End of the trek

I’ve tried to start each day’s log with some aspect of the trip which was not related to the actual trek events themselves. Today I have no such thread. I don’t know how to start. We’ve been in the mountains for ten days almost totally alone, and now suddenly, we’re back into situations where we are amongst other people. We’ve existed on camp food on the trek, and now I can get a beer or a coke if I want. The mountains are all back safely hidden from view, waiting for the next group to discover them. There’s no snow anywhere in our vista, and there seems not to be any challenge left in the trip. Some good things lie ahead, I’m sure, but the anticipation of the trek and the day’s events which awaited us are over. My mind is still whirling with all the sights we’ve seen in the mountains and the places where they took my mind and spirit, not to mention my body 

Trek day 10
Today was supposed to be a throwaway day, just a short three-hour walk and we would get to the camp from whence we started. Instead it turned into a very cultural day as we passed through several villages and got a close-up look at village life.
There were no men around “town,” (a series of rock buildings with mud stuffed between the cracks to protect from the ever present wind,) only women and children. The men, as we understood it, were out in the mountains tending the yaks. Maybe the three men who watched us being stupid on the summit yesterday were typical of this. In the middle of town was a central well where many women were gathered, and for the first time we actually saw someone washing their face and hands.
I say this in no way meaning to disparage the people, but it’s a tough life, and cleanliness is way down on the list of priorities. Clothes are generally utterly filthy and appear that if they were washed at this point, they’d fall apart. Hair seems never to be washed. These are people who spend their lives working with animals, working hard in the fields, and there’s precious little time for personal hygiene. We never thought less of them for this, it just seemed to be the way it is. I had said in one of the earlier letters that they didn’t appear dirty, and while that seems to fly in the face of what I say here, I want to reiterate that they never reeked of body odor or unwashed conditions.
All of the kids put out their hands for money, and if you take their picture, get quite insistent about it. They are always satisfied with what ever you give them, and we all have a lot of Joau (sp) which is 1/10 of a Yuan which is 12 cents, so it’s a penny a picture. We’re obviously not talking a ton of money, but every little bit helps them. A trip to the doctor costs one Yuan, the same 12 cents.
We went to the house of a woman and got quite an introduction to a Tibetan home. The downstairs is where animals live, the yaks or sheep if they have them, and then you climb a small ladder up about 6 feet to the living quarters for the family. As you might expect, they are very sparse. A room for cooking and sleeping, and a room for the storage of materials, which qualify as the family’s possessions.
We saw some florescent bulbs to plug in lamps, (those money saving things they’re always trying to sell you as being longer-life and more efficient), just hanging from the ceiling with wires running from a battery. Upon climbing another set of stairs, we saw a small, 1x3 foot bank of photovoltaic cells, which sends the power to the battery, which in turn powers the lights. From the rooftop, we could see several other houses with the same set-up on the roofs. I was really surprised, because it is the only time in the 10 days that I have seen anything barely resembling the “modern” world as we know it. We found out that the cells cost about $25 our money. A considerable sum for a Tibetan household, but obviously within the reach of at least some households. Maybe some families who didn’t cut up the rope and sold it and therefore could buy something which is a real luxury to them, a semi-steady supply of light at night.
We left the village after an hour or so, and continued down to camp. We passed the home of Tenzig Norgay who, along with Sir Edmund Hillary, was the first person to climb Mt. Everest in 1953. I had always thought that he was a Nepalese Sherpa, but in fact this area was once part of Nepal and his family moved to Nepal proper in the 1950’s at some point after the Chinese takeover of Tibet as we know it. Sherpas just refers to a whole group of people from this region of the world.
Continuing down the road, we came upon a small guest house, and there were Jimmy and the drivers, waiting for us, right on schedule. We went in and had a Coke Cola. Unfortunately, since it was room temp, all it did was fizz in our mouths, and was not very palatable, but from a comfort food aspect, made us feel that we were again joining the world.
We walked the rest of the way to camp although we could have ridden in the jeeps. After getting the tent set up and doing our sponge baths, Carol wanted to do laundry and I went to “Town,” with Jimmy, one of the drivers, and the Yak Pas. It was a one street village with government and official buildings on one side and a series of small shops and facilities on the other. I poked my head in one of them where I could see something resembling a yarn winder. Inside was a woman weaving, so I asked permission to film her and did, so I could show Carol when I returned to camp. Carol has wanted a drop spindle from Tibet and I was able to get across what I was looking for, and the woman brought one out. Since I only had a 50 Yuan note and nothing smaller, she was more than willing to take that for payment. I said: “No, no, no,” and the bargaining began. They went to 40, I countered with 10, they went to 30, I went to 15, they came to 20, I stayed at 15, they stayed at 20, and so I paid the 20 Yuan, a whole $2,50 for this drop spindle. I know that since I only had the 50 Yuan note I was working with few bargaining chips, but after all, $2. I always feel so cheap when I do this, but, if you don’t you’ll wind up paying way too much for everything. Anyway, Carol was happy and that’s all that counts.
Tomorrow, ah tomorrow, we don’t walk. We drive to Rompbuk monastery where we will camp for the last two nights, and walk up to Everest base camp on the North face. No carrying backpacks, no walking, just being transported to the next place, how luxurious, even if it is a 6-hour bone-jarring ride.
I asked Manoj how far we had walked, and he said that it was difficult to judge, but he thought the best guess would be 110 kms, or 66 miles. I wish that we had made note on
Tony’s watch to see our cumulative ascent, but it must have been massive. But, no matter how far it was or how short it was, it was wonderful, and just as I approached this trek with anticipation and trepidation, now that it’s over I face tomorrow with both elation and sadness. The trek is no longer something to look forward to. It’s now a memory like so many others. A very fresh one indeed, but still a memory.