Thanks Eric. The morning came, and it had rained again all night. There was an uneasiness in this small town. It was beginning to fill up with people. Folk seeking flights to escape to connecting flights to get home. And it wasn’t happening. We are all in this together lasts two minutes. Then every man for himself.

Bikram had returned to his home town of Namche last night. A truly wild and wayward spirit. Sad to say, I must be on my way, so buy me beer and whisky cos I’m going far away. Bye Shane. And then there were four.

Nir began to be extraordinarily keen on getting us back to his home town of Jiri, where Killer and I stayed two years ago. No planes today. And no planes forecast for the next four days.

We’re going a little stir crazy, and it’s only 10.30am on the first morning (second for Dan). Bugger it, we’re walking! Nir, get packed up, we’re walking. Tell Amit we’ll pay him extra to help carry our gear.

Nir said that we should wait until the next morning when it was confirmed that there would be no flights. He filibustered, dragged his heels, disappeared and farted about. After an hour we got him to the table, told him that we were going and that we needed his guidance. We knew that if he didn’t come with us we were knackered. We also knew that Nawaraj would instruct him to get us back safely to Kathmandu.

Our plan was to walk as far as we could today, hoping that we would make it to a rough track before nightfall where we could take a jeep down overnight to Salieri. In Salieri we would get another jeep to Kathmandu. Great plan. Nir would also recruit another porter today to help carry gear.

The difficulty is that these are the steepest valleys and mountains on earth and we can’t follow the valleys down. We have to climb up and over them, and repeat.

Nir disappeared. We ate an early lunch and got all our gear together in the common room. All the other parties expressed interest in someone planning to do something to break out. I told them we were buying a helicopter and that Daniel, as a qualified pilot, would not be subject to the commercial pilotage rules. He could therefore decide to fly blind through clouds.

We started another search for Nir. Once found he denied knowledge of our departure and said we would leave tomorrow if there were no flights. He didn’t have a porter and he hadn’t eaten and we were going to Jiri to see his wife, who had cried at the extent of my head injury.

Nir! We’re feckin going down this mountain today. Eat your feckin lunch, recruit a feckin porter and we’re going!!!!!!

In an hour he accepted our departure. Covered in plastic ponchos we set off, with Nir (like a scolded puppy), Amit and a new porter in tow. The rain was grim.

We didn’t take photographs, we just trudged miles downhill then up and over the valley passes. There was a rough track that had been bulldozed out of the mountains. It was covered in avalanches, mud and spontaneous rivers but it was better than slippery mountain footpaths.

We marched for seven hours, well into the hours of darkness, through the thickest mudslides in Christendom and up on tiny mountain tracks when the bulldozed route was too dangerous to navigate.

The drops were deadly and beckoning in the darkness. The avalanches were considerable, which meant we had to climb over the easiest passage, which was invariably next to the drop at the side of the old road. In pitch black, illuminated only by Amit’s phone. We didn’t have the strength to dismantle all our packaging to get to our torches. Our boots were full of wet mud. Our clothes were drenched, despite our ponchos, but our will was still strong.

Finally, we saw some buildings and, in the distance, the headlights of a jeep. After a quick rest in the nearest building in front of a fire, we upped and offed into the night again. Twenty minutes later, after five big avalanche clambers, we were in a jeep, full to the rafters of wet folk.

Now, it takes a lot to frighten me.

Mice, old ladies with sticks, roller coasters, strong winds, enclosed spaces, open spaces, flashing lights, Americans with guns, Americans without guns, kangaroos and people smiling for no apparent reason.

However people may have wrongly assumed that I was frightened on the drive down. I may be brave but, well…..no but really……this ride tested my whatsits. I think you’ll find that I came out of it with my bravado intact. Even though I shat myself.

After three hours the jeep came to a halt. Nir got out and spoke to the driver. It wasn’t good news. The road had collapsed under a substantial avalanche. The rain was threatening more avalanches and Nir thought we needed to go to Jiri.

There turned out to be no road left to Jiri due to further avalanches, but that didn’t stop Nir rabbiting on about it.

The road collapse had occurred near a river, and from this spot we could walk down to a footbridge that was still intact, and cross the river to a tiny village on the other side. Here we would find more jeeps to drive us to Salieri.

We set off in the even pitcher black, and dropped down off the rough track to the very muddy and slippy valley side. We were only around thirty feet above the river level, and the roar of it rushing through was truly terrifying, if you are frightened of that sort of thing.

Holding on to each other we made it without slipping to the swing bridge. There is something menacing about a deafening roar of water underneath you when you’re in the dark, swinging from side to side, clenching your buttocks. The river, in full flood, felt like it was very close to the level of the bridge.

We crossed and walked up to the village. After an hour of negotiation, the local driver refused to drive onwards in the rain based on safety grounds. If it’s unsafe for these guys it’s unsafe.

At this stage we didn’t realise how bad the conditions were, and the extent of the massive damage due to flooding.

It was nearly midnight. We had three hours to get some sleep before we would set off again at 3am. We didn’t need a second invitation. Snore city Arizona.

Night night.

We set off late, but still on time for our target of Lukla before nightfall. Last night had been fun but today was the business end. Our tickets were flexible and maybe we could get a flight back to Kathmandu tomorrow morning. Bye bye Namche.

We might eat meat soon. You don’t eat it up here as it comes up on blokes’ backs and you can smell the rotting flesh as they walk past. Goodbye dodgy plug sockets and dangerous electrical connections.

Goodbye prayer wheels.

And away…….. Down to and over the high swinging bridge.

This is easier than the uphill struggle when we began our trek. We’re acclimatised to the level of oxygen, to be honest it feels normal. And being back in the forest again offers cover from the sun. Cold waterfalls, made of melted ice, bring cool air down which stays under the tree canopy.

However this is a long trek today and I began to feel the effects of the last fortnight of slog catching up with me.

I made it down to Phakding and that was me done. Late afternoon and time for some rest.

Dan wanted to push on to Lukla and reach Kathmandu tomorrow morning. He wants to visit Tibet whilst he’s here. I want to follow him down and then go to Pokhara. A lakeside resort for aching trekkers.

We parted, and it was such sweet sorrow. Dan took Amit and I would stay overnight with Nir and Shane. Oh look! An Irish bar in Phakding with a pool table. Be rude not to.

Chicken Dal Bhat for tea and a very tasty one too. Followed by an early night.

In the morning we set off for Lukla, thinking about Dan and whether he had taken off yet. There was rain on its way and the chances of us getting a flight tomorrow in poor visibility were diminishing.

A late morning cup of tea at this pleasant little cafe was eventful.

A troop of two hundred soldiers marched down the mountain, rain soaked but ready for action. Are you invading China?

The cafe had a field of wheat and veg, and a side patch of marijuana.

That’s self-sufficiency for you.

Mid-afternoon we made it up to Lukla, to meet Dan on the way in. He was chomping at the bit to get down off the hills but only the first three flights took off and then they were grounded by the rain. To make things more miserable I tripped over a raised paving stone and fell head first onto a rock.

It hurt like hell and I was bleeding a lot. Now is not the time or place to get subdural haematoma. No flights in or out and no hospital. The lads got me to the hotel and a New Zealander nurse, on a trekking trip with her husband, helped staunch the bleeding, patch me up and get an ice pack on my bonce.

I didn’t feel much like eating, so I went to bed. To lie in cold obstruction and to rot? Or to allow sleep to knit up the raveled sleave of care, balm of hurt minds? The latter.

Night night.

Thanks Nancy.

The agricultural land around here is fertile and gathering food for the heavy influx of tourists was well underway.

Looking down the valley from Pengboche the clouds were forming over Namche.

Our walk would take 6 hours or so and it consisted of downhill, uphill, downhill and uphill. Approximately. And back in the frame we are delighted to announce the return of the king, Shane MacGowan!!!!

As penance for failing to appear Bikram was to carry two rucksacks together on the first downhill and uphill section. He was very relaxed with that. Work hard play hard that lad.

We dropped down the valley quite quickly and crossed the footbridge over to the left bank. A touch of the old Quartier Latin there. Great value Vietnamese restaurants but that’s over four thousand miles away.

Bye hills. It’s been a gas.

Our first uphill section involved climbing up the left side of the valley to a pass at the top, next to the biggest Buddhist monastery in Nepal at Tengboche. Here Bikram could halve his load. I thought Dan might be seeking entry to the order. Would he really forgo earthly desires? He can’t even pass a pub. Then blames me.

Over the top of the pass and our second downhill section. A long and steep one. This hole in a tree provided endless amusement. Well, it ended after ten minutes actually. You have to throw in a rock that doesn’t fall straight back out. Better than Lara Croft and all the other artificial crap. Except Spider Solitaire.

Back down to the river, had lunch and set off on a long, steady climb up to the top end of Namche. The river drifted below and away from us.

Then finally Namche arrived on our doorstep!

A trip to the bank, got loaded and swept aside the saloon doors as we strode like conquering heroes into the Irish Bar. And emerged much later after singing and carousing and pool playing. I don’t know where Nir got that gesture from!

Oh dear. We all got a little messy .

Night night.

Thanks Jim. Nangkartshang, like a glittering prize, I saw you up on a clear day.

And all around, when we awoke, the spirits of these Himalayan mountains sparkled and breathed deeply in the morning sun. So did Nir and myself. We had got up early, whilst Dan was still snoring in Lobuche after his fantastic efforts the day before.

It was one of those mornings when you want to kiss God’s arse and thank him that you were born to be here, today. Right here, right now. Thanks Fat Boy. And best wishes to another Fat Boy friend, who can’t be here. Not that he would have if he could. He’s not well, but for old time’s sake he’s welcome.

Right, this is where we are heading. Almost directly above us, at the top of a two and a half thousand foot climb. This is the shot from part way up.

A rest day yesterday and we boys (me and Nir) are on fire. Not able to emulate the heroics of Dan, we want to exonerate ourselves in advance of any accusations that we may be Soft South…… Ok I’ll stop it. Ern BWs. Ha!

We want to prove we can climb big altitude differences, and this would do it, again. This is our view across the other side of the valley. Silence, there is always silence at this altitude unless people are involved. It adds to the sense of spirituality. I’m not sure what that means exactly but it’s something palpable and majestic.

So breakfast and we’re off. We’re a bit lower than Lobuche and the air is slightly richer. I’m not gasping in the first section of the walk.

We did this climb two years ago, me and my friend Killer, but it got very icy and snowy halfway up. Amazingly we displayed safety consciousness and decided to head downhill when we were in danger. Today is clear of ice and snow on our route and I’m not going to stop.

The views became more stunning the higher we climbed.

Me and Nir. I enjoy our time together very much. He looks after me like a carer. Making sure I’m hydrated and trying to carry everything for me. He calls Daniel ‘Donald’. He’s obviously come across Duck and Trump but Defoe and Deronda seem to have escaped him. When I stumble he says ‘Slowly, David, Slowly’. I don’t intend to go quickly.

The sun is very cruel at this altitude, with not much filter, and we sweat our way upwards.

We are on good walking form. Early sleep and early rise. Rested and refreshed. Enjoying the presence of these magnificent peaks. In silence. We passed a couple who took our photo.

The track winds backwards and forwards in hairpins to ease the legs of aged trekkers. There are significant points on the ascent, where the climber can rest and enjoy the view without huffing and puffing.

The slope got steeper. However, I knew I was going to make the top. No doubt. My last Himalayan climb. I was going to enjoy and remember this.

Nir tipped me off that we were, after nearly four hours, getting near the top. I was slightly disappointed. Short of breath and remaining years I still wanted this to never end. To rise up to share eye level with these mountain peaks was amazing.

And then we were there and another group took our photographs.

I didn’t feel sad that this is the end, my friend. Thanks Jim. I felt happy. This is somewhere that I have loved and enjoyed over a period of six years. With Jet, my darling youngest daughter, then on my Tod, then with David Kilby and now with Donald. I will cherish its memory.

We started back down and made Dingboche in time for a late lunch. Donald and Amit had arrived, over the Kongma La pass, to meet us. We ate and decided to press on down today. Dropping quickly down, with all our gear, to the meeting of two rivers. The one coming in from the right is from the glacier we crossed coming down from the Cho La pass, mixing with the water from the Khumbu glacier on Everest. The one coming down from behind us to the left is from the mountains above Dingboche that we saw earlier today.

We gunned it to make Pengboche in time for food and a beer, now that we were getting below the altitude sickness zone. And there, down below, was Pengboche.

The only thing we had left behind was Shane MacGowan.

He thought we were staying in Dingboche overnight so he pushed off to a place where we couldn’t find him. As a result Amit was overloaded. We all weighed in to help but he took the brunt!

We got to Pengboche, rested and refuelled. Tomorrow Namche, the highest Irish Bar in the world and party time!

Night night.

Dan and Bikram left with the Sherpa, when we split two days ago. The three were on their way up to Lobuche High Camp, for a short night under canvas. From here at a ridiculously early time the next morning Dan and Sherpa Kunga would depart for the snow peaked summit of Lobuche East at 20,080 feet.

They made their way up a very narrow ridge, which offered ample opportunity to slip, fall hundreds of feet and die a miserable death on impact. Best not do that Dan. I don’t want to have to come back up and drag you down to the nearest mortuary. He didn’t take any photos as he says he was ‘shit scared’.

They arrived at High Camp around 1pm.

There was a young chef there and his assistant, who prepared lunch.

Kunga gathered juniper shrubs, for an incense burning ritual, on the way up to bring them good luck.

Then he asked Dan for a battery pack to charge his phone. He seemed a bit odd. Then he asked for pain killers. Then, half way through the afternoon he announced that he had terrible toothache and couldn’t continue. Then he said that the kiddie chef could take Dan up a difficult snow and ice bound summit, no problem, and buggered off. At this point it started snowing.

The lad cooked dinner for Dan and then they turned in at 6.30 pm with a howler going on outside. Dan’s sleeping bag touched the outside tent wall and he woke up absolutely soaked, in a blizzard.

At midnight the lad indicated it was time to breakfast and go, and burnt the shrubs. Surely their luck will now change, dear readers?

They set off in the dark at 1am, with the snow still falling fast and with mini-crampons fixed to the soles of their boots for grip. They encountered a major obstacle when they reached fixed ropes to aid their first steep climb. They had jumar fixed to the rope, which enabled them to pull themselves up on a tight bite, push the jumar higher and then pull themselves up again. The quality of the rope provided by the corrupt Nepali authorities was so crap that Dan’s jumar kept slipping so that he was falling off the slope in the dark. Buy crap, pocket the difference and let people struggle, or worse. Bent gets.

Eventually Dan pulled himself up on the rope and scaled that steep section.

After an hour or so the lads needed to switch to full climbing crampons so they sheltered under a rock overhang, changed gear and stashed the spare kit under the ledge to pick up on the way back. Dan gets vertigo. What saved him from absolute panic was that it was snowing and still dark so he couldn’t see the drop.

They pressed on and the next climb was almost vertical. The rope for this section was crap. Dan’s jumar slipped continuously, to the extent that he had to pull himself up on the rocks and then grab his jumar to pull that up. Oooer missus!

At the top of that rope was another rope section. The juvenile guide disappeared whilst Dan was waiting to climb. Dan could just make him out over the brow of a ridge, by the light of his static headlamp. What was he doing?

Twenty minutes he was gone, and Dan realised he was having an extended shit. At over 19,000 feet in a blizzard!

When he returned they cracked on up that rope and up further sections of rope going through deep snow.

Then they reached a crucial section, where there was no rope! And the boy wonder had to climb up and fix one.

Eventually, and at the end of Dan’s physical limits, it was becoming light and Dan could see the summit.

The last section was ploughing through deep snow on the last rope. And then they were there!

Then the rapid, but careful, descent, during which Dan’s jumar holding him safe nearly came off the end of a rope, which would have resulted in his death. Luckily he held it tight just before the end and clung on until they made themselves safe. And back in High Camp. If this Sherpa is more than 12 years old then I’m Chinese.

Zse zse!

Then directly on to the route down to Lobuche.

And for exhausted Dan, a tired but happy man, sleep.

Night night.

Sorry. We’re stuck in a smallish village and are only getting Wi-Fi for a few minutes each day. I’ll blog again when we’re out of here. It’s a bit messy, massive rainfall, many massive avalanches and were on the road to nowhere. Thanks David.

Night night.

Thanks Bing. I got up earlier than I anticipated. Your long awaited loaf in bed rarely contains the essential element of sleep. If you wake up around 5.30 am often enough then it’s going to stick. It did.

Rather than do something useful I chose to go to the common room, get plugged into the Wi-Fi and work on my overdue blogs. Breakfast intervened, then lunch, then dinner.

However I didn’t completely spend my time blogging, as noble a pursuit as it may be. I went round with Nir to wash mine and Danny’s clobber. We had a laugh with the lass who was there ahead of us. Such pleasant folk.

Nir was a much more athletic clothes washer than I was. Water, soap, podging, rinsing. And repeat. And repeat. Interspersed with harsh brushing on a smooth rocky surface.

Then we hung it up as the clouds broke for a while.

Then back to blogging.

Because I’m so precise in my use of language it takes me a long time to blog. Oooh! Precise in your use of language are you? Turd!

See what I did there? I built an anticipation of clever and targeted wordmongery. Then I let it down with a drop. A warm and steaming drop in this environment.

We laid out the wet clothes on a south facing bank and hoped for the best. On the same bank was my power pack and Dan’s solar powered charger. It worked a treat.

Then I had a shower.

You can imagine how Emmeline Pankhurst felt in 1918 with the Representation of the People Act, which effectively brought about Universal Suffrage that she had been fighting so long to achieve. That’s how I felt when, after all these days, I got a dribble of warm water dropping on my back and a small block of soap in and out of my lower and upper crevices. The relief was tangible.

This is a view further up the valley from our place. It looks like South Yorkshire in the sixties with coal tips and smoke from the steelworks. It isn’t anything like that but it resonates in me.

Back to the guest house garden, it doesn’t even take full sunlight to boil this solar powered kettle.

Getting towards evening meal the attractions of the common room tuck shop were tempting me towards the pleasure of San Miguel.

And the trekkers started playing cards. A couple of hours of eating, drinking and blogging and my day was done.

Night night.

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.

We got up at 4.30am, feeling jaded and uncomfortable. It had been peeing it down heavily throughout the night and with corrugated iron roofs these places make a racket in the rain. Brahms’ third racket. Thanks John.

We are aiming to climb Kala Patthar, at around 18,300 feet the highest point I have ever climbed. Returning back to Gorak Shep we will trek up to Everest Base Camp and back before moving back down to Lobuche.

I must admit I had second thoughts at the prospect of a four hour climb up Kala Patthar in the dark, rain and cold. For the only time this trip I’d put on long trousers. I was disappointed that I’d let Dan down, as he was wearing his trademark tennis shorts.

The weather was not going to improve so we pushed off in the dark at 4.45, torches strapped to our noggins. Dan moved ahead and we overtook a large group of South Koreans. Although we are a few weeks away from peak season there were one or two groups at various heights in the dark in front of us. Visible by their head torches, weaving backwards and forwards along the footpath hairpins.

The cloud cleared slightly at the top as Dan got there, and it became light enough to take photos westwards, away from Everest, which was still well hidden.

We joined Dan shortly after, the last boulder strewn 20 yards taking a lot longer than it should have, as we huffed and puffed. We had made it. We were less than 2kms from the China border. Wonder if we could get sweet and sour chicken delivered?

We hung around in the half light, until the South Koreans caught up and swamped us at the summit, and it was apparent that we would not get a clear view of Everest. On the way down the helicopter landing point and memorial near the bottom were barely visible, as the cloud had intensified.

Looking down over the last ledge, Gorak Shep and its frozen lake were clearer.

Holing up in the guest house all that we could do was have breakfast and defrost. We packed our kit and left it in the rooms to collect it later. Then set off uphill again along the Khumbu glacier towards Everest old base camp. I’d put my shorts on and it was much warmer at around freezing point. There were a few groups, including around a dozen youngsters from Israel, but not as many as I had expected.

The glacier was what we had come to expect. With a huge wall of snow hanging over it halfway up Nuptse opposite us.

But this spectacular avalanche was way beyond our expectations! Dan had spotted some snow slippage starting and caught the main event on camera.

An avalanche hit Base Camp in 2015, killing 24 people. Triggered by an earthquake at the busiest time of the year for climbers hoping to summit Everest; April.

We made it comfortably up to Old Base Camp, despite our exertion up Kala Patthar this morning. The old place is noticeably closer to a deepening and widening crater filled with icy water. There is talk of not allowing people to it, due to the danger of collapse, although this is a particularly safe walk if you don’t arse about. Which means it’s dangerous for a twit like me. This is such a tourist money-spinner that I can’t see them scrubbing it.

Popular with folk like us.

Best just to get an American heavy duty helicopter and shift the rock a bit. Nobody will notice.

Dan wanted to waltz about on the glacier so I followed him some of the way

I’d promised our lass that I wouldn’t chuff about and risk my safety, which we all know is half the fun. And anyway I was a bit tired. So Dan wandered off with Bikram.

Funnily enough I’m just reading a Bear Grylls autobiography and he fell down a crevasse not far from here, only being saved from death by a relatively flimsy rope. I’m not sure what I think about Bear. In fairness he’s done some good stuff and had a very exciting life. Just a bit clean, if you know what I mean. However I love the girl who gave me the bookmark. One of my favourite paintings.

Heading back towards Gorak Shep Nir said that this was a local ambulance. When we’d left EBC we noticed an American kid looking ill. We’d spoken to his dad yesterday further down the valley and he must have organised an emergency call.

Lunch in Gorak Shep and then down to Lobuche. This isn’t a packhorse. It’s a packman.

Tomorrow the party splits. Dan is keen to do some mountaineering and him and Bikram will walk up to Lobuche East High Camp with a mountaineering guide. At 1.00am the following morning the guide will wake Dan and take him to the summit of Lobuche East (20,800 feet) and back down to Lobuche, picking up Shane MacGowan on the way. Chapeau Daniel! I couldn’t do it. Well I could but we would need a High High Camp to spread the effort over three days or more!

I will be going down to Dingboche with Amit and Nir to have a rest day and to climb Nangkar Tshang. I think that without a mountaineering guide, and associated equipment, Nir and I will only be able to climb up to around 17,000 feet and not the more problematic summit.

I set out with the goal of:

Renjo La pass ✅

Cho La pass ✅

Kala Patthar ✅

Everest Base Camp again. ✅

Anything else is a bonus.

Night night.

We’re getting quite good at this. Looking at our original schedule we had two days walking from Dzongla to Lobuche and Lobuche to Gorak Shep, up towards Everest Base Camp. We’ve decided to roll it into one.

Nepali spelling of place names is not always consistent. Dzongla or Zongla is where we ended up last night, tired but elated after a great Cho La crossing. Today’s walk is in red on the map below. We’re effectively walking around Lobuche peak to Lobuche village for lunch. The grey canal to the right of the red line is the Khumbu glacier. After lunch we’re walking beside and along the glacier up to Gorak Shep.

I hadn’t come across the 8000 Inn, Pyramid Lobuche before. Up in the hills. One review says ‘It is really clean and pleasant compared to the survivable but fairly grim regular lodges, and we were actually toasty at night with electric blankets’. Well bully for you, soft bedwetter. Why not stay in the other regular lodges like we do where previous occupants have already wet your bed for you!

We set off with the warm sun on our faces.

Feeling on top of the world Ma. Thanks Jimmy.

Even the lower glens, at a modest 16,000 feet, are beautifully remote.

We’re getting fitter and fitter, although the lack of oxygen really grabs and squeezes your heart and lungs. Your whole being becomes only burning legs and rapidly pumping heart and lungs, going uphill, and a relaxed, sauntering, coxcomb appreciating the views, going downhill.

Very soon we were high above the banks of Chola Lake and working hard. The altitude difference between breakfast and lunch was negligible, a bit like Minehead to Poole on the South West Coast Path, but the ups and downs to get you there are like the 21st Century history of Sheffield United.

Looking at the map above, the vast majority of trekkers come up the valley from the south that leads up to Dughla and on to Lobuche. Our track came round from the west and joined the main trekking route just south of Lobuche. From here on was partly familiar territory, due to mine and Killer’s trek two years ago. This is the view looking down towards the main trekking route and around.

Before too long we had veered north and could see quite a few trekkers walking up the other side of the valley on the main track, and the bottom of the Khumbu Glacier, in a high wall of ice and terminal moraine.

Dan is intent on saving the cost of recharging his appliances, so he brought along a solar recharging unit to carry on the back of his rucksack. It’s only fully effective if at 90 degrees to the sun. See you later matey!

We arrived in Lobuche for lunch and it was a good place. We would be staying here tomorrow night. The staff were attentive and the food was good.

Then we set off for Gorak Shep. This was a walk along the moraine before moving over and walking along the glacier itself. It would take around three hours to reach there and the weather had dipped. If the views were going to be good then we intended to dump our stuff at the guest house and climb Kala Patthar to see the sunset over Everest.

The view from the top of the moraine down the glacier was like a linear Baked Alaska. Strangely it reminded me of when I worked in the steel mills in Sheffield. The molten metal running down a channel from the furnace. Completely contained, in theory. Like the glacier.

Looking up the glacier the white colouring below the mountains was chunks of ice fallen from the Khumbu Icefall. We intended to see them tomorrow.

We arrived in Gorak Shep mid-afternoon. This is the highest trekkers’ accommodation on the Everest Base Camp route. In case photos of Dan and myself in shorts and T shirts confuses you meteorologically, the flat sand coloured area surrounding Gorak Shep is a frozen lake. It is covered by sand.

As we sat in our guest house the viewing conditions were not clear, so we decided to climb Kala Patthar early tomorrow morning. The summit is just visible behind and to the right of the peak in the middle. Its height seems to be the subject of some debate. Likely to be around 18,300 feet it will be the highest I’ve been if I get to the top.

To quote Wiki, The Kala Patthar hike is considered a challenging hike in the Everest region of Nepal. It requires a moderate to high level of fitness, endurance, and some prior hiking experience at high altitudes.

As one of the few septuagenarians to try it this year then I can assure you, my dear darling family and friends. It will be a piece of piss!! You’re not dealing with a soft southern bedwetter here matey boys and girls. I’m a northerner.

Hold on, I didn’t mean that I’m a soft, northern bedwetter I meant I’m a northerner and then by definition not a bedwetter. Well, maybe once or twice. Under exceptional circumstances. No I will not specify the circumstances. Well ok then. I was upset because United lost.

Night night.