MOUNTAIN LIFE - Coast Mountains | Summer 2018

SUMMER 2018 MLCM 73 The Journey Unlike most travellers, we skipped the flight from Katmandu into Lukla (which holds the dubious distinction of being the world’s most dangerous airport) and instead embarked on a 12-hour (equally dangerous?) cliff-hugging, white-knuckle Jeep ride to Salleri, the district headquarters of Solukhumbu and the start of the route all Himalayan-bound travellers used before the airport was built. As we bounced along on the unpaved, pothole- strewn “highway” I became convinced that the roads in this rarely-flat country only existed through sheer stubbornness and necessity. The road ahead of us often looked like a jagged slash of dirt cut harshly into impossibly steep slopes, zig-zagging its way up and over passes in a fashion that seemed to favour efficiency over safety. It was often only wide enough for one vehicle at a time, but that didn’t stop oncoming Jeeps from trying to pass us from the opposite direction on blind corners, their loud and frequently-used horns the only warning our driver received of their imminent presence. On more than one occasion I realized, with no small amount of terror, that one or more of our back wheels were drifting as we rounded the steep corners at impossible speeds, spinning out through the dust into empty air. Despite these slightly terrifying moments, I have to admit that I quite enjoyed this part of our trip. Quirks of the Nepalese public transportation system include mandatory breakfast and coffee stops along the route at our driver’s favourite roadside cafes, and minor river crossings that acted as nice little carwashes for our dusty vehicle. When we finally arrived at Salleri, a shared and definite sense of adventure had already set in. Beginning our trek in Salleri allowed us some time to sort out gear and ease into the constant rhythm of trekking that would become our new normal. In this first section of our trek, the geography changed rapidly with the elevation. We moved through the jungle into the sub-alpine, and the area was lush with agriculture and teeming with wildlife. It’s also a very quiet route these days since the airport now bypasses it completely, so the teahouse owners are incredibly grateful to see travellers coming through. When we finally connected with the main trail to Namche Bazaar and the number of fellow trekkers grew exponentially, I quickly longed for the solitude I’d gotten used to. The route from Lukla to Everest Base Camp is, unfortunately, a bit of a highway, with travellers pouring in by the thousands. Many of them sadly possess more money and expensive gear than common sense or experience. I was appalled by the sheer volume of plastic bottles and waste left in their wake, which ends up burned on the side of the trails by the locals due to an absence of recycling or garbage facilities. This part of our journey was eye- opening for unexpected reasons. When one pictures Everest and the pristine beauty of the Himalayas, one does not also visualize a sea of garbage and human trash to go with it. And yet sadly, this is the jarring reality created by irresponsible visitors, and made worse by the fact that there are little to no attempts by the Nepalese to regulate tourism numbers or provide even the most basic recycling or garbage facilities along the routes. As we bought our permits for the Solukhumbu region, a board in the permit office showed the number of permits issued in 2017 was nearly double that of the previous year. This pace of growth seemed to be more than the region could handle. It made me realize that we need to create more accountability regarding the impact that our tourist footprints have on these formerly pristine areas of the world. Many travellers sadly possess more money and expensive gear than common sense or experience. The whole team (Chris, Ben, Justin, Saman) heading up into the mountains from Namche.The Adventure begins.