Daisy: March 2020

After four more days of trekking – following the path up and up over high passes in the hills marked with piles of carved stones and strings of tattered, fluttering prayer flags, and then down and down again into the terraced farmland of the valleys – we finally see Lukla clinging to the mountainside above us. As the path skirts below the town, a propellor plane comes in, flying so low over our heads that the roar of its engines forces me to clamp my hands over my ears. I turn to watch it make the landing on the infamous airstrip above us, engines screaming as it makes a stomach-churning last-second swerve to the right at the top of the short runway to avoid the sheer wall of rock in front of it.

I can’t help feeling glad I’ve managed to miss that particular experience. But from this point on, where our path joins the main Everest Base Camp trail, the climb into the higher mountains really begins. I tip my head back to look up at the snow-covered peaks emerging from the clouds on either side of the valley.

Tashi Sherpa seems to brighten visibly the further he gets from Kathmandu and the closer he gets to his home in the mountains. He answers my questions about the birds we see soaring above us – mostly vultures, but he spots an eagle too – with a ready smile. And he laughs and jokes with the few people we meet along the way. There’ve been almost no tourists in the past few days. The few we have crossed paths with have all been heading in the opposite direction, back towards Kathmandu and the possibility of a plane home. Sonam, on the other hand, becomes a little quieter and more preoccupied with each mile we cover, every step carrying us closer to Phortse.

‘Three more days, Mrs Daisy, no worry,’ Tashi tells me as I shrug off my backpack and sink thankfully into a chair on a terrace outside the teahouse in Phakding. It’s been another long day’s hike and the sun is setting, bathing the snow-capped peaks in rosy light. I gratefully accept the welcoming cup of tea the owner’s daughter brings me, feeling a pang of guilt as I notice our porters’ baskets propped against the wall by the door with my heavy bag still tied to the top of the load.

‘We get to Namche Bazaar tomorrow. Stay two nights there so you don’t get sick. Then Phortse day after that.’ Tashi goes to get the keys for our rooms, while Sonam pulls out his phone and flicks a little despondently through his messages before placing it face down on the table.

‘Beautiful view,’ I say, gesticulating with my cup towards the last of the light as it slides up to the very top of the mountains, chased by the dark shadows of evening. ‘Amazing sky.’

He shrugs, attempting to summon a little enthusiasm, and his phone buzzes with an inbound message.

‘News from your friends?’ I ask him, nodding to where it sits in its plastic case on the table between us.

He picks it up and glances at the screen. ‘Not good news,’ he says. ‘But then it never is these days. This virus is affecting everyone.’ He puts it back down and gazes morosely out across the valley again.

I shiver as the last of the light slips away and the chill of night immediately envelops us. In an attempt to cheer Sonam up a bit, I pull my own phone out of my pocket and scroll through until I find a photo of my girls. ‘These are my daughters,’ I say, holding it out for him to see. ‘They’re about the same age as you. Not easy times for young people everywhere.’

He takes it from me and examines the picture carefully. ‘Very beautiful,’ he says, smiling a little more widely. ‘What are their names?’

I point. ‘This one’s Sorcha and that one’s Mara.’

‘Mara?’ he asks. ‘Is that a Scottish name?’

I nod. ‘It means the sea, in Gaelic.’

‘In Buddhism, Mara is a demon,’ he says.

I laugh. ‘Well, she can be a bit of a demon sometimes, I suppose. But mostly she’s okay.’

‘And the other one – Sorcha? What does her name mean?’

‘Shining light,’ I reply. ‘I grew up on the shores of a wild Scottish sea loch, so you don’t have to look very far to see where I got my inspiration from. Does your name have a meaning?’

‘Sonam means merit, or good karma,’ he replies. ‘And my dad’s name means good luck. It can be quite a lot to live up to. We get given our names by the monks, depending on what is auspicious at the time of our birth. Although a lot of people just get called after the days of the week, which is why you’ll meet a lot of Mingmas, Lhakpas and Pembas in the Sherpa community.’

He hands me back my phone. ‘What do your daughters do?’

‘They’re both studying at university. Although I guess that’s probably about to grind to a halt if this lockdown they’re talking about actually happens.’

‘Same here,’ he says. ‘Same all over the world.’

‘What was the course you wanted to do in Kathmandu?’ I ask him.

‘Computing. I want a good job in the city. But instead maybe I’ll have to become a guide like my dad and take people up Mount Everest. My parents don’t want that for me – it’s a dangerous career. It’s a good way of earning money, but it comes at a cost too, because the mountain gives but she takes as well. In 2014, many Sherpas were killed in an avalanche on the Khumbu Icefall, just above Base Camp. Maybe you heard about it?’

‘I read the newspaper reports. It was a terrible tragedy.’

‘Terrible for the ones who died. Terrible, too, for the widows they left behind who depended on the money they should have made from guiding. And for the more than fifty orphans, and the elderly who they supported as well. This is a tough place to survive, Mrs Daisy, no matter how beautiful it is.’

He gets to his feet, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jacket. ‘We better go inside. It’s getting cold now. You can check into your room and then have something to eat. Tomorrow is a hard day’s climb to Namche Bazaar, and we will cross the Hillary Bridge, so you’ll need to keep your strength up.’

Tucked up in my sleeping bag that night, I rub my feet together, trying to warm them. Sonam’s words ring in my head. I knew this trip would be a challenge, of course, but the dangers are very real and getting closer. I feel we’ve reached a tipping point on the trek now we’ve passed Lukla. I guess I could still turn back, return to Kathmandu and try to get a flight home. But we’re over halfway to Phortse now. I check my emails to see whether there’s anything more from the British Embassy, but there’s no reply to another message I sent yesterday asking for advice, apart from an automatic response saying the staff are working hard to handle queries, but due to the pandemic there will be unavoidable delays.

I toss and turn in my bed, once again physically exhausted but still somehow unable to sleep.

The screen on my phone lights up with a message and I reach to read it, hoping it may be from Mum. But it’s a newsflash from one of the Nepali news channels I’ve been following. ‘All domestic and international flights in and out of Nepal are now cancelled until further notice.’ So that’s that, then. Definitely no turning back now.

Giving up on trying to fall asleep, I turn on the light, swallow the big lump of loneliness that rises in my throat and reach for Violet’s journal to help keep it at bay.