I'd worked today out from the map - it would be 3hrs trek to Jorsale with little altitude gain, then we'd probably have lunch there, as after that it would be 3hrs hard slog, 800m up to Namche at 3450m.
And that's how it turned out. After a gargantuan bowl of porridge, we set off at 8am under a clear blue sky. The suns heat grew slowly stronger as we followed the beautiful Dhud Khosi river up the valley, its constant gentle white water gush mixing with the tweeting birds and the clang of yak bells to make a soundtrack so relaxing you could sell CDs of it in a Brighton hippy shop for fifteen quid a time.
Counterbalancing that, however, was our own heavy breathing as we trekked up, down and across wobbling metal bridges to swap sides of the valley.
After about an hour, we began to catch glimpses of jagged snow-capped peaks beyond the already pretty high valley. Bagbir pointed out the name and height of each one as it appeared, and with each successive appearance we felt more like we were actually there - really, genuinely there at last, in the Himalayas of which we'd read so much.
Although the heat was strong in the sun, the air itself was cold and the altitude was already starting to have an effect. Every time I thought I was doing fine, we'd meet an "up" section that left me humbled and gasping at the top. The dry dusty air was starting to give me the infamous Khumbu Cough, and I was careful to make sure I drank enough water. This, however, had it's own side effects.
"Bagbir, I need to go again.... is there a good spot nearby?"
Bagbir, of course, knew all the best spots, and pointed them out to me in the same easy going way he pointed out the rhododendron trees, or the waterfalls.
In Monjo, we stopped at a teahouse for some sweet black tea, sitting on a terrace in the baking sun with a stunning view down the valley, and mighty Kungde in the distance.
"My cousins place," said Bagbir,
with a proud grin.
"Have you got cousins all the way up?" we asked.
He just smiled and nodded.
After Jorsale, the trail got steeper as we ascended towards Namche. Conversation grew thinner with the air, but when we took rest stops, we talked to Bagbir about his impressive 11yrs of experience, starting out as porter, then cooks assistant, then sirdars assistant, then full sirdar. He'd been part of a 2008 Everest summit team, and had got to the south col at 7000m, but had to turn back as his client - who went on to the summit - had used too much oxygen lower down. He couldn't stop shaking his head with a nervous chuckle as he described ascending the Khumbu icefall in a state of utter terror, crossing massive crevasses on tiny ricketty ladders to the constant creaking and cracking of the shifting ice.
About two-thirds of the way up, we came across three local women selling oranges, where we stopped for a refresher and got our first clear view of Everest in the distance.
Eventually, legs and lungs aching in equal measure, we rounded a bend and Namche lay before us, many levels of almost identical-looking white houses with blue or green roofs on steps cut into the hillside, in a manner that made me think of Spanish villa resorts. The views were spectacular - Kungde, Thamserku, and the holy mountain Khumbi Yul Lha framing the village on three sides, with a glorious view down the valley on the fourth.
We checked in to "The Nest", a very new lodge at the bottom of town with a large alpine-style dining room, a broad menu, and - oh joy, oh rapture - a hot shower.
That evening, over dinner, we couldn't help admiring the language skills of the lodge owner as he joked in Japanese with a large group.
"How many languages do you speak, Bagbir?" asked Lise.
"I think... maybe.... 15, 16?"
"Wow! How did you learn all those?"
"No education, just by guiding"
I felt suitably humbled.
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