Rugged Tales

Wherever my feet may take me…


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Religious observances

As yesterday was a rest day some of us walked back up to Tengboche after lunch to listen to the monks at prayer. Tengboche is a Tibetan Buddhist monastery, the largest in the area. It’s a building with a chequered past: founded in 1916 it was rebuilt once after being destroyed by an earthquake in 1934, and again after being destroyed by fire in 1989. Third time lucky…

Despite the loss of many precious books and paintings in the fire the restored monastery is an impressive building, and the splendour of the prayer hall (and the large compliment of some 60 monks) reflects its wealth.

The prayer hall at Tengboche Gompa.

The prayer hall at Tengboche Gompa.

Only six monks were at prayer during our visit but their dissonant chants were rich and other-worldly despite their small number. Although attempting to muster an appropriately spiritual frame of mind I was more than a little envious of both their thick red cloaks and the regular top-ups of tea from a seventh monk, as my breath steamed white in the unheated hall.

If only the other tourists, who outnumbered by monks by around 10:1, had shared their discipline. Our group was in place 10 minutes before the prayers started, sat quietly throughout and refrained from fiddling with distracting gadgets, as the notices had politely requested us. Many of the others, however, arrived up to 25 minutes after the prayers had started, walked about and fidgeted creating a background static of Goretex rustles, and provided an unwelcome accompaniment of clicks, chimes and beeps from an assortment of cameras. Lacking a monkish discipline myself, my irritation at this behaviour (which seemed a poor return for the privilege of observing the ceremony) disturbed my inner peace very sadly.

Fortunately, the peacefulness of this area, and the good company of friends old and new, restored me. With such a wonderful view from my bedroom window this morning, it’s hard to stay cross for long.

The soothing view from my bedroom window.

The soothing view from my bedroom window.


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Perilous paths

Whilst those climbing above Everest’s Base Camp will undoubtedly face greater challenges the trek is not without its hazards and we encountered a number of them on the way from Namche to Deboche. For the first half of the day the path wound gently round the hillsides, with great views of the mountains ahead.

A chorten errected in memory of Tenzing Norgay, with (left to right) Everest, Lhotse and Ama Dablam behind.

A chorten errected in memory of Tenzing Norgay, with (left to right) Everest, Lhotse and Ama Dablam behind.

This being the dry season, however, even the flat paths are very dusty bringing coughs and sinus irritations for the unprotected hiker. Most of the group walked with a Buff covering their nose and mouth to keep the dust out but I found that fogged up my sunglasses to the point of total blindness – more than a little risky on the narrow rocky paths. If I took my glasses off, however, my eyes immediately filled with grit. I didn’t try it twice! The climbers made the Buff-and-sunnies combo look effortless, but clearly the optimum arrangement is a technical skill that I will need more practice to master.

My feet also struggled in the thick dust, especially on the descent back down to the river at Phungi Thanga. My feet skidded out a couple of times – a challenge my balance barely met with my head slightly woozy from the altitude.

At one point the path passed below a suspension bridge. Not a problem…until a herd of dzopkios (yak-cow crosses used to haul items up and down the mountain) passed overhead. Stepping in dung from time to time is one thing but I was less enthusiastic about having some land on my head!

A couple of the group nervously eye the dzopkios overhead!

A couple of the group nervously eye the dzopkios overhead!

But the dzopkios were arguably less risky overhead than when I met them on a narrow section of path. As a small group approached I smartly stood to the side, remembering too late that I was supposed to have gone the other way – away from the drop-off to remove the risk of being knocked over the edge. The embarrassing prospect of a Darwin Award loomed in my mind, but fortunately the placid nature if the beasts (and, on closer inspection, the modest slope behind me) proved not to be so dangerous after all, leaving me happily still in one piece to tackle the steep 610m (2,000ft) climb to Tengboche. I felt I’d certainly earned the enormous, and very tasty, chocolate brownie, I put away in the bakery nestled beside the famous Tengboche monastery at the top.

Tengboche monastery (3,860m).

Tengboche monastery (3,860m).

From there, thankfully, it was just a short stroll downhill to our lodge at Deboche, a few flakes of snow drifting in the cooling air as we walked. We awoke to a light dusting (which quickly melted in the sun) and a much more relaxing day: toasting in the sun outside the lodge, watching the mountains appear and disappear again behind their cloudy covers, and the prospect of a trip back to Tengboche this afternoon to see the monks at prayer. Happily, today there’s not a peril in sight.