'Its a male bird, Mark.'
'I know, I know, but its strutting round like Mick Jagger. Look at it, right poseur. Come on, lets get the money shot.... shit its put its head the ground. It'll never make Vogue'.
'Danfe', Indra said proudly. 'Blue Pigeon. National bIrd of Nepal.
We were twenty minutes out of Namche. In a small field was an iridescent blue bird, a bit like a peacock with a fine tail feathers of violet and indigo. Quite a few people had gathered round to take snaps and be entertained by Marks commentary.
'I feel so much better today. Colds gone, but its because I slept properly last night. One wee in the bin, but apart from that all the way through.
'And thats despite the shit internet last night. I don't really know why I bother, either people telling you what to do, wanting money from you, or not giving you what you want'.
'I know the feeling fella!'
Mark did indeed seem really chipper. He was setting a good pace, making good conversation and cracking joke after joke. I had slept much more poorly, troubled by dystopic dreams in a world like 1984, or Brasil, or Northern LIghts, but Marks good spirits were infectious.
The day had started similar to yesterday. Deep cloud banks a hundred or so metres above us, a deep forbidding blue in colour. The path ran straight, high up on the side of river valley.
And then, just as yesterday, the heat from the sun seemed to reach a critical mass in the clouds. They started boiling away, and in seconds and revealed the stunning majesty of the mountains behind.
The path continued, flat and easy, the views magnificent. We made excellent time and were at the half way point by ten thirty.
'It gets harder from here'. Indra said. 'Tengboche Monastery, where we stay tonight, is up that hill'. He pointed to a sleep slope.
'No Problem Dude!' Mark flexed his legs and was off.
It was quite steep, and quite long, but both of us did not find the slope too taxing. If anything, we enjoyed the physical exertion more than the just the flat bit.
At the top of the slope, was Tengboche Monastery. A beautiful white building, well looked after and a few guesthouses spread round in a circle. We dumped our stuff, had some lunch, an wondered what to do for the rest of the day. It was still only 1pm.
'Look up there. See that Stupa on the hill.... how about we climb up to that?'
'I see it. You think we can do it Indra?'
'Yeah! Why not. About 400m higher up'.
So we set off. This was even steeper, with barely a track visible. We had to clamber over stones and pick our way through boulders, often only small piles of stones marking the way.
Indra dropped further back. 'My tummy hurting after Dhalbaat lunch', He complained. 'You go on'. So Mark and I carried on alone. It was a really hard hour, but when we got to the top the views were magnificent and a real sense of achievement for having got to 4200m.
Indra was waiting for us half way down. 'You been dreaming about Dhalbaat again!' Mark asked him. Indra pulled a face.
The conversation turned towards the temperature. 'Will it get much colder than this?'
'Not too much. Maybe five or six below'.
'It would be good if some of the lodges got central heating. You know radiators in the rooms'.
Indra looked a bit perplexed. 'But the lodges have central heating. The one last night and the one tonight'.
'No they didn't. There was just one heater in the middle of one room.
''Exactly. Central Heating'.
We both started laughing as we twigged at the same time. 'Central Heating doesn't mean a heater in the centre of the room', we said between giggles. 'Its where... oh never mind'. We were all laughing now.
So we spent the evening in the main room of the hotel, huddled round the central heating, like we were worshipping some ancient iron god.
No comments:
Post a Comment