Kathmandu to Lukla to Phakding—April 3

A day of unexpecteds. The dreaded flight from Kathmandu to Lukla was a non-event. Our alarm went off at 4 AM, and we were in the lobby by 4:30. The promised boxed breakfast was nowhere in sight, but I found an uneaten Lara bar left over from my last hike. The amount of baggage was astounding. All the climbers and trekkers boarded the bus, and we drove through unlit, potholed dirt roads. Why were there so many people walking those streets at 5 AM? Thankful to be free of the usual traffic, though.

the porters dragging duffels into the airport

just a small percentage of the bags

We queued up at the airport, along with hundreds of others. The idea had been to aim for the first flights out, but the prior day's flights had been cancelled, so everyone was back to try again. We cleared two security checkpoints—"ladies" and "gents" in separate lines—and two full-body (and I mean "full") pat-downs. Before we knew it, we were handed boarding passes for Tara Air, flight A.

the runway in Lukla

With more than a little apprehension, I boarded a claustrophobic Twin Otter and took one of the few remaining seats, right behind the cockpit. Took a deep breath as we lifted off in the smoggy Kathmandu air. Due to all the pollution, there was no visibility, and surprisingly, no turbulence. I had the air sickness bag in my lap, but no need. After about 30 minutes, I could make out shapes of mountains, very close to both sides of the plane. In the distance were some of the highest snow-capped peaks I had ever seen. When we began our descent, I glimpsed a view of the runway—straight ahead and almost directly below. No margin for error, and the reason Lukla is deemed the most dangerous airport in the world. Sitting next to me, Steve pointed out that the beep we heard just prior to touchdown signaled that we had run out of cruising speed to stay aloft. The pilot had timed it perfectly, he said. There is so little runway that the plane comes to an abrupt halt at the end. Sigh of relief.

Smiling with fear before the flight

 After stopping at a teahouse for breakfast, the climbers and their families set off first, followed 15 minutes later by the trekkers. There is a deliberate effort to keep the groups separated. Guess it's better than one enormous group trying to negotiate the trail. Today was billed as an easy 3-hour hike, more downhill than up. We had been graced by weather good enough to fly in, but then the sky opened. First, big sparse drops of rain, then heavier, then thunder and lightning followed by hail, and finally, painful hail. Both climbers and trekkers retreated into a teahouse to wait it out. The ground was quickly blanketed in white; the thunder and lightning persisted. Unfortunately, I had moved my hardshell pants out of my pack and into my duffel. I didn't get cold, but I did get very, very wet. Lesson learned. Always, always pack the hardshells. Don't let a guide convince you they're optional.

after the hail

a porter with a load of 2x8s

descending dzos

After slopping down the rock trail (almost a road); competing for space with hikers, porters, dzos (cattle/yak hybrid), and mules; and crossing three well-built but springy suspension bridges; we reached our overnight accommodations at Sunrise Lodge in Phakding. The rooms are unheated, each with two beds and a basic bath. We've all been clustered around the stove in the common room, trying to dry our clothing and boots.

Hard to keep my eyes open after such an early start. Much more vertical tomorrow as we make our way up to Namche Bazaar.