JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi (18 page)

Bim walked away and came back a few moments later to tell me that there would be a lunch in a short while. We could rest and relax. I asked Celine if she would like a coke. When she said yes I gave her some money and asked if she would mind getting them for us. She smiled and jumped up and fairly danced down the trail to the vendor’s shack. Even the Nepali men admired her and though they outwardly considered her bare legs outrageous, they would be thinking of her later and laughing amongst themselves and remembering her.

When she reached the shack she was suddenly surrounded by children who stared at her so intently that I became concerned. I stood slowly and walked over to the trader and watched as Celine looked from one child to the next and how they stared at her in complete fascination. I suddenly got it! “It’s your earrings,” I said to her.

“
Oh,” she smiled at me. She nodded and then bent low so the little girls could get a closer look. They were completely enthralled by the cheap, dangling glass beads of her earrings, and I was once again reminded how poor most of these people were. They literally had nothing and sometimes something that an ignorant trekker casually bundled up and threw to the side of the path would become something quite precious to one of these hard working natives. On my first trip here the guide asked if at the end of our trek we would be willing to hand our old dirty towels to the porters. They acted as if they had received cashmere coats when we did as he asked. I was so ashamed of my wealth that I nearly cried. They were so grateful and happy to receive something that we would have just thrown away, it was humbling.

One of the little boys reached out and wanted to touch the jewelry, but I warned her that an earring wrenched out of her ear might cause her to be more careful and she patted him on his head and stood up. Celine is a big, handsome woman and stood much taller than most of the Nepali people, both men and women. We got our cokes and I bought two Mars Bars and put them in my pack. I would need them, I knew, later. They, like the cokes, were from the Chinese side of the border and came over on pack trains that were run by Tibetan silver miners who smuggled low grade silver and semi-precious stones into Nepal on the old trade route through the mountains. These smugglers were a fierce looking bunch with ragged scars running down their cheeks and filthy yak skin vests and hats. We would eventually run into one of the frequent pack trains they walked beside and when they passed I would make sure that everyone got well out of their way.

Christian came over and squatted beside me and said, “That wasn’t so bad. Will it all be pretty much like that?”

“
Sure,” I said. “Except we’ll be going downhill next.” I pointed to the trail and he saw that it did, indeed, run over the side of the mountain and begin descending into the next valley. “The way it is, here,” I began, “is that everything moves from west to east. You understand that in the northern hemisphere most rivers run from north to south unless they are in a mountain flood plain or in a tropical tidal pull? Okay, well we are going to move east over each mountain pass and then descend to the bottom of the valley. There we will cross a bridge over a river and do it again. Up and down, up and down until we reach the Dudh Kosi… the Milk River, and then we turn north and follow it until we reach the Solo-Khumbu, the Everest region where the rivers flow from the giant glaciers that surround and separate these mountains. The Dudh Kosi is fed by all these streams that pour off these glaciers and so we have to climb up to the crest of the glacier, cross the stream and then go back down to the river, follow it along for a while and then back up and down again. We do this for about two weeks until we get to Namche Bazaar. I’ve been over all this with you and the map.”

“
Well, it doesn’t look anything like it did on the map. I can’t believe how high we climbed today.”

“
Christian, we’re only about 8,000 feet. We have to go back down to the Yelong Khola, that means river, at about 5,800 or 5,900 feet and cross that and the Khimti Khola… wait until you see the swinging suspension bridges… and then we get to climb again.”

“
How high?”

“
Around 7,500 feet in altitude, and it is really brutal. We’ll be at it in the morning after a good night’s sleep and it will be okay. We’ll have lunch at a small lodge at Sangabanda and go on over to Bhandar after lunch. The pass tomorrow will be almost 9,000 feet, so it will be a lot higher than today. But tomorrow you will be in better shape and more accustomed to it, so it will actually be easier.

“
How many days will it take to get there?” he asked.

I smiled and looked at him. Then I made an elaborate show of looking at my watch. I looked at him again. “You might want to sit down and rest a while,” I said.

***

Cook served lunch. It was stewed greens of some type with bit of rice and lentil beans. I waited until everyone had been served and taken plenty and then filled my plate. I‘ve been here before. The last time I lost thirty pounds in thirty days and was hungry all the time. I just could not eat enough of the local foods to satisfy the calories I was burning. I squirreled away Snickers and Mars Bars for emergencies. I was aware that the Italian and French expeditions brought mountains of food with them, cooks and bakers and portable ovens and what have you. Every meal has wine and several courses and they pay hugely for this monstrous extravagance. We would eat local foods that were bought by Cook along the way unless some emergency caused us to dip into our small stash of freeze dried emergency rations. We also carried a half dozen MRE’s in case we found ourselves unable to cook. This was unlikely as we had good lodges well spaced along the way and were in no particular hurry to get anywhere fast.

After lunch Bim led the way out with the ladies, Curtis, and Chris close behind. I looked over everything; we would not come this way ever again, and adjusted my poles for the descent. Now the trail was treacherous because it fell away so quickly and the only safe way to traverse it was to lean, place a long pole, step, place the other pole and then step again. Then repeat the process until the trail switched back and you reversed the placement of the steps and poles. After twenty minutes the tops of my thighs were trembling. Big quadriceps need a lot of oxygen and at 8,000 feet there was not as much as I needed. After a week, if we did not sleep much lower and did everything correctly, my body would get used to the oxygen deprivation and hopefully by the time we got to high country, the really high country, I would be able to keep up better. But now my knees hurt, my thighs trembled and I was very aware of not making a mistake. There are no ambulances up here.

Each step became a mantra. Place pole, move feet, observe trail. I did this over and over. Tsuki, tenkan, do it again. Tsuki, fall, get up. Grow tired and keep attacking. Be careful, make no mistakes, take ukemi and get up again. Over and over I repeated this mantra until I came around a switchback and found Christian leaning over and holding his legs with his hands. I could see the shakes as I approached and pointedly ignored him as I passed.

Nawang had been idling behind me as I struggled down the trail and now he stayed with Christian. No one is left behind. You are always somewhere between the two Sherpas. I continued with the regular pace I had set and eventually the trail began to even out and I smelled water, felt cool air, and heard a roaring in the distance I soon was able to identify as a mountain river. It was the Yelong Khola.

After following the trail by the river for another half hour, I saw Chris, Curtis and Bim standing by the trail head where the suspension bridge crosses the Yelung Khola. Celine and Esra were sitting on a bench in the shade nearby. I looked across the river and saw our lodge and I have to say it looked very nice, almost like a Swiss chalet situated between the two rivers and bridges. The late afternoon sun sparkled off the water and the patio was already blessed by shade. I walked up to Bim and said, “Namaste.” I nodded at the group and was rewarded with small, tired smiles.

Bim walked a few feet back up the trail and motioned he wanted me to join him. “What’s up?” I asked.

“
Sahib, I am very sorry, but I must tell you that the lodge is full. I have sent Hadim to Sangabanda to see if they can find a place for you. But I know that there has been a death in the family there and I do not know what can be done. I am very sorry.”

“
No problem, Bim. Just have the porters stop and have Cook arrange for us to stay in tents. That is why we have them.” I nodded at him and smiled reassuringly.

He turned sideways to me and lowered his head. “Again I am sorry, but I tried to make this happen. There are two large groups already promised this lodge and every space, even the tent spaces, are already committed. We cannot even find a room inside for afternoon tea. I am truly sorry. We must continue on.”

I think years ago, well, even now, some westerners would have had a fit here and caused a scene and that is why for so many years Americans and Europeans were not regarded well in this part of the world. It’s probably the only reason I didn’t throw a fit. I was tired, dead tired and I knew exactly where Sangabanda was situated. Still I smiled at him and said that would be fine and asked him to do his best to find us a place to sleep for the night. He thanked me and walked back down the trail and stood by the guard rail while we waited for Christian to show up with Nawang. I went over and sat next to the ladies and we all sat quietly. We were too tired to banter. Chris suddenly said “Sensei!”

I looked up expecting to see Nawang and Christian, but Chris was looking in the opposite direction. He pointed and said “I think I see a bottle of beer on the patio of that lodge.”

“
No one’s eyes are that good,” I said.

He held up a pair of compact Nikon field glasses and smiled. “They are if you use these. And they are drinking beer. I can see it. And very soon we will be.” He nodded emphatically and produced a huge grin. I felt awful.

***

The bridge that crosses the Yelung Khola has been replaced by a wonderful, safe, suspension bridge made of steel cable and heavy aluminum planks. It sways, it jiggles, it bounces, and it is so wonderful compared to the rope and wood contraption that it replaced, I can’t even express it. Although only about four feet wide, it is still sufficient to carry a fully loaded yak train along with handlers and compared to the old one, it felt like highway to me. Solid feeling support rails protect travelers on both sides and I could only imagine that the Nepali Army Corp of Engineers must have built this wonderful bridge. I needed to ask someone and mentally saved that for when I could catch my breath.

With the entire company in close formation we finally crossed the bridge and walked firmly toward the lodge and then kept going out over the second bridge at the Khimti Khola. Chris had stopped and wondered aloud what we were doing, but I had motioned that we were not done yet for the day and to kindly follow Bim. He had not been pleased by this, but he had fallen in line behind Christian who had again taken lead behind Bim. Celine was arguing with Esra and I didn’t need to know Turkish to know what was being said. I felt sorry for everyone and mostly for myself, but there was little for it. We needed to push on. This is true ukemi. When you really don’t want to attack anymore and have been thrown enough times that your body hurts all over, you still get up and attack again. Because this is real life. In real life you can’t just hold up your hand and say, I need a do-over. I need a rest. Sometimes in real life you just have to keep going.

So we got to the end of the river trail and I saw the clay and rock path turn and climb damn near straight up the north-facing wall and knew that this was as tough as it would get. At least for a while.

”
Sensei, where’s our lodge? I thought we were staying on the river.”

“
Well, Chris, you have to stay flexible here. The lodge couldn’t take us and we’re just going to go up the trail a little ways and spend the night at another lodge. Okay?” I smiled at him and slapped him on the shoulder and turned up the trail.

The smart way to do this climb is in the morning, the way I’d planned it. It’s a north wall which means that the sun hits it hard in the late afternoon. It is extremely steep. It is dusty. It’s hot as hell. Remember that Nepal is the same latitude as Florida and it is only altitude that makes it less steamy. We were in a deep valley and only in the foothills. And although the altitude was going to climb from 5,900 feet to around 7,500, we were going to make that climb in around two hours and that is still not high enough to mitigate the steam rising from the valley walls.

It was brutal for me. Besides Esra, I have little doubt that except for the shock factor I suffered the worst. I was the oldest, heaviest and have two bad knees. Christian was hot and sweating, but not breathing heavy. Chris and Curtis and Celine toughed it out like troupers, but Esra started fast and before long she was even walking behind me and was having a very hard time. It was so steep that I had to take a deep breath, take a step and rest; and then do it again. After an hour I was taking a step and then two deep breathes and rest. My knees started to scream at me about halfway and I knew I could not afford to rest, because if I did they would stiffen and I might not be able to get them going again. The sun beat down. Sweat poured out of me and I knew that I had to keep drinking my dwindling water supply because the altitude leaches liquid as surely as sweating. Soon it was gone and I had to rely on the knowledge that we would be there eventually. After three miserable hours we were.