The night before this sweet next stop was pretty rough, though. I was hacking so much I made this weird choking sound so I could stop myself from throwing up and I wondered just how much coughing it took to crack a rib (never got to find out thankfully). There was a nagging headache that would not leave me alone, giving me a break of just a few hours every time I took a Tylenol. As I lay in bed in the teahouse, I constantly wondered if I should just go down that night instead of the next day, and if I did decide to do that, would I have enough energy to go that night or should I wait until my reserves were replenished the next day; and if I waited until the next day, would I be able to stave off the effects of the altitude enough to make use of my higher levels of energy?
As I tossed and turned and experienced a dizzying array of really weird dreams (the half of a sleeping pill didn't quite knock me out, it just made me more sedated and still and calm more than anything and my bladder managed to wait until the next morning), I ended up feeling okay enough to wait until the morning. I was walking pretty close to that line and when it came time to leave, I was feeling pretty relieved. And if I needed any sort of sign, it came in the form of my breakfast RaRa soup, of which I couldn't even finish half.
The walk was pretty easy with not too many ups or downs, just a gentle meandering through the Khumbu Valley with Pheriche finally appearing on the horizon like a modern day Dust Bowl, only instead of leaving the windy and flat terrain for California like the Joads, we were heading closer and closer to it and I was forced, at this point, to tie my bandana around my mouth. Throughout the walk, I tried to make conversation with Patti, the shady porter-guide, to make the best of a situation I was not happy with. If anything, it was so I could try and take my mind off the fact that he was constantly stopping in villages to have a mug of tea with his friends, or leaving my backpack unattended while he went into teahouses. The mountain is a fairly trusting and friendly area, but I felt like I was babysitting a child and I hated that feeling.
On the way to Pheriche, we walked through the Tukla Pass again and I got another look at the memorials there, this time of some I missed before. The effect was no less sobering than before, and I was even more thankful this time around for being able to get up to my goal and back down safely again, reminding myself the journey still wasn't over and I'd need to put in even more vigilance than before.
But I had just two more planned days in front of me and it was hard not to get excited at the prospect of completing such a huge and monumental journey. I could almost taste the finish line!
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