Thudam was an unexpected treat. We had 2 porters tag along to Hongon that Phurba had introduced us to. One of them owned a house at the kharka we were planning to camp at before Chyamtang. Throughout the morning they urged us to move quicker to beat the rain. We had our slickers and didn’t mind if it rained so we urged them to hike ahead if they wanted to. The clouds clinging to the valley were clearly going to open up soon enough.

Our teammate, Tony, was planning to head back down earlier than planned with the other porters to Taplejung, but the pass had been too high and snowy. We lucked out and got to spend an extra 3 days with him because he was forced to stick around until there was an easier place to catch a jeep out. We were glad to have a few more days of Tony’s easy going presence on the trail. Sarah and Tony certainly share a similar curiosity in botany. Tony, being a talented artist, has an eye for beauty and a love for color.

As we parted ways with the river our trail steeply switchbacked a 1,000 feet up the mountain side. The map for the day made the trail appear easier since we would descend several thousand feet lower for camp. This is what we like to call ‘Himalaya down’ because in reality, we ended up hiking 3,400 feet of ascent and 9,000 feet of descent over 8 miles. Even for the guys who have hiked many trails all over Nepal, these trails were of the likes no one had ever experienced. Sections of steep trail would often require hands to climb over slippery rocks, roots, and logs that were slathered in wet mud. Knowing that Yaks go up and down these trails blew our minds constantly. Well, at least until we walked by a large blue tarp wrapped around a mysterious dense soft object. Which Tom, may or may not, have hit out of curiosity did we realize Yaks do indeed have some trouble on the trail. (Turns out under the tarp was a dead yak that Tom did punch)

The sky finally opened up. Thunder and torrential downpours turned the trail into a slip’n’slide. Now we understood why the porters were urging us to keep moving. The sticks of bamboo turned into grind rails for our boots, Tom took some slides covering himself in the trail. Then the worst part about the rain? It brings out the leeches. Every once and a while you feel their little suckers crawling up your hands and arms. Luckily we caught them all before they had latched on. We got to the Kharka in the early evening making it to Sonam’s, one of the porters, hut. There were 10 or so people huddled in around the fire, but the smoke consumed the room and was burning our eyes and irritating our throats. We took advantage of a lull in the rain and 4 of us set our tents up in the flattest spot we could find, which was kind of a joke. They laid out some bamboo lattice to help with the mud. We were soaked to the bone so we quickly stripped down to our britches and checked each other for leeches. It was by far the worst camping spot we have had, but food and sleep were welcome. We were lulled to sleep by a blend of Nepali folk songs and hymns, followed by the locals speaking in tongues. We had to ask and learned that the family was Christian.

Sarah woke in the middle of the night with nausea. She tried to manage until it was unbearable, or Tom’s bloated gassiness pushed her over the edge. Either way, she was not in good shape and last night’s dinner was rearing it’s ugly head and she was vomiting profusely. We had only eaten our own food so we knew it wasn’t from the local cuisine, but perhaps she picked something up playing with the little kids in Thudam. One little boy insisted on holding her hand while he ate dinner. We had another long day of hiking steep trails, so we were unsure about Sarah continuing on. After some electrolytes and good ole Ondansatron she felt up to the task. We found a porter to carry her bag that was a solid 45lbs. Then we had the pleasure of putting on all of our soaking wet clothes and boots before we were off. Just after saying our farewells, Sarah’s eye caught sight of a freshly decapitated goat head, dripping with blood, that one of the men walked by with for their New Year’s celebration (different than our New Year’s of course).

Sarah was a warrior of the jungle on this particular day. No one else in our group could have pushed through such a difficult hike while simultaneously unable to keep anything down for longer than 5 minutes. She had the determination not to stay at the hell Kharka for any longer than absolutely necessary even it meant puking on the trail for 6 1/2 hours.
The afternoon rain arrived just as we were getting into Chyamtang looking for a tea house. We knew the porters had led us to their friends as we saw the cross on the side of the blue building. Sadly the upgrade from the Kharka to tea house was marginal. We entered rooms with cigarette butts littering the floor, moldy cardboard covered walls, a leaky roof, and a 3” spider, but at least we weren’t sopping wet in the tent. Minutes after our arrival marble size hail thrashed down on the the metal roof. Even then, Sarah was so exhausted she had no problem laying down and falling asleep. The odd little tea house still had some delicious dal bhat and Sarah savored some sprite and ra-ra soup.


We started up the road to nearby Lingham. Sarah was not fully recovered but was in a much improved condition. The sun was out and it was hot, but the frequent stream crossings helped ease the sweat. In Lingham, the local police checked our permits and took some pictures with us. We were hiking on the main route between several villages so we got to see a lot of local traffic. We were hiking for a while with a group of female paramedics going to a seminar, a few others heading to a wedding, and a large group working on the trail. As we came across the makeshift trail crew a nice waterfall fell onto the trail, so we stripped down and enjoyed a trail shower. Some older gals, who were taking a break and smoking on the trail, were laughing at us and hiding their faces from the show. Matt started razzing them until one grabbed his trekking pole and started prodding him with it. Lots of laughter and joking ensued in our broken Nepali. We expressed our gratitude for all the hard work they do for the trail we were hiking.



Once we reached Hongon we told the porters we wanted to choose our own guest house. So we found some kids playing in town and asked them where to go. A little 4 or 5 year old named Tenzing led us a couple hundred feet up a stone staircase to the tippy top of town. It was a new lodge without any rooms available yet so we went just down the hill to a cute pink lodge overlooking the town. The tea house was clean and full of sweet curious children.


The day we arrived in Hongon was also Tom’s 32nd birthday! He received a homemade water color card describing how superb he is in addition to a full size snickers bar Sarah had been saving since Ghunsa.
Matisse must have seen us roll into town and stopped in the night we arrived. He was bearing some potential bad news. There had been 2 groups ahead of us hiking our next intended section that had to turn around. We had got a similar, but difficult to interpret, message from Nima Lama (guest house owner) when we had arrived. A Nepali who is doing the GHT on a mountain bike had turned around because of too much snow and told her to warn others. Then a British couple we had met early in the trip hiking the first section of the GHT to Makalu had also turned around. We had snow shoes from the previous section so felt we had a better chance. We were so excited to take them off of our packs and send them down with Tony, but we decided to keep them. Matisse bought Tony’s snow shoes and planned to leave the next day while we rested. Either way, we knew we were on for an adventure on the next segment.

We enjoyed a rest day at Hongon and had a chance to wash our clothes by hand in the cool water tap at the tea house. The owners were even nice enough to let us dirty trekkers shower in it. The water tap was in the middle of their yard and there was no privacy so we each soaped up in our undies and had quite an audience. Then we dried out in the warm sun with the rest of our clothes hanging on the line.


Matt had asked the guest house owner if he knew a barber for a cut and shave. He yelled down the hill and a few minutes later a spiffy looking teenager showed up with scissors. Matt was looking for a close shave but Mike took him up on a haircut and he trimmed up Tony’s beard. Quite impressive what he could pull with a pair of dull scissors. Our favorite part was hanging with the families 4 daughters and their friends. Tony shared his markers and they all got to color, proudly showing off their drawings at the end. Their family really made our rest day feel easy, allowing us to feel totally comfortable doing all we needed to clean up and refresh.




























































































































