Kathmandu-Lukla-Phakding Immediately upon landing at “the most dangerous airport in the world” we are thrown into a hurried rush of baggage as fresh candy colored and clean tourists clamber off other prop planes and our own (rotors sometimes still going!). Tourists wide-eyed with excitement and trepidation, having waited days for this weather window to arrive, are quickly replaced by dirty, thin, and weatherworn bodies, less shiny but excited as well, so it seems...
“The vast majority of international tourists expect an authentic mountain adventure experience in the region and many imagine it to be rugged, primitive and somewhat unspoiled by outside influence. Are these expectations real?” (Sanjay Nepal)
Phakding-Namche Bazaar The bridge is a marker of both arriving and leaving Khumbu, the “Hillary Bridge” as I’ve heard some call it, as the first bridge here was built buy his charity to bring both supplies and access to upper Khumbu. Stuck in my mind is my recent viewing (on the flight to Nepal) of the sensationalist movie Everest and the image of the bridges, the characters (based on a true story of the 1996 disaster) walking across in awe, the bridge romanticized in instantaneous, planned, shots. High, remote, exotic...
Namche Bazaar/acclimatization The various layers of landscape emerge throughout this day – the agency of the unnoticed landscape of the trail, the melting glaciers of Khumbila and Ama Dablam, the first views of Everest. Meaning is made through the discourse and haunting historicity of the sights of Everest. Tourism merged with Sherpa culture and western mountain traditions is presented with the standard view and goal in mind – seeing and going to Everest...
Namche Bazaar-Deboche Dry and dusty, the trail is like [the bright angel trail] the Grand Canyon, wide with pack trains of people and of course, yaks and naks and bells, the sun is out, people seem more prepared than say the Grand Canyon. Lenticular clouds over Mt Everest. Clear views of it this morning. all the glaciers are grey, dying. And the heat, the body interacts with the land through tiredness heavy breathing, responsiveness to other people. Landslide scar (perhaps from the earthquake and/or aftershocks). The scars are not inert. Local man with donation box, good business model there! The trail continues along; the expected and iconic views continue...
Deboche-Dingboche In the Imja Khola, generations of time are seen. Layers of rock, and more so the years of carving this rock, levels of water and ice; the water, meltwater, from the glaciers up the valley. All working in concert, intelligible from the other as never separate. A more-than-human agency in action. If we can look at this as different components or actors in an entanglement/assemblage that act within each other to form this place, this movement and activity, that when we include also in this entanglement a human influence the way of looking at this is no different [and don’t forget the human behind the camera]. The human influence here is from the melting of the glacier upstream, the risk of glacial lake outburst floods [and more]. The trail winds over talus to the steel and wooden bridge, adorned with prayers via fabric. The dirt and the path is more constructed by human, up a slope that is less navigable without human influence. Metal is necessary to abut the encroachment of erosion, caused by more-than-human factors made worse by human. Rocks, more commonly used to brace the hillsides and trails contain the path as well. The dirt is not inert. It is pushing against (the metal/rocks) pushed down (by metal/rocks), the first layers affected by the weather systems (wet and dry) and the sun. The feet of mostly humans, but also four-legged creatures, insects and many more-than-humans that move across and under this dirt, the roots and shoots of the flora that hold together the dirt and make passageway and more are this dirt. No less inert than the energy that creates this shadow or the feet that move up in the photo. This is the agential infrastructure of the trail. Each function of this trail mentioned is in concert, inseparable than the other, as in their intraactions identity and meaning is enacted.
Chhuckung By allowing the place and inquiry to determine some of the methods or help methodology, it is that emergence I seek to examine or experience. As I am walking right now and breathing, catching my balance on top of rocks that are strewn down here, once part of a larger glacier. I am reacting with this land and ever so slightly this land reacts to me right here ...
Anthropogenic enactments like my plane ride, to the reactions of human/more-than-human, are [unrecognized, silent] relations. Reactions occur, however, in minute details, the obscure and perhaps little realized movements and shifts or changes that emerge within/from more-than-human and human relationships. Here with my footsteps on the trail the dirt falls away and leaves a print of the soles of my shoes. I'm not making that imprint necessarily, nor is the dirt - rather it’s a reaction in concert. Many feet have stepped on this very trail, these very spots and similar reactions [intra-actions] have occurred. Through this movement the trail changes, the rocks are worn down, the dirt kicked up and removed and settled down elsewhere. This dirt is so much more than the term dirt in discourse considers. It is vibrant with color and movement and history - it sparkles with glacial minerals [sparkling feldspar]. It reminds me of what [my friend] once called Himalayan fairy dust, as it covers my shoes, skins, clothing, hat and gives me and others a sparkle as the sun shines down. Beauty in these reactions. Agency in these movements of dirt.
Dingboche-Loboche Woven trails guide us through the lowest points of the valley. The trail emerges higher, surrounded by seemingly taller peaks than seen before. The dusty paths are carved by feet of locals, travelers, nomads, traders, tourists, and the yaks and horses that bring so many curious minds and bodies [mindbodies] to this place. It is carved from those desperate for money, those out to prove something to themselves or others, those with an innate thirst for adventure or excitement, those seeking work, those going to work, those who want to know more about why people are here, why this place. And myself, questioning what these Himalayan mountains, and specifically Mount Everest, mean to humans and to understand these mountains with agency and life in their own right.
These paths, however, are not solely made by humans. These paths exist because of the movement and reaction of dirt and soil and rocks, and from those iterations of human movements. These paths exist from economic and cultural needs and wants of humans, from the imperialist symbolism of early British expeditions, the romantic hyperbolic and post-colonial expeditions and the inward drives to climb, the commercial commodification of name brand expeditions, to the hypertouristic movements that lead so many to the base of (and up) Mount Everest. This path is entangled with weather systems that shape and erode the valley, from the climate patterns of the subcontinent to the geophysical history and the glacial movements that shape and twist the yul lha (peaks) and beyul (valleys) of Khumbu.
Lobuche-Gorek Shep (EBC/Kala Pattar) Standing up really close to Khumbu ice fall, the melting Khumbu ice fall...overwhelmed. It seems as though there are ghosts here, ghosts of everything [hauntology]. I’m really emotional. I see people standing among the ice fall, probably doing some climbing lessons, huge spread out tent city, I'm sure it's been bigger. Just really emotional [sentences spread out between breathing/steady wind]. Ghosts of Everest past. I keep thinking about Tenzing Norgay and Edmond Hillary, the earthquake a year ago, the Everest climbers I've known. I see an American flag [can hear whistles and cheers in the background]. I don't know, I don't know how to feel about this. While at the same time I'm here, I wish I wish that I could climb. Ok. [voice intonation sounds different in each sentence and word almost, the last one sounded sad, forlorn]
Gorek Shep-Dzongla The trail becomes more silent, there are few if no seasonal grazing spots, few people local or otherwise are passed. The language of the trail once again changes - the color of rocks, the dirty glaciers of Cholatse closer and a peak-a-boo view of Lhotse over the steep foothills of Lobuche. Another base camp for a different route on Lobuche comes into view as Dzongla emerges off in the distance. Immediately I can tell there are more guesthouses, many more built since the last time I was here. The color of the many boulders and rocks shift; they seem almost rusty. We pass one with animal skulls perched on top. The rock colors change; deep browns are a stark contrast to the white boulders of Khumbu glacier. The heat of the sun makes the dusty trail seem longer. We’ve both run out of water and didn’t stop for lunch earlier. When we arrive in our guesthouse we order food immediately and settle in for a cold evening as we prepare to trek over the pass in the morning. I find a copy of Into Thin Air and much to my dismay, read it until I fitfully fall asleep.
Dzongla-Gokyo (over Cho La and Ngozumpa) The afternoon sun, unrelenting and pre-monsoon provides no relief. At an altitude higher than the highest point in the lower 48 states back home acclimatization comes as a relief. Standing on the ledge of the moraine no official trails mark the way save for scattered cairns indicating paths scratched on the surface, twisting around large bodies of meltwater and crumbling hillsides of dirt and boulders (in my climbing days this would be teased as “chossy vertical kitty litter”). The hot wind whips at a prayer flag punctuating an otherwise silent moment save for the distant tumbles of boulders on the opposite edge of the moraine. Line of sight indicates that is potentially the only path to Gokyo, past those distant loose boulders. However, before we make it there, loose dirt, loose rocks, and the newness of meltwater in various hues of turquoise need to be navigated. If it weren’t such a drastic scene from the last time I was here, with the knowledge that this is global warming I may consider it beautiful. Perhaps though it is, sublime like the drowning Ophelia [floating in a floral bouquet of death and decay], what a thought! The ironic death of the romantics - here of wilderness instead of Millais or Shakespeare’s Ophelia [and those who made this place what it is in tourism!]. Despite melting, it is dry and dusty pre-monsoon, but certainly far more labyrinthine than my last visit.
Around the 3rd Lake and Interviewing Ngozumpa Birds are gliding on the same wind as I approach the top of this hill, white glacial rock, scrubby desert like plants, [whoo, breathing hard]. I’m entering almost like a saddle of sorts strung with prayer flags, natureculture is a prayer flag. And here I am overlooking Ngozumpa glacier [heaving breathing]. I can hear rock fall, drips, colors - bright blue, bright turquoise grayish green, white blue, grey, so much grey… [pause, sound of wind] …and then I wonder, can I talk to this glacier like I talked to Khumbu glacier? I guess I did that yesterday, traveling across it [the Ngozumpa]. This glacier barely gave me informed consent, this glacier said this is difficult, this is hot, this is terrifying for you to cross over [material-discursive language/communication].
It’s almost as if my embodied experience with the glacier indicated “look what you have done, human, look what you have done”. I have no emotions here like at Khumbu glacier. [Sound of falling rock, wind, heavy breathing]. The glacier is enacting what it does, it is just reacting [intra-acting]; reacting [intra-acting] to temperature, melting, moving. And that's...reacting [intra-acting] to all the other anthropogenic practices humans are doing on this planet. Glacier doesn't care. Glacier might melt, there will be no more water for humans after that, but what does it care? It's not like the glacier will work hand in hand with us. [sound of wind, breathing, crunchiness underfoot].
Like Khumbu glacier, there seem to be a lot of sadness, but perhaps that is my emotion. As I look up, I recall stories from mountaineers on Cho Oyu of Tibetan refugees who were shot and murdered on the pass right over there, [Nangpa La], by Chinese police (see Green, 2010). It was watched and witnessed by climbing expeditions. Some people reported to the world what happened, others were hesitant, they didn't want to lose permits. The continued melting of Himalayan glaciers will lead to refugees of another kind - the biopolitical refugees from melting Himalayan glacier [when entangled with political and cultural oppression these issues create more crisis].
Gokyo-Dole It is cold and snowed last night; I barely slept. Morning plans to cross Renjo La thwarted by my exhaustion and a feeling we should not do it. Turns out the feeling was right as clouds built in the west and east and south and north all day to turn into another snowstorm. On a long day, up high we would’ve been in it. Glad the mountain did not give us informed consent.
The trek down from Gokyo is remarkable in that the landscape drifts from glacial moraine, high cliffs, snow, few plants through a gradual descent. Lower, boulders take on an older age (mere lichen?). Homes appear more frequently, many earthquake damaged. Undulating stone fences show the movement of land. The path winds on steep valley sides, braided along the slope, each high point marked by a flag, chorten, or strand of flags. The change of elevation was welcome; more homes and guesthouses dot the landscape.
The clouds and wind pick up. Plants grow larger - shrubby rhododendron to the large rhododendron and other desert like plants proliferate the hillsides. The overwhelming sense of being around people and being tired is starting to take effect. Very little solace in these mountains, not in Khumbu in April.
Dole-Namche Bazaar Wet snow, squishy, sounds are different, more oxygen, senses are different. We depart Dole for the lower elevations of Namche Bazaar. Back among the trees.
Walking through rhododendron, soft breeze gently in my ear. Sunshine, put that, morning sunshine, butterfly dancing in front of me [slight breathing can be heard], and moving down, down, it's much warmer. Remember that as a vignette. It's like the butterfly is leading the way.
My body manifests the exertion, the loss of altitude, the challenges of terrain.
Namche Bazaar Much like elsewhere I have traveled, and the more I do it, what I see are people trying to live life. Friends, family, food, job, the sky is blue, grass might be green. It has been odd to be almost undercover here, people see me for the most part as another tourist. When I travel in Nepal in times of low season it seems I’m less of a tourist and more among kin (however, that is part of the draw of Nepal! Tourists are treated well, like family and friends). Yet this busy season makes that hard, it seems I’m a cog in the hypertourism economic wheel. Even here in Khumbu last time I got significantly closer to lodge owners, guides, Sherpa. Like what Ortner posited (1999) It seems that tourists are kept at arm's length sometimes, given the show they want, keep them alive, earn a buck or two from them, and send them on their way.
Do the tourists intentionally fetishize mountains and culture alike? In some sense, the way a place is presented to tourists, yes. It is entangled in the material-discursive wanderings of Everest around the world - but there are different experiences and meanings of why people come here. Each with their own contextual influence of themes of Everest literature, motivations to travel here, and preconceived perceptions of this place.
There are universal reasons for traveling here. but also there are always differences, and the two work simultaneously, maybe on a continuum, maybe some more than others at different times. We are one, we are contextual, all at the same time. What makes it hard to pin down is, as Yoda said, always in motion is the future. If spacetime is always moving, then our lives and being always are as well. There can be no stagnation and permanence, thus the image of sameness and continuity is absent [absent presence?]. In this concept, what are the meaning of the Himalayan mountains? They are always in motion, always moving, and that is intently what they mean. They react and shift and move, the intra-act. Their meaning becomes in the dynamic intra-action of people, time, space – in other words, context. Simply because something does not move in a spacetime conception of a human does not mean they are not alive, with agency, and part of intra-active reactive relationships amongst humans and more-than-humans.
Namche Bazaar-(Hillary Bridge)-LuklaOn this bridge, I am not a separate human subject imprinting and moving the inert nonhuman. Rather I am a part of a dynamic assemblage wherein the more-than-human, human, and nonhuman intra-act. The bridge becomes so much more than a discursive symbol, but a doing and becoming with the phenomenon of tourism in Khumbu. This intra-action involves my muscles lifting to tie the prayer flags to the bridge, the wind that blows the flags up valley, the gravity and physics of the bridge construction pulling it down, the weight of the pack and the slight hyperextension of my knees. Within that is the cultural manifested on printed fabrics, with sacred mantras on each - the flags - cosmologies of Sherpa Tibetan Buddhism and the modern mysticism that travelers connect to prayer flags. The movement of the wind, weight of the pack, instability of the suspension bridge are all “active forces that intra-act with [my] body and mind and that [I] have to work with and against” … I am active in this case, but in this “new materialist perspective, I cannot be thought upon in terms of a superior autonomous and intentional humanist subject” (Hultman & Taguchi, 2010, p. 530). The wind, the prayer flags, the bridge, and the physics are active and playing with me just as much as I do with it - as I am in a state of becoming with the bridge, the bridge is in a state of becoming with me (Deleuze, 1990 in Hultman & Taguchi, 2010). The bridge is neither inert in space and time; the haunting of the historicity, of Hillary’s charity and the tallest peak in the world are woven into the meaning of this bridge as much as the steel wires holding it taut.
Departure Tenzing-Hillary Airport, Lukla AirstripThe morning flight takes off without a glitch and we are in hot and polluted Kathmandu before lunch. A visit to Pashiputinath temple marks our goodbye for now. I am reminded of a passage from Fisher’s book:
The Tengboche Rimpoche told me that the tourists are somewhat like the torrents of rain that plague the north Indian states of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh that border Nepal: the floods come every year, and there is not much anyone can do about them. A dam is a good flood-control device because it can let out water in carefully controlled ways so that it can be used for constructive purposes- irrigating land or turning turbines to produce electricity. Building Lukla dynamited the dam that had held back the tourists.
(Fisher, 1990, p.152)