Joel's Makalu Diary

Written by Joel Schone, edited by Jamie McGuinness

Background: Fall 99, after the Wild Kangchenjunga trek-climbs Joel and Jamie continued The Great Himalaya Trail, heading to the Makalu region with the intention of crossing some 6100 metre passes into the Everest region. To ensure general insanity Sam, Gary and Martin joined and we took Ang Dami as our superstar cook and sherpa. Jamie temporarily abandoned the team, heading for the delights of Kathmandu and to see off the Kangchenjunga team.

Four go mad in Taplejung

First, Taplejung had to be a let down after all it was built up to be. I found a cold beer, just the one, and Sam and I had a full head shave. We did find a great place to stay, and Ang Dami turned out some wicked meals. Gary got a doctor to at his nose that dripped blood rather alarmingly at altitude, and Martin got his clothes washed, just for the once. The people of Taplejung were friendly and welcoming, but maybe a few pizzerias would not go amiss. After a days rest, we set off to our rendezvous with Jamie, and probably the best four days trekking in the middle hills; locals harvesting, green, clean, neat farms scattered across endless terraces, all around the sound of running water. We ate our way through a depressing day in Gopal, Sam overdid himself on the dal bhaat, then we lit out to try for Chainpur in a day. We got to Pokhare by 3, less then 2 hours from there, then waited for the porters who were more loaded than us and ended up camping by the gompa, a great spot. Although there was a domestic murder in town that night, we found all of this area healthy, clean and wealthy looking. Chainpur, next day, has got to be the best little town in these parts, gleamingly maintained streets, clean little lodges and of course the brass its famous for. Here we finally met Jamie looking distressingly clean and smart, and set off to Jeevan's (from the office) family farm. As soon as we cleared up the misunderstanding that they thought we were staying the week, we passed the afternoon playing with the kids, and eating farm fresh oranges and dal bhaat, to stagger off, bloated and full, down the hill to Tumlingtar. We just managed to get the last boat of the day across the river, and climbed to the best little lodge, run by the cutest Nepali girl, to eat dal and drink cold beer. Next day a short walk brought us to our focus for the morning, the latest mags from Kathmandu and a chocolate mocha cake, courtesy Jamie. Now it was Joel's turn to temporarily abandon the expedition and we spent a whole week missing out on film trivia.

I (Joel) caught the guys about a week later after a brief visit to Kathmandu, and we began the serious business of making our way up to Makalu. From the start, it was a sobering business. We were the only trekkers in the region this late in the year; on the first day with no water at our camp we walked into the night, and it was obvious an unusually cold winter was here. The addition of Kaji (from Kathmandu) to our team was a great plus, and the porters, a great crew.

It took us nearly a week to get to Makalu base camp, a week of increasingly wilder mountain views. We took a rest day at Shershon where we said goodbye to our lowland gear, ruthlessly going through our stuff and sending back all unnecessary. Although it nearly broke my heart, reading material, Walkman, spare clothes all were dumped, to be returned to the office. From Shershon we started to hit deeper snow, and from here we would do our own cooking. A fairly easy day took us to Makalu's Hillary base camp, and our porters entertained us by topping our febble attempts at throwing rocks onto the frozen lake below us by heaving huge boulders down, and nearly themselves, onto the lake.

The place was timeless except the music:

"Its the fu*cking Fugees, man. Welcome to the 90s."

Martin to Jamie.

I was woken to the strains of Gary, Sam, and Martin wishing me a happy 46th, and we said goodbye to Ang Dorje, Gopal, and Shiva. Now we were just seven. Some hours later we were camped at the base camp for Sherpani Col, and Jamie set off back to a gear stash, to do his "back to nature" bit and sleep out, then haul previously stashed gear up the following morning while we were carrying loads to 5600m, with perfect weather.

I spent several hours thrashing about stupidly in soft snow, and soon fell behind. The views of Makalu above us were awesome. By two we had dumped our gear, and by four we were back in camp, dealing with the chores of high altitude cooking.

Now we had rubbed noses with higher altitude and we were committed, for even our leather boots had been sent back. Next day we carried up the same route again, and I rolled in (staggered, actually) to high camp, where we found the ravens had raided our food dump. Muesli scattered around and power bars gone - for their shiny wrappers, not their taste, and having eaten one, had to agree! That night we ate for a larger group, and next day we stirred early. Ang Dami sat up next to me with his head in his hands, muttering incoherently, and when I saw him raise his face, I was horrified to see his face so swollen by oedema, his eyes were nearly shut... and we had no choice but to go down, fast, Gary supporting Ang Dami, and solid Kaji doing two load carries. Thankfully at a lower altitude he recovered immediately. A week later Khandbari was treated to the spectacle of seven sunburnt scarecrow figures tripping through the bazaar in plastic boots and in a few hours a Twin Otter was winging us back to Kathmandu.

Now as I write in the warmth of a Pokhara cafe, Ang is back with his wife and daughter in Solu, Martin in India, Gary & Sam back in the States, Jamie in Kathmandu, Kaji trekking again as I will be soon. For so long we simply were the whole world, our ambitions maybe the next camp, a good meal, or perhaps even warm toes. It felt so very good to be there.

"The dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dream with open eyes, to make it possible."

TE Lawrence.

It was but a short two months since we had met, many of us strangers, but inspired by a single hope and bound by a common purpose.

Tilman, 1938.

From Jamie: this was a trek to push our limits. Winter had arrived early and previously there had been a large dump of snow. Between the Makalu and Everest regions were two 6100m passes and a 5700m one, and a tempting 7000m mountain. In the event, a great number of small things conspired against us, preventing success. Although we lost a large quantity of food to the ravens we still had enough supplies if the conditions were kind. However the weather, although it proved itself stable to the end, always looked threatening. Cloud rolled up the valley regularly well before midday and contributed to the cold and it began snowing on a crucial day, doubly worrying, since we were reliant on finding an almost invisible trail under the featureless snow. Stepping off this trail, you would fall up to your waist in snow, and this was particularly tough on Joel. Then Ang Dami suffered altitude sickness. We could have coped with all of these incidents individually, but together it was too much, and rather than run high risks we elected to return - all safe and sound. Join us for the next bash!