From Khumjung we hike down to the Dudh Kosi
(Milk River) and the village of Phortse Tenga, then begin a long climb
up towards Macherma at 14,600 feet. Both the altitude and the grand
vistas take your breath away. The scenery changes more frequently
than I would have imagined. Views of the peaks Cholotse and Taboche
(both over 21,000 feet high) change constantly as we hike in front
of their western faces. We pass through different vegetation zones
at different altitudes - the birch, oak, maple, and rhododendron at
lower altitudes give way to large pines on high ridges, their limbs
twisted by the prevailing winds and draped in feathery green mosses,
grown from the monsoons of summer. The Nepalese bird, the pheasant,
with its brilliantly colored plumage, prances through the undergrowth.
Higher still, scrub juniper is all that can survive the harsh environment.
The Himalayan tahr (related to the goat), scampers sure-footed among
the rocky crags. Finally, above 14,000 feet, the juniper disappears,
leaving only rust-colored mosses and lichens clinging defiantly to
the rocks.
And always along the trail, the friendly
villagers, porters, and sherpas. (Sherpa with a capital S refers to
the Nepalese ethnic group that emigrated to the Khumbu region of Nepal
from Tibet 500 years ago. With a lower case s, sherpa refers to a
trek guide or mountaineer. Not all sherpas are Sherpas, but many are.)
On most days, Nima, a 16 year old Sherpa, leads us up the trail. Nima
speaks little English, but his mischievous smile, and good natured
ribbing about our slow pace, speak volumes. With the villagers, too,
we learn that a warm smile and a friendly 'namaste,' or hello, is
all that is needed to communicate. The porters we see on the trail
carry incredible loads, often well over one hundred pounds, wearing
only sandals or tennis shoes. A simple strap running across their
foreheads bears the weight. As they pass us by, whistling, and seemingly
without effort, we are duly impressed, and weakened at the same time.
They shoulder everything from trekkers' gear to stacks of long 2x8's,
used to build the hundreds of tea houses that have sprung up as a
result of trekking's popularity. Yaks carry even more gear, ours included.
The bells around their thick necks warn of their approach; we hug
the high side of the trail and let them pass, so as not to be bumped
off the other side and sent tumbling for a thousand feet. In the villages,
families spend unbelievable amounts of time and effort clearing rocks
from the fields to grow barley, buckwheat, corn, and most importantly,
potatoes, the staple of these once nomadic herders for the last 150
years. High stone walls separating the families' plots are a testament
to their labor. In schoolyards, young children, their faces dirty
yet bright, sing joyously, their melodies carrying far up the valley.
It is a sweet, sweet sound.
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