A quiet morning, except occasional bells from the passing caravans. The orange clouds hanging over blue sky promised a great day again. The guest house opposite was now still, not up yet after their mad bonfire party through till late night. ( I assume 9:30 should be a late night for a small village.) From the board, I got to know our guest house was named Green View. It was obviously a very popular name for many more estates we witnessed in the trekking days to come, had a exactly same name.Our Dutch couple friends having already hit the road as we heard, and German couple just up, grumbling over the noise of the party. While waiting for our breakfast, we had great time sharing our distinctive manners of going to bed, or to be more exact, handling the stinky quilts.
Y., most ingenious , remained dressed with most of her layers and socks, and then put on her raincoat poncho, underneath the quilt. But she had to wake up several times in the night by the cold night, because the polyester raincoat kept slipping the quilt down to the floor. A.,most sensitive, and the one who discovered the smell, kept most clothes on similarly, and only pulled the quilt to chest, with sweaters and scarves to warm the rest of her upper body. For me, most resourceful, used the bedspread from the other bed in my room to wrap the quilt and then sprayed some pesticide inside, while covering my shirt atop the pillow.
Today was going to be the toughest trekking day, not only long climb for 7-8 hours but also almost all steep upward stairs roughly more than 3000 thousand for the altitude rise of 1000 meters vertically to Ghorepani, which is 2700 meters above sea level.
The breakfast seemed to digest in the first hour. And the rest of morning, we dragged ourselves up onto steep and unsteady stone stairs, and ashamed by being passed over by many trekkers, who obviously departed later than us, including the German couple, almost one hour after us. With the sun high, but valley wind blowing, we fought over keeping ourselves cool and warm.
We were overjoyed to see the German couple, now nicknamed 'Likie-talkie', who were resting and drinking in a blue restaurant overlooking the cliff. Immediately I liked to join them to appreciate the cliff and cloves of orange flowers overhanging. Apparently, our guide ignored our urgent calls. Remaining about 30 meters ahead, instead of turning back, he moved on forcing us to continue until we came to his 'authorized' restaurant. A disappointing place with no view at all. We changed our seats inside. There we met a Japanese girl, alone with her guide, who were sharing spaghetti from her plate. Soon two other girls were led by a guide and arranged to sit by a stove and the guide chatted with them until their lunch came to the table. They were from Singapore.
In the coming days, we kept running into them, new friends, and newer one. And each time, when we met, it seemed like meeting old friends. But honestly, to avoid the boredom of the trekking, we would gossip about them. This had become great fun, like possible intimate relationship of the Japanese girl and her guide; the gossip German girl 'Likie-Talkie', although we all agreed her boy friend/or husband very gentle and kind. Who weren't? When the two Singaporean girls checked our relations, I joked, based on Y. mad jokes the night before with our guide, that ' I'm the old brother, she my younger sister. She, another sister.'
Only after the lunch, the view unfolded became nicer, the big old trees, wild flowers, and moss and clean waterfall, despite the paths were steeper. I easily fell behind the girls, who always would find somewhere and wait for their 'old brother'. I was sure I'd completed over one million damn stairs. At last, so so defeated and exhausted, we saw in the distance that houses with blue tops. That was Ghorepani, where we were resting. 2750 meters.
We didn't have any more strength for one more step ahead. With out any hesitation ,we pushed open the first guesthouse and were welcomed inside.
So warm inside. In the stove, it turned out they were baking whole potatoes. As the only visitors this evening and absolute VIP, we, after the shower, and quick wash, occupied the closest seats to warm ourselves and dry our wet laundry.
The house wife was a plump funny lady in early forties. She smiled and forced a warm potato to me when I, restored some curiosity to check what she was baking in the fire. And soon she brought two more for my friends. In such a warm and cozy room we felt a early hunger. However, the long waiting freaked us out a little bit, especially A., after one hour, who wouldn't take it any longer. Fearing loss of her hearing of any cooking sounds, she stormed into the kitchen and returned with confirmed good news though.
We finished our food in no time before A. informed that our guide wanted ready time next morning to be 6 am. I argued with my friends, considering the sunrise would be our possible high light, if weather permitted, and I already had some doubts over his professionalism, I suggested to depart earlier at five thirty to prepare enough time for the climb, said to cost about one hour. At first I'd like to check with the hosts while the guide was not present, in order not to hurt his esteem, but got persuaded by A. and Y. to check then.In the kitchen, the host explained in better English that he welcomed us to come with him at five thirty to the summit. He would guide for us.
After a quick discussion,officially Y. talked to our guide, and explained our plan and offered him that he need not necessarily come but he insisted on coming still.
Around our lovely possession of stove, where I exposed my sexy feet,
A. exposed her most hidden scary look.
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