of the snow line; well behind the predominant foreground peak! Mera Peak is about a one-day hike from here. In these pictures, we are on our way to high camp from which we will make our final ascent to the peak.
The morning of the climb to the peak, we rose at 3 AM. I should have felt great, but I didn't. I hadn't eaten well for about five days. By now, I was sick of the food and had lost my appetite. Maybe these were symptoms of something else, possibly altitude sickness, possibly some other bug. I'll never know. We gathered our climbing gear - packs, crampons, ice-axes - and headed up. It was cold, but bearable. I knew I was going to have a problem right away because I was having trouble keeping up with the rest. I climbed for several hours, catching an amazing sunrise along the way, and passing several of our party who had turned back. They would not make the peak that day. They suffered from headaches, nausea, and other well known altitude-sickness symptoms. In this picture, I had, myself, just turned back. It was at approximately 5940 meters when I saw Bill, from Queensland, on his way down. I asked him to take my picture with Mera Peak in the background. I wanted at least that much to bring back with me. Starting at about 5900 meters, it took every bit of my energy to make a single step forward. I was amazed that this had happened. With all the preparation, planning, and dreaming I had done, I could only come to within 500 meters of my goal. I had reached an insurmountable physical limit. My body could do no more.
YET ANOTHER COMMENT FROM FELLOW HIKER BILL WHO HAS A BETTER ESTIMATE (I WON'T ARGUE IT) "Can you be sure you got to 5940 metres. I stopped only about 5 or 10 metres below you and I like to claim we got to 6000."
From the start at Katmandu, it took us 15 days to reach base camp. We spent four days there, including the time to climb Mera Peak. It took us only four more days to return to Lukla, which was another 20 minute helicopter ride back to Katmandu. We began as strangers and returned as friends. This may sound melodramatic, but you can't really spend 23 days together, sharing stories, laughing at each other's jokes, playing Frisbee, cards, and whatever other games there might be, without some tinge of friendship slipping in. It was tough to say goodbye. We did this with the Sherpas and porters the day before our last day in Nepal, in Lukla. These good men took care of us, fed us, and kept us comfortable and safe. On our last evening together, we said goodbye with a well deserved toast to them and ourselves.
This trip was expensive. I used up all of my available vacation time. I survived five immunization shots. I never made it to the top of Mera Peak. All that planning, all that hoping, all that dreaming, and I never made to the top. Was it worth it?
I made new friends. I hiked through one of the most spectacular places on our planet. With each forest trail, each river crossing, each ridge path, were the mountains - always the mountains. Everywhere were the places that other adventurers had been before me. We breathed the same air. We sat in the same rocky places. I had been allowed to share a small part of their legacy and the ideals it holds. One day, on the way back from Mera Peak, I had asked Bill to take my picture. I wanted to make sure he got one particular mountain into the shot. He placed it above my right shoulder. You can see its white-capped peak. It looks small in the picture, but you can still see it clearly. This photograph will always bring back the spirit which lead me to undertake this project. I will hang it on my wall and it will remind me of how close I was to the highest place on earth. The mountain peak in this picture, with a telltale wisp of cloud moving across its top, is not Mera Peak. It is Mt. Everest. I was a mere 30 kilometers from it.
It was worth it.