Coyote 2007 Mera Peak Expedition

“Can you see the runway yet?” asks Pam. “No, but it’s got to be close- we aren’t too far off the ground” I replied. The twin otter plane with it’s two crew, eighteen passengers and one irrelevant stewardess had just dropped below the cloud level and we were all anxiously scanning the rolling hills for anything akin to flat ground. Suddenly a cliff wall loomed straight ahead and the pilot executed a steep and falling 180 degree turn to reveal a small dirt runway on a small plot of flat ground immediately in front of us. “Holy Shit!” Pam exclaimed- voicing the thoughts of all of us including the white-knuckled Buddhist pilgrim across the aisle from me. The pilot, however, had obviously done this before and made a perfect landing, rolling to a stop in a cloud of dust below the town of Phaphlu in the hills of the Solokhumbu district of Nepal.

As our bags were unloaded I scanned the small group of onlookers for our Sirdar, the head Sherpa who would lead our trek and manage the porters, cook and kitchen boys that were to become the trekking Coyote support team. Noticing our large pile of duffels and backpacks, one of the men stepped tentatively towards us. I went over to him and asked “Are you Angkitar Sherpa?” “Yes!” he replied as he smiled and careworn wrinkles radiated from his eyes. He said a couple of words to the other men there, and our pile of luggage was whisked up the hill and into the small hamlet of Phaplu on the backs of porters. We followed anxiously, not quite knowing what to make of this, but Ankitar gave us a reassuring smile and walked along with us- “Don’t worry, you are in the hands of the Sherpa now, everything will be fine.”

Joining Pam, Barry and I in Kathmandu prior to the flight was Peter from Scotland, a late and welcome addition to the trekking Coyote crew. Tall and 28, with craggy features, a quick wit and outgoing personality, Peter quickly became the social interaction component of the trekking Coyotes. While Pam, Barry and I would collapse exhausted in our tents most afternoons, Pete would join the Sherpa staff for a couple of rounds of Chang (a local brew made from millet) and a smoke.

After a quick lunch and hot tea in the dim and cool back room of a teahouse in Phaplu we were ready to begin our trek. Ankitar was anxious to get going, as our flight was four hours late arriving from Kathmandu and he had already decided to cut the days trek short so that we could make the next teahouse by dark. The first several nights we stayed in teahouses as the majority of our porters and cook staff would meet us three days into the trek at Pangkongma, having brought supplies to that point from Lukla.

We left Phaplu on a broad and relatively easy path that wound along the hillside through fields and past stone houses large and small. Angkitar remarked that the large houses were summer homes for outsiders; the smaller farmhouses were Sherpa residences. We strolled at a leisurely pace, enjoying the mountain air after the dirt and smog of Kathmandu. Mountain brooks tumbled down the hillsides, and at each farmhouse children rushed out to shout “Namaste!” and “Hello!” All was bliss until we realized that we were not going to make it to the next teahouse until after dark, and our headlamps were packed in the bags that the porters were carrying. Fortunately Pete had his, and we shared his dim beam for the last mile to the teahouse.

Every day we crossed clear streams tumbling down the mountainsides

We woke at 6:00am the next day to the rousing voice of Sumden, Ankitar’s son- “Hello Sir, Bed Tea!” In what would become our morning ritual for the next three weeks, Sumden opened the door to our room with a tray of cups and a pot of hot tea. After finishing my tea I stepped outside to my first views of the Himalaya up close. On the flight in from Bangkok the Himalaya were seen as an wall of stone and snow in the distance; but the spectacular peaks of Numbur and Khatang rising up nearly 700in the clear morning air was even more impressive. After standing in awe for a few moments and taking a few photos I went in for breakfast and then packed up for the first of many long days on the trail.

Angkitar got us going quickly after breakfast, as we had five miles to make up from the day before in addition to the seven miles planned, and there would be a lot of up and down- first 1,300 feet of gain up to Trashingdo La (La means mountain pass), then 5,000 feet of loss down to the Dud Khosi river, followed by 2,300 feet of gain back up to our teahouse for the night at Kari Khola.

As we approached Trashingdo La, we passed an old and elaborate Chedi with piles of Mani stones surrounding it. Angkitar remarked that the person who had the Chedi built in remembrance of a family member must have been very rich. Often along the trail we would pass simpler prayer walls built of stones with the phrase “Ohm mani padmi hom” and other prayers inscribed on them, or perhaps just a simple pile of Mani stones. Often colorful strings of prayer flags would flutter around these walls and stone piles, sending a prayer to the heavens each time the flag fluttered in the breeze.

An elaborate old Chedi near Trashingdo La

While we stopped for lunch in Nuntala several curious Sherpa ladies came to inspect our bags and the porters loads. Jokingly one of them tried to pick up one of the porters loads, and did her best Redd Foxx impression, feigning heart attack at the mere thought of having to carry the load- “It’s the big one!” She was a jovial and expressive woman, and even though we couldn’t communicate in the same language, her gestures and ours sufficed and we had a grand time joking together while waiting for lunch.

Sherpa ladies teasing us and our porters!

After crossing the Dud Khosi river we finished a long day of hiking with a steep climb up to our teahouse for the night at Kari Khola. After relaxing for a bit with hot tea at a table outside, Pete and I retired to the kitchen where several Sherpanee (young female Sherpa) were holding court over the fire, cooking dinner and serving what would become Pete’s drink of choice during the trip- Chang. In every teahouse and stone hut in the Solokhumbu there resides an evil little barrel of the millet based drink, fermenting away under a sink or in a cabinet. Out of this barrel is poured the base drink, which is diluted with water to produce a whitish liquid with a higher percentage of alcohol than beer, but not as much as hard liquor. Most of the Sherpanee we met refused to partake themselves, but would gladly mix up a bucket for about 100 rupees (about $1.60); much cheeper than beer at 250 rupees per bottle, or whiskey at 300 rupees per 250ml- the latter two choices being carried in on porters backs.

A teahouse kitchen; note the pipes running to the fireplace for hot water. The Chang is in the cabinet!

Next to the teahouse at Kari Khola, on a ridge point overlooking the Dud Khosi valley, a new monastery had been built, and I took a bit of time in the morning to investigate the paintings inside which had just been completed the prior day.

A small sample of the elaborate painting in the new monastery.

While inside, I met Ngima Dorji Sherpa, who was overseeing the construction of the monastery, which had been funded by private donations from Europe. Ngima also ran several charitable organizations, one of which provides temporary medical services to remote Sherpa villages. Sherpa who have bad accidents or sudden illness are often out of luck, as the nearest hospital is usually more than several days walk away.

Hiking up the hillside through the modest homes of Kari Khola, we were invited in to view the forge of a blacksmith, who was currently repairing a pot. Nothing goes to waste in the Solokhumbu.

A simple forge with the billows in the back activated by the leaver that the girl is pumping.

At a trail junction later on, Angkitar asked if we would like to visit an old monastery, which we did. That choice, of course, required following the steeper trail uphill, and after sweating it out for an hour we were glad to discover that we could continue on from the monastery rather than having to return downhill. The Namdrolling monastery sits high above Kare Khola on a point overlooking the town and surrounding valley. The three monks in attendance were performing a puja ceremony in preparation for some special event, and the sound of chanting, beating drums and clashing cymbals filled the compound. Afterwards the woman who was the caretaker of the monastery invited us in to the kitchen for tea. She and her children and grandchildren had fun posing for pictures and then viewing them on the screens of our digital cameras. Angkitar said that if we sent him prints he would drop them off the next time that he passed through. It seemed as if Angkitar was either related to or a friend of just about everyone we met throughout the trek!

Namdrolling monastery.

That evening we met the rest of our support crew- cooks, kitchen helpers and porters- in the hamlet of Pangkongma a short ways up the hill from the Namdrolling monastery. Angkitar had hurried ahead to organize the crew, and for a moment Pam, Barry and I were a bit confused when we came to a trail junction near some houses with no indication of which way to go. After a bit of hiking around, though, one of the porters from our group hollered down at us from a hillside and directed us to the teahouse we would stay at that night, our last of the trip. Pemba Tenzing Sherpa, our cook, prepared a magnificent dinner for us that evening, as he and the kitchen staff would every evening that followed. I was expecting to loose weight on the trip, but Pemba would have none of that!

Looking across the valley from Pangkongma.

Once again we woke to clear skies and great views, and once again our itinerary included hiking up over a pass, down into a valley, and up the other side. We were fortunate that the clouds did not move in until after 10:00am, enough time for us to get our first glimpse of Mera peak after crossing over Pangkongma La.

Mera is the center mountain of the three snowcapped mountains shown; we climbed the middle peak. Hinku valley in the foreground.

After a very steep downhill trek, at times down stairways and along the edge of a landslide, we arrived at a spectacular bridge across the Hinku river. As I walked across the bridge it bounced and swayed, threatening to dump me into the raging river one hundred feet below.

Ok, so the bridge doesn't look that bad...

... but you might be a bit wigged out too if this is what you saw looking down!

We had lunch after crossing the bridge, and then headed uphill once again to our camp at Nashing Dingma, a flat pasture sticking out like a little platform on the steep hillside. After setting up camp, Pete and I grabbed a deck of cards and joined Angkitar and several other Sherpa in a game of Kit-Tee, a favorite Sherpa card game. Each player is dealt nine cards, and creates three sets of three cards, each valued similar to poker- three of a kind is best, then straight flush, straight, flush, two of a kind, etc. The objective is to organize your cards such that you have the best two of three sets; or perhaps the best first two sets; or perhaps the best three of three sets. Peter and I could never figure out exactly what a winning hand consisted of; we were learning this all by trial and error over cups of chang.

A cute little Sherpanee named Angie ran a store out of a small hut, and after dinner Peter and our crew congregated over there as she had a cute smile, spoke excellent English, and had the only fire around. I retired for the evening, but woke later on to use the facilities and ran into Peter in the dark. “Mark!” he said, “I think I just got married- but it’s going to cost me 80,000 rupees in beer!” We both stumbled off to our tents and woke the next morning to find out that Peter had not actually married Angie, and was not in debt 80,000 rupees.

Once again we headed up to a pass, this time Surkie La. The trail out of Nashing Dingma was litteraly a stairway near the top of the pass.

A porter carries his load up to the top of Surkie La.

After dropping briefly over the other side, we regained the ridge and hiked through a pleasant forest of juniper and various deciduous trees. We had been sharing the trail and campsites for the past few days with a group of eight from England and a group of three from Romania, along with their attendant porters, cooks, guides, etc. Most of the campsites were big enough for all, but our camp at Chalem Kharka was a bit close. Kharka, by the way, is the Sherpa word for “small flat spot on a hillside.” No worries, though- everyone was good company.

Crowded camp at Chalem Kharka.

That night we had a bit of rain, which stopped by morning, however the clouds were still low on the ridge, lending an eerie feel to the hike all day as we followed the ridge above tree line, passing fortress-like rock monoliths and finally reaching our high point at a prayer wall on a pass above the lakes of Panch Pokhari. At nearly 15,000 feet this was our high point of the trip so far, however there was no name for the pass, so we christened it Coyote Pass. After lunch we dropped down to the lakes of Panch Pokhari, which are a sacred site for both Buddhists and Hindus. The first lake had many stone monuments, prayer flags and strange metal tridents lining the shore.

Religious artifacts and the misty setting gave Panch Pokhari a mystic feel.

We set up camp at Chanbu Kharka just below Panch Pokhari, and as I was putting up my tent I smelled a strange rotten fishy smell. It took me a while to figure out where the smell was coming from, but I eventually isolated the source as the lonely porters basket propped up against a rock across the trail. Closer inspection revealed that the basket contained large hunks of buffalo meat in a state somewhere between dried and decayed, apparently for sale. I went over to a nearby hut where several porters and a store owner were gathered, and managed to get across the point that the basket full of buffalo smelled terrible, and that it might be easier to move the basket than my tent. A slightly disgruntled old porter appeared out of a dark corner, and proceeded to move the foul carcass away from our camp- and next to our dinner tent! I couldn’t bring myself to bother him again, but by the time we had dinner later on the basket had disappeared. For days afterwards we crossed paths with the little old man and his smelly load, whom we affectionately referred to as “Meat Man”. Five days later his load seemed no smaller, so apparently I wasn’t the only one who found the meat offensive. He kept plugging away, however, tramping along the valleys and over the ridges of the Solokhumbu with his malodorous load. No doubt he is still going.

After a cold and clear night at just over 14,000 feet we traversed a hillside for a bit and then dropped back down into the Hinku valley. The day remained clear, and we had some great views of the peaks surrounding the valley along the way. As we neared the bottom of the valley, it was readily apparent that a large flood had passed through at some point in the not too distant past. Indeed, in September of 1998 a small earthquake caused the terminal moraine that was backing up lake Tsabi Tsho at the head of the valley to weaken and finally collapse. The event happened in the morning after most of the people in the valley were awake, and the residents of Tagnag immediately below the lake had several hours warning as the water poured over the top of the moraine before it broke. Fortunately no one was killed in the incident, however several houses in Tagnag were washed away.

The 1998 flood caused massive landslides in the lower Hinku valley.

After hiking up the Hinku valley for a bit we arrived at Kote to camp for the evening. Up to this point we had been following the path less traveled, one only used by groups heading into Mera the long way. Now, however, our route was joined by a more direct route from Lukla. From this point on we would follow the main route to and from Mera, so we also met groups returning from their climbs. Kote and our other two camps in the valley were accordingly large and well stocked with multiple stores each carrying all of the necessities of Himalayan trekking- Coke, Pringles, candy bars, whiskey and chang.

A nice waterfall behind our camp at Kote.

The eighth day of our trek was pretty casual compared to the prior days, following the Hinku river for about six miles of moderate gradient. Along the way we passed an old pile of mani stones, and Peter found his second Sherpanee heartthrob at a little store along the way.

Old piles of Mani stones in the Hinku valley.

Upon arriving at Tagnag we got a good view of the broken moraine which had caused the 1998 flood- impressive indeed.

The giant breach in the terminal moraine above Tagnag gives one some idea of the magnitude of the 1998 flood.

Although we couldn’t see them most of the time, the Himalayan mountains surrounded our camp at Tagnag. We spent several nights at Tagnag, and while there we heard several large avalanches from the surrounding peaks, but never saw them either due to mist or darkness. Every once in a while the clouds would part and we would get a glimpse of the massive peaks surrounding us; the rarity of our views making the peaks seem all the more impressive. Our ninth day out was a layover day with an acclimatization hike to a point just over 15,000 feet which theoretically had great views. On the way up the clouds did part for a nice view of this peak above Tagnag. Our climbing guide Nawang said that we would be looking down on this peak from the top of Mera.

A peak just north of Mera glimpsed through the clouds. This is the leftmost mountain in the earlier photo of Mera.

We were camped once again at 14,000 feet, and each camp from here out would be progressively higher. After our layover day we left Tagnag for Khare, our base camp at just over 16,000 feet. The weather was clear for a while in the morning, and we had good views of this peak which is considered sacred by the local people. It has been climbed once, but without permit or sanction from the Nepal Mountaineering Association. Angkitar mentioned that the NMA is considering opening the peak to mountaineers.

Sacred peak above Tagnag.

Finally after ten days of hard trekking our approach to the mountain was complete. While our route in was scenic and good for acclimatization, we were all looking forward to climbing the mountain. As my friend Rick and I found climbing Aconcagua, one of the biggest challenges of climbing a bigger mountain is simply hanging in there. It takes a long time to build the strength and acclimatization necessary to summit a high peak, and eventually the daily stress and inconveniences of mountain living wear you down. The general sentiment amongst our group was “Let’s get on with it and climb this mountain.”

We were only at 16,000 feet in Khare, however, and we still had to get to high camp, which was situated in a rock outcrop at 19,000 feet above Mera La. To get there we would have to hike up onto the Mera glacier, traverse across the Mera La saddle and then follow the glacier up to high camp.

We were fortunate to have chosen a year in which there had been heavy snowfall during the summer months (summer is the monsoon season which brings the most snowfall to the Himalaya of Nepal). Mera is the highest designated “trekking” peak in Nepal, and as such there is a fair amount of climbing traffic. This means that the route up the mountain is typically well established, and that was certainly the case this year with a well tromped out and marked path across the glacier and to the summit.

On our first excursion out of Khare we took a day hike up on the glacier to become further acclimatized and get re-acquainted with our crampons and ice axes after a long layoff from our practice time in Colorado. The day started bright and clear, and stayed that way through the late morning.

We climbed the central peak of Mera, which is the small bump in the background of this photo.

We had great views early on in our hike, and we stopped often for photos and to relax and enjoy our time in the mountains. As we approached Mera La, however, the clouds once again rolled in and obscured the view- unfortunately so, as Mera La would be the first opportunity to view Mt. Everest. As we approached Mera La, Pam said that she heard a noise off to the side of the trail, and Barry confirmed it. Peering into the mist we saw a vague hunched form off in the distance that appeared and disappeared in the distance. After consulting with Angkitar we decided that what we had seen could only have been one thing- The Yeti!! We excitedly turned to consult Peter, but he was mysteriously nowhere to be found. He returned a few moments later to explain that he was relieving himself, but by then the Yeti was gone…

The Yeti!!

Our move up to high camp commenced the following day bright and early. A snow squall came in mid-morning and Angkitar almost delayed our move by a day, but the squall blew through and we headed up the mountain. Pam was having a low energy day, and it took us a while to get to Mera La.

Pam and Angkitar on Mera La just before the storm hit.

While we were having lunch there another storm came in, this one with more intensity than the first. After lunch we spent the next three hours hiking up the glacier in blizzard conditions, and everyone was cold and tired by the time we arrived at high camp. We immediately collapsed in the tents for a welcome rest before dinner. After dinner Barry came over to the tent that Pete and I were sharing and we talked a bit about our plans for the summit. The normal agenda is to head to the summit early in the morning the day after arriving at high camp. Due to the bad weather and our late arrival, however, I just assumed that our summit day would be postponed and we would have a chance to rest. Our climbing Sherpa, Nawang, had informed us that the summit bid was still on for early morning. Pete was not happy about the idea of climbing in the dark and cold, as his gear was barely adequate for the conditions. Barry said that he and Pam were ready and willing to go, but more time would be better. Personally, I was a mess- I was tired, disorganized and I didn’t know if I would have enough energy by the time the 3:00am start rolled around. So we decided to delay the start to 5:00am if the weather got better, and take a rest day if it didn’t- I was hoping for the later.

Having made that decision we settled in for a restless night. Up to this point the elevation gain had been gradual, and our route had been well planned to allow for excellent acclimatization. Our first night at high camp was a different story. Barry and I had minor headaches, Pete had an upset stomach, and we were all drinking a lot of water to stay well hydrated (and using our pee bottles often). At about 1:30am Pete had to get out of the tent and puke, however he felt much better afterwards and reported clear skies outside. At 2:00am people from the English group who were also camped began preparing for their summit bid, and for the next several hours there was rustling, clanking, headlamp beams wandering around and assorted snippets of conversation- “Where’s my harness?” “Are you ready to tie in?” “Is there any hot water?” etc. After they left there was silence for a short while, and then Nawang stuck his head in our tent- “Ready to go?” I had already made my mind up that there was no way I was heading up the mountain today. Pete’s sleeping bag had not kept him very warm through the night, and there was no way he was going to spend another night up here, so he was on for the summit. I hollered down to Barry and Pam, and they were up for a rest day as well, so we sent Peter off with Nawang and told Angkitar that we would head up with him the next day. An extra day at high camp wasn’t exactly in Angkitar’s plans, and was an inconvenience to the cook staff who were camping with us, but he nodded, smiled and said “Sure, no problem.” After Pete left we got in another hour of downtime before the sun lit up our tents.

The day dawned bright and clear, and soon Angkitar was rousting us out of the tents- “Come see views- Everest, Cho Oyo, Makalu, Lotse, Nuptse- many mountains!” I unzipped my sleeping bag, put on my down jacket, grabbed my camera and stumbled out of the tent to view one of the most stunning vistas I have ever seen. I rubbed my bleary eyes and looked again; it was no mirage. There before me the giants of the Himalaya marched from one horizon to the other, stabbing grey and black and brilliant white into the deep blue sky. In the center of the scene a rock and ice pyramid rose up from behind Lotse with a flag of snow blowing from the summit- Everest. Mountain of dreams, daring deeds and hardship beyond measure. A mountain that I had heard about from the time I was young and scrambling over the rocks behind our house in Boulder. Right there, staring back at me. Simply amazing.

A close up photo of Mt. Everest from high camp.

Angkitar gathered the kitchen staff together for a picture, and Barry and Pam joined in for the views as well.

Our Sherpa gang at high camp- Kagee, Ankitar, Surkie, Pemba, Dankumar, Bactabaduri and Jidbaduri.

After breakfast we were resting in the tents when someone mentioned that a team of two climbers was headed back down to camp. I got out of my tent and watched as the two dots on the glacier gradually became larger. Their progress was obviously slow, and the climber in front was stopping to hunch over an ice axe every fifth step. After another half hour Pete and Nawang arrived at high camp, with Pete in the lead and obviously quite tired. I shook Pete’s hand as he stumbled in, and he looked at me with tired eyes- “We turned back. Too much snow. My head hurts. Can’t feel my toes.” “It’s Ok,” I consoled him, “Sit and rest and have a hot drink.” As he was sipping tea I checked for signs of Pulminary or Cerebral Edema- extreme altitude sickness- but he was quite coherent, no gurgling in the chest, with only a minor headache. “We were wallowing in a foot and a half of snow, and Nawang said that we still had another two hours to the summit-” he said- “that’s when the voice in my head said to turn around- always listen to the voice in your head.” I agreed. He also mentioned that he couldn’t feel his toes, and went off to the cook tent to warm them up. Ten minutes later Angkitar came up to me and said “Peter has a problem with his feet.” I immediately grabbed my first aid kit and went into the kitchen tent, where Peter was soaking his feet in a bowl of yellow liquid. “Sherpa piss,” he explained, “works wonders!” Looking down at his toes I thought “I sure hope so.” His toes were gradually thawing out from first and second degree frostbite; mostly bright red with some purple in places, other spots still white and frozen. Angkitar agreed with me that Peter had to get back down to base camp as soon as possible. So after I washed and bandaged Peters toes and gave him some drugs for the pain, Angkitar and porter Sangay accompanied him down to Mera La. There, Angkitar decided that Pete was walking well enough that he and Sangay could continue to base camp without help, and Angkitar returned to high camp.

Meanwhile the English team had arrived in high camp looking utterly wiped out, but happy to have made the summit. They also reported very slow going through the new snow, and I half-jokingly thanked them for breaking trail for us to follow the next day. Soon they left high camp, and Pam, Barry and I were left to contemplate the morning’s events. Would we have difficulties with the new snow? How cold was it up there? Could we make it??

After lunch we packed for our summit bid and then rested some more. We were all feeling better acclimated, and I was even able to sleep for a bit. We woke briefly for dinner and then headed straight back to our sleeping bags. Despite the altitude and our anxiety what summit day would bring we all immediately fell asleep.

Nawang poked his cheery round face into my tent at 2:00am the next morning- “Bed tea, Sir!” “Thanks, Nawang,” I replied, still not sure about heading up the mountain, but not wanting to put it off any longer either. The night was clear and cold with a slight breeze blowing. After tea came some porridge for breakfast, and then it was time to put on the backpack and crampons and rope up. By 3:00am we were headed out of camp with Nawang in the lead, then myself, Barry, Pam, and finally Angkitar.

The wind had been blowing all night, which meant that the route had been blown free of snow in many place, but was drifted in and buried elsewhere. We started off on a long drifted section, and progress was slow as Nawang probed cautiously with his ice axe. Several times the snow was deep enough that we were wading and even crawling along. Fortunately we soon came to the end of the drifted snow and from there on to the summit the route was blown free of snow. Pam, Barry and I settled into our typical mountaineering snails pace, while Nawang attempted to forge ahead (restrained by myself behind him), and Angkitar strolled along in the rear. Soon the horizon to the east began to light up, and at our next stop I looked up to see the morning light on top of Mt. Everest. Soon thereafter we came over the crest of a hill, and only a short traverse separated us from the final pitch up to the summit. Much ado had been made about the final pitch up to the summit, and this had been one of Pam’s main concerns. As we looked at it however, it was obvious that our fears were unfounded. Teams of climbers had been going up and down all summer, and the last fifty feet to the summit was tramped into a stairway. Not an easy stairway, mind you, but not steep and icy either. I started up, one step at a time, multiple breaths for each step, looking down at my feet and carefully placing my ice axe. Finally I saw that there were no more steps and looked up to see Nawang grinning broadly in the deep blue sky- “Welcome to the summit of Mera Peak!” he exclaimed. I grinned back at him and shook his hand, then turned to congratulate Barry and watch Pam take her final steps to the 21,200 foot high summit at 8:15am on November 11. As she made the summit we all shouted “Wooo Hooo!” and hugged each other. Pam had completed a life goal of climbing a mountain over 20,000ft. Time for a bit of celebration, and then carefully back down to high camp.

Pam climbing the last pitch to the summit.

Coyotes on the summit of Mera Peak; 8:15am November 11, 2007.

Nawang and Angkitar on the summit.

During the hike up, Pam had complained that her big toes were cold, and had been wiggling them throughout the climb to warm them up. After we returned to high camp she took her boots off to find dark blood blisters on the inside of both of her big toes. The frostbite was not as wide spread as Peter’s, but more severe and concentrated. Fortunately only a small part of each big toe was effected, but it was enough to cause significant pain. She took some painkillers and we all relaxed for a while having lunch at high camp before packing up and heading back down to base camp at Khare. By 2:30pm we were back in Khare, re-united with Peter who’s toes were doing much better. After Pringles and Coke we disappeared into our tents and passed out.

After sleeping the sleep of the dead, we were once again rousted out of bed with a smile and tea at 6 am for the long trek down to Kote. Not to long after leaving Khare we finally saw one of the avalanches that we had heard thundering down the mountainsides during the previous week.

An avalanche plummets 3,000 feet down the face of Mera near Khare.

The hiking was all down hill, and not to difficult, however with both Pete and Pam hiking with frostbit toes it took until 5 pm to get there. Pam was wearing her plastic mountaineering boots to protect her toes and keep the blisters from bursting, and Pete was experiencing painful tingling throughout the day. Pete managed the day drug free, but Pam had to take some heavy duty pain killers, and was tired and slow as a result. Throughout the day Nawang and Barry stuck by her and helped her down the trail. It had been cloudy most of the day, but just as the sun was setting the clouds started to lift. I remembered that Angkitar had said that one can see Mera Peak from Kote, and I looked over my left shoulder to see Mera glowing in the evening light- a little gift from the himalayan gods after all of the cloudy skies throughout the trip.

Sunset on Mera from Kote.

That night in Kote we met friends of Angkitar’s who were just finishing their trip, as well as his eldest son Jergen who was the sirdar for two Koreans who were just starting out on a 52 day trek which included climbing Mera and Island peaks and crossing innumerable passes. Pam, Barry, Pete and I all agreed that 19 days was plenty, thank you very much. That night after diner the chang was flowing freely and everyone was in a great mood. Angkitar and Pemba were dancing a traditional Sherpa dance, and everyone else was just moving to the beat. Soon the whole wriggling crowd formed into a congo line which circled the fire into the wee hours of the morning.

Sumden, Jergen and Angkitar Sherpa at Kote.

Pam was feeling much better the next day, with some of the pain and swelling in her toes easing. After a casual start we headed up towards Chetra La pass. Often groups take just two days to hike over the 15,000 foot pass and down the other side to Lukla, but since we were still tired from the previous two days Angkitar decided that it would be better to break the hike into three days. The trail heading out of Kote was the most frustrating yet- winding up stairways and over root steps for five hundred vertical feet or more, then plunging back down to the river in the same fashion to loose all of the precious vertical just gained.

The trail climbing up and down through the forest of the Hinku valley.

Finally, after a brief stop for Pringles and tea at a nice little teahouse in the forest the trail decided to go up and keep going up, and we gradually wound our way through the forest until we reached our camp for the night near tree line at Toktor. While we were ensconced in our sleeping bags for our afternoon nap a storm rolled in and dumped three inches of snow. My peaceful slumber was disrupted by a loud “Thwack!” on the tent, and then a few moments later another. Peter was bombarding my tent with snowballs from near a teahouse, much to the porter’s delight. A snowball fight ensued and I found myself on the loosing end, trying to hold the lower ground. After a brief flurry we called a truce, and I joined Pete and the porters in the teahouse next to the fire drinking chang and pealing potatoes.

The next day we continued up to Chetra La in the snow; at first only a few inches deep, but up near the pass as much as six inches in places. After lunch at Chetra just below the pass we hiked over the pass where there was even more snow. The trail was steep and the snow was slick; at one point Nawang set up a fixed line to protect a particularly steep section of the trail. The porters used instep crampons to negotiate the tricky slope, and seemed to have no problems even with heavy loads. Without crampons the going was slow for us, but we eventually slipped and slid our way down 3,500 feet to our camp for the evening at Chutanga, arriving just before dark.

Pam negotiating a particularly tricky part of the trail on the fixed line while Barry and Angitar look on.

Our last day on the trail was short, and after a casual start we took our time on the easy hike down to Lukla, stopping often for photos and enjoying the sun and warmth after several days in the snow.

A nice waterfall along the trail above Lukla.

"Yak with Mountain" photo.

Lukla.

It was warm and sunny in Lukla; the elevation of 9,300 feet felt like sea level. The teahouse we stayed at was right at the end of the runway, and we lounged in the sun outside while watching planes land and takeoff from the short and steep runway.

That evening we celebrated the end of the trip with Angkitar and the rest of the staff, whom we had gotten to know well. We handed out tips and gifts, and shared cake and drinks with everyone. Pam, Barry and I retired early, while Peter and the staff partied until the wee hours of the morning.

We came to Nepal expecting beautiful mountain scenery and hoping for a successful climb of Mera. We left with our summit dreams realized, cameras loaded with photos, weary legs and smiles on our faces. The best part of all, however, was sharing time with our Sherpa guides, cooks and porters. We will always remember the broad smiles and warm hospitality of our new friends.