Backpacks and Bra Straps (35 page)

After nearly an hour, a new-found energy drove Bree, Steph, and I back down the hill, leaping with joy at our accomplishment. On our way down, we saw a few people panting on their way up, desperately hoping to catch the last of the morning view. We waved as we passed, giving them a thumbs up to assure them that it was worth every strained breath and body ache. I sincerely hoped that the perfect, brilliant blue sky would hold out long enough for them to reach the top before the coveted moment slipped through their fingers.

While we girls waited in the lodge for Mom and Ammon to get back, I said, “Hey Bree, I wrote a poem too.” Taking the small handwritten note wrapped in a prayer flag, she opened it and read:

**Prayer Flags

With a monk’s graceful pace,

Prayers are delivered

Through earth and sky.

Body and soul

Send them soaring –

Let the prayer flags fly!

Each scripture floats

To the heavens above –

Red, green, or blue,

Orange, pink or white.

High over the mountains,

Glory from the top.**

“You always have to one-up me don’t you,” she said approvingly when she’d finished reading it.

When Mom and Ammon finally arrived back in the lodge, they were fairly bursting with pride.

“I am so very proud of all of us!” Mom said. “I think everyone has to do that at least once in their life. It was amazing. I don’t know how you girls could run down so fast. Ammon and I couldn’t bear to leave that enchanting place so soon. We had to stay a bit longer to feel the magnitude of what we were seeing. On my way up the past week, I’ve been asking myself as we hiked higher and higher, ‘What could possibly possess a human being to willingly do this to themselves?’ Well, I certainly found my answer.”

“I could have stayed up there all day,” Ammon said, pulling off his gloves and placing them on the wooden trestle table. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing. I’ve only been to a few places that radiated such power and beauty. This is definitely at the top of that list. It brought tears to my eyes.”

“Me too,” Mom said. “We stayed and found our own private spot on the mountain for an unbelievably energizing and spiritual awakening, shall I say. I had to listen to “You Raise me Up” sung by Josh Groban, the music I had planned for this event. I couldn’t help but weep at the beauty before me. It was a wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime experience. I don’t know exactly what happened up there, but I know it changed my life.”

Ch. 36-40 photos
here

Winding Down
41

“I
knew I shouldn’t have worn my boots, but it was so cold.” I sat down for a break on a big boulder beside the trail and peeled my soggy, cold foot from the boot to investigate my sore big toe. I felt as though the entire trek had suddenly caught up with me. My throat was dry and my head ached.

“I’m going to write on the blog that Savannah hiked to Everest in her flip-flops,” Steph said, already excitedly making plans for when we got back to the capital.

“Well, that’s not entirely true. I put my boots on for the final stretch to Kala Patthar, and look what happened. If I’d done it in flip-flops, I’d probably still have a toenail.” Despite the pain, I considered it a battle wound, and felt like my feet symbolized the obstacles I’d faced to achieve my goal.

“What, what?” Bree said as she came over to inspect the toe I was fussing over. “I don’t see anything.”

“Not yet, but this toenail is definitely going to fall off. Look. It’s coming up in the corner here and hurts like – OUCH! What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted as Bree unexpectedly tugged at the yellow nail. “What the heck is wrong with you? Why would you do that? Just leave it. It’s not ready to come off yet.”

“You can’t talk to me that way. I saved your life,” Bree reminded me.

“So now you want to ruin your reputation by ripping my toenail off?”

“Oh, and hey, Steph, what about that?” Bree said, ignoring me entirely. “Are you going to write on the blog that I saved her life? You have to write about that.”

“I think I’ll write two whole blogs about it,” Steph agreed. “I still can’t believe how fast you moved!” I was sitting across from Ammon at the time, and he smirked at me through the screen of his camera.

“You look great when you make that face,” he smiled, amused by my ‘the things I have to put up with’ look. “You know what’s crazy? Your eyes are the exact same colour as that lake,” he said, pointing down behind me.

“Really?” I was unable to resist looking over my shoulder to admire the greyish emerald pool far below, cupped in Mother Earth’s rocky hands. Beside me was a tall rock stack, one side grey, the other half painted white where the blowing snow had stuck to it. The atmosphere was captivatingly silent and seemed to drip with ancient mystery. The mountains felt abandoned yet I felt that, whenever my back was turned, they opened their stone eyes to watch furtively as we passed through their beloved terrain.

Despite long hours and a half dangling toenail, the final four days of the journey passed in a relatively easy whirl. We hardly saw Bree and Steph during the day because they would run off ahead at top speed. Bree claimed to feel like a super hero. The air was so thick we could practically chew on the oxygen as we inhaled. We all felt rejuvenated – strong and light of foot.

Though it went much quicker, the downward hike was actually a lot harder on my leg muscles than the walk up had been. Whenever I stopped my legs quivered from over-working muscles I rarely used. I was ultimately pretty pleased, though, by how well I’d held out physically on the trek up and that my only struggle had been breathing at such high altitudes.

“The only problem with the whole E.B.C. trek compared to a lot of the other ones in Nepal is that the route down is the same as the route up. So you’ve seen it all before, and you end up going as fast as you can to get it over with,” Ammon said. It didn’t happen very often, but I had to disagree with him on that one. Even though we were on the same path, we were seeing it from a different perspective, and I thought the views were just as beautiful coming down as they had been going up. There were always more friendly faces to see and people to meet, too, and the spectacular Himalayan views could never bore me.

On our way down, the lodges were nearly full with new arrivals, and we passed trekkers on their way up much more often. The busy season was just starting, and I was even more appreciative of how perfectly Ammon had timed our trip. Throughout our entire hike, there were hardly any other trekkers, no crowds, and only blissfully silent, open trails awaiting us. We’d also had the ultimate privilege of having Everest all to ourselves as we watched the sunrise.

We were surprised by what we found when we walked into a lodge one night. A large group of trekkers and Sherpas divided the lodge, like girls and boys at a school dance, standing awkwardly on opposite sides of the gymnasium. In contrast to our wild nights of playing, dancing, and singing with the Sherpas, these European foreigners didn’t seem to have any interest in interacting with the locals. We found this a bit odd, considering how much we’d learned from the locals, not to mention that the nights we’d spent with the Sherpas were some of the best times we’d had during our trek.

A Maoist revolution had been underway in Nepal for the last decade and had been causing lots of problems recently. Though the rebels weren’t targeting tourists, their new tactics had been hard on the industry. Other trekkers warned us that Maoist rebels had set up camp and were extorting money from people trekking between Lukla and Jiri. We’d intended to do the week-long hike along that same trail and then catch a bus from Jiri to Kathmandu during the Maoists’ traditional three-month ceasefire. Now that they were apparently raising their fee and the ceasefire was no longer holding, we were discussing changing our plans yet again.

“I don’t feel threatened by all the military checkpoints, soldiers, and security all over the place,” Mom said, but on the same page as Ammon, continued, “but money is going to be an issue if we run into them.”

“Running into them seems to be pretty much guaranteed now. The question is, how much are they going to ask for?” Ammon said. “I’ve heard all kinds of different prices. Where they might charge you six hundred rupees (US$10) at some places, they apparently were demanding as much as five thousand rupees (US$80) at others or, even worse, just turning people back. Normally this blockade is not a big deal and they are supposedly pretty nice about it. They even give you a receipt so you don’t have to pay them twice, but we didn’t bring enough money to risk it. And if we’re turned back after a few days of hiking, we wouldn’t have enough for the extra food and lodging we’d need to backtrack, not to mention paying for flights instead of hiking and bussing back.”

Before we’d left Kathmandu, we’d taken out just a bit more than enough money to cover our expected costs, since there were no ATMs, banks, or money exchangers up in the small mountain towns and villages. Unwilling to take the risk, we had no choice but to fly directly back to Kathmandu from Lukla.

“So does that mean we get to go in the helicopter? Now you really have no excuse not to let me have that helicopter ride,” I told Ammon. I’d been nagging him ever since I’d heard about this flying option instead of walking or taking an airplane from Lukla to Kathmandu. “Ammon you just have to let me go up in one of those birds. It’s the only thing I want.”

“Yeah, I’m going to try,” he said. “But I have no idea when they fly or how much it costs.” Mom warned me, too, that we might not have brought enough money with us to pay for it, but I somehow knew it would all work out. As if seeing Everest were not enough, I was going to fulfill another dream on this trek. I couldn’t believe my good fortune!

Up, Up and Away
42

W
e stood before the big sign with white lettering that said ‘Lukla is only 80 minutes away. Your trek is nearly over.’ We were so close to returning to where we had landed by plane fourteen days earlier and started out on our Everest Base Camp trek.

“I’m so happy we did this trek, but at the same time, I’m glad it’s almost over,” Mom said.

“Me too. And I really didn’t have as much of a problem with the breathing as I thought I would.” Having had serious asthma problems as a child, Ammon had been wary about how his lungs would hold up on the journey. “I haven’t felt sore at all until now, but I’ve started to feel the effects of so many days of heavy breathing.”

“All I can say is, watching the sun rise over Mount Everest is something you can only feel. I’d never be able to fully describe it to anyone,” Mom said, still feeling awed by our triumph. Even though Everest was an experience that would stay with me for the rest of my life, I knew that it didn’t affect me the way it did so many others; it couldn’t possibly. Most of the trekkers we’d passed and met were much older – some were already retired – and they were finally fulfilling a lifelong dream to conquer the mountain. The Everest trek was incredibly special, and I was truly grateful to have experienced those moments, but I knew that it meant a lot more to those who experienced it from an older, wiser perspective and to those who’d waited a lifetime to experience something I’d given little thought to before doing it. Mom’s and even Ammon’s appreciation for it trumped my relatively new comprehension of the mountain’s magnificence. The best I could do was be grateful for the opportunity I’d been given, and for the fact that I didn’t have to wait my whole life to discover the immense beauty of the world I live in.

Looking back to the day we’d landed on the tiny airstrip, not knowing what lay ahead, I felt so proud of what we’d accomplished. The whole journey had made me feel as though I was living in a simulation of a Final Fantasy video game. Each day was a new quest: regaining health –eating Snickers bars in our case – and asking for information from people in each new town or village where we’d stayed at different “inns.” We’d also gained and replaced new characters along the way, like Steph and Dendee. I didn’t know yet what my mission in the game was, who I was trying to save, or what the grand finale would be. I knew there was no princess to rescue, but I could certainly hope my Prince Charming would be waiting for me in the end.

When we arrived at our emotional finish line in Lukla, we decided to stop at the Internet café just long enough to send out our pre-written blogs. Since Bree hadn’t written anything, she decided to go with Dendee to see what she could find out about a helicopter. When they came back an hour later, Bree rushed in breathlessly saying, “There’s a helicopter to Jiri today, but not tomorrow, so we have to catch this one if we’re doing it. And it leaves soon.”

“How much does it cost, Bree?” Mom asked, fearing practical considerations might curtail her excitement.

I kept my fingers crossed until I heard Bree say, “Only sixty US dollars each.” Taking a helicopter to Jiri and a bus back to Kathmandu would be cheaper than flying by airplane to Kathmandu directly. It was a sealed deal; I’d actually get to ride in a helicopter.

Skipping along on my way to the airstrip, I said, “You know what, you guys? I think this whole thing might be a ‘sihpromatum’.”

“A what now? Why are you always inventing words?” Ammon said.

“A sihpromatum. Sip. Row. May. Tum. It means a curse that turns into a blessing, sort of a blessing in disguise. Think about it. There’s no word that means that, and there should be. So I made one up, and I like it.”

“Okay, but how do you figure that this is a siprowatchamacallit?” Bree said.

“The whole ‘Maoists demanding bribes’ thing isn’t all that bad, ‘cause now we get to go in a helicopter,” I said. “You just never know how things are going to turn out. What looks like bad news in the beginning often creates something positive that you couldn’t foresee. I’ll have to remember that.”

“I’ve been in a helicopter before, you know,” Steph boasted when we sat down in the square box that served as a waiting room. “They’re really fun.”

It felt like we sat anxiously in the waiting area for the helicopter to arrive forever. Uniformed men kept coming up to us to say, “Maybe only fifteen minutes.” “It comes at 11:00 a.m.” “Only wait thirty minutes.” “Just ten more minutes now.” When it finally arrived, we saw through the window that it was a cargo helicopter not meant for passengers. The butt end opened up, and they unloaded boxes of supplies before they rushed in to tell us, “Load them up.”

Time was limited and we hurriedly hugged D.L. and Dendee and thanked them for all their kindnesses before we were pushed out the door. We ran out to the helipad and they motioned us in, shouting over the thrum of the propellers beating overhead, “Hurry, hurry. C’mon. Get in, get in.” It was a far cry from, “Welcome aboard. Please fasten your seat belt.” We tossed our backpacks on the floor and jumped in.

Meanwhile Steph was screaming, “Where are the seats? Where are the headsets? This isn’t right.” Before she could freak out completely, the pilot reached in to unlatch a very basic, metal bench that folded down from the wall.

“I’ve never been on a helicopter like this before!” Steph shouted with wide eyes, hands cupped over her ears to block the roaring sounds. I simply shrugged at her and smiled. I was alert and ready for lift-off, my face glued to the round window. We slowly began to hover straight up into the air, like some kind of bug or flying saucer, and we were airborne! As the distance between us and the ground grew, Bree smiled and waved from the small window to Dendee, whose black hair was twisting and blowing violently about in the wind. He got smaller and smaller as he watched us and waved.

“This totally feels like
Commando
and
Predator.
Like we’re headed out for a cool combat mission adventure,” Bree said, turning from the window and bouncing about with a huge smile. “It’s way too fun. I can’t wait for the next adventure. Up, up, and away!” Bree pulled Steph up off the bench and we all started dancing around in the big open space. Mom was smiling peacefully next to Ammon, who was relieved to have managed to get us onboard. He’d gotten a small taste of how women work; sometimes, you just have to buy their love.

“You guys are nuts,” Ammon protested as we tried to pull him up to join our impromptu dance party. He refused, as expected, but I felt closer than ever to my oldest brother and knew he’d do anything for me when it came down to it.

“Don’t miss that view.” Mom pointed toward a window. We were already flying over the deep green jungle of Nepal, leaving the glorious snow-capped mountains behind, and it reminded me of the comment my brother Sky had sent us almost immediately in response to my latest blog post.

*** “That’s so awesome guys. Reading what you all wrote makes me really wish I had been with you.

Grace, I thought your comparison with Final Fantasy and your Everest adventure was brilliant! You sure are a fantastic writer for your age, and actually a lot better than most adults I know. I’m so proud of you, babe.

I’m proud of all of you for setting and accomplishing the goals you’ve made for yourselves. No doubt this journey around the world has offered you some of the greatest challenges of your lives, and you’ve all continuously pushed passed them. Like Ammon said, it’s mostly mental attitude, and from what I gather, you’ve all done an amazing job, especially considering the circumstances. I know that very cold and very early mornings on an exhausted body can be discouraging and very unattractive.

Again, I wish I was with you. It would’ve been sweet if my 5 year enlistment in the Marine Corps was completed prior to your trip. Next time I hope. Only 2 years left.

Stand tall,

Skylar” ***

Now it was all behind us and already just a memory. I’d forced myself up those mountains and was rewarded with an unforgettable, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the highest and most spectacular mountains in the world. We’d climbed all the way to the top of Kala Patthar.

I wondered if this truly was a sihpromatum. I thought back to the beginning of our trip, to how many tears I’d shed over having to give up Harrison and leaving my friends and my home. Looking out over the Himalayas as the propeller drummed overhead and throbbed in my chest, I couldn’t believe where the trip had taken us.

Through the pain, I’d gained so many unforgettable moments and life-altering revelations. I was beginning to recognize my internal desire to improve myself and better understand the way I perceived the world around me, and I fully intended to influence it in a positive way.

I’d met and made friends from all walks of life and I’d walked more than a mile in other people’s shoes. In this short time, we’d ventured from the third lowest place on earth to watching a flood of light pierce the new day at one of its highest points. The emotional and physical highs and lows of the journey mirrored those explorations.

We could have given up and let the hard times defeat us, but we overcame them. I knew there would be more challenges – we all did – but an experience like this made us think about why it was all worth it. Not only had we built incredible lifelong memories; we’d built lasting, healthy relationships among our entire family, strengthening our bonds and surviving the hardships and fights. Being glued to each other sometimes felt like imprisonment, but working through the anger and frustration was rewarded with a greater sense of happiness and fulfillment. Unable to escape, we had to face obstacles and reach the top, much like the mountains we’d climbed.
Who knows where this whole adventure might lead?

Ch. 41-42 photos
here