Thither & Yon

Today begins the upward trek!

• Starting location: Phakding, 2,610m (8,601 feet)
• Ending location: Namche Bazar, 3,440m (11,210 feet)
• Total gain: 1,000m (3,281 feet)
• Distance: 7.8 miles in 5:01 active time, 6:48 total time
• Average pace: 38’35” per mile
• Slowest mile: 44’57”

Getting out of town at 8am was a whole lot like joining rush hour traffic, if streets were muddy paths and cars were hikers wearing enormous packs and trucks were donkeys and yaks. I’d known these treks were popular, but seeing the body-jam in person is another thing.

People found their paces and started spreading out a bit as the morning progressed. The first five miles was a more- or-less level meander along the canyon wall, crossing occasional bridges and taking lots of breaks to let donkeys and yaks go by.

After a day and a half of hiking, we officially entered the National Park.

We stopped for lunch in sight of the Hillary Bridge, a fabulous high-hanging contraption made of steel and prayer flags. While we ate, we admired the altitude-gain to come.

Said gain would be about 2,000 feet over 2.5 miles, a grade nearly worthy of Avalanche Peak’s H-for-Horrible rating.

“Bistari, bistari,” Surya said as we approached the stairs leading up to the bridge. “Slowly, slowly.”

“I have a new motto,” I said.

Back on that Four Passes Loop hike in Colorado, shortly after I had collapsed on the rock at 11,700 feet, a group of bro-dudes marched past on the trail. This group had been confusing me all day, because they all appeared to be the hyper-fit sort I would have expected to blow past us at the first switchback and never be seen again. Instead, we’d spent the day hopscotching with them, passing them as they took a break only to be passed by them as we took a break half an hour later.

As I watched them pass that last time, I realized they had a Laura in their midst. Second from the end, a rather doughy-looking man trudged with his head down, expression full of the kind of suffering I was so recently familiar with. The last man in line, a blond Swiss godling if I had to guess by the accent and bulging calf muscles, cheered him on.

“That’s it, that’s it! You’re doing great. Look how far we’ve come. Only a little farther. Just keep it going, steady as you can.”

My heart filled with mushy warmth for the group of athletic bro-dudes keeping their pace down for their soft, miserable friend. In that moment, I simply adored that Swiss man who was being such an excellent friend and cheerleader.

And I loved, loved, loved the idea of “steady as you can.” Really, it’s no different from “slow and steady,” but it directly implies the cause of the steady pace: whatever effort you can make that results in a steady pace is the correct effort. Dustin’s idea of “slow” is entirely different than mine, but what I can do is only and ever dependent on me.

I can maintain a steady pace as long as I keep my heart rate between 140-148. At 11,000 feet, that pace is very slow indeed, but I feel worlds better than if I go faster but have to start and stop frequently.

With this in mind and Surya’s permission to go slow, I began my plodding ascent of the last 2,000 feet. I felt good, felt competent, felt steady.

And then we came upon the dude-bros from our orientation day yesterday, and the whole game flipped on its head.

“How’s your hike so far?” one asked.

“Good, good,” we said, and made a little small talk as we kept easy pace with them for awhile.

“What do you think of them now?” Dustin asked after we had crept slowly, slowly ahead of them.

All I could do was smile, enjoying the moment of feeling slightly less incompetent than usual on the trail.

But I kept thinking about it. Somehow, I am not out of my league, here. People of every sort – many of whom appear a good deal softer even than myself – are out on these trails. None of the locals are even suggesting they can’t do it. Good guides make sure their clients are aware of the risks then do everything in their power to make sure they go bistari, bistari, so they arrive at their destinations in good health.

“Take more breaks,” Surya instructed (not quite scolded) as he caught up with us at the corner of a switchback.

I didn’t say, “but I feel good!” even though I could have, because I am never going to argue with more breaks. More breaks are built into this hiking schedule, and getting to the next hotel earlier than planned is not going to win me any medals.

For the second day in a row, our hotel appeared before I expected it. I thought about the Laura of two months ago, sprawled out on the rocks in Colorado contemplating abandoning her four-day hike, and I patted myself firmly on the back for already having improved upon her.

Of course, that is currently a comparison of apples to apples. Tonight we sleep at 11,200 feet, which is technically 500 feet lower than that Laura slept, so we won’t get too cocky until we see how future days unspool.

But for the first time since weeks before we started, I’m starting to really believe I will be able to do this, and possibly without quite as much suffering as I’ve been preparing for. For the first time, I look around this incredible, strange, magnificent place and feel happy to be here.