When we make it to Kathmandu in early October Pema will be waiting there for us. He will be our guide above Lukla to Kala Pathar and to Island Peak. But before we hurtle ourselves at the cliff face / airstrip at Lukla we’ll spend some brief quality time with Pema in his urban element. I think his top priority will be to take us shopping to for us to buy our own prayer beads. Rich and I built up some bad karma here this summer, and Pema wishes us to prevent the perils in our next lives for our misdeeds in doing yard work. Rich asked Pema, Minga and me to do a little cleanup around his house to cut down some wild growth and to do some painting. As we were scraping off the old paint from one corner near the roof, we found ourselves at odds with a hornet’s nest, and Minga was the unfortunate target of their desperate defense. One zeroed in for a kamikaze sting, and then a second. Pema was alarmed and feared for Mingma’s life with a third strike; it was his understanding that three strings from a bee was fatal so he swiftly got her away and turned to me for urgent intervention.

Thanks to Joseph for his story about Ama Dablam and his advice on evacuation insurance. It turns out a member of his group needed an emergency evacuation from pretty high up, and fortunately he was covered through his membership with the American Alpine Club (AAC). Of course that only covers the expenses directly related to getting you off the mountain (dead or alive) and no further medial or travel mishaps. Their basic policy limits to an elevation of 6,000 meters, with steep premiums beyond. The highlight of our trek will be Island Peak, which is at 6,189 meters, and for some reason the insurance company feels that the extra 190 meters is a much greater actuarial risk. That reminds me of Becky’s story about whittling down the height of Gyalgen Peak with a clerk from the Ministry of Culture, Tourism & Civil Aviation to mitigate the cost of her hiking permit. Perhaps I can find a dusty old map somewhere that lists Island Peak at 5,999 meters.

Yet another item on your packing list that is eminently important for your trek is your pair of boots. Your boots really will distinguish their value to you as your primary interface with the county of Nepal. We can’t state too obviously that only the perfect boots will do. You will need boots that are comfy (wearing the thick hiking socks), that are waterproof, that are broken in, that have good ankle stability, and are lightweight. Any of those factors not in perfect astrological alignment will give you a lot of miserable days on the trail. Really the best way to be sure of all this ahead of time is to buy or otherwise acquire a pair and try them out for a few hikes. Abuse them a bit so that you’ll test all the limits and quickly soften up the boot leather (even if it’s not even real leather).

We were recently looking through our collection of photos from Nepal to find some truly representative traditional Sherpa clothing. Pema told me about the old days when they would wear fur hats and shoes that were just a patch of leather wrapped around the feet and padded with dried grass. In all of recorded digital history though we couldn’t find anyone in such a quaint outfit, but Pema was proud to share a photo from when he had dressed up in his finest. There he was in a Stetson hat and cowboy boots, along with his chuba and kanam. He insisted that this was a traditional outfit, but we were sure he didn’t understand. To me “traditional” means it has cultural significance, that you wear it on certain occasions, and you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it under normal circumstances, like when we dress up as pilgrims and Indians in America for Thanksgiving. Or am I the only one that still does that? So we repeated and clarified the question to Pema if he had pictures in traditional clothing. And then we traded incredulous shrugs.