JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi Daniel Linden (feel good novels txt) 📖

Christian was pale, but he mustered a small smile and nodded. Curtis, cool as usual, shrugged. Celine shook her head no, and Chris said, “I just want another beer before we all die.”

Everyone laughed. Even me.

***

We left Lukla the next morning. As usual the sun was shining and the sky blue, but quickly gave way to fog and then clouds and eventually a light mist that began to thicken and once again we were denied sight of the looming mountains. We descended the valley of the Dudh Kosi River from Lukla and for 6 hours followed the trail to the town of Phakding. Our lodge was a lovely building on the river. The lodge was spacious with rooms both on the first and second floors and several dining halls. It is important to understand that when I say lovely you must understand that beds are simple board slats laid out with thin cot-like mattresses. The dining hall consists of one or two very long tables and picnic-like benches on either side. There are no soft padded seat covers, there is little soft anywhere. Still, this is one of the nicest lodges in Solo-Khumbu and I enjoyed my time there. It reminded me a Swiss chalet with the construction of heavy blocks of stone combined with timbers and plaster. Lovely and picturesque.

Since we had arrived relatively early, Curtis, Chris, and Celine once again went down to the river and found a soft place to train. Christian wandered around the village for a while, then came back to the lodge and joined the others. I took a short nap then wandered around the village waiting for Cook to present afternoon tea.

Somewhere Christian, Curtis and Chris had found lengths of bamboo; they were engaged in jo practice. This made sense to me, since the ground was extremely hard no matter how much grass or moss seem to cover it. They struck at each other over and over, deflecting the strikes with accurate blocks. They began to move in a round robin and the whirring of the sticks and the clacking noise they made attracted a large crowd. Once again Cook delivered tea during practice and I nibbled on cookies and sipped the warm beverage while watching my friends and students train. I admired their energy but I knew that because today’s journey was primarily all downhill they had energy to burn. Tomorrow would be completely different.

The next morning we continued our climb up the Dudh Kosi River Valley that took us through the town of Momzo at about 9,300 feet in altitude. It was at this point that Bim told us we must all stay together. Very shortly we would be entering the Sagarmatha National Park and we would have to present our passports and trekking permits. We would also have to purchase entrance visas to the park itself. Mr. Pasang had already taken care of arranging reservations for us in the park; still it was necessary to go through the checkpoint, possibly a search, and registration procedures.

We arrived at the checkpoint and had to wait while two groups preceding us were processed. The Italian team was boisterous and good-natured, while a group of Americans wearing what appeared to be brand new clothing without so much as a wrinkle seemed suspicious and ill humored. They had obviously arrived in Lukla the day before and without so much as a days acclimatization had marched straight away to the park. Four women with the group looked positively angry and the Nepali porters and Sherpa guide did not seem to be happy. The entire group had the look of a packaged tour that would be hustled up the mountain, shown the sights, and the purveyor would hope no one dropped dead from altitude sickness.

Two Nepali guards stood on either side of the entrance. They wore crisp green uniforms, black berets, and had the requisite khukuri knife strapped to their belts in back. They carried their machine guns at port arms and stared straight ahead. They did not move. After the American team had been processed and moved through, Bim gathered our passports, opened all the books up to the visa page, and carried them into the park office. Curtis, Christian and Chris walked between the guards to the other side of the fence. Celine followed offering one of the guards a pretty smile, but he was not moved. I picked up my gear and motioned for Esra to proceed through the gate. She sauntered forward and gave the guard her most dazzling smile. He must have been a man of stone because he did not react at all, but the Italian team all jumped to their feet and began to wave and call to her. They knew a beautiful woman when they saw one, and Esra was certainly that.

We went through the gate and I walked up close to Esra and turned and looked at the Italians walking in our direction. I held one finger in the air, and shook my head, no. And I smiled. Several of the young men smiled and shrugged their shoulders. Several more waved to her and pointed toward the trail, making finger motions that resembled walking. It was clear they hoped to see her again further up the mountain. As it later turned out, they would.

After Bim returned we resumed our trek. The morning was beautiful. We walked along the Dudh Kosi River and crossed a suspension bridge continuing in the deep valley until we reached the village of Josalle. There the confluence of the Dudh Kosi and Bhote Kosi make a lovely river valley which extends quite a ways and remains relatively easy to walk. There was another suspension bridge and later, still another. After a few miles we came upon a cluster of houses, and we saw children playing with kites. Esra and Celine were mesmerized and we stopped to watch. After a few moments I realized that the