EBC TREK: Dingboche to Lobuche (Day 7)

          The night before we were told that there are only a few guesthouses in Lobuche and that they fill quickly so we'd need to get an early start. We did not. After finally getting on the trail around 8:30 I was not happy. It was windy and cold and there was still snow on the ground from the night before. With large tour groups on the trail ahead of us, Mike decided to hurry and go ahead so that we could be sure to get a guesthouse for the night.

          I fell back with the girls and we picked up the pace, making up time. We climbed out of the valley that Dingboche sits in and the morning fog thinned. Other than the cold, the first half of the day's trek proved fairly easy with only gradual slopes and some of the best mountain views we'd seen yet were revealed.

       

          The whole morning had been spent following a steep mountain ridge that finally descended to a small river cutting through another valley. We crossed a walking bridge and stopped briefly for a water break. We'd arrived at the most challenging section of the day's hike. Just ahead was a steep ascent up rugged and rocky terrain. It was quite literally an uphill battle that ended up taking us almost 45 minutes to reach the top.  

Memorial for world-class climber Scott Fischer who died
leading an expedition up Everest

          Once we reached the top we stopped for a break and to take pictures of the awesome scenery. Upon the hilltop were masses of stupas and chortens. Chortens are more than just decorated rock piles.  They are shrines-- stone monuments for Sherpas and trekkers who have died on the mountain.  This area of the trek was covered with them.  After we'd caught our breath and captured some great photos, we pressed on, trekking for another hour until we reached Lobuche. 

prayer flags and chortens

          Snow was falling lightly as we arrived and it continued all night. The weather was no longer enjoyable. Worse than snow were the constant cold and fierce winds. To add, the terrain was getting more and more rugged-- more like what you would picture when thinking of a desolate, bouldery terrain above the tree line. Streams were now iced over and the ground was frozen and stiff. The beautiful mountain landscape in the distance was a pleasant but brief distraction.  I was sick of being cold. Sick of dry eyes, chapped lips, and a runny nose. Sick of being sick. Sick of tea, coffee, and hot chocolate-- but they were the only damn way to keep warm.  But this is what we'd come for-- a challenge and an adventure to Mt. Everest.  It was definitely both.

Should've said "Welcome to Hell"

          Mike arrived at Lobuche an hour earlier than Brittany, Leanne, and I.  Luckily, he was able to get us two rooms (if you can call them that) for the night. It was by far the worst place we'd stayed so far. Two dirty mattresses laying inside of wooden box with a hard-plastic window. A paper bag type cloth covering the thin plywood walls was the only insulation. There was no flooring, just a plastic tarp covering the hard frozen dirt that was the ground beneath us. It was the most basic of protection from the elements, shielding us from the snow and wind and nothing more. The cold was inescapable. It was almost as bad as being outside.

my "room" in Lobuche (check out the video below for more)

          We dropped our bags and looked around outside.  Lobuche is much smaller than any of the other "settlements" we had stopped at.  It consists of nothing more than a few lodging establishments and is infamous for its filthy simplicity.  And so we headed to the common room.  It was slightly warmer there, only because this is where everyone was. It was a large room with tables and chairs and there were two yak dung stoves that seemed to produce nothing more than stink, definitely no heat.  Cold cold cold cold freaking cold cold. and sick. and COLD. At this point I was considering taking the Diamox to ease the impact of the elevation. For the rest of the night, I sat reading in the common room, bundled up. I saw a suspect-looking Sherpa dude wearing flip-flops eyeing up my boots. I had taken them off and put them next to the stove-heater to warm up. I quickly put them back on for fear of them being stolen. The last thing I needed was to be stuck on top of this mountain with bare feet.

WANT TO SEE THE CHORTENS, SOME MOUNTAINS, AND MY "DELUXE ACCOMMODATION" IN LOBUCHE?  CHECK OUT THIS QUICK 2-MINUTE CLIP I PUT TOGETHER FROM DAY 7...

          It was another night of me going to bed early. The next day we were to walk to Gorak Shep, only about two hours away but supposedly even less of an establishment than Lobuche. We'd have to be walking by 7am if we wanted to get rooms. The good news: Gorak Shep would be our last stop before reaching our goal of Everest Base Camp.

NOTE: The aforementioned book that I finished that night was Escape from Kathmandu by Majushree Thapa. This is a great read about the political history (or lack thereof) of Nepal and I 'd highly recommend it to anyone traveling to Nepal or interested in the country's past and current struggles. It's a bit tough powering through the dry history of the political parties and leaders, but ends up being very eye-opening and I'd even say suspenseful. This is probably one of the best books addressing the current Nepalese political state, the situation with the Maoist rebels, and their fight to establish a real democracy.  Eat your knowledge-- check it out!

EBC TREK: Acclimatization in Dingboche (Day 6)

End of day 5:

           We approached like cowboys riding in on a nearly dead town. It was silent except for the wind whipping against the prayer flags. The town should've had an Old West name like Misery or Tombstone but instead it was called Dingboche. Dingboche is small and simple. There are couple general shops, a bakery (there's always a bakery), two obnoxiously overpriced “internet cafes”, and a few teahouses.

Welcome to Dingboche
Population: 201
Elevation: 4530 m/ 14800 ft

           We settled on the first one we came to, creatively named Dingboche Guesthouse and Restaurant. Again, we negotiated free accommodation for buying all our meals here. It was a plain guesthouse. The bed rooms were small and smelled of their thin plywood walls. No running water and no electricity. The common room was a good size. It consisted of a small stove-heater in the center. Each wall was lined with a pillow-covered bench. Each bench had a table in front of it. If this were an Old West town there'd of been a big bear or bull skull on the wall, but we were in Nepal so instead they hung the skull of a yak. 

 The common room at Dingboche Guesthouse 

       

 If I was a cowboy, the Sherpas would be the Indians acting as friendly guides and liaisons to their native land. Sherpa people lead simple but not easy lives. It's always cold but the Sherpas never look bothered by it. Perhaps it's because they've inhabited the eastern Khumbu region for hundreds of years. Although most Sherpas don't get much of a formal education, they all speak English (a valuable and necessary skill for the tourism industry). After generations of living at and adapting to high elevation, the Sherpas have the ability to perform strenuous labor with less oxygen, making them the best mountain climbers and guides in the world. Generally, they're short in stature, but noticeably strong. They have a unique ethnic look, not obviously east-Asian or Indian. The visibly genetic traits are uniquely their own. Friendly sun-squinted eyes decorate a weathered face with rosy cheeks. Every Sherpa has rosy cheeks.

Big Momma Sherpa... ran the guesthouse

Day 6 (2^nd mandatory acclimatization and rest day):

          The extreme elevation does something to a person's bladder. On average I would have to wake up four times every night to pee like a race horse. This was not fun. An hour or so after finally falling asleep I'd get an uncomfortable urge. I'd pull off the large wool blanket that was the only thing keeping in the warm bubble my body heat created. At night, it felt just as cold inside as it felt outside, minus the wind. It would take a minute for me to rub my eyes and find my head lamp and turn it on. Then, I would trade the wool booties for my hiking boots as to not soak them in the other people's urine that covered the bathroom floor. There always seemed to be a small puddle or stream surrounding the toilet where prior pissers' flash lights or aim or both had failed them. It was like a moat. A pee moat. It became like a game to me and I got pretty good at it. Standing on one side of the moat and peeing into the toilet on the other. I thought of it more like the 3-point line in basketball. Having to go really bad at that elevation, there's already a decent amount of pressure allowing you to shoot from a good distance. Combine that with a slight backward lean and you get a beautiful golden arch. If need be you can pinch a bit towards the end to create the garden hose effect. This, along with a few well-placed grunts are essential for sinking the last few drops. After this, I would return to my room and form a new cocoon in my blanket, only to sleep another hour and a half before having to wake up and repeat the process.

          The next day greeted me with my usual morning headache and cough. I dressed and went into the common room for some apple porridge. After eating I walked around the town to see what it had to offer. I saw smoke coming from a small establishment with beer signs in the window and a Sherpa man welcomed me inside. He handed me a cold beer and led me to a backroom where a man-on-man game of Russian Roulette was taking place. Old Sherpas were cheering and smoking cigarettes and taking shots of Himalayan moonshine as they placed their lowly bets on which contender would pull the trigger for his last time. And then I... okay, okay... none of this last paragraph really happened. The truth is, when I went out to find what the town had to offer, I quickly discovered that the answer was absolutely nothing.  It was a ghost-town.  I saw a few yaks, some rocks, and a tumbleweed.  Sorry, no gambling Sherpas with pistols.

view of Dingboche from a hill top... not much to it.

          Only 10 am and already bored, I returned to the guesthouse and paid for a hot shower-- my second shower since the trek began. The further along the EBC trek you go, the higher the price is for a shower, especially a hot one. I paid 400 NRS (about $5 USD)-- later on I saw prices get as high as $20 USD! Many people go the entire trek without taking a single shower. The shower that I used was in a small outside shack. It consisted of an electric water-heater with a hose that was rigged to a pail with several holes drilled in the bottom serving as the shower head. I washed my body and washed my clothes. Steam filled the shack and cleared my sinuses and for a minute I felt normal again. I would have happily paid twice as much. 

keeping warm

          The rest of the day was spent in the common room. I rotated between reading, eating, sleeping. The temporary sinus relief from the hot shower was short lived and my head began producing surprising amounts of green and yellow mucus. It was pretty impressive actually. I blew my nose every three minutes and the pile of Kleenex on the table in front of me grew larger as the hours went by. Other than my book, the only entertainment was watching the two year-old Sherpa baby named Lokba. He waddled around the common room and make faces at us while his mother broke up “yak chips” for the furnace with her bare hands. I hope she washed them before making my dinner but I doubt it.

Lokba Sherpa

          At night the common room filled with other travelers. I watch through the window as a thick fog rolled in and visibility outside was reduced to less than 10 feet. Sitting at the table next to us, was a middle-aged Japanese trekker and his guide. Mr. Roboto kept to himself and didn't speak to anyone, unlike his guide who, like most Sherpas, was friendly and talkative. The guide and my group made small talk and we asked some questions about the upcoming days of the trek and what to expect. He told us that our next destination, the town of Lobuche, only had a few guesthouses and that they filled quickly so we should get an early start in the morning to beat the large guided groups of trekkers. Waking up early meant going to bed early so I took his advice and, already exhausted from a day of doing nothing, I went to bed.

EBC TREK: Tengboche to Dingboche (Day 5)

          I had a splitting headache and a grating cough. Nausea, fever, and fatigue cramped my body. I would continue to wake up in this manner for the next ten days. The horrible cold was bad enough and now the altitude was getting to me. It was like having a hangover without getting to have fun the night before. I'd previously made the decision to try and complete the trek without using of Diamox, a medication for treating altitude sickness (AMS).

          Eat your knowledge: Diamox is helpful for adjusting to breathing the thin air of high altitudes and relieving the symptoms of AMS. However, it doesn't actually treat the sickness. This can be dangerous. The symptoms are your warning signal that something is wrong and if they're being suppressed, you may not realize the severity of the condition. Continuing on with a trek and climbing higher in altitude while sick can be deadly. For this reason, I was avoiding taking the Diamox.

This guy greeted me when I opened the door from my room

          I put two more layers on top of what I already was wearing.  I was expecting to feel a rush of freezing wind and to see a layer of fog like the night before when I opened the door . I was pleasantly surprised when I felt sunlight on my face and the air was clear and crisp. Instantly my ailments seemed to fade. 

          Outside, several groups of early risers were walking around on the green grass taking pictures of the Tengboche monastery and taking in the views. The legendary mountain vistas that were guarded by the fog the night before, were now perfectly visible. I wandered over to a group of people looking and pointing and overheard them spouting off the names of several distant peaks. I followed the direction of their pointing fingers and noticed one that stood out from the others. It was far away, but it's beauty and size were apparent and intimidating. A trail of snow crystals whipped from it's summit and seemed to stand still, frozen in the air above the mountain. I was taking in my first view of Mt. Everest.

My first view of Everest... you can see the snow-whipped peak on the left.

          I met up with my crew at the bakery, mashed an apple pancake, and we hit the trail once again heading to our next checkpoint, Dingboche. We weren't on the trail long when a man jogged by us wearing only a light jacket, a small backpack, and a number pinned to his chest. Then another and another, each coming from the direction we were heading. A yak-train crossing a small suspension bridge forced to stop for a few minutes and we had the chance to talk to one of the runners. He told us that he was competing in the world's highest marathon, the Everest Marathon, starting at Gorak Shep (5184 m) and finishing at Namche Bazaar where we were two days earlier. I couldn't believe it. I was having trouble just walking around and this dude was racing in a freaking mountain-marathon.

Leanne and Brittany trying not to get run over by the yak train

          With my ego a bit deflated and self-confidence slightly bruised, I continued on. My friends and I followed the winding river far below us as we trekked along the mountainside path. For much of the trek, we could see Everest and several other fabled peaks far in the distance. The first half of the trek was pretty easy, mostly descents or small, gradual ascents. After two hours we stopped in a small town (Pangboche) on the river for lunch.

          We ate and started hiking again and shortly after, I realized that we had passed the tree line. This is the “edge of the habitat at which trees are capable of growing”. I don't recall the exact elevation, but the tree line is much higher in the Himalayas than in North America. I hardly noticed the transition from lush forests to the suddenly barren terrain.  Tall green trees were replaced by colorless rocks and small shrubs.  Harsh winds picked up as we proceeded through the rocky valley. I thought of the woman in Kathmandu that gave me a free buff to protect my face and I was thankful. Coming out of a daydream I rounded a bend and in the very near distance I saw our destination. We'd made great time and after only four hours total, we reached Dingboche (4,530 meters) where we would stay the night and again the next day for our second mandatory acclimatization camp.

from beautiful...

... to barren

EBC TREK: Namche to Tengboche (Day 4)

     At 7:30 I finished my cheese omelet and cinnamon roll at the Everest Bakery, ready to leave Namche Bazaar for the tiny mountain-top town of Tengboche. The day started out beautifully. The weather was perfect, bright and clear. It was the first time since reaching Namche that I didn't need a jacket. We weaved our way up and out of Namche, a giant nest in the side of a mountain. As soon as we reached the peak and the trail rounded the ridge there were insane mountain views in every direction. I could see far in the distance. There were ivory snow caps above and an icy river carving its way through the valley below. The trail itself was one long, snaking pathway wrapped along side the mountain.

     An hour into the hike we came to a Sherpa woman in the middle of the trail. She was sitting on a chair behind a table with a box of money. It read “donations” and next to it was a log for passing trekkers to sign. She manned her post with a smile and I gave her the equivalent of a dollar, a voluntary toll. The log displayed the names and countries of hundreds of trekkers that passed before us. I wrote my name. Next to it, large and with pride, I represented in giant capital letters... U.S.A.!

Ya gotta pay the troll toll...

     I took pictures as we walked. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I tried to burn the scenery into my memory. I always thought that I preferred the beach. I do prefer the beach. But there was something magnificent about the mountains that struck me. Something ancient and grand. It was awesome in the true sense of the word.

     The first half of the hike was fairly easy. When I felt my knees bothering me a little bit, I realized that we had back walking downhill for quite awhile. The difference in altitude from Namche to Tengboche is only about 500 meters. The hike so far had been so easy because, after hours of progress, my friends and I had gradually gone down in elevation. Now we had to go back up.

     We crossed a small suspension bridge and came to the foot of the mountain that Tengboche sits atop of. The day's final climb was a steep 610-meter ascent. The dirt trail was filled with obstacles, fallen trees and small boulders to trip over. It zig-zagged back and forth all the way up to Tengboche.

     Mike power hiked ahead of us. Britt and I trailed far behind and Leanne was somewhere in the middle. We were still sick and the long day was starting to take it's toll. I notice Brittany wasn't looking too good. We'd foolishly skipped lunch and she seemed tired and frustrated. I offered to switch packs for awhile. I put heaved her pack on to my shoulders. “Holy shit! A midget? Is that what you have in there?” I knew her pack was heavy but, WOW! We continued up the trail and I was impressed that she'd gone so far with so much weight! She didn't find my jokes about packing extra granola bars, clothes, and possibly an anvil very funny. The sky turned cloudy, foreshadowing bad weather ahead, so we bundled up. We toughed out the remainder of the treacherous trail and reached the top before dark. 

     Mike greeted us as always, full of energy. He'd already arranged rooms for the night at The Gomba Lodge (200 NRS/night). On the way to the room I looked around Tengboche. The tiny “town” consisted of a handful of tea houses and a beautiful Tibetan Buddhist monastery. It was positioned like a fortress on an open plain at the top of the hill we'd just conquered. The Tengboche Monastery is the largest gomba in the Khumbu region of Nepal. It was originally built in 1916 but was annihilated by an earhquake just 18 years later. It was then rebuilt only to be destroyed for a second time by a fire in 1989. Volunteers from around the world helped to construct the monastery that stands there today.

Tengboche Monastery

     We were now at 3,867 meters in elevation and as soon as the sun began to set the air became frigid.

I walked around outside admiring the monastery and taking pictures. I watched as a few yaks and some horses roamed the giant field freely. I stared into the distance searching for the panoramic Himalayan views that Tengboche is renowned for. The peaks of Tawache, Nuptse, Ama Dablam, Lhotse, Thamserku, and the mother of them all, Everest, are all visible from Tengboche. The sudden change in temperature had pushed a thick cloud over the town. Quickly and stealthily the fog crept in and laid on top of us like a damp blanket. The mountain views would have to wait til morning.

     We ate dinner in the warm bakery attached to our tea house. We talked about the incredible views and the arduous hike at the end as I nursed my sore throat with lemon tea and apple pie. The day had been full of peaks and valleys, both metaphorically and literally. I went back to the room and laid in bed, fully dressed and under a gigantic wool blanket trying to get warm. A failed attempt to read put me to sleep and continued the trend of an early bedtime. It had been the most scenic view day yet, but also the most demanding.

Tengboche the next morning, clear and crisp.

prayer rock.  one of many.

EBC TREK: Lukla to Namche (Days 1-3)

Leanne, the mythical Lesbian city of Shangayla is right there!

Day 1: Lukla to Pakding

"going for a wander" in Lukla

The adrenaline from the helicopter ride was still rushing through my body as I took a mental snap shot of the mountain views surrounding me.  We’d finally made it to Lukla, the starting point of the journey to Everest.  My three friends and I walked elatedly up the sloping runway of the airport and into town.  In my head, I’d imagined that Lukla would be bigger. 

Leaving the airport, we made our way over to what one could refer to as Lukla’s Main Street.  We walked down the undersized stretch of tattered street lined with guesthouses, cafes, and several small shops selling everything from toilet paper to North Face jackets.  Lukla is a trekker’s final opportunity to grab any last-minute essentials before setting out into the mountains.  It’s also the last chance to get money, as there are almost no ATM’s further along. 

the "Everest" burger... womp womp

After spending half an hour finding the local bank to stock up on cash, we decided that we should also stock up on calories.  I sat down with my friends at the first place we came to.  The restaurant was empty but the elevated outside seating let us enjoy the crisp mountain-town air.  For the time being the change in weather felt refreshing, but I had in a feeling that in a few days I would have a different opinion about the cold.  So, we sat.  A friendly Sherpa woman brought us menus and in unison the four of us ordered the Everest burger.  How could you not order the Everest burger?

Our yak-patty burgers arrived 40 minutes later and even though they proved to be nothing short of disappointing, they served their purpose.  We were now fully fueled and ready to go.  Full, stomachs and backpacks alike, we tottered down the short, main stretch of town.  Street turned to cobbled path and as boulders replaced buildings, I knew that the trek had finally begun.

Filled with energy and excitement I hiked briskly, stumbling many times.  It can be hard to focus on the trail in front of you with so much amazing scenery to look at.

With our late start there were not many other trekkers headed toward Pakding with us.  We did cross several groups finishing the tail end of their treks, heading in the opposite direction, back towards Lukla.  Their faces were weathered with pride and there was an unusual liveliness amongst them; a radiance of accomplishment.  Most had overgrown beards and were covered in mountain dirt.  Yet, undoubtedly exhausted, every single one of them still had the energy to put on a smile and greet us warmly, “Namaste!”  One middle-aged man chuckled “You’re gonna love it!” as he passed.  His friendly salutation was surely genuine.  Still, I couldn’t help but sense a hint of mockery hidden behind his steel wool beard.  Enjoy your clean clothes! or Hope you remembered your blister cream, Newbies! is what he was really thinking.

a Sherpa family greeting us as we enter Pakding

And so we hiked.  Up and down, and then up again.  After 2 ½ hours we reached our first checkpoint, the tiny “town” of Pakding.  The sun was retreating behind the mountains for the night and we settled on Buddha Lodge for our first night’s accommodation.  Some effortless haggling with the manager got us two free rooms for the night as long as we agreed to buy our dinner and breakfast there the next morning.  

the common room at Buddha Lodge

A common room with a hot stove kept us warm as we drank tea and ate Sherpa stew.  The hike was short but it had been a long day.  Whatever energy I had earlier had been sucked out of me from the excitement of the day’s events.  I wasn’t sure if I was just tired or catching a cold, but with a headache and what felt like a the beginnings of a sore throat, I went to bed early, eager to continue the next morning.

Day 2: Pakding to Namche Bazaar

 

just spin 3 times to erase your sins!

The next morning, I woke up feeling worse.  I wanted a shower, but for a ridiculous $5 charge, I decided to skip it.  A breakfast of overcooked eggs and undercooked bacon was somehow satisfying.  It shot some life into me and by 9am the Fantastic 4 were back on the trail.  We spun the prayer wheel outside for good luck and headed to our next checkpoint, Namche Bazaar.  The hike started out awesome!  The weather was warm but cloudy.  I trudged along without a jacket and took in the epic panorama.  My eyes followed the mountains up and up, turning from green to brown to grey, and then finally disappearing into the ceiling of clouds so high above.

We arrived at our first suspension bridge about an hour into the hike.  The bridge stretched across a giant gap between mountains, separated by the roaring Bhote Koshi River hundreds of feet below.  We waited for a group of Sherpas and their yaks to cross the bridge and then we set out upon its narrow, bouncing frame.  Blue, white, red, and yellow prayer flags were strung along the entire length of the bridge by previous passers-by for good luck.  They flapped in the wind, snapping loudly.  Below me the rapids rushed and swirled together on their descent from the top of the world.  The water was a glacial gray-green that I can only describe as cold.  It was just short of being ice.  Arctic cold.  If Crayola made a crayon that color it would be called cold-as-shit-blue.  COLD.

About halfway to our checkpoint, we stopped in the small town Josale, just past the even smaller town called Monju.  Here we caught the first glimpses of a few snow-capped mountaintops while we ordered lunch.  I ate garlic soup, which, according to Sherpa lore, is supposed to help with acclimatization and adjusting to altitude.  Also, it’s friggin' delicious.

Eventually, we passed through the entrance of the park, signed our names in a log and showed our TIMS permits.  We were officially inside Sagarmatha National Park!  We continued on.  A light rain accompanied the hardest part of the day’s trek, a steep zigzag ascent of 750 meters.  Back and forth, we climbed.  Mike and I led the way until finally we rounded the final bend and Namche revealed itself, an entire town nestled in the side of the mountain overlooking the valley.  It looked like a painting.  It looked epic.  It looked fake.  We made our way past a giant prayer wheel and into town.  As we entered I could smell food cooking and music blaring from a bar further up.  Axel Rose’s voice boomed from the speakers, “Take me down to the paradise city…” How appropriate.

Welcome to Namche Bazaar!  Altitude: 3,440 m

After checking into Hotel Namche (pretty nice for 200 NRS/ night), we ate dinner and warmed up in the heated common room overlooking the enormous gorge.   The clouds parted and revealed a mountain-sunset more incredible than any beach-sunset I’ve ever seen. 

I felt a fever creeping, so after I finished the meat momos (dumplings) and a bowl of Sherpa stew, I went straight to bed.  I wanted to shake whatever sickness I had.  Day two had been everything I had hoped it would be.  We were now at 4,330 meters in altitude.  Before going any higher, I wanted to be at 100%.

Day 3:  Acclimatization day in Lukla

For everyone doing the Everest base camp trek, day three serves as a mandatory acclimatization day to help adjust to the drastic climb in altitude.  While Mike and Leanne used it as a day to venture out and explore the town, Britt and I used it as nothing more than a rest day.  I battled a fever the entire night before and Brittany, coping with splitting headache, was worried about altitude sickness. 

Red card!

The rainy weather took away some of the guilt of staying in bed while Mike and Leanne got to check out the amazing viewpoint at the top of the mountain.  They were overlooking the entire village and the valley below it while stared out the window.  Being that Namche is the absolute last place to get necessities (without paying astronomical prices), I stocked up on batteries and cough drops and bought some dope yak-wool socks that would prove invaluable later.  Aside from that and walking across the street to Liquid Bar to watch the afternoon movie (fittingly, the Imax Everest documentary), I stayed in bed and read.  Staying up past 8 pm was the most adventurous thing I did that long, slow day.