Editor's Note: Still having technical issues with pictures. We are working on it and will have a big selection soon.
April 11
Although we had agreed to have breakfast at a leisurely 8 a.m. everyone
was awake and active by 6:30. Apa and Yangjin had gotten up even
earlier.
After being overfed by Yangjin, we were seen off by Apa and her and
again, we “got scarved” as Nic likes to call it. It is the last time we
will see Yangjin as she is returning back to the U.S. soon. Apa is
staying back too as there is a prayer ceremony in Thame on Sunday that
he would like to attend. He will catch up with us at Dingboche on
Monday.
Once we were “scarved” and a generous portion of sunscreen was lathered
on, we headed out and it was another fantastic day. We backtracked the
way we came the previous day, but this time we had the convenience of
walking gradually downhill until we came to the fork in the path that
leads to Khumjung. All this time we came across yak caravans coming the
other way with no loads. Pertemba told us that the Yaks are returning
to the pastures from Everest base camp since there were no more loads
to transport.
We had lunch at the small hamlet of Phurte where we were served by a
lovely lady and her 2-year-old daughter who was a little bundle of
mischief. Every time her mother was busy doing something else, the kid
would take off, apparently she wanted to go away with us. I doubt that
they make Millet Everest boots in her size.
We took the long path to Khumjung; crossing the grassy Shyangboche
airstrip at nearly 4000m, walking around the yak farming research
center and coming out in Khunde village, the village adjacent to
Khumjung. We took some time to enjoy the view of the dramatic rock
faces of Thamserku and the first glimpses of stunning Mt. Ama Dablam,
teasingly hidden under swirling clouds.
In Khumjung, we went to visit the Khumjung School. It’s a Saturday and
school holidays for another week so we were not disturbing any studies.
Pertemba showed us all the tiny aluminium shack that was the first
building in the Khumjung school. Sir Edmund Hillary himself built it
with his own hands. Pertemba and my father were in the first batch of
students to call it their classroom. I find it difficult to believe
that those humble settings shaped the lives of some of my most
inspiring role models. Amongst others, my own father!
Another role model who studied here was the late Mingma Norbu Sherpa
from Khunde village. He was a leader in conservation; not only was he a
hero in our own community, but respected the world over for his
innovative ideas, passion and achievenments. He pretty much set up the
WWF chapter in Nepal by himself and had later moved to Washington D.C. to
head the Eastern Himalayas Division of the WWF. A new Chorten dedicated
to him stands at the Entrance of Khunde village, built by his family.
Khumjung is my ancestral home, where my father and grandfather were
born. Khumjung is also home to Pertemba, who is my father’s cousin.
Pertemba left Khumjung in 1966, seeking new opportunities in Kathmandu
but he has never been too far away from home. A few years ago he started
a new project to repair his ancestral home. It is the oldest house in
Khumjung village, over 300 years old and the original architecture is
almost completely undisturbed. It is also being painstakingly renovated
and preserved by Pertemba and his friends, Chris Bonnington and Doug
Scott.
Old household artifacts that are no longer seen in today’s Sherpa homes
have been saved. Pertemba says he is saving this house for the younger
generation, lest they forget what life was like for their ancestors.
Uncle Pertemba has taught me that remembering the past is just as
important preparing for the future.
Dawa Steven Sherpa
Overnight, the rain and hail had turned into sticky snow and we woke up to a bright sunny day. There was an inch of snow laying on all the rooftops and the treetops and a film of ice on the ground, reminding us to stop looking around and start looking down if we want to arrive at base camp without broken limbs.
Walking to Thame from Namche was beautiful. The path was almost constantly covered in spruce trees and rhododendron trees, sheltering us form the hot sun. The path was quiet and the breeze through the forest, the almost manicured alpine pastures and the melting snow dripping off the tress felt a million miles away from the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu, and the world for that matter.
All around us the mountains were out in all their majesty.
The Bhote Koshi river, that feeds into the Dudh Koshi river, was thundering down below us as we walked along the path leading to Apa’s home in Thame at 3800m. Enroute, we stopped at the home of one of our other Sherpa climbers, Mingma, in the village of Thamo where his mother hosted us for some tea and Sherpa biscuits.
It was an opportunity for the team to see a typical Sherpa home. Two stories tall- the ground floor is used as a store room and for keeping livestock and the first floor has three rooms; one prayer room devoted to the deities; one living room and one kitchen. Before we left, she gave us all silk scarves to bring us luck, a tradition for those embarking on a journey.
Between Thamo and Thame, one can clearly see numerous sites of landslides and erosion. This is the devastation caused by the Dig Tsho Glof back in 1985. Twenty four years on and we are still reminded of its power. During the day, especially when the snow was melting, rocks and sand were still peeling off the slopes and splashing into the snaking river below.
It was during the Dig Tsho Glof that Apa and Yangjin were out in their farm above Thame, tending to their yaks. As I spoke to Apa today, I got to hear the full story. At around three in the afternoon, the water level started to rise as trees and boulders started to come down the stream. Soon the river had swelled to a black mass. As they ran up away from their farm, they saw the water level getting higher and higher, spilling out over the river bed and on to their fields. Constantly swelling, the river level rose until their little pasture huts were simply swallowed up. Around midnight, the thundering noise subsided and the river retreated back to its normal course, but it left behind a big white plain littered with rocks and boulders. There was no sign of their homes, nor their fields.
Today, Apa owns a large lodge in the middle of his fairytale village. He has called it Everest Summiteer Lodge; how apt for Apa. His lodge is built in the traditional Sherpa architectural style but adapted to cater for the many trekkers who would like to brag of having stayed in this living legends home, maybe even be served dinner by him. We certainly had that pleasure. he may be a superhuman world record holder but it’s not enough for Yangjin to consider excusing him from his household chores. That may be the secret to Apa’s renowned modesty.
Most of the evening we, sat around Apa’s courtyard, watching shade slowly creeping up the west face of Thamserku, first turning it pink, then orange and finally a deep red before disappearing into silhouette.
If life is anything, it’s to be grateful for being born in our beautiful world.
Dawa Steven Sherpa
