Well yesterday we had climbed up to over 11,000 feet altitude, and it was exhausting. Exhausting I tell you. And this morning we felt the effects of that walk and the Irish Bar. I say ‘I tell you’ because it sounds slightly deranged.

Nir, our leader, had decided on a 7am breakfast and an early yomp up on top of the hill behind Namche to see if we can see Everest and its chums.

First off we walked up to a park on a small hill, dedicated to Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, who scaled Everest with Edmund Hillary. They were the first to get to the top and Tenzing was from the village of Thame, where we may be staying tomorrow night. There was a museum in the park dedicated to Tenzing and Sherpas in general. Fascinating.

We dropped down to the village to start on the higher climb and were rewarded with this panoramic view of Namche.

Looking down the valley that we had walked up the view was great.

However the views of the Everest range were largely obscured by clouds. Thanks Pink. But Lhotse (4th highest in the world) was clear. Everest, over to the left, didn’t show.

We bumped into the woman who supports Leeds and her husband again, Ruth and Paul from Otley. For the benefit of Southerners it’s pronounced Ockley. Turns out that they run a karate school and are both 5th Dan black belts. And they both lived in Melbourne for donkeys years before returning to the UK. I know another Leeds fan who lived in Melbourne who had the audacity to marry my eldest daughter. Later on Paul and Ruth joined us for a pool challenge at the Irish bar and Paul had the audacity to win. A lot of audacity from the Leeds Metropolitan Area.

Earlier, whilst walking back to town, we were treated to a view of Tensing Park, surrounded by trees and sitting on top of the hill.

The two piles of fresh hay with legs, walking down the mountain, are local farmers. No tractors or roads here.

We had lunch in the hotel and spent the afternoon playing pool with Nir and Amit, and the occasional Ockley based hustler. We took it steady and went to bed early, rested and sober.

Night night.

We had a long night’s sleep in Phakding, stoked by an early start yesterday, an exhilarating flight and a five hour walk up the Milk River valley. The weather was still warm this morning and the overnight rain had stopped. Today was going to be a hard day’s walking, particularly as the recent flood, which washed away much of the village of Thame, had also destroyed the riverside path. This meant climbing later up onto old donkey routes higher up the valley side. But the sun was out.

Our party of five started out as a party of four, as Bikram disappeared with Daniel’s rucksack. We passed a house later with exotic smoke drifting from it and Bikram toking on something which he hastily hid from us. Who would have thought that he was given to herbal tobacco?

He looks like a young Shane MacGowan. A bit.

We made good time up the river track, which rollercoasters up and down the valley side. Crossing over a few swinging bridges, which never seem as if they will remain intact when you’re wobbling across them. And the raging waters below pose a scary landing zone.

Droves of loaded donkeys cross these bridges, so they need to be strong. The burst glacial lake which took out Thame also damaged villages on this stretch of the river. Here a complete house and garden disappeared into the flood. Carried away by global warming.

The gorge was getting deeper and more gorgeous!

Waterfalls spring out of the hillside high above.

And manly men pose for photos to advertise the National Park.

Having climbed high we dropped down again towards the tea house where we would eat lunch.

We are in the region where, five hundred years ago, the Sherpas left Tibet and came over the mountain passes to seek sanctuary and a peaceful existence. They brought over their Buddhist religion and there are piles of these ancient tablets by the wayside.

The route along the riverside was blocked by piles of spiky branches, indicating the start of the damaged path.

We headed uphill and joined the donkeys on the high route. With no roads at all in this region the only way to service the villages is by donkeys, people or helicopters carrying goods.

I was foolish enough to take on a challenge from Nir. I ate two extremely hot peppercorns taken from a tree at the side of the path. I made it to a nearby farm where the lady gave me sugar and butter to dim the pain. I thought I was going to faint. Dan caught my pain on camera. Bastard!

After hours of difficult path we came to the parting of the rivers, and a high bridge taking us over the right hand river, which starts high up on the Everest range. This is a test of nerve, but facing a two day walk back to Lukla and three flights home you don’t really have much choice.

Looking downstream the view was great. We had come up the valley high on the hill to the left. Immediately in front of this vantage point the two rivers join and flow down away from where we were standing. In two days we will be following the river that comes in from the right on this photo, the westerly river.

Now the climbing really started. It is a steep route through the forest to Namche Bazar. It took the best part of two hours to climb this remaining 1300 feet. The shortage of oxygen is beginning to hurt. But suddenly this large village, built largely to service trekkers and mountaineers, emerged in front of us, cradled in a bowl in the mountain. The only physical link to the outside world being a small helipad and the footpath that we had walked up on.

We had beaten the rain. Dinner and the highest Irish bar in the world kept us fed and watered. And bloody Leeds fans had got here first.

Night night.

How lucky were we. Rudely awakened and getting into a taxi to the airport at 4.45am hundred hours we could at least look up to a clear, unclouded sky. Lukla airport would be operational and we were on our way.

Dan’s face bore the effects of late nights and lascivious behaviour.

My face was hidden, aged and gaunt in the first light of day. Lined and baggy. Like my trekking trousers. Smelly and drained, like an open tin of tuna. Pale and hairy, like my bottom. Ey!!! Enough! It’s an embarrassment for your wife, children, grandchild and friends, whose standards couldn’t possibly be as low or lower than those of DG (dirty old devil) Smith.

Avoid this man at all costs! He’s rude.

The flight was on an old twin otter. Full of trekkers, at least 14 of us, including me, Nir and Dan Boy.

It felt like we only just made it over a mountain ridge. I’ve deleted the sound to save you from contempt at my cowardly commentary.

And this one contains my verbal dignity during a bumpy landing. I knew everything was fine. I was just kidding on the previous vid. I’m brave. (In front of the shaving mirror).

And then we were freed into the Himalayas to play. We met up with Bikram and Amit, who will be carrying our rucksacks. I can’t do it anymore. Not at altitude. I’m old and soft.

As soon as we arrived in Lukla; well, shortly after, we bumped into a couple who were on our flight. And guess what? They were from Otley. I travel 4,672 miles to meet people from around the corner who support Dirty Leeds. Will they not leave me alone? Look at the motion on that left hand. Seventy years old next week and the lass was trying to smack me for being a Blade! Disgusting.

The day was early and still sunny, and maybe too sunny. We walked up the valley of the Milk River, and me and Danny Boy were carrying day sacks, smaller rucksacks, with our make up and mobile phones in. And they were making us sweat like sweaty sweaters. When we stopped for breakfast further down the track our backs and sacks were dripping wet.

We’re doing a trek around three passes in the Himalayas, including EBC (that’s what Everest Base Camp is known as for the annoying Cognoscenti) and the impression of Himalaya is of frostbite to any items that stick out away from the body core. Oooer! Well, for the first day or two we’re going to be warm and maybe wet, depending on the monsoon. Now the monsoon has held off so it’s dry, so we’re not wet. Well we are, from the sweaty backpack. But not yet from the monsoon.

The route is set out below, and we’re going clockwise.

So, back to where we stopped for breakfast, there were three Buddhist monks sitting by the opposite wall performing some kind of religious ritual for themselves. The place was otherwise empty.

Spiritually uplifting for five minutes but when it takes an age to cook your scran and these lads are ranting for 45 minutes it does your box in.

We eventually set off after putting on loin cloths, ringing hand bells and thanking the Lord for Siddhartha. Well we didn’t really. I just made that up. We just buggered off after we ate.

Then two hours later we found our tea house. Rest and peace at last.

Night night.

I like it here, but to get here I had to take a 7 hour flight to Dubai, wait for 7 hours and get another flight to Kathmandu. It makes it a drawn out process when a direct flight would take 10 hours max. My nephew Daniel was on the same flights so I had company in Dubai.

And at Kathmandu airport we were met by Nir, the lad who was the guide for me and David two years ago, and his son, who is studying Hotel Management at college in Kathmandu. Great to see them again.

We had only slept for two hours and after a quick visit from Nawaraj, the boss of Trek Around Nepal, we nipped out for an early dinner. Great hot curry and an amazing local band playing traditional Nepali music under a warm and starry sky. Just perfect.

An early night for the Yorkshire lads at the Oasis Kathmandu Hotel, where the staff recognised me from my earlier visit. Kathmandu was a bit quieter and more laid back, as we are here prior to the trekking season and there are less tourists spending fewer money.

We both overslept and were awoken by phone calls from the breakfast bar at 9.30. Breakfast was great and slightly spicy and immediately after Nawaraj came to join us, with maps of the Everest region and of the route we were taking. He also indicated that if we decided to climb one of the lower peaks, around 20,000 feet, he could arrange a mountaineering guide and climbing permits. We’ll see how we get on. No need to run before we’ve walked.

We roamed around town, changed money and looked for trinkets to take home. Daniel rode one.

Then we got slightly lost and wandered the back streets for an hour or two. Crossing our own path several times but not recognising where we were. Somewhere with a shrine.

I can’t remember who this bloke was but Daniel appeared taken with him.

And the significance of motorbikes and marionettes mysteriously dematerialised in the warm, Nepali lager fuelled afternoon.

We returned to base to pack our rucksacks for the trek tomorrow, leaving as much as we could in suitcases in the hotel awaiting our return. Less weight more speed, although in fairness the bigger rucksacks were to be carried by local porters. Small men capable of carrying huge amounts at high altitude. They need the cash, living in a poor country which relies on folk like us. During covid the suicide rate grew enormously and it makes you so sad to think of the difficulties these lovely people face.

But we’re here to spend dollar and joy. Like we did for this rickshaw driver after another night of curry and music.

I slept deeply for a few minutes and then the alarm clock went off.

I wish I could say, night night.