Mera Peak Expedition 2009

From our same hotel suite base in Kathmandu we sorted out our kit bags for Mera. Having collected our 1980' plastic snow boots, well used crampons and ice axes from Shona's Rentals; we packed our gear for the expedition into large hold alls and transferred to the Vajra hotel on the edge of Thamel over the stinking dumping ground of the river, towards the Monkey Temple. Just a brief word on the Vajra, if you ever go to Kathmandu make sure you stay in this oasis of tranquility outside of the hustle and bustle of Thamel, but still within walking distance. It's a relatively new hotel, approximately 30 years old, but has loads of traditional antique features and immense character. Marble floors and staircases, huge carved wooden doorways and beautifully maintained rooms at all budgets, set in quaint relaxing gardens privatized by high red brick walls, and is run by an incredibly friendly and accommodating family. Checked in we grabbed Amy, who had backed out of the expedition, but was still in Kathmandu, and went for a beer on the top floor terrace before the scheduled meet and greet dinner with the rest of the team. Three of the five Scots had beaten us to it, Sandy, Alan and Jimmy, and Don arrived shortly after. We collected Dave and Miles from the reception, and guided all of the crew through the electricity deficient, treacherous dark streets of Kathmandu to the restaurant where we were to meet Raj. We could instantly tell that all of the guys were going to be great company, dinner was reasonably expensive but produced a different class of Nepali food as we presently knew it! Retiring somewhat early after one swift Everest at the institution named 'Tom and Jerry's', with others not exactly jet-lagged but sleep deprived, we had an early start to get on one of the first flights of the day to Lukla. A rather restless sleep, as sleep goes when you know you have to get up and half waiting for the alarm to sound, we were dressed and ready to go. Lana was feeling the nerves of now being the only female on the team, with basic concerns for what challenges lay ahead...

Shipped to the airport in a new silver mini-bus, will lined up in the busy queue, passed through the entry, got scanned, checked the bags, went through security (the standard questions...any lighter, knife? Where are you from? How long have you had your nose pierced? How old are you?) . We were about to get settled in the departure lounge when suddenly we were called to board. The flight was again awesome, the uphill landing just as scary the second time, and Lukla also the same, with a huge gathering of porters waiting for work at the gate of the airport. We all piled into Paradise Lodge for breakfast while our porters and kitchen crew were assembled and organised the loads and supplies under the direction of Bhola our Sirtar. As soon as we started walking all nerves subsided. Passing south of Lukla we traversed a gentle, rugged slope through rural settlements, crossing the river a couple of times with high cliff walls on either side. Arriving after only a couple of hours at a well positioned tea house, we were surprised to be presented with large flasks of milk tea and hot water and an array of tea bag choices. The ever full tea flasks were soon to be a ritual occurrence, first thing in the morning, at lunch, before dinner and at dinner. The kitchen porters, having walked on ahead of us were already hard at work preparing our lunch, and soon a table, with table cloth and a huge variety of condiments, including a rather dangerous looking jar of Nutella, was set up outside of the tea house. Suicide bombers disguised as donkeys, passed by on the path below, adorned in bells and colourful blankets, loaded with plastic containers full of blue kerosene and gas bottles.

We marvelled at our lunch of toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches, sardines, steamed vegetables and hot chips, little did we know at the time, the standard of food would continue to improve even to Mera high camp at 5,800 metres. We would not be going hungry, and with all the tasty second helpings on offer and desserts, we would not be losing the beer bellies as quickly as we had hoped! Genu the head Chef is arguably one of the best in his field/hills!

Our first campsite at Pakhapani, was picture perfect! Our bright yellow expedition dome tents, lined up in a row on one of the terraced ledges of the village hillside, with the token blue toilet tent set at a safe distance at one end, was a gorgeous spot in the overcast valley, on the edge of a mossy forest through which we would pass the following frosty morning. Being in a village we had the luxury of a proximal tea house/ lodge, which made a good spot for the porters to rest, and set up kitchen and gave us somewhere comfortable to sit and chat, in front of the persistently full flasks of tea.

Waking early, which became the norm, to the cheerful tea boys' "good morning tea, coffee" who eventually worked out the difference between black and white tea and that sugar is not mandatory, we got up, pepped but shying the hot water bowl strip-wash, packed our gear and huddled into the dining room of the lodge for breakfast. The porters had been straight on the mark, as breakfast complete, the campsite was packed and most of the guys had already set off up the trail with tents and packs, through the damp sloping woods towards Khare.

By day three, leaving Pangkongma, we had started to drop down into the heart of the Yinku Valley which preceded the Hinku Valley. We were told stories of the black bears which hide out in these quarters, and watched out hopefully...pausing on the highest point of the day, Pangkongma La Pass (at 3,173m), we caught our first glimpse of Mera Peak in the distance. It was inspiring and suddenly it felt real, and we were on our way, the nerves having completely subsided; leaving nothing to do but enjoy the leisurely hike through the beautiful natural scenery of the hills and traffic-free trail, as we made easy progress towards attaining elevation. Our goal was in front of us, and with determination we kept moving ready to butt heads with it straight on! Learning about the significance of the Mani stones (flat pieces of slate or granite which had 'Om Mani Padme Om' and other prayers carved into them like scripture) and other Buddhist symbols along the trail (such as poles with prayer flags, or prayer wheels) which should be passed in a clockwise direction for good karma, we made sure we kept an eye out and stuck to the clockwise direction. Our picnic spot for lunch that day was one of the best, with a stunning waterfall just over to our left, making the steep knee biting descent, zig zagging through the forests, worth the tearing pain.

Our Climbing Sherpas took turns to lead the pack; Lana attempted to stay at the front so as not to get left behind, chatting to whoever was walking behind or ahead, whilst Adam moved up and down swapping tales with the rest of the team. The deliberately long acclimatisation route was a well thought out plan on behalf of the experienced 360 team. It allowed us to build up our stamina for walking long days over varied terrain, but was relaxed enough for us to get into the spirit of being on holiday, and to get to know one another. Raj held a tight schedule for breaks and lunches an obvious residual effect of his military training, but also rather necessary when you have a reasonably sized group of Mountaineers to coordinate. This regime however, was primarily to benefit us further along the trail and at higher elevations when we may be in varying states of health and comfort, and feeling the altitude.

Damn, camping is the life! Stick me in a tent, unfazed by 3 weeks without a shower, leave me to fester in the hills...bring it on! But, this was luxury camping...we arrived to camp each night with the tents already set up. Our dedicated porters looked after us like royalty, nothing was too much trouble, and realising that they were just doing the job they were employed to do, the guilt of feeling waited on, or asking for more tea, or a bowl of hot water in the evening was soon relieved.

A couple of the team had developed dodgy stomachs by the time we reached Nashing Dingma. Everyone was expecting this at some point and although inconvenient and unpleasant, we were gently hoping to catch it early on rather than at High Camp. The pleasant autumn weather began to turn on day 4 on the way up to Khote, colder and damper air emerged from the low cloud. This however did not deter Adam from a quick skinny dip in one of the glacial lakes. Panch Pokhari, Bhola explained to Lana from the back, slow end of the group, on the descent towards camp, meant '5 Lakes' (although there only appear to be three now). These lakes are highly sacred sites and valued for their purity in water quality and spirit, consequently the local population do not drink or bathe in these chilly, holy waters. Doh! Adam had just unknowingly desecrated the sacred lake with his nude form. Bhola offered prayers to the Gods on the way past, to try and redeem our karma. The following morning at Khote was Adam's turn for unhappy bowels, and although we laughed about it, it makes you wonder hey?

As we made the final approach into Khote after a long day and rather slippery gravel ridden descent through stumpy rhododendron forest, which had Lana sliding down on her butt in parts, the landscape changed. The mist had come in thick and fast through the valley, and the jaggered grey layered rock had transformed into a smoother, pale dusky pink along the river bank. We crossed the bridge to where we could already see the tents glowing like beacons in the fog in front of the relatively new looking stone and wood village. You could feel the cold of the water rushing beneath you, and it must have been so cold that it no longer ran clear but was a pale milky torrent, like when Vodka goes thick in the freezer but doesn't freeze brrrrr! Khote was an interesting place, as the village had to be relocated only a couple of years previously when the dam, retaining the powerful glacial waters broke and wiped it out. Luckily, no one was killed as the population of the village were away from the valley floor in the forests cutting fire wood for the coming winter.

The following morning was cold, and we had ice forming on the inside of the tents. We were up as usual, and full of the best porridge we've ever tasted and continued on for an easier, but equally long day along the pink-stony valley. About an hour further along we came across the remnants of the 'old' Khote village, rectangles of stone foundations and evidence of the forceful waters having literally churned through the landscape. It was a terrible confrontation, in terms of considering the catastrophe that could have occurred had the local people been refraining from chopping down trees that day, with boulders the size of cars resting next door to the remains. We took a short diversion up to a temple built into the rock face on the western side of the valley. We entered and were met by a lone Lama, the temple shrine with colourfully painted Buddhist images on the rock overhang where the roof and front wall met. A crudely taxidermy brown eagle hung with its wings half spread, on the wall opposite the door. Lighting some candles, incense and offering prayers and thoughts, with the non-obligatory donation to maintain the Lama's simple lifestyle and temple up keep, the Lama read us some prayers and gave a blessing consisting of song and Buddhist chants to bring us good luck with the climb. He moved with us when we went outside and showed us a rock formation in an alcove near the entrance, which replicated the mountain landscape ahead of us, and uncannily portrayed Mera Peak. He looked up at the sky and the peaks on the opposite side of the valley and said we were to be fortunate, and all would be good and calm when we summitted due to the direction of cloud travel. Before we were able to leave the vicinity of this tiny temple, we were met by the tea porters who had walked back from the camp up the valley at Tangnag with flasks of hot lemon for us! We walked into camp feeling, perhaps not enlightened, but certainly full of positive spirits and good karma. The down jackets came out at Tangnag where we were to spend two nights for acclimatisation, it grew rather bitterly cold, but luckily again there was a lodge who let us use their drafty dining room, and even lit the wood burner. The first afternoon Raj made us get all out ice-gear out to make sure we knew what went where, how to fit crampons etc in the early hours on summit day. We went out to a square area of newly established turf with Dave (who was the only other team member who hadn't worn crampons before) and with John Wayne stances, stomped around in our spiked soles aerating the grass, while the kitchen porters giggled. 'What are you giggling at there Pilgrim?'

The next day had an optional day hike on offer, most people went, as we declined and took the free time to catch up on our neglected books which had travelled with our kit bags from Kathmandu and some much needed washing in large stainless steel bowls (not quite brave enough to head down to the river and soap up the clothes on icy rocks). Taking the lazy option was actually a good option as we felt recuperated. After lunch was fun and games when we put on our harnesses, boots and crampons and stomped up the hill to where the climbing Sherpa's, Lakpa, Sangey, Bhola and Narreyan, had secured a rope around a rock. We were taught how to secure ourselves to the safety line and had a chance to practice ascending icy slopes using jumars, abseiling backwards and hand-wrapping the rope and running down forwards. Sussing how to tie and Italian Loop, in the bracing cold of the later afternoon we retreated to warm up with copious amounts of tea before dinner and darkness set in.

The third morning in Tangnag, we woke to extra dim tents, and a decent layer of crisp white snow outside :) Somehow the cold of the previous day and evening had subsided with the insulating layer of white powder. Sadly there wasn't enough snowfall to warrant parading up to Khote, our next stopover, in our well practiced (albeit on turf and rock) ice-aid attire. The walk to Khote was pleasant in the snow, even if some of the narrow tracks were slippery underfoot from being trodden down by the porters ahead of us. Disappointedly, we noticed when we arrived at Khote that the tents were nowhere to be seen and we had been relegated inside to the pebble floored, MDF rooms of the local lodge, so that the tents didn't have to be erected in the snow. We should have been grateful that we were sleeping inside and on almost proper beds, but the rooms were much colder and less insulated than the draft-free dome tents. Miles and Dave, after rejecting a room which smelt like something was certainly dead, didn't even have a ceiling, and our Sherpas kindly improvised on the shaky rafters with a piece of tarpaulin. The toilet being outside, across and down two a-little-too-high-to-just-step-off terraces, appeared hazardous and a bit too much of a chore for unwanted midnight ramblings. Our, albeit essential, high level of hydration meant that Lana, resorted to resigning any remaining level of shame, requested a 'personal' bucket for the room, to aid the 5 times a night event sleep interruption, much to Adam's amusement.

We were to spend two nights in Khote, a seasonal town, as remote and depressing here above the treeline, bordering a glacier, as that of Gorak Shep in the Khumbu region. Various ailments had hit most of the group by now and lingered or worsened amongst some now we were at this higher altitude. Raj prescribed Lana to join the Diamox crew, although altitude sickness symptoms were minimal. On our acclimatisation day we took off up the biggest b****** of a ridge over to the glacier for a dress rehearsal. This steep, rocky and uneven ridge was made treacherous by the ice, and would need to be climbed all over again the following day and descended on the grueling summit day. Once on the edge of the glacier however, crampons tight, the fun could start! We stumbled about on the relatively steep glacial slope testing the capacities of our plastic boots and learning to trust our footing with these clever little spiked 'crampon' devices. Traversing up and down in the ice for a while, working up a sweat and marveling at our surroundings, we then practiced the art of falling, employing our ice axes as a brake. This instilled a previously non-existent fear of falling in Lana, as the co-ordination of positioning the ice axe correctly when hitting the ground felt as though the severing of a limb would be more likely than actually stopping a slip...we then practiced our rope techniques, jumarring up the safety line and abseiling down. Great fun, but then came the futile descent of the ridge back down into dreary Khote. There was a yak-dung fuelled stove in the semi-alfresco dining area, which we all huddled as close to as possible through the evening, eating dinner scattered around the small room. With bags prepped, halving our kits with only essential items we would need for the next 2 days heading up to summit, we psyched ourselves up for the trek back over the ridge and roping up for the glacier crossing onto Mera La, day 10, and reaching serious altitude.

When we reached the glacier, we were already tired from the climb in the plastics. Snack bars came out whilst we put on our crampons, and we attached our harnesses to one of two rope teams led by Sangey and Narreyan. We set off at a slow trudging pace, stabbing our boots into the snow and ice, concentrating hard not to let the rope between us and the person in front pull tight or drop to the ground. It was amazing to look around through the protective windows of our snow glasses, and see that there was no definite trail ahead of us, just pure white slopes, the ice glistening in the mid morning sun, and a sheen on the mountains and peaks in front of us. We were in the mountains, proper mountain wilderness, and not a skier in sight! One can only feel privileged surrounded by such extreme and pure natural beauty. It's surreal and indescribable, but leaves you wanting more.

The camp at Mera La was basic. Our accompanying kitchen porters did an amazing job, erecting a mess tent, cooking up a big feed and setting our tents amongst the rocky outcrop wherever they could find some relatively flat areas amongst the boulders and ice. The views were fantastic as the sun dropped and the stars which emerged against the indigo-black sky were nothing less than awe inspiring. We concentrated on keeping warm, and slept comfortably, despite the subzero temperatures throughout the night.

Day 11 opened out before us and after a solid breakfast and collecting a packed lunch we continued up the glacier, this time in our 3 designated rope teams, crossing thin turquoise blue veins of crevasses, making slow but steady progress on to Mera High Camp. The camp at 5,800m was situated behind a large rock jutting out of the glacier, which had a narrow, but irregular granite outcrop where our few tents could be positioned before the cliff edge sloped steeply away as loose gravel before becoming a sheer drop for what seemed an eternity. Our tent was on the outermost edge of this cliff edge. We could see light where the ground fell away underneath one side of the tent and it was clear that exiting in the night from the left hand side could be catastrophic and likely fatal! The toilet tent was the most dangerous yet, on a slight incline it was precariously built up with less than stable rocks (which we noted iced up very quickly) all positioned a little too close to the pole which you weren't able to rely on to take any weight in the event of needing to regain your balance in the unyielding plastic snow boots.

Again, the kitchen crew were amazing. Confined to our tents due to lack of space for mingling or a mess tent on the ledge, and to stay warm, we were served a 3 course dinner, soup, dal bhat and fruit to the door of our tents. We slept in the majority of the clothes we were to summit in; thermal layers, socks, down jacket, balaclava, with the inner soles of our boots and gloves stashed inside our sleeping bags. Sleep was surprisingly good, despite the nervous anticipation, knowing that it wasn't long before we had to get up and it would be all systems go!

The five star 'room service' extended to the ungodly hour of 2am as we were woken for our attempt at summit. Cold but smiling tea porters brought hot tea or coffee and a bowl of porridge to follow. Day 12 had arrived, this was it! Piling on the layers, lacing up boots and packing kit bags through gloves; strapping on our head torches over balaclavas and fixing our harnesses we emerged from the cosy interior of the tents into the sub zero temperatures of a pitch black night. Anticipation and mumbled conversation buzzed in the air from all around our small camp. We made our way over to the edge of the glacier, attached our crampons and our bodies to our rope buddies. We were in team two; Narreyan up front, followed by Alan, Lana and Adam cutting up the rear. After about 30 minutes Lana's toes felt so cold she could barely feel if she was still able to wriggle them at all or if they had just snapped clean off in the boots. In pain and upset at the prospect of frostbite, black and missing toes, the tears flowed for the best part of two hours, and fighting despondency, Lana became resigned to the prospect of deformed or sensationless feet...at least it was doing something with an incredible story behind it!

When the sun started to rise over the mountains to the east, towards Kanchechunga, the sky bled out a welcome rainbow of light. Too weary, cold, disoriented and focused on the trudging rhythm across the snow to appreciate it fully, the odd glance taken at that morning's sunrise, is still vividly memorable. The hours passed somehow, the human spirit, unrelenting, enabled us all to endure the effort, knowing the only way is forward and on up, knowing the discomfort will end, and the tiredness will pass. Daylight appeared and the bright, pale yellow glow brought marginal warmth to the air. The summit was all of a sudden upon us. Lakpa had spotted a large and exposed crevasse just before summit and used his technical expertise to fix a secure line around the intimidating obstacle. Up the top of the smooth white dome of the Central Peak we could see the morphed down-clad figures of a glorious Jimmy, Sandy and Don. Far too spent to dash wild and excitedly at the near vertical ice wall between us and the very top, we unhitched our day packs and slugged over to the base of the wall. Somewhat dazed, Lana confronted the base, tied on and determinedly launched herself at the ice wall. Kicking in the toe spikes of her crampons with a certain kind of hatred for the pain her feet had been in and throwing the ice axe with as much strength as she could muster from an arm hanging off an exhausted body. A few feet up, feeling overcome by the physical weakness Lana asked Lakpa to let her down. Lakpa almost laughed at the suggestion, and with a small tug, feeling progress and a wave of new focused energy, Lana enraged her way to a stubborn, not so graceful, scramble to the top.

Unclipping from the safety line Lana, sat in the snow at the top trying to regain a normal breathing rhythm, and waited for Adam to make his climb before walking out onto the peak to enjoy the views. Sandy Jimmy and Don made their descent off the edge of the summit one by one; going down was looking much easier! Adam climbed up with a more definite show of strength, his red jacket appearing at the top. Together we stood and walked out free of the fixed safety onto the summit. How is it possible to describe the views?! We were on a shelf encircled by some of the highest mountains on earth, in the middle of the newest but most magnificent mountain range on planet earth. Looking back over the snaking trail we had trudged over throughout the night, and around in a clockwise direction we absorbed the panorama of incredible beauty surrounding us. We were almost within arm's reach of Everest, Nuptse and Lhotse clustered together behind where we had come from over to the western side. Cho Oyu soared into the sky from its position on the boarder of Nepal and Tibet in the north, the table top of Makalu to our east, and Kanchechunga in India out to the far south-eastern corner, and still the mountain ranges continued into the distance, cloud drifting far below us in the valleys beneath their peaks, swathing them in soft cotton wool balls. All around us on this perfectly clear and almost still morning, climbing conditions couldn't have been any better at 6,476m above sea level. The Lama's predictions had all been manifested and the Gods had forgiven our violation of their sacred waters!

After taking some photos, holding out the Nepalese flag we had gotten the expedition team, porters and Sherpa crew to sign, we hooked back onto the safety line and abseiled down the ice wall. Digging out the large bar of Cadbury's hazelnut she had carried and resisted the urge to eat for the whole trip, intended for mission accomplished, Lana shared around the chocolate to those who could eat.

Don was really looking rather worse for wear. A well built, tall, heavy and strong man, he began the long descent down, stumbling, and then finally appearing to resign from the whole idea, he just sat down in the snow. Adam went ahead to catch him up, hauled him to his feet and coaxed him onwards feeding him water and a Diamox, he was obviously dehydrated, his chest infection had become serious and on top of having to battle with the detrimental effects of the altitude, he had contracted the squits along the way. Raj had already gone ahead with another rope team, so we straggled along unroped, and therefore making quicker progress, back the way we came, this time with the luxury of visibility, enjoying the purity of the white snow field against the strong sun and clearest blue sky. We returned to High Camp after walking for about 2 hours. Don was not the only casualty. Alan was struggling with exhaustion, also amplified by the altitude.

We were fed noodle soup and hot lemon at High camp where the kitchen porters had been waiting patiently for us to return, but the pressure was on to keep moving before we flagged completely. Raj insisted that we remain with our rope teams whilst crossing the glacier, as the sun was getting warmer and crevasses were still a very real danger. Our descent was slowed by trying to get into a pace, and keep distances between the rope lengths. Communications proved problematic as when shouting back that there was a crevasse coming up and to keep moving, the leaders stopped to look around, causing us at the back to be left standing directly over or adjacent to a crevasse. As we travelled we could see the rest of the group as mere tiny dots over the next hill. We passed a couple who were bound for Mera Peak, but they passed us again coming down about an hour later. They'd probably reached High camp and after seeing our grueling and exhausted faces thought better of it.

Eventually we reached Mera La; having forgotten about this section had made it seem particularly long. From Mera La the descent on the ice was okay, then we hit rock and the weary reality struck, that we still had to descend the tough section of the sodding ridge above Khare, which was still riddled with unmelted ice and slippery compressed snow which would take another two hours. Taking the crampons off, struggling for energy and still hours away from camp, there was nothing to do but curse and trudge on. Lana could not convey enough hatred for the ridge on the final section. It just sucked, mentally and physically we were falling apart and just needed to get down. It was 4:30pm when we dropped back into the village of Khare, and the sun was fading fast, plunging the valley floor into shadow. We had been walking and climbing for over 12 hours. The tents were already up, we filed in dribs and drabs into the dining room of the lodge for tea, we would sleep well tonight! Don's condition had not improved and he'd been diagnosed with pneumonia, a chopper had been requested for the following morning to heli-evac him back to Kathmandu.

In high spirits the next day, despite having to wave goodbye to Don and Raj as the new green and black chopper flew in along the valley to land for only a few minutes on the first ridgeline we had descended across the day before, we started our Lukla-bound journey with Sirtar Bhola as our new lead guide. We enjoyed the comparatively short day that the return trip to Khote entailed, on relatively flat trail in the valley floor next to the river. We made several rest stops as the team were now in different states of wellbeing and walking on at very individual paces, the altitude renowned for taking its toll on bodily systems to the point of a rather rapid deterioration from around 5,000m upwards. The dusky pink rock of the valley through to Khote came back into view after an early, but extended lunch stop, as our tarpaulin was spread amongst the ruins of the old village where the kitchen porters had reclaimed the remnants of a house for shelter from the gentle wind. A couple of large crows perched either side of us apparently having a conversation between themselves as to who was brave enough to dive-bomb our plates for a slice of the tasty cheese and tomato pizza the crew had unbelievably managed to rustle up. After lunch we walked through a section of damp, stumpy rhododendron forest and made some unpredictable stream crossings across the fast flowing icy water that was falling from the peaks to our right. In the middle of the pack, 20 minutes from camp, in the dwindling daylight, we took a toilet break behind a big pink boulder where Lana stupidly put her sunglasses down on another rock, which meant an unfortunate fast track trip back along this stretch for Lana early the following morning. Back at Khote, it was nice to be amongst familiar surroundings and even better that we had descended well back into the treeline, tall moss smothered rhododendron trees continued down the valley and high up the hills behind. We all splashed out on a can of beer that evening to celebrate our success, and Narreyan arranged for a bucket of Toomba (fermented millet seed, made with a weird white root additive no-one can name, topped up with hot water and drank through a pinched straw) for us to try, promising to take Lana for a really good Toomba in Kathmandu. Adam, having gotten the taste for all the Nepali homemade specialty booze, had a very late night in the kitchen drinking litres of hot Chang, for the second night running, celebrating with the Sherpa's, and attempted to accompany poor Jimmy in his, now spacious, solo tent.

Day 14 we made good progress towards Lukla, stopping at Tashing Dingma for our final night of camping. We had mixed feelings about this as it was kind of disappointing that the adventure was coming to an end, but also thoughts of a hot shower only 2 days away, were very inviting! Leaving Khote we snaked up through the moss covered moist forests and up higher across a grassy area then further into a small settlement of around 5 wood, lodges, where we captured our final views of Mera's 3 humped peaks in the distance; wonderfully framed in the surrounding mountainscape foreground and overhanging trees from where we stood, against the Western-Australian-blue backdrop of the sky. Jimmy handed out two of the colouring books he had been carrying for children we met along the way to the small infants clinging to their mothers where we stopped. The smallest one eagerly took hold of a pencil to chew, the mother seeming unconcerned that his limited coordination may result in an eye speared on the point. We left quickly and crossed the ridge into new landscapes, akin to the barren countryside in parts of Scotland as the boys kept reminding us, and had to traverse several precarious paths which hugged the unstable slopes of recent landslides. There were lots of ups and downs along the tricky gravelly path, and at the top of each hill seemed to start another ridge, followed by a down and an up, which were navigatable by the many rock cairns. Arriving into the small village of Tashing Dingma, the cloud came in quick, thick and heavy, and we found it was cold. Our tents were already rigged, but none of our kit bags had arrived. We piled into the lodge and tried in vain to get the lodge-keeper to light the metal wood burner chimney set up in the centre of the large communal dining room early. We drank far too much tea in the interim and finished off the jar of replica Nutella. It got dark and still no kit bags had arrived. We learnt that two of the Sherpas had gone off to look for 3 missing porters...3 porters who had had a very heavy evening on the Chang, and had left the last camp late and struggled for most of the day! Carrying 30-40Kg up and down trails like that on a hangover? God, no thanks! They finally rolled into camp just as dinner was being served, and luckily everyone made it safely - we had been worried about the landslide areas, knowing the porters were unlikely to be carrying torches. After dinner the lodge owner put on some random Nepali dance tunes from her i-pod through the rudimentary music system. Dave and Allen had gotten into a couple of San Miguel and were having a bit of a boogie around the fire much to the amusement of the gathering of porters who had come inside to get warm before bed. The party was cut short as two young Europeans upstairs were 'trying to read'. Pah! What lamos! It was 7:30pm!

In the morning we were able to appreciate our surroundings a little more in view of the clear skies, and could see where we would be headed that day up and over a high pass at Zatrwa La, then the invisible down, down, down on the flip side. Zig zagging up the first hill felt a bit of a chore, and after a brief rest stop, where Adam attacked Miles' boots with his Rambo-bush knife to stop him tripping on the top eye hook, we left a 360 Expeditions sticker on the closed door of a seasonal tea house and continued to the pass. We walked over a heavy covering of big grey rocks and stones over a large concave area sweeping down to the valley below and then our final ascent to the narrow opening at the top of the pass strewn with prayer flags and cairns, where we could look down and see the toy-looking planes flying along the valley below us heading in and out of Lukla airport.

We scarpered down the next sections at great speed, releasing our inner mountain goat! The trail was down 1800M all the way, but the knees held out surprisingly well and all was good. We stopped at a tea house at a small settlement to wait for the others to catch up as the woman owner poured us out sweet black tea by the fire. A small child played outside the shack on a Yak-skin rug, and sat with a look of mild confusion on his face at the last colouring book and set of pencils Jimmy had handed to him. He had possibly never seen these before and would need to have it explained to him for the first time what they were and what to do with them!

The trail down once again was similar to the scrub we had covered, then the trail dropped quite substantially into thin Rhododendron forest and pale beige and yellow rocks, snaking down towards the river and a shady bridge crossing where slabs of rock had been lain over the rotting timber shafts. We reached our lunch spot almost with Lukla in sight around the adjacent hill, and enjoyed our final picnic on the tarp. Jimmy tried to make phone calls to Kathmandu to check up on Don's condition, but despite having reception there was no answer from either Don or Raj. Less than two hours after lunch, we walked into Lukla together playing A-Z ''name that band or solo artist", and hit up the Paradise Lodge on the edge of town close to the airport for celebratory beers all round. We then set about separating anything in our kit that we no longer needed and could donate to our porter crew who were gathered in the outside courtyard at the lodge. The Rainbow Bright thermal top was out, together with Lana's much loved Greening fleece, Adam's (unwashed) pee bottle was snapped up quick and filled with Chang from the large plastic drum in the middle of the courtyard...it had the atmosphere of excited old ladies at a jumble sale! Jimmy and Miles had organised the collection of tip money from the team and divided amounts as per Raj's code system for the hierarchy of the crew. We had a small presentation ceremony for the porters in the courtyard, which was kind of strange, but each porter's name was called out in turn and they stepped forward and we all shook their hand and expressed our thanks and gratitude for their enormous effort, as one of us would pass them the tip. We made our presentations to the climbing Sherpa team, chef and kitchen crew after our amazing dinner of roasted chicken quarter with vegetable and potato served on a sizzling hot plate and a huge tower of carved salad, with the big decorated chocolate cake finale!

After a couple more beers and a drunken videotaped speech from Narreyan, which had us in stitches of laughter but was also quite embarrassing, we discovered that Lukla's nightlife was dead in comparison with a few weeks previously, and we ended up in bed relatively early in our plush carpeted, en-suite rooms. Set for a 5am start to guarantee the first flight out in a very unpredictable/unreliable airport, we fortunately checked our bags and were on the first flight out at 7:30 am, Kathmandu-bound.

Back in the big-smoke, and checking into a large luxurious suite in the fabulous Vajra hotel, we spent the next few days living it up, and sorting out our gear with the aim to travel light. A celebratory dinner was scheduled and we were joined by Bhola and his brother, the proprietor of Himalayan Guides, and two lovely French girls at an historical Nepali restaurant. We all enjoyed the evening, sipping Bloody Maries and being entertained with dancers performing traditional folk dance and pouring us Raksi before an incredible Dal Bhat dinner. The following evening we were escorted by Raj to a joint celebration at The Summit, 5 star hotel in a dark suburb of Kathmandu, in honour of Himalayan Guides' 10 year anniversary. A massive buffet spread of salad bowls ran on tables set along one edge of the outer courtyard next to a huge gourmet meat barbeque. Open wood fires glowed in cylindrical burners, and a guy played blues guitar to instrumental backing tracks. This was classy, and I think we all felt a little underdressed! There was a great gathering and fantastic mix of people, so the conversations and beers kept flowing until rather late. We basically spent the next few days eating well and drinking. We took a massage at a place tucked away from the side streets in Thamel recommended by Narreyan, where we were doused in warm vegetable oil and kneaded pleasantly for an hour. We found a cargo provider and offloaded around 25Kg of our gear and set our plans for heading to Pokhara.