Meg Noble Peterson

December 13, 2016

It was a strenuous slog to the monastery which, though there were a few monks,  was primarily a nunnery for Anis (nuns) in retreat. We traversed a dusty, circuitous road that was both rutted and wet, rocky and steep. The landscape was filled with fields of barley, metal poles where kiwi fruit is grown, and dry winter wetlands  with watercress still growing.

Looking back on Junbesi, our guesthouse is the building with the red roof in the center left, and the house that Jwalant helped build is above the town in the upper left with the green roof.

Along the way:

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We arrived at the monastery at noon and went into the large temple where low chanting was taking place.

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It was a perfect time to arrive, since lunch was about to be served. We were led to some cushions lining one wall of the elaborate main temple roof and offered lunch as well. What an unexpected treat! After the chanting , the Anis (all with shaved heads and beautiful, sunny faces), took out plastic bags and various-sized bowls. They were served by nuns going up and down the aisles with enormous containers of food.

Before serving the rice, a large panful was put on the altar. Then the Anis ladled the rice into their plastic bags and the dal, veggies, and yogurt into their bowls. Each Ani had one small spoon for eating. Our food, however, was served on metal plates. Everyone ate in silence, making small balls of rice and dipping them into the other food. And all the while the Anis were smiling and gesturing at us in welcoming fashion. It was a lovely experience.

After we had finished eating, cleaners came by, sweeping and mopping the floor between the rows of mats. Then the Anis arose, quietly, filed out, and went about their various activities while we went to the altar to receive strings and necklaces that had been blessed by the Anis.

We made our way around the monastery and down the stone steps. I climbed more steps on this day than in my entire lifetime…or so it seemed. Until I had reached the bottom of the many-tiered monastery I had not realized how steep the climb up had been! I got a kick out of the animals, especially a couple of massive cows, trying to negotiate the steps, as they worked their way to the small patches of grass and garden tucked away on each terrace.

So many steps!

That poor wandering cow

Every one pitches in … working hard sifting building materials

Retreat cabins on the hillside

Halfway down we came upon an open field and stopped for tea at what looked like a greenhouse. There were colorful tables filling the room, and benches covered with rugs. The floor was packed dirt, which the owner sprinkled with water to eliminate any dust….an interesting touch. A woman was sitting outside in the sunshine, weaving bamboo baskets. It was a quiet, reflective time.

I was glad when we branched out onto a short cut, which I wish we’d used on the way up. It was a winding, rocky trail and went over a roiling creek by way of several wooden bridges.

The woodland trail ended at the longest mani wall I’d ever seen, not far from the house Jwalant, our trek director, and his friends built for a family whose previous home had been destroyed in the earthquake.

New home for a family

Continuing on to Junbesi, we passed monasteries with brightly painted windows, in various states of repair and disrepair after the earthquake.

Love those windows!

As if that wasn’t enough for one day, we decided to hike up the steep hill above the guesthouse to see the other house that Jwalant had helped build for a family who had lost their home in the earthquake. We had a lovely cup of tea with the Mom and her daughter, and Buddhi and Cittra before heading back home.

That night after dinner we talked with another new friend—an Englishman, Maurice Possner. We covered Brexit and Trump, as well as the financial problems in India. Then we started relating our extensive Nepali adventures. Like him, one of our favorite places was Langtang, so we compared notes and realized that we had both been through the charming little town shortly before it was obliterated in the 2015 earthquake. It’s still hard to believe that 600 villagers and 250 trekkers perished in a matter of minutes. Maurice has been back and told us that those who were away at the time of the disaster have returned and are looking to the future and rebuilding higher up. My, I do love this country and its people. They have such courage.

I lay in my bed, a colorful Tibetan curtain behind me, and looked at the same full moon as last night. The events of the day played in my mind. I cannot do justice to the feelings I have as I struggle up the trail each day. I feel so alive and so aware of the natural beauty all around me. And so at peace….

December 12, 2016

The next morning we said farewell to our beautiful hostess and started an intense seven-hour trek to Junbesi. Well, for me it was seven hours… the guidebook time is 3-4 hours, but remember you need to add an hour per decade above 50 years.

Not too long after we left, we crossed a high bridge over a river with spectacularly painted enormous mani stones below, which Lhakpa had told us her family had painted.

We climbed for several hours over trails with scary exposure, deep valleys, icy patches, and steep inclines, where you had to be vigilant every moment.

By midday we had reached a great restaurant recommended by a German couple we had met in Ringmu, The Everest View Lodge at Beni 7, Phurtvang.

There we enjoyed an exquisite curry made from fresh orange squash that looked like pumpkin, and had been picked right out of the garden. It was served by a peripatetic cook, who seemed to be on roller skates as he flew form one task to the next, with three pots going on the open stove.

We chatted with a father and son from Huntington, Long Island. They, like us, were trying to stay off the subject of our recent election, but that wasn’t to be. We would meet them several times down the trail as they forged ahead.

A range of snow-capped mountains followed us all day. Over on the left was Everest, but, as usual, it was so far away that it looked smaller than the rest.

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We knew we were getting close to Junbesi when the road reappeared, and we saw construction work. Chutes for the river water were being built to generate hydroelectricity, and it was definitely tearing up the river and its banks.

Junbesi had been hit hard by the earthquake, which had mostly spared the areas we had been in the previous days. The stupa in the center of town was destroyed, as well as the school. Both were being rebuilt.

It was dinnertime by the time we reached our guesthouse in Jumbesi and I was all excited about writing up my feelings and observations after what, to me, was the best hiking day ever…when in walked Victor, a charming Norwegian gentleman. Two hours later we were still talking. I was struck by something he said that has been true of my travels for the last thirty years. It’s the people you meet along the way that add meaning and depth to the trekking experience. I always had this feeling during my earlier days when I was traveling alone with no contact with the outside world, whatsoever, and had the choice to write about the day’s excursion or interact with those with whom I came in contact. I usually chose the latter.

Something else also struck me during the next six days. This was the first time in all my trekking that I had encountered so many men traveling alone, most of them coming from Lukla and heading for Jiri. They were middle-aged, fit, and many returned every year to be alone in nature, get off the hamster wheel of their busy lives, and recharge their batteries to go back to “the world of restless men.” We met at last eight such men, some in the guesthouses and others on the trail. One fellow said he always starts around ten in the morning, after everyone else has left, and walks until dusk. If he can’t find a place to stay, he simply pitches his small tent in the woods for the night. These are men who love solitude and love being immersed in the wild.

Just before bedtime we were treated to a full moon over the mountains. No wonder we’re all a bit hyper. And I thought it was the clear mountain air!

                                                                                                    December 11, 2016

Although we were headed to Junbesi, we decided to take a day hike in the other direction towards Lukla and go up the mountain to Takshindu with its beautiful views.

By the time we arose the next morning, the temperature in our room had dropped to 41 degrees. We had a delicious breakfast–a veggie/cheese omelet made with the family’s nak cheese–and Lhakpa explained that she used the term nak cheese, since nak is the female yak responsible for the milk. Her family cheese factory, for which the guesthouse is named, is a six-hour trek from Ringmu, because that is the altitude suitable for the naks. Can you imagine such a commute? But there were several family members in the area, who all worked together in the cheese business, as well as providing wood and bricks for the new houses in the Khumbu, so the burden was shared. A very enterprising, closely-knit family.

By the time we started on our day trip it was warm and sunny once more, but our initial uphill climb was treacherous due to lingering ice covering the rocks and cracks in the trail. We noticed a number of roofs being reconstructed, using tin to replace the cedar shingles. The metal roofs are more expensive, but last a lot longer and do not necessitate the cutting down of so many trees. The blue tin roofs were a lovely accent to the white houses with their windows of bright blue trim. Farther up, Sherpa Buddhist monks were replacing an old prayer pole with a new, taller one.

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After a long and peaceful climb up the mountain, we approached the top and crossed the road used by the noisy, heavy tractors to pull supplies to Takshindu, a major transportation hub. There the road ends and donkeys are used to transport the supplies, such as rice and sugar, on to Lukla.

When we arrived at lunchtime there were dozens of donkeys and mules milling around and waiting to be outfitted for the climb to the higher elevations. Buddhi told us that two thousand of these animals are used every year to pack in supplies.

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After a lunch of garlic soup and egg veggie-fried rice, we wandered over to the magnificent view point.

Relaxing

With the occasional truck driving by!

We said goodbye to the donkeys about to head off with heavy loads to Lukla, and headed back down to Ringmu.

On the trail back, carved out between high embankments made by the monsoons and winding its way through a forest of cedar, rhododendron, and deciduous trees, we met a doctor and his family. They were headed for Lukla to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the hospital established by Sir Edmund Hillary. The family included six and eight-year old grandchildren. How well I remember visiting that hospital in 1987.

In the late afternoon we arrived in Ringmu to be greeted by Lhakpa and treated to a sumptuous dinner of Sherpa stew and an evening of jollity in front of the blazing stove.

An uncle came to visit

As the evening went on we all took turns sitting on the bench by the fire, telling stories, and savoring the sunset as it slowly set behind the watchful Himalayas.

                                                                                             December 10, 2016

That was my motto for the next week as we trekked in the wilderness that is the Solukhumbu, one of the Eastern-most districts of Nepal. Yes, it was great to be in the Everest region and away from so much of the recent tourism flooding into the Himalayas. I had not pictured it as so pastoral and quiet, but we were at the end of the trekking season and going in the opposite direction, away from Lukla and the Everest trek, and toward Jiri.

Cittra all loaded up and ready to go!

We headed out from Phaplu accompanied by the occasional sounds of planes flying from Phaplu to Everest. You can see the airport in the distance beyond the prayer flags. This has completely changed the transportation in the region.

Where thousands of porters used to make the trek to Lukla, these days only a few do. The trail from Phaplu to Ringmu is now mostly a road, and seemed to be either dusty or muddy, with the occasional tractor creating more dust or mud.

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We were so delighted when we went off the road onto a trail in the countryside!

Here is a video Cary took on her iPhone… the music was playing in the fields!

During that first day I was amazed at how many new, and large, houses there were, with lush farms nearby, mostly terraced.

I was also surprised at the amount of tree-cutting, which Buddhi, our guide, said was on the rise due to the lucrative business of selling boards to the Everest region, where hotels and guesthouses are proliferating. The boards were airlifted there by helicopter! What a difference from my base camp experience in 1987, when there were only a handful of primitive lodges at the base of Kala Pattar. Not the luxury hotels of recent years. Mine was a real wilderness experience.

The milled wood was stacked in big piles that were then airlifted by helicopter to Lukla… a hazardous journey! In the distance in the mountain view is the helicopter on with its load – impossible to see!

Helicopter with load of lumber swaying below.

Here are some scenes along the way

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After ten kilometers of a steady uphill, we reached the Numbur View Cheese Factory Lodge and Restaurant in Ringmu. Embarrassing as it was, Chittra beat us by two hours! When we arrived, we were treated, immediately, to our favorite garlic soup. Buddhi always spearheaded the making of the soup for he is convinced that it staves off altitude sickness. And so are we!

For two days we stayed in this delightful lodge, run by Lhakpa Sherpa, a beautiful young woman and a fabulous cook. Her husband is a trekking guide on Everest, so she holds down the fort during his absence and cares for their adorable four-month old baby, Kunsang…fat-cheeked, sunny, responsive, and good-natured. What a great time I had “talking,” singing, and playing with him.

Our simple sleeping room was quite chilly, but, fortunately, we all ate together (dal bhat, what else?) in the kitchen kept warm by the earthen stoves fed by shoving sticks of wood into a floor-level opening in the front. We all took turns keeping it “fed.”

Getting ready for bed in the mountains is often quite challenging! First you visit a separate toilet, then move to the adjoining shower to wash your face. Then you can choose any number of places to brush teeth, including the outdoors, if you want to brave the freezing temperatures. But I loved the silence and the peace that surrounded us, and I slept long and well.