JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi by Daniel Linden (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

be in the lead or taking care of arrangements. Get to know these guys, and be respectful. They all started out as porters and have worked their way up to this position. It is entirely possible that Nawang and Hadim are Sirdars in their own right. It is a great honor here to lead an expedition and these are respected men so please treat them accordingly.

“Cook will carry a few items and will be responsible for arranging either our meals in inns or he will purchase local produce and vittles along the way and prepare meals for us. The fourth porter carries his kitchen along with three lightweight tents, a latrine tent and some emergency rations. He never carries anything of ours. He belongs to Cook and Bim.” I looked around. “Now how about a nice picture with all of us looking the best we will for the next month?”

We got into a tight group and Bim snapped pictures with all the cameras that had appeared with this suggestion. I realized that another group was forming in front of the inn. That was where the scale was. It was time to go. We needed to have some separation between trekking groups. I couldn’t understand what language they were speaking, but they looked northern European. Who knows, maybe Swiss? Scandinavian? Somewhere like that. Maybe from Finland? I motioned for everyone to follow along and we were off. Bim walked up to me and took my mandolinden off my shoulder and slung it over his by the long strap of the black cordura case. I didn’t argue with him. He wouldn’t hear of me carrying this. He then stepped in front of me and walked off down the cobblestone road that led east out of Jiri and we followed.

I walked behind Bim for about half an hour and then Christian was beside me chattering away like a puppy growling over a stuffed toy. I realized that Chris and Curtis were right behind me, so I stepped off the cobblestones and bent down to tie my shoe. They followed Bim and I knew that the natural order of this walk had just been established. Celine and Esra were a hundred yards back and Nawang dawdled behind them. Hadim had left while we were taking pictures. He was long gone. It was painful for the Nepali Sherpas bringing up the rear. They walk so much more effortlessly than any Westerner and so much lighter and quicker that to be following the slowest trekker in the pack must make them want to break into a dead run once in a while. I guess that is why they rotated this task.

After another hour I saw Bim and the guys standing on the road near a clay trail that climbed vertically up the side of the hill. As I came up I heard Curtis saying that he thought the road would be worse than it had been. I pulled my water bottle out and took a good long drink because I knew what was coming next. The rest of the team arrived and then Bim started climbing up the clay trail using a hand-over-hand climb while carefully finding footing on the sharp rock and clay. He went up forty or fifty feet and then turned and beckoned us to follow.

Chris turned to Nawang and said, “What’s up there?”

Nawang pointed and said, “Trail…”

“Oh, I guess we have to detour up to get to the next trail,” he said to Celine. The girls nodded and up they went chattering away in Turkish. Chris looked momentarily uncertain as he stepped up and into the clay and rock strewn path. He stumbled and then grabbed a branch for a hand hold.

“Get out your hiking poles,” I said. I showed him how I used mine and then he began to work his way up the steep, treacherous trail. I’d waited until last because I figured with my knees it would be a while before I could manage to stay in front of anyone. And I had walked this trail before. We weren’t going up to find the trail. This was the trail. It would be like this for the next 120 miles and I didn’t want anyone to figure that out until they couldn’t go back.

We climbed steadily for two hours and then took a break in front of a mani (prayer) wall that stood overlooking an immense valley of terraced fields. Marigolds were everywhere and they lit up the valley like a golden necklace that had shattered and spread its broken beads in an explosion of color. Everyone was tired and I could see the questioning look in a couple eyes, but no one was complaining about the extreme vertical nature of this trail, yet. I looked at my climbing poles and opened them to a pre-adjusted length. Right pole longer than left going up, the opposite coming down. Christian watched me and I saw daylight dawning, but he didn’t say anything, he just fell-in behind Bim as he stood and started up again.

We climbed steadily for three more hours and suddenly the trail fell away and we were standing at the top of a wide pass going over the crest of the hill. A small village, perhaps five or six huts stood here and there was a vendor, the first of many, waiting and hoping for some trekkers to come by and purchase Snickers bars and Coca Cola. I smiled and started humming the old Leonard Cohen song, Suzanne. We fell onto the hard earth beside the trail and I pulled off my shoes and let the sun and mid-day breeze cool my feet.

Bim walked away and came back a few moments later to tell me that there would be a lunch in a short while. We could rest and relax. I asked Celine if she would like a coke. When she said yes I gave her some money and asked if she would mind getting them