When
it comes to physical toughness, mental resilience and the overall ability to
weather discomfort, I concluded eventually that there were really only two
types of traveller in the Himalaya. The
first category - the one I fell into – consisted of people who had booked a
package trek of a predetermined number of days and with a fixed itinerary. Such travellers were literally “processed”
through the various stages of the journey by an able mountain guide and could,
when things got tough, seek perspective from the latter or consolation from the
fact that the journey would only be of a foreseeable duration. You could recognize this tribe because, for
the most part, its members wore exactly the same type of clothing – cheap gear
they had hastily procured in some outdoor store in Kathmandu the day before
flying to Lukla. Their clothes were generally
one size too big and, when it came to colour, poorly coordinated. This class of traveller, only a little higher
than the class of hiker, is barely worthy of the term, “trekker”. Light weights
that they were, they generally looked bewildered, out of place and out of their
depth.
No,
the term “trekker” belonged to the second class of traveller – a rarified breed
who comes to Nepal with an indeterminate notion to explore such and such a
region after which they will move on and explore this or that region. They are to trekking what the Navy Seals are
to modern warfare - cool, sophisticated, completely unflappable if not a little
stinky. Such aces would never
countenance the use of guides much less porters and though few use tents at
this time of the year, most carry them just in case. For these hardy souls the purity of the
experience is at stake and they will stop at nothing to avoid short-changing
themselves the requisite dessert of hardship and misery.
The
real trekker eschews itineraries. When
you ask one where he has trekked to he will mention names of places you have
never heard. Ask him where he is going
and the answer will be equally obscure.
As he moves through the land he might make friends and join forces with
a kindred spirit who is planning to summit some minor peak or other. That notch beneath the belt, he might return
to a bigger town to take a shower, to refresh himself with 8 litres of beer and
to do a spot of laundry. Or he might
undertake a detour into another remote part of the mountains.
One
such person was Miles Malan, a South African based in London who I met at
Everest Base Camp. I was glad to meet
him as I needed some adult company though I was under no illusion that I would
be trekking with him for more than an afternoon. Toting an imposing red rucksack, he had a
week earlier summited the 6500m Mera Peak with a 4 times Everest veteran – a
Sherpa from the Solu Khumbu named Pemba.
After this, seeking an alternative route to Everest Base Camp, Miles had
trekked up to Chukhung and then west through the mountains to the Khumbu
Glacier where he’d heard there was a route to Lobuche through the moonscape of
rotten ice, crevasses and geological bedlam.
Unable to locate the path, Miles embarked on the crossing regardless – a
traverse that took him most of the day and which nearly destroyed him both
physically and mentally. He arrived in
Lobuche after dark, his forearms shredded, chest heaving in the thin air but
still well enough to know he’d escaped with his life. Miles wasn’t the only real trekker I met –
but I admired his tenacity and his ability to ignore (and possibly even to
celebrate) the myriad little discomforts that are so much a part of life in the
mountains.
 |
| Trekker Miles Malan pissing against the wind |
So
trekking in the Himalaya is not without its challenges with some adapting to
these better than others. On balance, I
would describe the overall experience as strenuous to very strenuous. But,
providing you can inure yourself to the small niggles, (and strategically
manage the big ones like altitude) – you can eventually settle down and enjoy
the finer aspects of the experience.
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