Nepal: Day 6 | Kathmadu to Lukla

The outskirts of Kathmandu drift below in the late afternoon. Like my arrival 5 days before, Nepal from high up makes me think of Shangri La. Terraced gardens and patchwork crops pass by in every color of green imaginable. The valley gives way to the foothills of the Himalayas. Villages of flat roofed buildings tuck against hillsides. Lush, sharp ridges grow as we fly onward and snow capped peaks play hide and seek behind spotty cloud cover as rays of late day sun point the way to our destination. We are finally on our way, and, even after 5 days, I have to remind myself where I am. Nepal? Can’t be.

The day began, again, clear and bright and we arrive at the domestic airport early for day 3’s highly anticipated take off. After the usual pushing and shoving with Germans through security (the officers don’t really seem to look at anything and wave everyone through), we are ushered to the restaurant by Gnima for tea (why didn’t this happen yesterday, I think?). We wait for our highly valued boarding passes on a different airline to get us to the mountains with anxious anticipation. The previous days frustration has passed though Chris and I are wary. But we reach a new step when our golden tickets finally arrive. We pass through more security and enter into the departure area at roughly 8:30am for a 10am flight. So we sit. Our butts are over it. The people watching is still good though. The saris are still colorful. Travelers rush to their gates as if the plane will leave without them. Chris writes in his journal which seems to be a fascination for the locals. Although I guess that people do not understand what he is writing they peer over his shoulder or slow down as they walk by as if they’ve never seen such a thing. But as the day chugs along we begin to wonder. Parked by our gate, each flight number but our own is called. When the airline rep shows up we stand. When the flight is not ours, we sit. We stand. We sit. Gnima circles the room in his customary aimlessness and occasionally stops by to offer tea. We know there is a cut off time for the day that is fast approaching and begin see another night at the Annapurna in our future.

Did I hear that right? Our flight number is being called? Can you believe it? So we position ourselves to pass through the gate to get on a bus to take us the 50 feet to our plane. I instruct Chris that we have to sit on the left side of the plane for the best views. Our plane is a double engine prop with a single row on each side that seats about 18. The cockpit is open in front of all passengers. As we board, there is a young, pretty flight attendant in somewhat traditional garments to greet us all, palms pressed with a “namaste” and a slight bow (or is she just bent over because the ceiling is low?). We share our flight with a group of excited and rowdy Brits just as anxious as Chris and I to get to Lukla. The attendant offers us a wad of cotton for our ears and a piece of candy (“Lacto Fun!” it is named) as I watch the bright red propellers loudly begin their revolutions. The plane taxis for position then zooms up into the sky. Our 10:30am flight finally takes off a bit after 4pm (welcome to third world scheduling). Last flight out to Lukla that day.

Deemed “one of the worlds most dangerous airports,” as I’ve read (uncomfortably) in my guidebook and online, Lukla Airport is an experience in and of itself. The village of Lukla is the starting and stopping point for all treks in the Everest region as well as for delivery of all goods, supplies, etc. It literally sits on a mountain ledge. The runway is roughly 2 to 3 New York City blocks long—or 1 block in mid-town. The beginning/end of the runway is a sheer drop off. Oh, and the runway is at an angle (landing uphill, taking off downhill). With all these factors, both landings and takeoffs are quite dramatic. As we make our approach to land in-between mountains that rose up on both sides of the plane, I could see the airstrip fast approaching through the cockpit window. Immediately, as we landed, our pilot hit the brakes and we all braced ourselves so as not to smack our face against the seat in front. The parking area for all planes and helicopters is about the size of your local gas station and as we hurtled to the end of the runway (and a stone wall) we make a fast right turn and stop with a jolt. We then are hurried off our plane with a quick “namaste” so the next load could pile in for the day’s final flight.

Gnima gathers our luggage and we find, and meet for the first time, our porter, Subaas (sp? pronounced Soo-boss. Shoebox is how I remember his name in the beginning), standing in the middle of the village trail in flip flops. Subaas is classically handsome and quiet with us since he speaks little English and we little Sherpa. He and Gnima tie our luggage together and, after a quick cup of tea, we’re off. We head off down the trail in the dimming light wanting to slow down and take in what we can barely see and sometimes only hear as twilight turns to dark. Waterfalls and ringing bells. Porters with heavy loads and trekkers reaching the end of their journey. But the trail is uneven and rocky in spots and I focus on my footing so as not to break an ankle on my first day. I wonder if Subaas, luggage strap braced against his forehead, is planning on carrying our bags all the way to Everest base camp in flip flops?

At full dark with a bright crescent moon we reach our first lodge at Chheplung—the Everest Trekkers Lodge. I have my first taste of Sherpa Stew. A tasty and hearty combo of a vegetable or chicken broth with carrots, onions, garlic, cauliflower, rice and noodles. And the ever present apple pie which occurs on every menu in the Khumbu (Everest) region. Then, finally, tea. Lemon this time which is basically lemon Tang mixed into black tea. As we discover with all of our lodges on the trek, the rooms are basic plywood boxes with two cots on either side, no heat and, if there is electricity, a bare bulb in the center of the ceiling. Bathrooms are down the hall or outside, and are, more often than not, squat toilets with a bucket of water for flushing. A, um, new experience. In total darkness by flashlight, we throw ourselves into the experience and settle into our cots with the realization of finally reaching the starting point of the reason for this adventure to the top of the world.

Thus the trek officially begins.

Photos from this trip can be viewed here.