Chapter One
After a day and the following morning’s rough ride in a bus journey in remote, muddy road, which was not any better than a bridle way, we arrived at Deurali (3500m), the point where we were going to start our journey to the mighty Kanchanjunga. I picked my rucksack, got down from the bus and took a deep breath in the fresh air. I stand at the side of the road, stretched my legs and arms. I fastened the strings of the sports shoes and the trouser I was wearing at that time. I jumped around the road like a little boy excited when his parents buy his favourite toy after a long wait. For me it was more than that, like a dream come true. I was excited by the idea that we were actually on the expedition. I looked at the mountains. The scene was so beautiful; truly unbelievable. It was looked like the mountains were standing side by side according to their respective heights making a beautiful layer right across the horizon. The immediate one was huge rocky mountain yet full of greenery. Behind that was slightly taller and had few snow spots at the top. Then the rest in the far were all tall and covered with snow. I felt the mountains were welcoming me with open heart, inviting me by saying come on and enjoy the pure nature and beauty. I was grateful for that warm welcome. I thanked the mountains for their kindness.
‘Simon!’ dad called me.
‘Yes dad’, I said.
‘What are you thinking? You looked like lost in thoughts. Get prepared my boy’.
‘I am ready, dad’, I replied.
In fact, he himself needed to get ready. He was busy unloading the heavy expedition equipments, numerous bags, tents, sleeping bags, cooking utensils, food items, medicine, other essentials, water bottles and so on. There were so many things, it looked like we were moving to the Himalayas for rest of our lives.
The Sherpa crew arrived.
‘Namaste!’
‘I am Pemba Tsring Sherpa, your lead guide’, he introduced himself.
Pemba had a muscular body. A bit short about 5 feet. He had a big round head and a short nose. He’d few but long beards, which you could count on fingers, spread around his face, a typical Mongolian identity. It was easy to guess that he hadn’t saved for at least a couple of years or probably more. He was a man of late thirties.
He said, ‘I welcome you all in land of God where the purity and spirituality still preserved. This is the land of snow, mountains, rivers, valleys, glaciers, snow bears, Yeti and miracles. You are not just going to experience the beauty of nature but the people, culture and the tradition of the Himalayas. This is the land of purity. The rest of the world has polluted but by the grace of the God the Kanchenjunga is still untouched. It is more than a holy place because the whole Himalayan range is itself sacred where people still believe the goddess’s presence there. The scene of beautiful snowy mountains, mysterious glaciers and the rare Monal Pheasant flying around take you to a different world. There are several spiritual rivers originated in the glaciers of the mighty Kanchenjunga. In fact every river is sacred. River Tamur which is the purest river in the world is the main river where several tributaries also run the pure white water from the melting iceberg. You will feel the true nature and peace when you wake up at the morning and looking at the white mountains. You will realize what you have missed and what you have got.’ We all were listening to him very carefully.
He continued, ‘it is going to be of a life time experience. But it is not as easy as you might be thinking. This is the most challenging expedition of all. The ascent and descent of the Kanchenjunga trail is really challenging. On the same day you will be at the height of the 10,000 ft and at as low as 2,000 ft. To cross the high passes is not easy at all. At one point you may feel that your legs can’t move any more. You might think this is the end of the world. You can be thirsty for hours in the midday sun in a 90 degree vertical narrow rocky path while trying to reach the Deurali (top of the hill). There are dangerous crossings all over and you have to be firm on your feet. I am not trying to make you scared or to discourage but just warning. This is a real challenge. You have to be strong mentally and physically.’
‘This is Ang Tsring Sherpa, Pemba said pointing to a porter who came along with him. He has been guide for several years. This is the person whom I can trust if anything unfortunate happens to me in the land of God. I pray everyday for the good weather and luck.’ Ang was wearing a Manchester United football jersey on top and a track suit trouser at bottom. He was short as Pemba but not as strong as him bodily. With having a big round head, a short nose and very thin beard scattered around his face, they both looked like brothers.
‘Are you brothers?’ I asked curiously.
‘Oh! No; not at all, Sir. I am from Rasuwa district, where he is from Solukhumbhu district’, said Pemba.
I felt slightly uncomfortable when he addressed me as ‘Sir’. But that was the way the Sherpas call to their masters. I tried to recall Solukhumbhu because I had read about it somewhere.
‘Is that near to Mount Everest?’ I asked Ang.
‘Oh! Yes Sir. Actually my village is near to the Everest base camp. It takes only few days to get there.’
That’s great. So you are from the land of snow bears and leopards, I added.
‘That’s right, Sir. My three sheep and five chickens were killed by the leopards. Sometimes they even kill children in the village. My kids are really frightened’, he said.
Pemba introduced the rest of his crew members, Dhane Tamang and Mahila. Dhane Tamang was bright and strong physically. Mahila was the youngest, slightly taller than the rest but a thin figure. He was just 16. He was wearing an old and broken army hat. I could guess easily that it was as old as him.
‘Do you go to school?’ I asked him.
‘No’, sir. I don’t have money to buy books and to pay tuition fee. I even don’t have money to buy food for morning and evening. I have an old and sick mother who cannot work. I have two small brothers and a little sister to look after. There is no way I can go to schools. My dad left my mum and us for a younger woman almost 3 years ago. I haven’t seen him since then.’ Mahila answered all that in a single breath. i felt sorry for him. I couldn’t say anything. I was speechless. What a misery. I simply lost the courage to ask him anymore.
The porters were struggling to pack the equipments, tents, cooking utensils, food items and the rest of the things. They had ‘Dhakars’ which they carry at their back with the help of a flat rope. The Dhakar was made of bamboo in a shape suitable to carry at the back. It had an open wide mouth which was narrowed down and closed bottom so that stuffs can be put in it. The porters were trying and trying in one way or another to adjust the equipments and accessories. The real problem was that we had to take so many things which I had never imagined that we would need in entire life. The tour agent in Kathmandu had warned us to take all the recommended tools, equipments and clothing. Otherwise there was a danger that we would never able to come back from the mountains.
It was difficult for the porters to carry the loads. It had gone over 40 kg for each of them. Everybody was worried but nobody found anything to throw away. Pemba opened a local brand of cigarette called ‘Yak’. He informed us that the Nepalese government named the cigarette after the yaks symbolizing the innocence and the purity of the Himalayan life. It was a bit funny that the government choose to do so in a cigarette paper.
I was worried particularly for Mahila. How can he carry such a heavy load at that young age? He was just three years younger than me, just sixteen.
‘Mahila, you have a very heavy load. Can I put some of the stuff in my rucksack?’ I offered him help.
‘No thank you sir. You cannot carry more than that. Your rucksack is already full. You are very kind but when you start walking, you will find it difficult to carry your own stuff,’ he declined my offer giving practical reasons.