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

town of Phortse lay on the other side of the ravine and I wished we could go there, but it required a huge detour that would amount to at least an entire day. We had sent our porters on to Dole and I knew they were already there hunched over small fires and probably sipping tea. The rhododendron forest was tight to the trail and it was very unnerving. Long tendrils of some type of tree fern or moss hung in ghostly shrouds across the branches and offered glimpses into a nether world where lost kingdoms lurked behind hidden entrances…or so my mind wandered. The rhododendrons gave over to what appeared to me to be some type of fir or juniper along with a variety of spruce or pine. I could not tell, they are not the trees of my forests. But eventually we finally climbed back up to the village of Dole and found Nawang waiting for us outside a small lodge. The bunk room was exactly that. No individual rooms here. We all slept in what looked like a dorm room. At least the beds had curtains around them offering a small amount of privacy to the wandering weary.

I chose a bunk, dragged my sleeping bag and pad out of my duffle, threw the duffle to the back wall of my bunk space and sat down. I took off my soaking wet boots and socks and lay back on the bunk. We were at 13,500 feet and I was not breathing well. I could hear the guys all settling in. There was little conversation. I think the combination of altitude and drizzling rain and a cloudbank that lay right on the trail was sapping the enthusiasm out of all of us. I wondered what Celine and Esra were doing. In a camp full of Italians? Probably listening to their mandolin player, having a glass of wine and some nice hard Parma cheese. Laughing at the antics of those colorful, carefree…

“Sahib? Would you like tea?”

I dragged myself out of deep sleep and made some gesture of affirmation, something. Eventually I managed to sit up and the kitchen boy… maybe our only kitchen boy, now, handed me a warm cup of tea and a few cookies. I thanked him and tried to concentrate on the cup in my hand. I had developed a piercing headache that I fervently hoped was not the onset of altitude sickness.

Cerebral edema, pulmonary edema, and many other major problems caused by altitude bring strong men and women to their knees every year. It’s not just a headache. People die of these conditions and no matter how tough you want to be or think you are, certain conditions should not be ignored. I would have to make certain that everyone knew what to look for and exercise caution. We had taken more than the minimum amount of time for acclimatization. We should be fine. We would see.

I drank my tea and lay back down. Curtis and Chris sat at the small movable table that had been placed for us against the far wall. Christian couldn’t seem to decide what to do. I closed my eyes and heard Chris ask the time.

“It’s about 4:30,” said Curtis.

“Man, my head is pounding.”

Curtis said, “Yeah, mine too.”

“I wonder if it’s the altitude or the damn weather. Humid, damp and cold, man I was not expecting this; cold, yeah, but not the constant clouds and drizzle.” Chris slumped into the small chair and leaned on the table with his tea cup in his hand. And this tea sucks.”

Christian called over, “I like tea, but the new stuff isn’t very good.”

New stuff? I don’t drink tea and couldn’t tell one cup from the next. I sat up. “Chris, do you drink coffee?”

He shook his head.

“Curtis, do either of you guys drink coffee? I haven’t paid any attention. Have you been drinking the coffee in the morning?”

They both nodded. I sighed and got up. After conquering a little dizziness I went across the dorm and through the door. The lodge kitchen, such as it was, was there and the woman who ran it had a small set of shelves with trade goods. There were all the usual things and at least six bottles of Chinese Coke. I gathered them all and nodded at the woman making a writing motion at her and took the bottles back into the dorm.

“Chris, get out that bottle of rum you’re hiding and bring it over here.” He frowned but went to his duffle and brought it over. “Don’t worry; you can get more on the way. Once we’re above 14,000 feet you’re not going to want it anyway, trust me. Guys, I think I need to talk to Cook and ask about the coffee and tea he got in Namche Bazaar. I think he might have gotten de-caf. This headache feels like a monster caffeine withdrawal headache.”

They looked at each other and in one movement had the coke bottles open and pouring coke into their cups and drinking. I waited and added a little of the Khukuri brand rum to mine and then drank it down. We all had one then, and then another. After about a half hour we were all feeling much better. As the headaches abated and the rum asserted itself we began to revive. Eventually Cook came in and told us that he would bring supper and I asked him to please bring the tea and coffee he was now serving us so I could look at the containers. He shrugged and left. When he returned he set the dishes on the small table and handed me a jar and a cellophane package with loose tea. I couldn’t make heads of tails out of the tea – the label was written in Chinese, but I immediately recognized the green label on the bottle of Nescafe. Decaf.

“Cook, can you get other coffee? This is no good.”

He frowned