Solukhumbū

Day 27: Pangboche to Namche
A fairly dull and drab day as we continued to retrace our steps and I continued to not feel great. Up until this point, we'd been approached by several yaks, all of which had moved majestically around us when passing, allowing us to admire them as the beautiful beasts they are. Today was different; on three separate occasions we had to practically run, dodge or manhandle oncoming yaks to avoid being impaled on their bullish horns. Maybe we just caught the entire species of yak on a bad day, but when they don't want to move for you, you either damn well move for them, or choose to be turned into hiker jam. Once we'd returned jam-free to the local centre of Namche, we chose to stay at the same teahouse as we had originally, copping an ensuite room where we were both able to wash for the first time since we'd last been able to in Namche (and god, that felt great).

Day 28: Namche to Chaurikharka
I enjoyed this day. We woke up bright and early and gave our legs a well versed workout by heading back up to the Tenzing Norgay statue and lookout. Previously, the distant view to Everest had been blocked by clouds, but a beautiful morning meant we could enjoy the view in its splendour. The clear weather remained all day, and we made good progress on our descent, minus the part where I was attacked by a cow (no, seriously). Wandering along the path in my direction as hundreds of animals had done daily, this cow clearly decided it just did not like the look of me (who can blame it), and swerved its head steadily but menacingly towards me, its horn catching my arm. Still, other than causing confusion, no damage had really been done and we continued onto Chaurikharka. At our teahouse here, we were back to much quieter surroundings and the owner's 5-year-old energetic son, Kaji, was overjoyed to play catch with us using what seemed to be a tuft of yak fur as a ball (it was as wholesome as he was sweet, bless him.)

Day 29: Chaurikharka to Salleri
In the morning, the teahouse owner presented both of us with a white scarf, called a khata in Buddhism. The khata is a symbol of purity, honour and respect, and is given as a gesture of safe passage, for which we were flattered to receive. The day's walking itself was pretty miserable in my books though: again, feeling dodgy, retracing familiar scenery, faced with monumental climbs, and slowed by the constant flow of abused horses (and their everpresent dung). To continue the theme of animal attack, one horse even squared up to me too. Thereafter, we even found ourselves doing some vertical bushwhacking through steep, overgrown vegetation to find our way to the top of the Chutok La pass. Once at the top, we overheard the ominous crashing of landslides while stopping for lunch. It wasn't until over the other side that we found out what the crashing really was: landslides, yes; but man-made landslides from the hurling of colossal boulders over the cliffside. The idea here was to extend the reach of the jeep road, with heavy machinery drilling away into the cliffs, offering any debris up to the determination of gravity, much to the misfortune of anyone below. Despite the questionable construction health and safety policy, we passed the diggers and wearily ambled into Paiya. And thus, our 300 km trek was complete! It had taken 27,000 metres of elevation change and almost zero underwear changes, but we had done it. We didn't have long to mull over the situation though, as we were immediately coaxed into a jeep ride to Salleri... (See next)Lue lisää