The Outer Limits

My ticket was stamped KTM-MTN (the famous scenic mountain flight)

high_altitide — Thu, 10 Apr 2014 20:35:00 GMT

This one is a off the scale in terms of the old Disneyland A-E tickets. Although it ends up being one hour from wheels off to on the runway, and about 1/2 hour is spent either in smog or in clouds the Everest flight cannot be missed. Every passenger looked haggard including moi after viewing my selfie upon boarding the little airport bus that took us from the gate to the tarmac and our set of wings. But I could not help but notice my own smile and those of every single passenger after seeing the awesome glory of the high Himalaya ridge made up of pure 7,000m plus peaks and bounded by Annapurna (the first 7000m mountain in this range to have been summitted) and the majestic king himself, Everest.

posting a partial while I take a break

Photos: Khatmandu

high_altitide — Wed, 9 Apr 2014 21:42:00 GMT

Royal First Lounge at Thai HQ (BKK) including bar and hostesses.

Learning the ropes

high_altitide — Wed, 9 Apr 2014 20:44:00 GMT

I really didn't mean that title as a mountaineering double entendre. I do not believe that I gave the city much justice on my last post because I forgot to mention the scheduled power outages. The country seems to have been naughty in not springing for dam construction that would easily provide power to the smallish population of 27 some odd million; about the size of our neighbor to the north which is actually quite shocking when one compares the living standard here with Canada.

Anyway you should be proud of yourself if you are sufficientle patient to have made it to this story. I guess what I had in mind here was that in any third world city a few jaunts out into the thick of things toughens one up for survival mode. So this morning, I sprung out of bed near the crack of dawn and asked at the desk for some directions whose objective I have now lost track. The receptionist suggested a shortcut out the rear entrance which took me to the lady selling cooler size jugs of water and then down a narrow alley to what was supposed to be a main through road. After reaching a square that should not have been there populated with a lot of sketchy looking and bedraggled crowd, and not wanting to get lost a warren of alleys, I turned around to get back to the home square. A fellow traveler mentioned that there was a pattern to it all and not getting what that might be, it was suggested that avoiding the seemingly movements of pedestrians, motorcycles, autos and rickshaws was merely to think like one was a character in a video game. Ah, now I get it.

The hotel breakfast buffet was a sorry excuse for my favorite meal of the day, including Nescafé for coffee and a toaster whose circuit breaker went out just in time. From the faux pancakes to the flavorless scrambled eggs to the whiter than white yoghurt it was all put together by a chef who must have had an acute sense of humor. for comic relief, did make a find via the web and in time for lunch the no. 1 rated restaurant on Tripadvisor and amazingly enough a stone's throw from my hotel. In fact, I was so pleased that I went back for dinner.

After more work than I anticipated of playing amateur meta-cartographer of several web and paper maps, viola Shona's trekking gear shop was duly located and entered. Thing was when I arrived at 10.30 as the odd fellow who picked up the phone when I called ahead had suggested, I found out "oh this the sales shop and you need to come back in an hour to speak to someone about a sleeping bag rental." Returning as directed I found Shona and her husband who had a young girl guide me through a war zone around a side alley to the rental shop. I was asked my height and where I was going, explained the price structure (a deposit and $1 per day) and requested to come back the next day for pickup.

I was beginning to get a handle on the maze of alleys and how to get myself safely back to my hotel. A handy trick too was to wear sunglasses because the hawkers don't want to fool with eyeless wraiths.

How did I get here?

high_altitide — Wed, 9 Apr 2014 16:20:00 GMT

For the flying cognoscenti it was SAN-ORD-LHR-BKK-KTM.

Three hours to Chicago with a slightly early arrival for a tight connection to London. The only inconvenience was having to walk from C to B terminal. I forgot to mention that naturally the departure board showed in red letters MAINTENANCE DELAY. Upon my timely arrival at the gate I dutifully inquired about the delay and learned that "the aircraft is in the hangar." I could now conjure up the worst case scenario of the current half hour delay getting pushed yet further out and my missing my next tight connection to Bangkok.

The fortune goddess shone her graces on me this day as I took one of six first class suites in the 777-300 and the captain announced that the time would be made up with help from a stiff tailwind for an on time arrival. Too bad this was a 7-1/2 hour flight because after the climb to cruising altitude and meal service there was about a four hour nap time. But for my 35 hr. journey I was mentally prepared to accept whatever time slots I was given. The late dinner (21.30 departure) was fine but service was the typical glum faces I have gotten used to on UAL.that stems from international flights being given to a crew with "senior" status (in more ways than one).

I was in the second row, but knowing I needed to transfer terminals at the ginormous Heathrow complex, I gently elbowed my way past the grandmother and family with baby seat in the first row so that I would be off first and able to sprint down the jetway. Down the seemingly endless set of corridors and escalator that the "transfer" signs bade me to follow, I was unceremoniously dumped into a tiny waiting area for the bus to take from T1 to T3. After the new security check and the careful eyeballing at the gate of my travel documents, I stood for about five minutes before Thai opened for boarding.

i knew in advance that this 747-400 configuration would provide only nine suites in the aircraft nose, but I was astonished to find that I was the sole occupant of the cabin today. There were two crew members doting on my every need and non-need for the 12 hr duration of this lengthy affair to Bangkok. Dom Perignon for the start and to stick with in view of the poor French wine menu. On to the traditional Euro starter of caviar, Melba toast, shredded egg white, crushed egg yolk and herbed sour cream. This is the life I thought somehow ignoring the rice and lentils that I would soon need to savage my palate with.

The piece de resistance was the pre-flight online lobster I had ordered and the attendant disclaimed because of its small size. Finishing with a lemon tart and a coffe laced with Kaluha. Then it was time to crack open the packaged of size selected PJs to go night night. Seeing as how I could order the crew off my deck, I chose to avoid the contortionist experience of changing in the toilet going in situ.

First one off this aircraft with my trusty help holding back the minions in business class and thanking me by name as I headed out to be met at the top of the jetway by my personal escort and driver to take me by cart to the First Royal Silk lounge for my 4 hr. transfer, also on Thai to Khatmandu.

Base camp Khatmandu

high_altitide — Wed, 9 Apr 2014 16:05:00 GMT

Elevation 1450m/4500ft

Well, here I am in Shangri La. Where the air is so polluted the risen sun appears as a fuzzy orange ball in a seipia cloud. Where the streets look like jigsaw puzzles topped with a cake of fine dust. Where the hawkers call out to try to get your attention and then your money. Where the answer is always, yes I can help you when in fact they have not understood you but keep repeating the same mantra I suppose with the expectation that you will be so exasperated you'll give up and go away. Yes, Khatmandu is a little slice of heaven on earth.

The airport is not so bad certainly in comparison to the shabby excuse for a terminal that I found myself at in Bangalore some years back. Clean and good news that all my luggage made the journey. Interestingly, the carousel was hemmed in by huge pea green plastic bags that each listed an expedition name in Sharpee ink. Like Walter Mitty, I could pretend that I was a member just waiting for the jet stream to stop in the "window" so that I could navigate the Khumbu icefall in my crampons and icepick in hand.

On the ride in from the airport somehow I let it fall from my lips (and I had ordered up a private ride since I had no desire after this journey to wait for other stragglers coming in for my tour organizer) that I had previously visited India. I shall never forget my trepidation after the driver smiled and said "this is a lot like India."

Someone gave my hotel three stars - maybe this is trekker code. My first day while groggy from jetlag the hammering at the adjacent edifice and then the sound of knife blade hitting stone cutting board were extra amenities that I did not see on the web. The desk clerk was apologetic and told me that another room was unavailable for the night, but she would be able to move me the next day. Thank the Lord that I remembered to bring earplugs and Ambien.