Himalayan Quest

7-First Steps

May 7

7-First Steps

Adam woke up inside the dark hut and glanced at the luminous dial on his small wristwatch, surprised that it was already five.

Well, you've slept nine hours. Back on your Nepal mountain schedule. The fire was the only light last night, so when it was put out after dinner, the eight o'clock bedtime felt right, as on your other treks. Amazing how much I can sleep here. But can I hike now after yesterday's dislocation?

He massaged his left shoulder. It was sore but felt better than he expected it would this morning. Adam slipped out of his sleep sheet, all that he had needed to stay comfortable at this low tropical elevation. His down bag would have been too warm last night.

He stepped outside to relieve himself and glanced at the river in the predawn glow.

The water below the mango tree drops into the dangerous rocky cascades where Joe and I could have fallen. Downriver, the Dudh Nadi is turbulent and noisy, almost angry. But upstream there is maybe a half-mile stretch of nearly level calm water, smooth as a lake's surface. Is it nature's peace offering after yesterday's major scare?

Adam decided not to wait for the teahouse to open for business. He had food and water. It was cool but warming up already. Better to get started before it heated up much. He ducked inside, stuffed his remaining belongings into his rucksack, and carried it out.

He lifted and balanced his pack on a rock, then slipped his right arm through one strap, taking the full weight onto his good shoulder. Next, he gingerly moved his left arm through the other side, then cinched the hip belt tight to shift some of the load down. His strong legs could give his damaged shoulder some rest.

Not too bad. Painful, but tolerable. At least so far.

Adam set off. His first steps were tentative, wanting to feel the pack's balance. Soon he paused to make minor strap adjustments, then resumed his walk. The early rays from the sunrise hit the west ridge high above.

The first half mile was level, so he lengthened his stride. Next to the calm water, he felt meditative. The morning whispered its welcome. The river, nearly silent, meandered past opposite his direction.

Then the trail began to climb. Early sunshine reached down into the canyon. Adam walked north, so the light from the east hit his profile, causing a long thin shadow on the other side that moved alongside.

During his two prior journeys in the Himalayas, he had hiked with new acquaintances or Kathmandu colleagues. This time Adam was alone, unprecedented for him in Nepal. Neither locals nor visitors normally sought solitude here. The other trekking routes remained well-traveled, but the Dudh Nadi had never been.

Yet I know I need to explore this hidden valley and its snow peaks on my own. I'll learn best that way.

The river canyon was narrow and tall, its walls rising a few thousand feet on either side, the meandering ridges hiding the distant white-capped pinnacles. But he was aware that his goal was amid the world's tallest mountain range.

I remember that "hiu" in Nepali means "snow", so the Himalayas got their name because of its range of peaks that are covered perpetually in white.

He paused by a bend in the river to splash a handful of water over the back of his neck, cooling himself off some. The northern glaciers sent their chilly runoff down like a message warning him to stay away.

Hot already. Reminds me of a similar move I'd make for relief during a basketball timeout. But there are no fans watching me here right now.

The ascent continued. Adam's breathing was labored, but not unpleasant. He was walking solo, yet didn't feel lonely. He heard a bird's call and spotted a green parakeet. In Los Angeles, he only saw such birds only in cages. Here in Nepal's lower elevations, they moved about without restriction, just like the hiker watching them.