A spectacular retreat
The idea of turning around and going home when you’ve invested so much time and effort in getting there doesn’t sound that attractive at first glance. But when you are in the middle of the Himalaya and you have four more days of trekking along a new track through beautiful mountain ranges before you hit civilisation you know it’s going to be spectacular. And we’d conquered Everest Base Camp so we knew everything from here would be all downhill!
The first day heading home was our longest in terms of time and distance, a monster day over eight hours on the trail and the loss of 1,100 metres. But we knew from experience this actually meant a number of steep climbs as well as some serious downhill sections before we finished the trek from Laboche at 4,910 metres to the little mountain village of Phorche at 3,810 metres.
The grim grey snowy weather from yesterday – our summit day – was long gone and we trekked under beautiful blue skies and the full panorama of the Himalaya surrounding us. There was a thin layer of snow covering everything around us and it made the day picture perfect. The air was crisp and the walking was brisk as we descended to Thukla Pass where we paused again at the memorials to the fallen climbers, then down past the tea house at Thukla where the Korean group terrorized us a few nights ago before forking off our familiar trail to start an entirely new track for the next couple of days.
We walked down this new valley with its thawing creek and slowly melting snow, passing through the small village of Periche with its old stone buildings and majestic mountains all around it. This valley was dominated by the Cholatse and Taboche peaks to the west, both over 6,300 metres, and the massive Chola Glacier that flowed down the mountains almost to our feet. From there we climbed over the modest Periche Pass and then followed a high mountain trail which was mainly used by locals and their animals before reaching the village of Syomare. We stopped here for lunch, made memorable by having to clear our table when a string of heavily burdened dzos came romping through the grounds.
For the rest of the afternoon we traversed one of the most spectacular sections of the entire trek. High up on a ridge where obviously tourists do not travel (Arjan later admitted this was a special way home because we could handle it), the trail was narrow and carved into an incredibly steep mountain side. Ironically we could see the track we had come up the mountain far below us in the valley floor. And off our left shoulder was our old friend, the magnificent Ama Dablam at over 6,800 metres.
The trail was at times chiseled into the steep mountain face, large granite steps up and down and around the edge, quite an engineering feat. For a couple of hours we didn’t even see locals on this barren track, isolated as it was. And this was wild stuff – we saw deer, pheasants, a Nepali wild goat and most curiously a red panda which is kind of like an Australian fox with a bushy tail. Totally unexpected and very cool.
Clouds rolled in below us, then hit us with some snow flurries – yes, still bitingly cold – and the wind blew hard to keep the temperatures very low. But around 4.30 in the afternoon we rounded a corner to see the isolated mountain village of Phorche on a flatish slope on the mountain and we eventually made our way to a modest lodge for the evening. It was a tough day, a long day but a spectacular day along this cliff walk with the wild animals and the beautiful mountains.
The next day from Phorche to Khumjung was another long up and down day, believe it or not despite six hours of heading home we only lost 30 metres in elevation. Such is the Nepali flat. And all day again was in full beanie, gloves and layers, no relief from the low temperatures.
After cleaning our teeth with the resident yaks in the paddock we headed out on a crispy frosty trail, down the steep track losing 200 metres and crossing the raging Dudh Koshi River on a little bridge. From that low point we followed the trail up and relentlessly up, switch back up and up, using all the ‘going up when we’re supposed to be going down’ jokes, long grinding steps, hard work.
We had gone down below the tree line but then climbed back up above it after passing through the Himalaya pines, junipers and huge groves of giant rhododendrons. We saw mountain goats, dzos and yaks along the way but almost no locals. But the altitude was lower, under 4,000 metres, and we found we could walk stronger and longer with a shorter recovery time than before, toughened by almost two weeks of trekking and totally aclimitised to the altitude.
We crested this trail at the village of Mong at about 3,950 metres, a climb of over 300 metres, where we enjoyed Snickers bars that were only 8 months out of date. Our new standard on this trip was that we would eat anything less than 12 months out of date, such is the seclusion and remoteness of some of these villages. And it was a beautiful spot with Ama Dablam, Taboche and Thamserku (6,600 metres) looking over us.
The track became even narrower and more obscure, etched into the side of this triple black diamond mountain slope, not a soul in sight. We eventually came to this steep narrow crevasse in a rock cliff outcrop and had to descend down a series of incredibly steep crudely cut stone steps. These steps were huge and crazy steep and we used one or even two hands walking sideways or backwards to slowly negotiate our way down. A slip off these steps would have literally resulted in a free fall, such was the steepness of the cliff.
But from the bottom of this cliff face we could see the green-roofed village of Khumjung, our destination for the night. Snow started to fall as we passed through potato fields and entered the town, sprawled out on a high plain with mountains all around. We arrived at our impressive hotel for lunch and a rest while we waited for the snow to stop.
Once it did we rugged up and spent the time exploring the town, made famous as the home of the Sir Edmond Hillary school. The ruddy-faced kids were quick to run up to us and practice their English and show off. We set our sights on walking up to the town Gompa (monastery) which we could see on the other side of town. But we had to solve the rock wall maze of narrow tracks between the potato fields, grazing yaks and humble stone homes before finally finding the secret path. The Gompa had colourfully painted prayer wheels and window frames and it looked out over the little town square which was popular that afternoon because the town residents had brought their large water containers to fill up from the public water source.
Over a beer that night, the first we had had in nine days, we talked about our surprises on the trip. For me they included the terrible dust from the people, animals and wind we encountered on the lower trail, the beautiful pine trees with their fragrant smell and pine cones that reminded me of California and the weather which because we came in March was bitterly cold, including seven straight days when the temperature never got above freezing no matter where you were or what you were doing.