The prayer wheels of the monastery on the left and Ama Dablam on the right. This is the first view from the last upward step to Tengboche. There are a few, albeit expensive guesthouses, owing to their lesser number as compared to other villages on the 3 passes/Everest Base Camp trek.
I looked around and inquired until I found a porter who directed me to a place that was supposed to be the most economical. There were a few surprised glances at me as I entered the reception area and asked for tea and the tariff for the night. It was getting windy outside.
3 passes and Everest base camp – Solo!
The Lodge
The place was old and dark but clean. Facing the reception desk was a tiny dining room adjacent to a massive hall which had a raised platform on both sides and could fit about 60 people. That was the sleeping area which was free of cost while the food was inexpensive compared to regular stays on the trail. With the arrival of a few more local hikers, I understood that this wasn’t a cheap guesthouse.
It was the Porter’s lodge.
The realization struck me that I could be in for a long day here. I could have paid and got myself a room nearby but I didn’t want to. A cloud of doubts hovered in my head. Comfort wasn’t one of the guests in attendance here and I looked out of place. And there wasn’t any point as to why I should stay uneasy when it certainly wasn’t the need of the hour.
I picked up my backpack from the dining area into the hall, rested it on the platform and ordered another cup of tea and fried rice. “Discomfort is going to be my friend tonight”, I said to myself. I knew exactly why I was doing it.
As I gulped another cup of tea and chewed the bitter burnt rice, the wind grew strong outside and the clouds enveloped the mountain peaks. I took a stroll and by the time I came back, the lodge had started to fill up. By evening, it was crowded with teenagers to fit old men. There were about a hundred people in rugged clothes, wrapped in lean muscles.
The fittest of the Himalayas.
The backbone of the mountain trails.
Island peak- My first 6000m climb!
The Evening
The ailing mattresses were laid out and everyone got busy talking, napping and listening to music after a day of hard work. I grabbed my spot and tried to get some rest. From my apparel (not physique), it was evident that I wasn’t one of them. The glances surged. The existing apprehension rocketed. The expectation that a couple of tourist hikers could arrive had burned out. Surrounded by folks who all shared a common place and language, I felt out of sorts.
We were different in a lot of ways. The common love was the same though.
One of the senior members broke the ice and asked me about my whereabouts. And the interest in fellows nearby grew. I narrated my usual ‘quit my job and travel’ story and took quite an interest in the lives of the porters; their clients, toil, mountains and joy. The guides and porters on the Himalayan trails as I learnt weren’t compensated enough. The wages hadn’t seen a raise in a few years.
Supper
Time passed by quickly thereafter until a call for dinner echoed through the hall. Now this friend forced me to join them in the first round of dinner table which could accommodate a maximum of about 12 and introduced me to this large group of people who were waiting for food. That I was a guest here and special care had to be taken of me. They tried to comfort me. I felt otherwise. I was red with embarrassment and warmth as everyone looked at me; the odd one out.
Rice was served with water of a dal(lentils) while buffalo meat was relished on every single plate except mine. It wasn’t the most delicious meal of my life but I had to swallow it and not give in.
The uneasiness vanished and congeniality suddenly appeared dressed in smiles and kindness all around. A few more chats followed by greetings here and there. Sherpas, guides and porters; the men of the mountains. The epitome of endurance. All I aspired to be.
The Night
As we got ready for bed, a few jokes were shared. The elevated area was cramped up. It looked like a huge bed with dozens of men sleeping with blankets atop; without telling one apart from another. Sandwiched between people, I had to share blankets from both sides. I turned, twisted and pulled blankets from east and west in what was a long cold night. The congestion remained the principal source of warmth.
I woke up with a sore throat the next morning and bid goodbyes to fellow hikers. I had lived another day to tell a new tale, realizing I was one of them.
These are the kind of experiences I live for!
Life is short. Stay raw!
Here is the video of my time on the trail!