Chapter 2: Dialogues above
Nepal ·Day 2 of the Everest Journey! Note that Manthali and Ramechhap refer to the same area in this context.
April 11th, 2024
I must say, the bus ride to Ramechhap was….tedious. We were looking at a solid 4.5-hour drive, descending from about 1400m to 540m. If you’ve ever navigated the bumpy roads of India, you know this was just the status quo. I managed to snooze through most of the trip, which was a win considering I was on my last leg from the night before. So, I can’t really comment on the scenery—let’s be honest, it was the middle of the night and not much was happening out there.
I woke up about ten minutes before our snack/break stop.. somehow. As we pulled into the break stop, I was hit with a sight that was both eerie and mesmerising. Controlled fires lit up the hills around us, creating a surreal scene that made it look like the sky was ablaze. My sleepy brain couldn’t immediately think of a reason other than “ooh, fires in the sky!”, and then it came to me: “Culling?”, I thought to myself. I’m not sure why it was happening in the middle of the night but It was a frighteningly beautiful sight, and I couldn’t help but admire the pyrotechnics.
As I stood there, munching on chips that I’d just bought and soaking in the fiery display, I started to notice the other travellers around us. Our bus wasn’t the only one parked there; a whole fleet of them had gathered, each filled with adventurers heading to the Everest region. The diversity was both surprising and not as surprising at the same time-after all, this is a hotspot for trekkers from all over the globe. Still, seeing such a mixed crowd in a developing nation like ours sometimes still catches me off guard. Although refreshed, I was still too tired to consider socialising now; we had plenty of time for that later. With our snack break winding down, we were back on the road, inching closer to Ramechhap with every passing minute. Honestly, I just decided to catch some more sleep. Early hours of the morning meant that the scenery could wait (if you could see anything that is) right?
“Yeah right, because only we’d be crazy enough…” I couldn’t finish that thought before the sunlight burst through, waking me up from my dreams. I glanced over and saw my friend was awake too. The van was headed right next to Ramechhap airport, and I could just make out the small airstrip—the gateway to our trek. As we came to a stop, we shuffled out, and the driver started unloading our bags from the roof. My eyes were finally waking up, scanning the area. I’m not sure if the area around the airport had a name, but it was tiny—like, really tiny. I’d say the whole town was barely a 1km radius. A couple of tour operators, some airline offices (and I mean that in the most basic way possible), a few hotels, and houses—that was pretty much it. There was one spot for medical supplies and a small grocery store to cater to the locals near the airport.
This area had sprung up because trekkers heading to Everest had to come here to catch a flight to Lukla. At the time of our trek, Kathmandu’s domestic airspace was under renovation, so all regional flights had been rerouted here. The tourist seasons were always around this time—March to May and September to November. The area around Ramechhap’s airport would come alive with people trying to make the most of the tourist influx, both in business and socialising.
II - The Airport: A Waiting Game
So, here we were, bright and early, and my body was still trying to catch up on the lost sleep. All I wanted was a smooth transition today: grab the boarding passes, wait for the flight, hop on, and in just 15-20 minutes, we’d be in Lukla. Easy enough. Maybe the adrenaline of finally reaching Lukla would kick in, and we’d power through the trek to the first village, where we could finally rest. Who knows what the day had in store for us…
If you picked up on a theme in the first chapter, its that a lot of the times, destiny had other intentions for us.
As we gathered at the airport (it was basically two rooms, one for security checks and the other for waiting)—we settled in for what felt like an eternity of waiting. I was getting a bit restless. The brain has a funny way of trying to beat boredom—I started scanning the room, checking out what the other trekkers were up to. It was peak season for ascents, so there were serious mountaineers mixed in with casual tourists just looking to see Lukla and dip their toes into the trek.
Honestly, we were somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. Most folks around us were gearing up for the Everest Base Camp trek—the most popular route, no doubt. Tour operators, trekkers with guides, mountaineers, and tourists—it was a vibrant medley of adventurers. There was something charming about being surrounded by like-minded people, all eager to embark on their respective journeys.
Alright, how about some food? Aside from that snack we had at the snack/break stop earlier, we hadn’t eaten anything since. The hotels were up and running early, catering to travellers catching flights. You know what’s a classic cliché in this region? The hotel names. Seriously, they all seem to reference the mountains around here. I mean, there’s a solid chance that “Hotel Everest” is a name you’ll find in just about every village along the way. I don’t blame them, heck I’d do that too If I stayed near Everest. And in the unlikely event that you forget the names of any hotels, just yell out the name of a mountain, and I guarantee the locals will point you in the right direction. I’m being a bit sarcastic, of course, but there’s definitely some element of truth to that.
“Time to grab a bite at….”, my eyes shuffled for a bit before landing on…“Hotel Everest. Yep, sounds about right.” I thought to myself. Walking in and getting ourselves seated, my friend opted for the standard: bread, omelette toast along with tea/chai. As for me? I wasn’t sure if I was hungry or just playing mind games with myself. My grand plan was to save my appetite for Lukla, where I sort of envisioned a feast waiting for us, like some place where I’d be able to order just about anything and not be limited to the whims of the hotel like I was in now. It sounded brilliant in my head, so I stuck with a simple cup of tea. After finishing our breakfast, we just stuck around the hotel for a bit longer—there wasn’t really anywhere else to go. The airport was literally just a few steps away, so if they called out the airline names for check-in, we could be there in a flash.
The next couple of hours were mostly spent waiting, hoping the planes would start flying soon so we could finally head to Lukla. I spent most of it just being excited at seeing these small planes and going as close as I could to get some pictures and videos. It must’ve been around 10 or 11 AM when we got the green light to check in and head into the waiting room, which we did promptly. Progress is progress, no matter how slow, I reminded myself. I settled in, trying to be patient as I waited for the planes to land. I started to regret my decision to skip breakfast, but thankfully, I had packed some snacks earlier, which became my lifeline. There was also a bit of “exploring” I could do in the waiting room—like inching closer to the airstrip to watch the planes come and go. By this point, the waiting room was filling up with fellow travellers, all sharing in the anticipation of flying soon.
III - A Test of Patience
Pretty much everyone I’d seen earlier was now crammed into the waiting room, patiently waiting for their turns to fly. Mountain weather is notoriously unpredictable, so patience was the name of the game—no two ways about it. A couple of minutes in, and we started to see planes returning from Lukla, which sparked some excitement in the room as we hoped for our own takeoff soon. Then, the first group was called to board, and there were cheers of relief—at least flights were actually leaving! Once they boarded and took off, my excitement grew as I anticipated our flight. But that joy was ephemeral; about 20-30 minutes later, the same group returned, looking a bit defeated. I hadn’t even realised it was the same group until they all came back to the waiting room. “Argh…Whyy!” my mind went, exasperated.
“Visibility wasn’t great. The pilots couldn’t see the landing strip and that’s why we had to return.” one of the returnees explained as the curious travellers questioned them about their brief adventure. Well, that was a bummer, and time was slipping away. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about mountain weather, it’s that it rarely improves as the day drags on. Winds pick up, clouds roll in, and visibility takes a nosedive—none of which helps our chances of getting to Lukla. Still, I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. Call me hopelessly innocent or whatever, but I was holding it out for a brief window of good weather. All we needed was one hour to reach Lukla; surely that was enough for all of us in the waiting room. I even verified that with a local guide, who showed us a live weather cam for Lukla and assured us that just an hour of clear skies would do the trick.
Lunchtime rolled around, and the mood in the room had shifted. I think It was becoming clear that our chances were dwindling when the same group that had flown out earlier, had been asked to board again only to be returned…yet again. Suddenly, I realised that simply sitting and waiting was far better than going through that rollercoaster. Imagine their ordeal: get excited, board the flight, take off, only to be told they couldn’t land and had to come back. Killjoy. “Lukla’s grand lunch isn’t happening”, I thought to myself as I decided to grab some fried rice along with some tomato sauce.
Finishing lunch, I couldn’t help but regret not investing in a Kindle or e-reader. Instead, I was relying on my phone for entertainment. I had a couple of books saved on there, and this felt like the perfect time to dive into them, especially since internet access was a luxury in these parts, and I was down to about 20GB of data left to use.
A couple more hours in and it was becoming painfully clear that we weren’t flying today. I mean, the “group” were literally asked to board the plane for the third time, only to return once again. I would have lost it if that had been my fate. I could almost see the exhaustion and frustration etched on their faces as they came back, a medley of emotions at play there for sure. Somehow, they seemed to be the test subjects every single time. Yet, as we all sat there, resigned to the fact that we weren’t going anywhere, the airport officials kept us waiting, and that was driving everyone a little mad. Finally, around 6 PM, they decided to call it quits and let us retrieve our baggage. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, and I think everyone else did too. But was I disappointed that we couldn’t fly? Yeah, a little. Mostly, I was frustrated that we’d been made to wait in that room for so long when it was clear there were no more flights scheduled for the day. Annoying, but I guess I understood the reasons for the delay (or did I?).
My friend and I made our way to pick up our bags. “One buffer day already used up” he said, a little dejected at the prospect of losing a day quite literally at the start of our journey. But hey, that’s why we had buffer days, right? They’re meant for when the weather Gods decided to throw a tantrum and make it impossible to move forward. Having a few buffer days is crucial. If you think your trek will last about 14 days, throw in an extra 3-4 days just in case (adjust that based on your experience level). That way, you won’t feel like a total idiot when things don’t go as planned. We also asked when we’d need to be back the next day. “6 to 6:30 AM,” one of the airport officials replied. Great! At least the day would start early, and I was really hoping for a better weather window tomorrow.
IV - An Invitation….
So, as we stepped out of the airport, the hunt for a place to crash for the night began. Suddenly, two young boys came running up to us, eager to know if we were looking for a place to stay. Well, considering we hadn’t exactly planned for a night in Ramechhap, we said, “Oh yeah, Sure!” The older boy switched to Hindi almost immediately, clearly picking up on our Indian accents. My Hindi might have been a bit rusty, but I had no trouble understanding him. He told us their parents had a couple of rooms for guests and would be thrilled to host us. “A homestay huh” I thought to myself. The idea seemed tantalising. A remote village in Nepal, a homestay with home-cooked food, and interacting with the locals? Riveting stuff (no seriously).
As we followed the boys, the wind started to pick up. We had no clue how much the stay would cost, but since it was a homestay, I wasn’t expecting it to break the bank. Before you accuse me of being stingy, let me explain: we had to keep a close eye on our spending since there was no way to use electronic transactions up in the mountains. Not back in India atleast. I wasn’t sure about the infrastructure in Nepal, but I wasn’t willing to gamble on it. Anyway, back to the homestay—the family were very welcoming of us. It was a homestay by all definitions: rustic, quaint, and definitely old-school, reminiscent of the traditional Indian houses I remembered from my childhood.
As we settled in and started unpacking, another trekker from the opposite room peeked in, recognising us from earlier in the day. I think we met him earlier in the day at the hotel where we were having breakfast. Quite the co-incidence, I thought.
This trekker was from Iran and had come to Nepal for the Annapurna trek. “Wait, Annapurna? Wasn’t that on the other side of Nepal?” I thought to myself. That had been our initial plan too, but we’d switched gears at the last minute, feeling that this trek was more suited to the challenges we were after. As he shared how he ended up here, our hosts brought us steaming cups of tea, which I greatly appreciated. Our new friend was hoping we could help him plan his journey for the Everest trek. Madness, I thought! The guy had just finished a trek in the Annapurna region, and here he was, already plotting his next adventure in the Everest region. This interaction made me realise just how passionate people were about these treks. We were just scratching the surface of the love for the mountains here; Heck the iceberg was deep, and this conversation was opening my eyes to that reality.
Anyways, we’re helping our new friend with his trek plans, and I start suggesting possible stops and activities he could consider. About 40 minutes flew by, and he seemed pretty happy with the plan, thanking us for our help. Dinner was still a little while away—it was just about half past 6—so we decided to split up and take some time for ourselves. I figured it was the perfect opportunity to snap some photos of the surrounding area and soak in the vibe of this tiny village. Time passed as I wandered around, lost in thoughts about the journey ahead and what it might hold.
The two young brothers break my reverie, racing around the house and making a racket. Their ruckus was a breath of fresh air; it would’ve been pretty dull if it were just a bunch of quiet adults sitting around. As an Indian, they were intrigued about what their neighbors were like, asking me all sorts of things. Totally understandable; I had the same curiosity, and I’m an adult. Human thing, hey.
I also chatted with the homeowners, asking about the local culture and the tourist seasons. We talked about the connections between India and Nepal. I learnt that they only came to Ramechhap during the tourist season since many trekkers heading to Everest first pass through here. Plus, there’s always a chance that people might decide to stay for a day or so, whether by choice or due to circumstances beyond their control (like us!). The homeowner was a teacher at a school near Kathmandu when he wasn’t in Ramechhap for the season. They even showed me pictures of their family and shared stories about their adventures in other parts of the country, giving me an idea of what to expect on our journey ahead.
Dinner was finally ready, and I learnt it was customary for the hosts to serve the guests first. It was dark by now, around 7:30 PM, and we were all starving, ready for a good meal. I felt a bit guilty eating in front of the hosts while they stood by, chatting with us and letting us have our own conversations. But they were insistent. The homeowner indicated that they’d eat after us and that we should eat comfortably. The food was incredible—basically a Thali, just like the one we had in Nepal, but this was all home-cooked. “Delicious” didn’t even begin to cover it; it was one of the best meals I’d had all year. The homeowner also asked what we wanted for breakfast and offered to wake us up around 6:00 AM the next day. Black coffee all around. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but I figured that an early wake-up call might just make it worthwhile.
Early nights were going to be the norm for the next couple of weeks, but we were both pretty tired anyway, having racked up a fair bit of sleep debt. Our mutual friend decided to call it a night too, and we let him know we’d be leaving at the same time in the morning. Lights out, and here I was, hoping that tomorrow would be the day. The day ofreckoning travel (I’m way too dramatic at times :D).