The first obstacle our traveler must face is that long-dreaded threat to all of his chances to make it to Everest: the government checkpoint.
The building is unassuming, not large at all. The guards seem relaxed and the general feeling of the place is relaxed--for everyone who is not an American. Our traveler cannot help but remember not more than a week ago, three American protesters were led into this building in handcuffs.Above you can see our worried traveler approaching the checkpoint. Unfortunately they do not allow pictures of this building, so you can only just see the edge of it on the left there.
There is quite a crowd in the building, various Chinese tourists all taking care of the pointless necessities of the bureaucracy. After an agonizing wait of several tens of minutes, our traveler's turn has come. He stands before the guards, doing everything possible to resist the shaking and looking as innocent as is possible. Unfortunately it would be that our traveler's conception of what it is to look innocent is a sick smile that generally arouses strong sensations of anger and irritation in all who witness it. He hands the guards his passport and permit. The guards do not even look at the passport, keeping their eyes locked on our traveler's. Without looking, they flip carelessly through our traveler's passport, pausing here in there, to squint meaningfully at our traveler. The guards close the passport, setting it aside for the time being and finally look elsewhere. There are a few brief words in Chinese, from what our traveler could catch, mostly harsh criticisms of our traveler's passport photo. The guards press a button and summon several more guards who all gather around his passport. At this point, some of the other tourists are getting interested, even Samdim the guide has gone around the counter to join in the general brouhaha developing around our traveler's passport.
Finally, the biggest of the guards, who is also wearing the largest hat and obviously has the most important position at the checkpoint, points at the passport and lets out the loudest guffaw ever heard. In an instant the entire room is in tears of laughter and the guards, half choking, manage to put the miraculous stamp on our traveler's permit. He is free to go, with only his pride hurt.
Leaving the checkpoint behind in a cloud of dust, our traveler heads off with hopes that by the end of the day he will have seen Everest. But of course, nothing is ever perfect and hopes will be dashed to pieces every once in a while.
Once more the road continues up. The road seems to be mounting into the sky itself as it curls sharply up towards the Pang-La pass (16,896 ft.). About halfway up the traveler finds that it has resumed snowing, however after a few minutes he realizes that this is no snow but large hail which being blown in the heavy wind is flying sideways. As he looks out over the void behind them, he sees the large clouds of hail floating in the wind. Up and up the car goes, passing other cars coming down, sometimes precariously perching itself on the edge of the cliff to allow these others by. Our traveler’s excitement grows as they near the pass. The final bulge of the hillside blocks out all view of what might be on the other side or what the weather may be like over there.
The thickness of the clouds and the general nastiness of the weather is our traveler's primary concern now. He is already having difficulty seeing back down into the valley from which they have just emerged, how much worse will it be looking up and across towards the great mountains to the south? In an instant they pop over the pass and are in view of the most famous range of the Himalaya. Or at least they would have been in view if it had not been entirely socked in by heavy clouds. As if to taunt our traveler, the land cruiser stops at a sign which has the outline of all the famous mountains he could be seeing if the clouds were not there. Cho-Oyu, Malaku, Everest and Lhotse--all are hidden.
Our traveler, refusing to give up, steps out of the car to stare through the clouds if he can. But of course, every land cruiser which passes through this area acts like a magnet for the impoverished Tibetans who often make their living off travelers. In a few moments there is a small cluster of Tibetans who have emerged from old-looking tents to crowd around the traveler. They are not begging, at least not as openly as our traveler has seen in other places. Instead these people show a freedom with the traveler and his companions not often seen in America or other civilized countries. A young man, who is 19 as later discovered, walks up to our traveler and throws his arm about him in a familiar embrace. The Tibetan speaks better Chinese than our traveler, but it is still quite clear that this is not his native tongue.
After talking for some time about mountains, a conversation which was by no means fraught with intellectual value, since our traveler finds it hard to convey the simplest of thoughts in Chinese, the young Tibetan asks our traveler if he wants to trade coats. For the first time, our traveler notices the Tibetan's clothing; he has a Mountain Hardware coat which, alth
ough old, still looks quite warm, a wool hat, and wool pants. Apparently our traveler's coat is better than this Tibetan's, for the young man is quite insistent on this point and keeps suggesting that a trade would be good for both of them. Our traveler awkwardly declines, giving lame reasons in English and makes his way back to the car. Remember this moment, for I will talk more about it later, when the story is finished.Through the falling hail and bitter wind, they continue on down into the last valley. Going down is always faster than going up and it seems to be only a matter of minutes before they are once more in the valley and rolling their way along towards that final destination. After waggling their way, weaving between high hills and cliffs, they finally turn out of this main valley into a smaller, glacier formed rift which leads almost straight south. In a few minutes our traveler realizes this is the famous Rongbuk Valley, at the top of which is Everest Base Camp.
Eagerly craning his neck, our traveler prays that he might catch even the slightest glimpse of the mountain. No such luck. The clouds remain thick and impenetrable, a wall between our traveler and the mountain. Following along the small creek which flows out of the glacier, they finally come to Rongbuk Monastery. The monastery would be of no note at all if it were not the highest in the world. But this is where our traveler will spend the night and where he will first see Everest if he ever sees it. Looking at it yourself, I do not doubt you will be a little disappointed.
