Kathmandu to Phakding – by Wing, Prayer and on Foot.

We set off from our hotel this morning at 5am, quickly reaching the airport and hanging around hoping that our flight to Lukla was working. We later heard that the service had been out for a week due to adverse weather conditions so we were lucky when we heard that it was all clear and we were on our way.

The plane was small, noisy, old and full – all 15 seats were taken by folk like us. Trekkers!

It was reassuring that Senor Kilby was on the plane too.

But it was claustrophobic.

It’s a dangerous airport to fly into, with 7 fatal crashes in the last 20 years and over 50 people losing their lives. The landing is swift and can be harsh, as the runway is tiny and runs quickly into the side of the mountain. Luckily it is quite steep, which helps to slow planes down.

At the airport we met Nir, our guide, Amar and Bala, the two porters, and we had breakfast together. Lukla has no road into it and you arrive in at over 8,000 feet. The Everest region is remote, ridiculously mountainous and is only accessible by planes through Lukla, helicopters through a small number of helipads and footpaths which usually follow the river valleys. Lukla itself is a 4 day trek from the nearest road.

Nir has an immediate rapport with his trekkers, as well as a quirky sense of humour and strong personality. Good lad.

We shouldered our packs and made off through the warm forest cum jungle up the valley. It is around 30c when the sun is out, but falls sharply at night. We got a sweat on.

And the path meandered upwards, downwards and across the river and it’s tributaries on wobbly and outrageously high footbridges. This one hides a 100 foot drop onto the stream and rocks below.

We were affected by the lower oxygen level, even at this altitude, huffing and puffing and slightly light headed. And we were heading onwards and upwards into a Buddhist territory, evidenced by carved boulders and 600 year old stone mantra carvings.

Within three hours we reached our accommodation in Phakding, had lunch, got our rooms and set off down to the waterside. Men become boys by water, throwing stones into the raging torrent of a river and monkeying around.

After an hour or so David and myself found an Irish pub in Phakding. This is a tiny village, accessible only by footpath, and the pub, apart from not being Irish, had no customers, local beer and a pool table. This could only have been carried up by men. There are regular donkey caravans but donkeys couldn’t have carried this.

We had a couple of beers, played pool under very dodgy lights which were out longer than they were on. Then returned to our tea house for Dinner and bed at 8pm. A long day and we need our strength for tomorrow.

Night night.