Potterfield

The dangerous Fred Blume

Travel to the Khumbu is a littler slower and more problematic this year than last. The Nepalese suddenly canceled last month passenger helicopters flights from Kathmandu to Syangboche. The reason given was that the machines weren't certified for passenger travel (it WAS a casual affair: no seats, no seatbelts, etc). But everyone here suspects the real reason is that the large tea-house industry that had developed around Lukla was loathe to see all of its potential customers fly overhead to the higher strip at Syangboche, which had become the preferred approach strategy. So steps were taken and the flights canceled. This year, everyone has to go in via Lukla (although, ironically, some in "uncertified" helicopters, which apparently are safe as long as they fly to Lukla). The Lukla approach adds two days to the trek in and one day to the trek out. Bad weather the past 10 days has backed up the Twin Otter flights to Lukla, exacerbating the problems in reaching the Khumbu.

The rest of the Alpine Ascents team: Todd Burleson, Wally Berg, Charles Corfield, Fred Blume, Lhakpa Rita Sherpa (the team Sirdar), and Camp II manager Dawa will attempt to fly in on April 3.

Street in Kathmandu

Another couple of days in Kathmandu is a mixed blessing. Arriving here from the United State brings giddy great relief after 30 hours of airline travel, but in a few days the downside takes its revenge. Kathmandu is a sprawling city careening toward the future with no plan and little apparent care. Cars and motorcycles now jam the narrow, winding medieval streets, robbing some parts of the city of their inherent charm and beauty, and polluting the atmosphere to an appalling degree.

Thamel district of Kathmandu

The city retains its exotic appeal, but the environment is much more hostile. In the decade since this reporter was last here, the change is dramatic. Quiet Thamel, the friendly and picturesque district where the Manang, the Garuda, the Tibetan Guest house have traditionally housed expeditions and trekkers, has born the brunt. Not only have its borders seem to have magically expanded -- almost everyone now claims a trendy Thamel address -- it's impossible to stroll along to narrow streets without being beeped at and even nudged by a mad and constant traffic stream of rickshaws, motorcycles, and small cars. The intrusion made on this city by motor vehicles cannot be overstated, but who can blame the Nepalese for wanting cars?

Bicycle-pulled rickshaws in Thamel

The air is another matter. During the dusty time of year, as one approaches a rising cloud of traffic-whipped dust composed primarily of noxious exhaust fumes but laden with essence of dead dog and human expectoration, the only reasonable impulse is to stop breathing. In fact, walking around holding one's breath isn't a bad idea, and though lots of people carry surgical masks to protect themselves, for most, the dork-factor is just too high to actually wear them in public. So everyone enjoys the city as best they can, relishing warm showers and beds and hoping they eventually get to Lukla without taking a nasty upper respiratory infection along.

For it's the mountains that bring everyone here, and Kathmandu is the way-station, a fascinating if somewhat alarming portal to the mountains.

-- Peter Potterfield, Mountain Zone Correspondent