Day 5 - Dingboche to Dughla
(Video at the End)
(Video at the End)
What’s worse than a tone-deaf rooster or high-pitched alarm? “Tea?...tea?...tea?” 5:30 am sharp and mountain guides were back at it, rapping on trekkers doors and delivering piping hot cups of, “tea”…”tea”…. The solitude of dawn was broken, and the previous nights racket washed over the teahouse with a vengeance!!
Doors creaked open and slammed shut. Painful hacks of morning phlem echoed through the plywood walls. And a vociferous stampede to the common room for breakfast awoke even the teahouses in the next valley. There was no point in trying to sleep. Let’s get this day going.
To the immediate north and south of Dingboche, colossal mountains filled your gaze. To the east, farms latticed the long, tapered valley. And to the west, the side we would be departing from, a mammoth rock hill paved the way out.
Doors creaked open and slammed shut. Painful hacks of morning phlem echoed through the plywood walls. And a vociferous stampede to the common room for breakfast awoke even the teahouses in the next valley. There was no point in trying to sleep. Let’s get this day going.
To the immediate north and south of Dingboche, colossal mountains filled your gaze. To the east, farms latticed the long, tapered valley. And to the west, the side we would be departing from, a mammoth rock hill paved the way out.
A long line of trekkers had already amassed, criss-crossing the rocky screy along a tedious sidewinding trail. We opted for a more direct root. Clambering over rocks and bristling dry bushes, we climbed straight up. Cresting the hill in a quarter of the time it took the others. Welcomed by a long line of multi-colored prayer flags, their wild flapping’s applauded our off-road excursion and pointed us on our way.
The next leg of the journey began with a broad, lonesome plateau. Tilted askew by the 45-degree slope of the mountain, this awry plane of earth required an unusual walking technique. Ankles, legs and torso angled slightly uphill, each and every step was performed with an almost equal, 45-degree lean. |
Curving around the mountainside, we came face to face with the famous Khumbu Glacier. Now, if you’re envisioning walls of ice and titanic seracs, you’ll have to wait until the famed Icefall to see those. This portion of the glacier resembled more of an oversized rock quarry than a body of ice..
Climbing up and over the moraine, a small glacial stream was all that separated us from our next checkpoint, the town of Dughla. That is, if you consider one tea house a town. Resting just below the main mass of glacier, I didn’t envy Dughla’s vulnerable position. Ominous glacier on one side, steep valley on the other. What I did admire, however, was the view. |
A dozen or so long, splintered tables lined the teahouse yard. Overflowing with jovial trekkers, we took a seat next to a group of hilarious (when I could understand them) Scottish lads. Soaking in the sun and swapping travel stories, the afternoon slowly melted away.
Peeling ourselves from the comfortable benches and enlivened conversation, we decided to give our previous days disrupted acclimatization side-hike, another chance. Leaving Dughla we climbed down the other side of the glacial moraine and back onto “solid” ground. Up, up, up along a yak track (pretty obvious markings) until we finally reached 500 meters higher then where Dughla rested. Satisfied with our acclimatization effort, Clay and I reclined comfortably against the grassy mountainside and for the first time of the entire trip, we stopped. Checkpoints, teahouses, showers (or lack there of), and path choices all disappeared. Gazing onto the lofty mountains before us, I couldn’t get Bob Rosses voice out of my head. “There lives a happy mountain…and some friendly birds…and another bird and another and another…” Dozens of Himalyan griffons, golden eagles and lammergeiers danced happily above in the thermal updrafts.
Peeling ourselves from the comfortable benches and enlivened conversation, we decided to give our previous days disrupted acclimatization side-hike, another chance. Leaving Dughla we climbed down the other side of the glacial moraine and back onto “solid” ground. Up, up, up along a yak track (pretty obvious markings) until we finally reached 500 meters higher then where Dughla rested. Satisfied with our acclimatization effort, Clay and I reclined comfortably against the grassy mountainside and for the first time of the entire trip, we stopped. Checkpoints, teahouses, showers (or lack there of), and path choices all disappeared. Gazing onto the lofty mountains before us, I couldn’t get Bob Rosses voice out of my head. “There lives a happy mountain…and some friendly birds…and another bird and another and another…” Dozens of Himalyan griffons, golden eagles and lammergeiers danced happily above in the thermal updrafts.
Returning from our side-hike, refreshed and energized, my enthusiasm waned on entry to the dingy teahouse. Terrible food, a small, dimly lit communal fire, putrid squat toilets, and freezing indoor temperatures easily labeled this residence, “The Worst Teahouse”. The accommodation had only one redeeming attribute, the owner. Claiming to be best mates with Edmond Hillary and a crucial part of that first ascent so many years ago, the credibility of the owners outlandish stories have yet to be proven. But, they did at least they provide comic relief and hours of enjoyment for the three of us. Clay and Steve found a pair of his hiking goggles especially interesting - Eligidly worn by Sir Edmond Hilary himself on that fateful summit expedition. Guess he was too busy yapping with hikers to worry about the state of his teahouse... ;)
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