I was excited to take Amy to the place I love so much. We planned a fairly audacious trip of some new treks and some crazy heights, passes and new peaks. It was great to stomp on the old grounds and explore some new ones.
We arrived in Kathmandu mid July in the midsts of the worst monsoon in recent Nepal memory. I was blown away by the mud in the streets and the oppressive humidity. I was happy to be back in Kathmandu and amazed how much things had progressed in four years. It was bittersweet. The tourism, obviously increased tremendously. A boon to the economy and the people, but a sense of being surrounded by foreigners when I was alone in the city the last three times. We spent a day or two in the city, but I was itching to head to the mountains. The bummer of the whole thing was there had not been a flight to Lukla in 10 days because of the rains. I was not very hopeful we would take off, at least in the first attempt. Needless to say we were up at 4 Am to catch the flight out. It was drizzling and we were positive we would be back at the Tibet guest house for another night. As the sun rose and we arrived at the airport our hopes did not increase even with the Nepali assurance of "no problem, weather good in Lukla." I was convinced it was a sit and wait session at the airport. A half hour passed and, as much as I could not comprehend, we were on the bus out to the plane. We taxied, we accelerated, we took off.... Amazing. The clouds looked dense, and we were potentially on a "scenic" flight, not a delivery. Oddly enough the plane banked hard toward the mountains and before we knew it, we were braking on the 14% grade runway.
The looks we received on the tarmac were a little disheartening. People who had been stranded for 10 + days looked in dismay and disbelief... quotes such as "oh my god, I hope you get out...." "turn around..." gave us a little dismay, but we were happy to be in the hills. I quick cup of tea and a little repacking, we were on our way with a smile on our face.
In typical fashion we planned to make to Phakding, but got Phakding and pushed on.... and on. In the first day we made it to Monjo. It really is not that far, maybe 12 - 13 miles, but after the early morning and heaps of jet lag, we were certifiably spent we finally got our packs off. By 7 pm, we could barely get the energy to strech our legs before the 8 pm curfew we set upon ourselves. We managed to get a great place to stay, all to ourselves, except for the monk headed to Tengboche. We were tired, happy, dry as the rain crashed outside and ready to tackle the monumental grade to Namche the next day.Man I was I gald to be back.
