Day 189

As the weather broke, distant mountains appeared on all sides, capped with snow and streaked with white clouds that brushed their flanks swiftly. We were sheltered from the wind as we trekked past groups of grazing yaks in the valley basin. Adorable yaks, calm and slow, with long thick coats, twin stubby horns, and beady black eyes that occasionally moved to observe us. But as we rose up, the winds came, freezing cold and stripping through our carefully constructed layers. 

At 3800 meters in these fierce winds, the uncomfortable pressure in my temples, nasal, and eye sockets began. Today was tough and despite inclining gradually, I was struggling and needed plenty of rest stops. We are thankfully in a warm tea room now, listening to Harry Potter and watching the wind moving prayer flags and thin specs of snow outside. Our host is a delightfully smiling woman, sweet and warm-hearted, dressed in traditional Nepali garments, which include long layers of patterned fabric and a pinafore. Her kind face is gently lined and warm like an almond nut, her eyes carry no judgements and no baggage, and her spirit is open. She is an extremely beautiful person. We are currently her only guests, it is the start of the season. I believe she is enjoying looking after us and our company. 

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Darkness and blink, the plyboard shell of a room comes into focus. Then a pixelated blue and white haze fills my vision again, forming circular obstructions over my retinas. Hold still for a few seconds and then they fade. 

The night was long, light reflecting off the snow enters through thin paisley curtains. Most hours of the night I was awake, testing my blood sugar, anxious about my levels dropping or rising. A low came, my body was drained of energy, my muscles did not respond and I wanted to rest, switch off, sleep, but not move to correct the imbalance. Eventually, I took sugar but not enough. Sleep came and a biological trigger was sent to my liver to produce glucose. Yet in my broken diabetic body, this happened hours too late and the quantities were all wrong. So now, I have the problem of a high blood sugar. My heart is noisy as it beats fiercely, circulating glucose-thick blood around my body, my head aches a little and if I move too quickly, a shooting pain wracks the old whiplash scar in my neck. This is a high blood sugar at altitude it seems. 

Wiggy rose around 7 am, to light spilling into the mountain basin. It had snowed for many hours last night and now snow covers the mountains, while sublime sunlight absorbs into their bright peaks. However, my mood is low, my body is exhausted, and I need to head down for sustenance.

At breakfast we are invited up to the roof to attend a changing of the flags ceremony. We are lucky to be here today, this ceremony only happens once a year. New rectangular cloth flags are suspended from the ground and blessed by a local priest; blue flags for sky, white for wind, red for fire, green for water and yellow for earth. The flags are hung outside so that their blessings to the surrounding countryside and promotions of peace and compassion can carry on the wind. 

Our priest chants a prayer accompanied by a cymbal bell, while herbs and juniper incense are burnt. Members of our host’s family have joined us and stand still while the prayer is recited. I do not understand the words but they are musical, fluid and buoyant, I concentrate and suppress an urge to dance. 

The sun has risen now and pushed back the mountain shadows, the snow has made the landscape blazing bright and many of us wear sunglasses. The rooftop is covered in snow, apart from where our feet have imprinted, and droplets of frozen water hang from an old metal kettle and the solar panels that reside here. When the prayer is concluded the priest comes forwards and places a small amount of yak butter on each of our foreheads and a creamy powder on our cheeks. Our host is smiling and filled with joy, she offers us a local wine, it is bitter, the family drink merrily. Next, they all recite a communal prayer, raise a toast and begin to dance. 

We return to the warmth and shelter of the tea room. Because of my poor health and the snow, we have no crampons, we are resting today. From the kitchen, we watch a helicopter circle around the valley. A Nepalese group emerge, two members of the group remove their jackets and pose upon the untouched snow in traditional dress robes. They begin taking photos and videos. I smile, Wiggy frowns. And what about the three-day trek to get here? At first, this scene appears bizarre, constructed, fake to us. The couple pose next to their helicopter, set off by the ridge of snow-capped mountains behind them, but later, we realise that their traditional robes are actually wedding garments and the scene makes more sense to us. 

Later, in the tea room we are treated to a story about some past guests. Once there was a young Nepalese woman, who wanted to join a trek to Kyanjin Ri at 4400 meters. She and her friends were smokers and drank alcohol while trekking, which is a hindrance at altitude, but youth was on their side. So they trekked, but at the stop before the final push, our current tea house, the young woman was struggling. Her face had dropped and swelled, her breath was short and she had a headache at the back of her head; a sign of altitude sickness. She was miserable and complained. Yet, refused to return to a lower altitude as she desperately wanted a photo at the peak, like her friends. 

Their guide warned her that she may die if she continued, but she heeded not and begged to reach the peak to take a photo. In the end, she persisted and even signed a document to make it clear that she knew the risks and took full accountability for her actions. Fortunately, the whole group did make it to the peak. The young woman’s determination for that selfie had propelled her all the way to the top. She may have been destroyed but when the camera came out her face lifted and transformed. When the group made it back down the mountain their guide asked how they had found the trek, they said it was good. Even the young woman said she enjoyed it, yet when the guide asked if she would say the same if her phone was broken and she had no pictures, she did not reply.