Day 4 - March 22nd, 2010
Pangboche (12,900 Feet) to Dingboche (14,500 Feet)
Pangboche (12,900 Feet) to Dingboche (14,500 Feet)
Legs stiff, back muscles tight and feet throbbing (inevitable repercussions of the previous days marathon hike), we decided a lighter days trekking schedule was the intelligent choice. Setting our sights on the quaint village of Dingboche, an “easy” 3 hours climb from Pangboche, we peeled ourselves from bed and hit the road.
Desolate and forlorn, I found myself asking, “Who would ever want to live here?” Then it hit me. Abominable Snowman, Sasquatch, Big Foot, this was Yeti Country!
Covered in thick fur, smelling of garlic and sporting unusually large feet, these oversized human-like mammals strike fear into most people’s hearts. Said to inhabit mountain highlands such as these, Himalayan scientists and western mountaineers are very skeptical of the Yeti’s existence but local Sherpa’s swear to their reality. Photographing dozens of sizeable footprints over the years, locals have yet to provide significant evidence as to the Yeti’s mythical existence but I promise, only a few hours on this deserted path will make you a believer. |
Arriving to Dingboche, well before noon, Team A.D.D went to work on our respective “To Do” lists. Steve…a shower. Declining the glacial shower Clay and I partook in on the previous day, Steve happily paid the 5-dollar equivalent for a luke-warm bucket of water and outhouse-style, showering hut.
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While Steve washed himself, Clay and I went to work washing our clothes. Averse to spending more money then necessary, a few hundred rupees (3 USD) seemed outrageous for in-house laundering. Utilizing a small stream of glacial runoff and rusted metal basin, we saved money at the expense of our (and by “our”, I mean Clay’s) hands. Thanks to years of Alpine adventure guiding, Clay’s resistance to glacial water is unparalleled, making him the perfect “washing machine”. Comfortably numb, his fingers lathered and rinsed dirty socks and soiled T-shirts until they physically gnarled into themselves. My hands, on the other hand, only emerged from their warm glove cocoon to perform the other laundry role, “Dryer”. Hanging the miscellaneous bits and bobs on a frozen clothesline.
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Satisfied with our efforts, Clay and I had no sooner delayered and settled in for a cup of tea when a blizzard thundered in. The sun, which was to be our high-altitude clothes dryer, disappeared into the icy torrent and the once soft breeze mutated into hurricane force winds. By the time we layered up again and fought through the wind to retrieve our clothes, each article had been hopelessly frozen to the line. Needless to say, they weren’t the warmest clothes to put on the next morning.
This mini-blizzard also put a damper, more like a freezer, on the other portion of our, “To Do”, list…Acclimatization.
To safely adjust to the higher elevations climbers are recommended an additional 24-hours in Dingboche…but we had a better idea. Climb to a nearby peak, some 600-feet above, and after a few hours at this elevation return to Dingboche for the night. This way our bodies would be tempered to the oxygen depletion to come but wouldn’t require a full 24-hours to adjust. A great idea thwarted by the unwelcomed weather.
Marooned in the teahouse common room, we settled in for what we thought would be a long, boring day. But just as I nestled in for another chapter of Harry, the walls began to shake and a loud roar filled the entry. Washing over our once quiet common room, the tour group tidal wave swept in leaving Team A.D.D. floundering in its wake.
This mini-blizzard also put a damper, more like a freezer, on the other portion of our, “To Do”, list…Acclimatization.
To safely adjust to the higher elevations climbers are recommended an additional 24-hours in Dingboche…but we had a better idea. Climb to a nearby peak, some 600-feet above, and after a few hours at this elevation return to Dingboche for the night. This way our bodies would be tempered to the oxygen depletion to come but wouldn’t require a full 24-hours to adjust. A great idea thwarted by the unwelcomed weather.
Marooned in the teahouse common room, we settled in for what we thought would be a long, boring day. But just as I nestled in for another chapter of Harry, the walls began to shake and a loud roar filled the entry. Washing over our once quiet common room, the tour group tidal wave swept in leaving Team A.D.D. floundering in its wake.
Rising from the dead, the once ghostly kitchen buzzed to life. Teahouse attendants emerged out of thin air and immediately went to work heating tea and hot lemon drinks. Passing out crackers and cookies, tour leaders also joined the rhythmic chaos in an attempt to appease their caged and hungry beasts. Once the initial wave of hunger and thirst were satisfied, guides morphed into waiters, politely taking dinner orders. “So that will be 23 plates of Dal Bhat, 10 plates of macaroni, 5 soups, 1 Fried Rice, and 7 Apple Pies for dessert”. We saw where this was going. “Quick guys, dinner orders…STAT! “ Barely scraping in front of the tour groups sizeable order, we thankfully received our meal before theirs.
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As the ravenous tour group ate, Team A.D.D. savored a few moments of relative silence. Cutlery clinks and the occasional slurp were a welcome relief from the loud chatter that once filled the room. But the moment meals finished, mouths opened once more. So much for solitude.
Promptly following dinner, tour guides briefed their clients on the upcoming days hike. Hardly touching on terrain, altitude or distance, the most important aspect of the briefing was an imploring suggestion, “Please bring snacks!” Receiving obvious kickbacks from the teahouse, tour guides could not stress enough the need for chocolate bars, chips and bottled water. Seriously guys, you’re hiking 3 hours tomorrow. Stale chips and squashed Bounty Bars are hardly necessary…especially at 5 USD a pop!
Remaining in the common room until the fire finally fizzled out, we retired to our evenings icebox, I mean bedroom. Too cold to sleep, too tired to think and too sore to move, it was nights like tonight when valium and a bottle of red wine would have been warmly received. Assuming the fetal position, I chattered and shivered myself to sleep.
Promptly following dinner, tour guides briefed their clients on the upcoming days hike. Hardly touching on terrain, altitude or distance, the most important aspect of the briefing was an imploring suggestion, “Please bring snacks!” Receiving obvious kickbacks from the teahouse, tour guides could not stress enough the need for chocolate bars, chips and bottled water. Seriously guys, you’re hiking 3 hours tomorrow. Stale chips and squashed Bounty Bars are hardly necessary…especially at 5 USD a pop!
Remaining in the common room until the fire finally fizzled out, we retired to our evenings icebox, I mean bedroom. Too cold to sleep, too tired to think and too sore to move, it was nights like tonight when valium and a bottle of red wine would have been warmly received. Assuming the fetal position, I chattered and shivered myself to sleep.