Lobuche to Dingboche – Descending (into madness)

It was a late collection for Dan and Bikram by the mountaineering guide. He arrived at 10.30 am. There had been some snow overnight and the air was cold.

They were Carrying on up the Lobuche East. Oooer missus! (Blue route) And we were dropping down to Dingboche, a crossroads village up the Khyber. Sorry. Khumbu. (Red route)

Bye bye boys. Stay safe.

The weather wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible. Just keep dry. You’ll be alright if there’s no wet involved.

Oh God no. We’re not going down this tortuous, tedious, but all too often trodden Soft Southern Bedwetter routine again are we?

Yep!

Boys, keep safe and, unlike anyone south of Milton Keynes, don’t wet the bed and you’ll be ok.

Amit, Nir and I dropped down the glacier as we were aiming initially for Dughla, where the track splits. There’s one route along the mountainside to Dingboche, and another down the mountain to Pheriche. We were going along and not down.

Before we arrived in Dughla we came upon memorials to those who have died climbing Everest. The cloud emphasised the sombreness of this display.

The individual memorials make me sad.

The ones for Sherpas make me weep.

We had lunch in Dughla and just beyond there the Khumbu glacier run-off tumbles down the valley.

We needed a decent bridge to get across it and there is one a bit higher up. Beyond the bridge the two paths are clearly visible. We’re taking the higher of the two.

Once across, and looking back to Dughla, the government is building a long swing bridge across the valley, lower down, and some of the materials are there. It will be completed in six months.

The temperature had increased to around 5c and the wind wasn’t uncomfortable. We made a good pace.

Looking down the valley, to the left of the last shot, was a fabulous combination of blue sky, high peak, troublesome white cloud, glacier, boulder strewn river bed and green mountainside. I really, really love this photo. War and peace in Nepal.

I felt great. Walking alone but with my buddies there.

Down the valley to my right rested the village of Pheriche, with its great farming terraces tucked under the valley wall. We may be traversing the mountain but we’re slowly heading down now. Danny is fighting against it temporarily and spectacularly, climbing a proper peak and a proper pass before succumbing to the gravitational pull of Kathmandu.

We reached the end of the mountainside and dropped over the ridge behind Pheriche, down to Dingboche.

We checked in to our guest house and loafed for a couple of hours before supper. Then, joy of joys, I whacked down these two fried eggs with chippy chips (thinking of you mate) and a great ketchup. Beat that!

Tomorrow Amit goes back to Lobuche to meet Bikram and Danny Boy.

Nir and me, myself, I will have a rest day. The first real rest day of the entire trip.

At various points of this trip people have come up to me and said ‘congratulations’. I soon realised that what they meant was ‘how unusual it is to see such an old bastard as you on this trek who hasn’t dropped dead yet’.

I am the oldest person on this circuit. I haven’t seen anyone close, and that astonishes me. It’s doable, but more than that it’s incredible. What is wrong with the elderly? Not that that includes me. No, course not! Late middle aged?

When it first happened it was a young, female, Nepalese guide who was leading a group up the hill to Namche. I overtook em and she said, ‘how old are you and can I have a photograph?’

I obviously thought that she could see a touch of the George Clooney in the grey hairs poking out of my nostrils. I said, with a bit of a swagger, ‘I’m 70, why do you ask, and of course you can take a photo?’

She answered, ‘I want to persuade my grandmother to do a trek.’

She spotted the watery disappointment developing in my eyes and asked why I was crying.

So I smiled and said, ‘when a lovely flame dies, smoke gets in your eyes.’ Thank you Noel.

Night night.