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We began our day in Kyangjuma(11,320ft) with our longest day if trekking ahead of us. We would gain 2000 more verticle feet and walk more kilometers then in our previous days, it would take us all day to do it as well. We left shortly after 8am and arrived at our destination around 2pm.

We walked up hill for a short distance, then would head almost straight down hill all the way to the river bed. We reach Phunki Tenga(10,660ft) and cross the Dudh Kosi River for the last time.

The down hill walk was nice, except for the fact we would have to walk directly up hill for what seemed like eternity. We ended up in Tengboche(12,660ft), sore, tired, and ready for a nap.

We grabbed a quick bite and drink, attempted to use some painfully slow Internet with no success, and carried on with the days hike.

With a little more down, followed by some up, we found ourselves in Pangboche(12,890) shortly after 2pm. Thank god.

I was in dire need of a nap. After a little debreifing from everyone (I am happy to report that besides the fatigue suffered by myself and a few others, along with a few spurts of the Khumbu rumble [upset bellies], everyone in the group is in great shape and is doing fine) I took a quick nap.

Sitting upstairs in the coffee house with a wonderful view of Mount Ama Dablam(22,401ft) peeking through the clouds, with the sun shinning directly on it’s summit, we decided what to have for dinner.

I asked Coach White if it’s acceptable to eat the meat here, he replied with a big grin and 2 thumbs up. Yak steak it is. Ever had Yak? Neither had I, until today. All meat in the Khumbu is cooked to a welldone, I’m guessing to ensure no one gets sick. Although it was a little tough, it was delicious and is by far the best Yak I have ever had.

It’s 745pm and I’m laying in bed, writting this blog before I close my eyes. I feel like an old man (I know I’ll get some harrassment when all the guys on the trek finally ready this) going to bed this early. The oxygen in the atmosphere is about 56% of what it is at sea level. I live at sea level. My body is still adjusting, as is everyone else. The higher we get over the next few days the further the oxygen molecules will get from each other, making each breathe less efficient, making it harder on our bodies to get what it so desperately needs… Oxygen.

Up early, coffee by coach, a great breakfast was cooked by our hosts and we were off on our first real day of trekking.

Leaving Ghat(8,500ft), we passed through Phatding(8,560ft) stopping for tea. We hiked into the town of Bengkar(8,890ft) for lunch at the Waterfall Restaurant.

After a much needed hour break, we proceeded to Monjo(9,320ft) to get our park passes for the Sagarmatha Park (the name Everest means ‘mother if the earth’ in the Sherpa). The road to our guest house is downhill, the groups mood picks up and everyone gets a little pep in their step.

We arrive in Jorsale(9,220ft) a little after 4. We are staying at the Nirvana Lodge. It’s a nice cabin with a view of the river down below and our group fills the entire place. There are 2 patios out front seperated by the path to the front door. On the left we have the book club, everyone there is seeking some quite downtime. On the right, no quiet there. Personal horror stories, tales of work disasters, tragedy and triumph and pure comedy. We chat until Kami (our Sherpa leader) calls ‘soups on’.

Shortly after dinner, almost the entire group heads for bed. We’ve had a long day behind us, and an even longer day ahead.

Up at 5:30am for 6am breakfast, we hit the trail at 6:54am, as our trek leader announced while walking through the gates of Nirvana. We had finished 8L of coffee, and thank god for that.

‘hey Kami, is it a big climb today?’ I say to our Sherpa leader. ‘well, a little up down, jig jag, Sherpa flat’ he replies. ‘what’s Sherpa flat?’ I ask. ‘you will find out soon’ he says followed by his giddy little laugh.

We begin our days hike up a big hill and across the Dudh Koshi River (pronounced doodi koshi, and meaning milk river) and stopped at a small bend in the train for our first glimps of Everest. Wow. It may have been 40miles away, but it was spectacular. The jet stream was pulling a cloud of condensation off of the back side of it from our viewing angle, making it look as though it were on fire. The mountain wasn’t on fire, but our group was.

We climbed 2000 verticle feet in a little over 4 hours, reaching Namche(11,290ft) a little after 11:30am. Some of the group began to feel the first effects of altitude sickness. A little fatigued, a headache or two, but nothing to worry about. Coach, our trek leader Eoin White, said we may have gone a little too fast. The group has made a decision to stay behind him for the rest of the trip. a
Afterall, his is the only one of us who has made a successful trek to basecamp.

The place we were staying in makes the rest if our guest houses look like garden shacks. Big rooms, hot showers, cold drinks. I now understand why they are 10-20 times more than other places. It’s called the Namche Hotel, and I’d recommend it to anyone.

During our downtime in the afternoon, a group of us visited a museum on top of a hill. The climb was grueling after such a long day of hiking, but well worth it. I learned about the heritage and the culture of the Sherpa people. How and why they came to the khumbu, and their way of life. After the visit I realized it was more then worth me lugging myself to the top of the hill.

Leaving Namche with the same morning routine as the previous days, we headed out a little later then normal, 830am. We walked a few hundred yards along a flat, then proceeded to walk directly up hill. Over the day, we would gain an additional 1200 feet of elevation.

We crossed an abandoned air field, and up past another look out with a spectacular of the Mother of the Earth (Everest).

By 11am we were sitting on the patio of the Everest View Hotel. Holy shit. Sorry to swear, but words can not actually express what I saw today. The biggest mountain in the world, in all of it’s glory. I know I used the word epic in a previous article, but this was the most epic thing I have ever seen in my life. It’s massive. Although Mount Lhoste directly beside it looks taller, that is only because it is closer to our viewing location. Mount Everest is a 3 sided mountain which borders 2 countries, Nepal and Tibet. If you have never seen it, imagine then biggest mountain you have, double it, and you’re about half way there, maybe. It’s not just the height, it’s everything. The pictures I bring home and the stories I will tell are only a fraction of the feeling you will get from seeing it for yourself.

We leave the hotel, reluctantly, and head towards Khumjung(12,400ft).

We visited an elementary school named after the great Edmund Hilliary (I suggest you wikipedia him if you don’t know who he is), then proceed to our lodge.

We are staying staying at the Ama-Dablam Lodge in Khumjung. Tashi, our hostess, treats us all as if we were her own. Tea was ready when we arrived, bottles of water were available at the slightest of mention. She runs an amazing teahouse/lodge on the main route to, and from, Everest.

That is all for now, it’s 8pm and it’s time for me to hit the sack. Tomorrow we walk down 1000ft to the river, then proceed to walk up 2000ft to our next place of rest.

Stay tuned… The adventure continues.

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28minutes into the flight the engines slow down and our bellys are in our chest. We have begun our decent to the Lukla airport.

I’m in the front passenger seat, camera at the ready. We can see the run way, or what they use as a run way. It’s 500 yards, max. With my video camera rolling, the plane dips and heads directly towards the side of a mountain. The engines roar and the flaps are set to full, we are now in the approach phase.

The twin otter, with a full load, is ready for landing. I can’t speak for everyone on the plane, but I am nervous. The camera keeps rolling. 10 yards before we touch down and it gets louder then ever. The pilot begins to flare, the screech of the wheels on touchdown is louder then the screaming engine and we are safe on the ground, for now.

Hard break, engines cut, we approach a stone rockface no more than 200 yards away at this point. If it wasn’t for gravity, we might not have made it.

We leave the plane and head to an outside area to wait for our bags. It looks like a refugee camp, with about 200 locals pressed up against the fence. They come every morning, from the entire valley, looking for work. Men, and women, from ages 17-30, ready to carry upwards of 170lbs on their back for hours at a time.

We have our arrangements taken care of, we pickup our day packs and head to a local tea house 300 feet from the airport for breakfast.

We check the Canucks game on the Internet while having breakfast. The blowing of a 2 goal lead in typical fashion by the end of the second period did not sit well with the group from Vancouver (8 of us). I have scrambled eggs and toast with a coffee. A good way to start the day.

As we walk down the stone walk way, I stumble upon a starbucks. God, these guys are everywhere. No city left untouched by the starbucks empire. I’m not going to lie, they made a mean vanilla latte.

We have a 2 hour walk ahead of us with the most epic of backdrops you can find on earth. Skyscrapers of mountains with caps of snow and a halo of clouds cover each one. Air so crisp you wish it could be bottled and savoured for ever.

Up and down a rocky terrain and we find ourselves in the village Ghat at the International Khumbu Cafe and Guest House. Our groups Sherpa leader Kami and his family own the lodge we use tonight for our stay. With a great lunch of soup and pasta, we took a small hike down to the river running through the valley then back to the tea house for a cribbage tournament while we wait for dinner.

The group is bonding very well. Jokes, banter, stories… We may have been strangers 4 days ago, but the friendship grows with each passing day.

I will leave you with 2 pictures of today. As we arrived at the tea house our host Kami was running ensuring we had all of our creature comforts, he tossed on a hat previously given to him by a fellow trekker.

Ever seen a Sherpa Cowboy?

The next is very touching. Pasang Yuengji (pronounced angie), Kamis wife, gave birth to a baby girl 2 months ago. They carry her around in a wooden box with a strap that is wrapped around there forehead. The entire Sherpa culture uses very few backpacks, everything they carry is done by a strap around their forehead. 5minutes after he put down the cowboy hat, he came back with his baby daughter in his back.

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Up at 4, packed the bags, loaded the van and headed to the airport. This is the cleanest and showered we’ll be for the next 14 days as there are no showers in the Kumbu. As I write this, we are in the air in a twin otter 20 passenger plane much like the ones at harbour air.

Attached is a picture of us.

Check in soon.

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We started off our day early. Bus was leaving a little before 8 so we could beat the heaviest part of rush hour.

Today we were heading to Bhaktapur, the home city of our tour guides AK and B. Interesting ride. 13km took us a little over half an hour in a bus that spewed black smoke like it was a big rig, but atleast we had air conditioning. As we waited for the bus a government water truck pulled up in the middle of the busiest corner in Kathmandu and started pooring out water. Men, women, and children all fighting to get their bucket, their jug, their mouths under the pooring water which looked clear, but you couldn’t pay me a million dollars to drink it. The few pictures I took could not begin to describe the gravity of the situation.

The bumpy ride on a semi paved road was a sign of things to come…

The small district of Bhaktapur was one of Nepals 4 (or 5) main kingdoms from the 17th century, it is a world heritage site. While touring the city, we saw many ancient temples and palaces. We saw statues created for the king, and an area where there are 108 animals sacraficed per year for religious purposes (I really should take notes, but there is sooo much news stuff in my brain it hard to catalogue it all properly).

We ate an authentic Nepalese meal at a very nice hotel/restaurant near Durbar Square, which is the city centre. As we were heading to the restaurant I asked Captain Canada (his name comes from the fact he loves Captain Morgans, and he’s from Canada), if he had ever had this meal before. He said ‘no I haven’t, but when in Bhaktapur’. I figured that was a good title for today’s blog entry.

Our tour guides set us up with a seminar on Nepalese artwork known as Thanka. The one I was most interested in was called Sand Madala. I don’t have time to write it all out, but I would google or wikipedia it as it us extremely facinating. I purchaced a piece of extremely high quality Sand Madala Thanka art. It took a monk, who is a master at Thanka (there are 4 grades if Thanka artists, student, teacher, expert, and master), 6 weeks to complete. It is painted on cotton canvas and contain 24carrot gold. I am getting excited just thinking about putting it up.

It was getting late and we had a long drive ahead of us, so we headed for the bus.

As we passed these huge statues of dogs which both stood 15-18 feet tall, our guide AK informed us that these were one of a kind pieces of art, and there was nothing else created even similar by the same artist. He knows this because the king who had these statues created, cut off the hands of the artist so he could never duplicate his work. (below you will find a picture of one of the statues)

There are a lot of things I will forget from this trip over time, but here are a few I will not;

The cow I saw today was the most malnourished create I had ever seen. Tied to a pole with little to drink, if any, a small amount of hay, barely enough for the bed of a goat, ribs I could count, and who’s hips I could see like it was a moving skeleton. The children playing in a river so dirty I would have a hard time pissing in it. The mother with 5 children, picking rice up off a dirt road that had spilled from a broken bag on the back of a truck.

On a bus with 14 other trekkers, in essentially the middle of no where, my eyes started to tear and the only thing I could do was close them and think ‘there’s no place like home, there’s no places like home’. I wanted to leave, right then and there. I’ve seen a lot of things in the past week, but this was a low.

We leave on our trek tomorrow at 5am. Today we were at the bottom, and we only have up to go! (stupid joke/pun, but still kind of amusing)

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It is over cast today, the start of it atleast. Awake early for a 9am meeting about our trek, afterwards we met with ‘Akay’ and ‘B’, our Nepali tour guides, to discuss our day trip. We were going to Durbar Square, an ancient kingdom and city centre of Kathmandu then to a Money Temple.

As we set out on our trip at 10am, rush hour was in full swing. Until you’ve seen rush hour in Kathmandu, you haven’t seen rush hour. There are no lanes and no curbs. No lights, no stop signs, no nothing except the honking of horns. As our driver approaches another van directly infront of us at a full stop, for no reason, he darts out into the opposite lane and proceeds to start honking. The honking is neither for the displeasure towards the others drives selfish driving style or to warn warrn the pedestrians of his change in lanes. What he is honking for is to say ‘i’m coming, so get out of my way’. As our tour guide Akay, sitting in the front left seat, turns towards the back and starts to let us know about the upcoming kingdom, another van starts heading directly for us.

As all 10 of the passengers in the back hold our breath, hoping this game of chicken plays out in our favour, one of my fellow trekkers says ‘watch out’ as though he needed to tell the driver of our vehicle to pay attention to the road. ‘oh my god, im such an idiot’ he said immediately following his first comment. Our tour guide, sitting in the front left seat, is not the driver. All vehicles in Nepal are right hand drive. The van broke out in hysterical laughter.

The Durbar Square is nothing special. Great cultural experience, but nothing blog worthy.

When finished at the square, we head back out into the chaos of the traffic. Thankfully, today we have A/C. 40 minutes later we arrive at the Monkey Temple.

This temple is crawling with monkeys. From the driveway up the hill, to the ticket booth itself. Monkeys, monkeys, monkeys. The view from the top would have been incredible, except we can not see much farther than about 3km. The myst, the fog, the smog, I don’t know exactly what it is and I don’t think I want to find out.

As I sit in the outside patio of the restaurant of our guest house, sipping on what I thought was a redbull, I realize now it is a knock off known as Wild Buffalo. Same logo, same blue and read writting. I am not surprised one bit, afterall, it is Nepal.

I will leave you with a picture I took on my phone at the monkey temple. I need not explain it, as a picture is worth (more than) a thousand words.

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Sitting here in a local tavern in sunny Kathmandu a group locals pounds out the hits of the 70s and 80s as our live entertainment, my father begins the science lesson of the day. It goes a little something like this…

My brain is like a herd of buffalo, let me explain. A herd of buffalo is only as fast as the slowest. If an animal were to attack the herd, it will kill the slowest and weakest long before the fastest and the strongest, making the herd faster and stronger with each death. Alcohol kills brain cells, as my son tells me. If that is true it will kill the slowest and the weakest first, thus making my brain faster and stronger with each beer I have. Can’t argue with science, I’ll drink to that, cheers!

I was on the 6:05pm flight out of Hong Kong. With a stop over in Bangladesh(sp?), it took us almost 6 hours.

We arrive in Kathmandu at 10:15pm local time. The Airbus 200 passenger plane from China Air we showed up in towers over the airport. It’s a small, 1 floor, 1 room building, with 7 boths and a smell like a broken down cabin. It’s got the decore of a cheap motel. Bad artwork, yellowish-brown tile floor, desks with wood lining and yellow lenolium counters.

As everyone attempts to get into line for the customs line, the crowed soon realizes that everyone needs to fill out a Visa form, which are not readily available. I walk up to a counter attended by clerk to find this document. As I am 5 feet away, he turns his back and walks off. I look over the counter and see the form I need, without so much as a second thought I grab 2 and proceed back to the desk to fill it out.

With only 4 attendents working, and 9 fellow staff in a supervisory roll, I soon realize the ‘Government’ mentality isn’t restricted to North America. (let’s hope this statement doesn’t get me in trouble)

After we pass through, we go to pick up our bags, and what looks to be a government attendant starts to load them onto a cart for us. He begins to wheel them towards customs/the exit. As we approach the x-Ray machine, the man pushing all of our bags notices my father pulling some American money out of his walet. He mentions something to the customs office in what I am led to believe is Nepali, and they wave us right through without scanning out bags. Good to know cash is king around here.

We get to our Guest House, which seems like the Marriot compared to the last place. We settle in and head to bed.

The following morning we head out on a day trip. The first stop, the most sacred Buddhist crematory in Kathmandu. As we approach, you can smell something isn’t right, litterally. As we walk down a brick sidewalk along a river which is filled with garbage we see something in which you would expect to see on CNN. There are 3 cremation sites, one has just finished being used, the other 2 are minutes away from being ‘fired up’. (sorry for the pun)

As we stand there, 14 causasion tourists and dozens of others, they set ablaze yet another deceased individuals. In the open air, on the side of a river, next to a temple. They burn a body much like they have dozens a day for the last century. It makes me sad just thinking about it.

As we walk over a bride I see a few workers cleaning a previously used site. They sweep the ashes into the river as if it were dust under a rug, and setup for the next body like it was no big deal.

I see the next body. I decide to snap a quick video. While my film is rolling, without any thought as to what is actually taking place, I zoom in a little to get a ‘good shot’. What I got was a short 30second clip of a father, mourning the death if his daughter, crying, weeping, in complete devastation as to what has happen. He cries into his hands, pulling away for a second only to reach into his pocket to pull out some coins and toss them over her body. His family (and probably hers) stands behind him sharing in his grief.

I feel guilty. Guilty for no showing respect to the dead, or the living for that matter. Who am I to film this mans sorrow. I bow my head in shame and walk to join the group.

That is all for now, after writting that out I have a hard time thinking about what else I did today…

We board the 6:05pm flight from HK to Kathmandu on Dragon Air. It’s been a long day. We the two of us stretch out over 4 seats and start bantering with one another. We talk about the day we’ve just had, and the many more to come.

He orders a glass of red wine, I order an ale. Ginger ale that is ;)

As we read our books with the occasional comment back and forth, the plane is rather silent so I’m fairly certain the few rows infront and behind us can hear our jokes.

The stewardess reappears asking ‘can I get you another glass of red wine’, he replies ‘sure, you have quite the memory’. She says ‘haha, you have an empty red wine glass in your tray, I was using that as a clue’. The cabin fills with laughter (the 2 of us are quite loud, no one else made a sound). My father says ‘that was quite the detective work’, she smiles and walks off.

I lean over and say ‘she’s Dragon Airs Nancy Drew’, dad replies ‘you mean Nancy Chu?’ We both almost piss ourselves. I’m not sure if it’s because we share the same sense of humour, we’ve had a long day, or it was actually funny. We’ll go with ‘D’, all of the above.

It’s 6:47am PST as I write this. We’re in the air. I have no idea what timezone we’ll be in when we land, not like it matters.

Chapter 1, The Hong Kong Journey, of the adventure is now complete now into Chapter 2, Big Hills and Altitude Pills.

Let’s hope the old man can keep up… He’s looking a little tuckered out.

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Today was our last day in China. We decided to spend most if our day touring the city of Hong Kong itself. We spent a large majority of our time here in the city of Kowloon, just across the water from HK (which is actually an Island).

We were both awake by 630am local time, I’m guessing due to jet lag. We left the Guest House for the last time around 745ish, bags packed and nothing on the agenda.

We started our day by heading to Starbucks. We had almost 2 hours to kill before anything opened up, and by anything, I mean anything. The city is pretty much dead until 10-11am, with the exception if coffee shops and a few places to get food.

At 845am we started our ventured toward the Hong Kong Museum of History. Along the way we took a stroll through the Kowloon Park. In the middle of a large metropolis city, they have a walled park (one of many) which is open from 5am to midnight. This one contains a mosque, water fountain, a large public outdoor swimming pool, and bird avairy (not sure how to spell this) along with a few other things.

While my father used the free government provided wifi to call home using skype (I signed up for their pay service, $3/month to call any phone [cell or landline] in north america, more the worth it) on my iPhone, I was taking pictures of some fairly exotic looking birds. While I’m video taping a ‘rhinoceros’ named bird (had a huge single horn in the top of it’s beek) I thought I heard a Chinese women down the path calling to me.

‘Hello, hello, hello’ the voice repeated. ‘goodbye’ the same voice says even before I can end my video clip and see what is going on. Turns out it’s a large green parrot/macau with an amazing vocal ability. I attempted to communicate with the bird but unfortunately my attempts went unanswered. As my father walks over to figure out why I’m talking to myself, I explain this amazing animals ability. ‘hello’ my father says, no reply. ‘wanna get stuffed’ he calls next, ‘goodbye’ replies the bird. As we break out in laughter, the bird continues speaking to us. ‘oh no, ok, hello, goodbye’ it says in a matter of seconds. Simply amazing!

We leave the park and make our way over to the museum. Wednesday is free admission, so we are joined by 300 elementary aged kids… Oh goodie!

As we wander the halls and exhibits of the museum I learned more in 2 hours about the history China then I have in my previous 28years. From pottery styles of the Ming dynasty, to the evolution of the banking system from silver/bullion to paper notes. Some of the most interesting stuff was about the Japanese intrusion and hostile take over of Hong Kong during the early 40s, by interesting I mean it’s something I figured I would know about by now.

Heading over to Hong Kong, we decide to tour the central district. Markets and shops for the locals, no more tourist areas for us. As we wander up and down the cobblestone paved hills, we find some very unique vendors.

We walked through a costume section where you can buy different masks and outfits from Richard Nixxon to Chinese parade dragons.

Following that we enter the local food markets. From fruit and vegetables, noodles of every variety, to nuts out the yang, they have a shop/stand for everything. Naturally they have meat markets, and these things are not for the squimish.

First I notice the bbq’d ducks and chickens hanging in the windows, bodies fully intact, golden brown on the outside. As I take a closer look, I see numerous other animals all prepared in a different manner. I see pigs hung from hooks in the back, legs and feet displayed on the front shelves as if to trigger an impulse buy. As I pull out my camera I notice beside the feet/legs they have the livers, yummy! They seem to be a favorite of the flies, which I can see swarming the freshly hung organs. ‘What else do the flies like’ I think to myself, as I look a little farther down the chain, I see a pair of hearts. Now as I’m sure many of you know a pigs heart looks a lot like a humans, well I’m going to tell you it looks exactly like one. I’ve never seen a live human heart in person, but I’ve watched enough National Geographic channel and Greys Anatomy that I think I can tell you how close it really is. The valves, ventricles, and everything is exactly like the diagram you’ve all seen at one time or another.

Ok ok, enough about pigs and chickens, let’s go check out some seafood.

As we walk a short distance down the street (15feet), there it is. What looks like a flower at first, as my eyes begin to focus I realize it isn’t. What I am looking at is the fanned out gills of a very large salmon. These colourful red gills stretch about 10inches across, I got a sweet picture of it. Nothing else on this guys table seems picture worthy, we move on.

The next shop is a fruit shop and there is nothing entertaining to write about there, however the one following is the inspiration for the title of this post. It took me a while to get here, but we pack a lot of things into our days.

A filet fish lay on the front display counter of this shop. Not a north american style filet, but a HK market style filet. This two and a half foot fish was pulled from the water and split down the middle. If it was his lucky day he would have been knocked out first, but chances are no. As I stair at this fish, I notice his heart is still beating inside his headless split in half carcus. I can’t believe it. It’s like a car accident, you don’t want to see it, but you can’t seem to look away. The only thing that was able to draw my attention away from beating heart is the head which is 6inches away. I see it convulse out of the corner of my eye, I begin to watch it intently, it happens again. The bodyless head is still gasping for air, eyes and gills still moving. It was time to leave this part of town, and so we did.

As we travel farther away from the mainstream, I see the 2nd most disturbing boutique of the trip. In a 20×20 shop on the west side of the central area of HK, I see 50+ shark fins on the wall of a barely decorated storefront. As I take a closer look, rice bags full of them fill the floor of the store. It makes my heart sink. If you’ve ever watched a documentary on long-lining and shark-fining, you will understand.

I walk up the two steps to take a closer look, and picture, the attendant ushers me away. We are in a part of town where I wouldn’t press my luck, or expect anyone besides my father to step in if something were to go down, we walk away.

I’ll apologize now for the R rating of this article. I’d write a disclaimer at the top of it, but what fun would that be :)

You’re reading this to follow me in my adventure… Well there you are.