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

would eat local foods that were bought by Cook along the way unless some emergency caused us to dip into our small stash of freeze dried emergency rations. We also carried a half dozen MRE’s in case we found ourselves unable to cook. This was unlikely as we had good lodges well spaced along the way and were in no particular hurry to get anywhere fast.

After lunch Bim led the way out with the ladies, Curtis, and Chris close behind. I looked over everything; we would not come this way ever again, and adjusted my poles for the descent. Now the trail was treacherous because it fell away so quickly and the only safe way to traverse it was to lean, place a long pole, step, place the other pole and then step again. Then repeat the process until the trail switched back and you reversed the placement of the steps and poles. After twenty minutes the tops of my thighs were trembling. Big quadriceps need a lot of oxygen and at 8,000 feet there was not as much as I needed. After a week, if we did not sleep much lower and did everything correctly, my body would get used to the oxygen deprivation and hopefully by the time we got to high country, the really high country, I would be able to keep up better. But now my knees hurt, my thighs trembled and I was very aware of not making a mistake. There are no ambulances up here.

Each step became a mantra. Place pole, move feet, observe trail. I did this over and over. Tsuki, tenkan, do it again. Tsuki, fall, get up. Grow tired and keep attacking. Be careful, make no mistakes, take ukemi and get up again. Over and over I repeated this mantra until I came around a switchback and found Christian leaning over and holding his legs with his hands. I could see the shakes as I approached and pointedly ignored him as I passed.

Nawang had been idling behind me as I struggled down the trail and now he stayed with Christian. No one is left behind. You are always somewhere between the two Sherpas. I continued with the regular pace I had set and eventually the trail began to even out and I smelled water, felt cool air, and heard a roaring in the distance I soon was able to identify as a mountain river. It was the Yelong Khola.

After following the trail by the river for another half hour, I saw Chris, Curtis and Bim standing by the trail head where the suspension bridge crosses the Yelung Khola. Celine and Esra were sitting on a bench in the shade nearby. I looked across the river and saw our lodge and I have to say it looked very nice, almost like a Swiss chalet situated between the two rivers and bridges. The late afternoon sun sparkled off the water and the patio was already blessed by shade. I walked up to Bim and said, “Namaste.” I nodded at the group and was rewarded with small, tired smiles.

Bim walked a few feet back up the trail and motioned he wanted me to join him. “What’s up?” I asked.

“Sahib, I am very sorry, but I must tell you that the lodge is full. I have sent Hadim to Sangabanda to see if they can find a place for you. But I know that there has been a death in the family there and I do not know what can be done. I am very sorry.”

“No problem, Bim. Just have the porters stop and have Cook arrange for us to stay in tents. That is why we have them.” I nodded at him and smiled reassuringly.

He turned sideways to me and lowered his head. “Again I am sorry, but I tried to make this happen. There are two large groups already promised this lodge and every space, even the tent spaces, are already committed. We cannot even find a room inside for afternoon tea. I am truly sorry. We must continue on.”

I think years ago, well, even now, some westerners would have had a fit here and caused a scene and that is why for so many years Americans and Europeans were not regarded well in this part of the world. It’s probably the only reason I didn’t throw a fit. I was tired, dead tired and I knew exactly where Sangabanda was situated. Still I smiled at him and said that would be fine and asked him to do his best to find us a place to sleep for the night. He thanked me and walked back down the trail and stood by the guard rail while we waited for Christian to show up with Nawang. I went over and sat next to the ladies and we all sat quietly. We were too tired to banter. Chris suddenly said “Sensei!”

I looked up expecting to see Nawang and Christian, but Chris was looking in the opposite direction. He pointed and said “I think I see a bottle of beer on the patio of that lodge.”

“No one’s eyes are that good,” I said.

He held up a pair of compact Nikon field glasses and smiled. “They are if you use these. And they are drinking beer. I can see it. And very soon we will be.” He nodded emphatically and produced a huge grin. I felt awful.

***

The bridge that crosses the Yelung Khola has been replaced by a wonderful, safe, suspension bridge made of steel cable and heavy aluminum planks. It sways, it jiggles, it bounces, and it is so wonderful compared to the rope and wood contraption that it replaced, I can’t even express it. Although only about four feet wide, it is still sufficient to carry a fully loaded yak train along with handlers and compared to the old one, it felt like highway to me. Solid feeling support rails protect travelers on both sides and I could only imagine