Sleeping with the Gods - The Everest Trek

Well, this is one hell of a story.  The Everest Trek was one of the most incredible things I've ever done in my life.  It may take more than one blog post to adequately describe the 17-day adventure I was just on.  I'm just going to start typing and see how far this goes...

*Side note: The over/under on how many heart attacks I give my mother as she reads this is 3.5

There are a lot of ways I can describe the Everest Trek.  One way to describe it is painful.  I'm currently dealing with the aftermath; a tweaked ankle, a sore knee, cuts and bruises, burnt and blistered skin  It was at times excruciating and it pushed me past the limits of what I knew my body was capable of.  Still, in spite of all the pain and anguish, I found myself standing at the summit of Kala Pattar, triumphant and proud, staring the world's tallest mountain right in the face.

I never really understood why people climbed mountains.  I always figured there must be some kind of existential or cathartic experience people hoped to attain.  Perhaps some sense of accomplishment at 'conquering' some of the world's tallest mountains and most inhospitable environments.

Now I don't really know if any of that is true or if it's all bullshit.  I don't feel like I conquered anything.  I dont think I really had a moment of catharsis.  What I do know is that I had a tremendous feeling of accomplishment when I arrived back in Kathmandu, and the indescribable feeling I had at the summit of Kala Pattar--16 days after I departed Kathmandu for that very spot--was one of the best I've ever had in my life.

I arrived in Kathmandu on April 14th with my English friend Colin Fairbank.  He's nearing the end of his round-the-world adventure, and figured a trek in Nepal might be a fun way to end it.  I'm on my way to Europe to spend a little time there before my trip is over, and figured stops in Nepal and Turkey would be a fun route to take.

In Kathmandu we stayed in the Thamel area, which was eerily reminiscent of the backpacker-frenzied Khao San Road in Bangkok, which I was not particularly fond of.  As it turned out, I enjoyed my time in Thamel much more than Khao San Road.

In Thamel, Colin and I met up with Wim Gielis, a nice Belgian guy I met in Kuala Lumpur and who Colin had met in the Chiang Mai area of Thailand.  Although he looks like a beast, Van-Damme like, buzz-cut, and standing at 6'3, 220lbs, he was an exceptionally nice guy who became a great friend over the course of the trip.

The three of us purchased the Lonely Planet Guide: Trekking in the Nepal Himalaya to try to figure out exactly what kind of adventure we were after.  After debating the Annapurna Circuit (25 days, or 10 at its shortest, and supposedly the most beautiful), the Manaslu Circuit (2 weeks, high altitude, and interesting because we had nicknamed Manaslu 'Sexy Mountain' after seeing photographs of the summit), or the Everest Circuit (23-40 days depending on the route, extreme altitude).

That day, we were walking in search of a place to get some MoMos (a local dish, much like a super delicious dumpling) when Wim suddenly broke formation to follow two gorgeous ladies into a restaurant.  We followed him in and sat down.  The place was called OR2K and was a vegetarian restaurant.  Normally eating at a vegetarian restaurant would be against everything I believe in as a human being, but noting the clientele (beautiful Israeli women), we became frequent patrons.

That first day, however, we didn't meet any Israeli women.  We did, however, meet a Canadian named Dan Baum and a former Israeli special forces medic named Eran Sheffer.  These two guys would join our group and create our very international trekking team: United States (me), England (Colin), Belgium (Wim), Canada (Dan), and Israel (Eran).

After a few days of thinking it over and discussing, we decided to to the Everest Region trek.  We had two options of how to enter the region:

1. We fly from Kathmandu 35 minutes to land at Lukla, the World's Most Dangerous Airport, where there were two fatal crashes in 2010 alone
2.  We take a bus from Kathmandu to Shivalaya and walk from there to Everest, a trip that would require an additional 7 days of trekking.

We weighed the options and made our decision primarily because it was believed that we would be much fitter and better acclimatized for the Everest trek if we chose the second option.  That belief would turn out to be true.  Days 7-17 and the summit of Kala Pattar were easy in comparison to our first 7 days on the trail.

We bought equipment, stripped our packs to the bare essentials, and prepared to set out on what would become the most epic adventure of any of our lives.

My gear all laid out, along with the essential UM flag

As we prepared, Colin gave us some advice as he had the most experience by far.  He had experience in mountaineering, summiting 6400m Illumani Peak in Bolivia and a 5500m peak in Huaraz, Peru, as well as trekking, completing the Great Ocean Walk from Apollo Bay to the 12 Apostles, Australia (a distance of over 100km) in only 3 days time.

He cautioned us in packing intelligently, removing several 'unecessary' articles of clothing and gear from everyone's packs and emphasizing the need for the group to work as a team.

"I promise you guys, every man here will have at least one moment of doubt or pain.  Have no misconceptions, this trek is not going to be easy."

Thinking he was just being dramatic we all kind of went "yeah, yeah, whatever you say.  How hard could it possibly be?"

Day 0: The Bus to Shivalaya

We knew the bus was supposed to take a very long time, but given the distance (a little over 100km), we figured even with a lot of stops it wouldn't take as long as everyone said it would.  We were completely wrong.  The bus was so packed that Nepalis were on the roof hanging on.  At bus stops we (in the back row), we preferred to climb in and out of the window rather than attempt to make it down the aisle to the front.

The road was in such poor condition and was so incredibly bouncy that we started gambling on how many times we got launched out of our seats.  I can't remember the exact number but it was around 25, no exaggeration.  People got motion sick and began vomiting.  At one point, Eran, sitting on my right against the window, said, 

"James, would you mind moving over a little?"

"Uh, I can't really, dude."

"Please?  Even an inch or two would help."

"Why?"

"The woman in front of me is vomiting out the window and it's splashing back on me"

I started laughing because the bus was so chaotic that I didn't even notice the woman puking right in front of me.  Also, Eran was so polite and collected when he asked me to move over I just couldn't help but find the whole situation funny.

Wanting a reprieve from the seemingly inescapable discomfort of the bus, I pulled out my copy of Into Thin Air, which I had purchased figuring this trek would be the best opportunity I'd ever have to finally read it.  I sat there attempting to read (not an easy task, considering my surroundings) when I looked up a few minutes later to see everyone on our team staring at me and laughing.

"What's going on guys?"

Colin, laughing, said, "Mate, I'm looking around me and all I see is chaos.  Then I look at you calmly thumbing through a novel"

When I realized the absurdity of my attempt to read I found myself in that situation thinking about my family friends Lauren and Denise Kidd, who would undoubtedly have gotten motion sickness and who, I'm sure, would have been nothing but impressed that I was even attempting to read a book under such circumstances.

Oh, and in addition to people vomiting, the bus bouncing around, and children crying, the Nepalese woman sitting next to me passed out and began using me as a pillow.

Photo Credit: Dan Baum

But we arrived after a little over 10 hours on that bus, and as it turned out the woman who passed out on me owned a guesthouse in Shivalaya.  She allowed us all to stay for the steep price of 41 cents, which I think is the lowest amount I've paid for a bed in all my time traveling.

Interesting Wallpaper...

We all awoke bright and early the next morning and prepared to head out.

Day 1: Shivalaya to Bhandar

4.5-5.5 Hours, 900 meter ascent followed by a 600 meter descent

On the bus, we met two American girls, named Audra and Carla, who were about to embark on the same trek as us.  They seemed nice, but they did mention that they were environmentalists from San Francisco, which was a bit of a red flag.

When we awoke, all the little children of the village came out to greet us and all wanted to play with our cameras.  I let them play with mine for a few minutes but was nervous about one of them breaking it on the first day of the trek, so I had to cut it off.

Me with some of the children from the village.  Photo taken by one of the kids.

We got to hiking, and for the most part, the first day was fairly uneventful.  We walked at a decent pace, got used to our packs and to the trail, and got our first experiences in what is known as Teahouse Trekking.

Teahouses dot the trails around Nepal for hundreds of miles, and it is a way in which many rural Nepalese families make some income.  Trekkers are invited in to stop and have some tea and some food before continuing on their way.  I was at first wary of drinking tea when I was unsure of the purification procedures, but by the end of the trek a tea stop was one of the most pleasant ways to break up the monotony of the trail.

The only real issue we encountered on the first day was with the girls.  They clearly were having trouble getting up the sometimes steep inclines and were also having some issues with their packs.  Colin stopped them and asked them to open up their packs to see what the issue was and if there was anything we could do to help.

When they opened up their packs we instantly realized the issue.  To borrow a quote from Shit My Dad Says, "I said you could pack it how you wanted, not pack it like a moron."

They had brought along all manner of snacks from chocolate bars to assortments of nuts to beef jerky and god knows what else.  They brought massage tools.  They brought an overabundance of clothing.  They made every mistake a rookie hiker could make on what was possibly the worst trek to be making these mistakes.

Colin very generously offered to take some of the weight, as did Wim, and eventually we all found ourselves carrying some of the girls' crap along.  We ended up eating a lot of it and throwing a lot away; it was far too much to carry.

Beginning on day two of the trek, we'd hike with a bit more purpose, determination, and speed.  But for that first day we basically just messed around and enjoyed our new surroundings.  The muscles were fresh and the spirits were high, but it was all about to change.

Day 2: Bhandar to Sete

6-7 Hours, 650 meter descent, 1050 meter ascent

Colin and I awoke at 5am to begin our hike.  Colin has a very nice DSLR camera, a Canon D60.  He and I had a deal for the trek; I'd supply him with an 8 gig SD card, carry his 180mm lens, and he'd carry the body and 18mm lens, and we'd share the awesome camera throughout the trek.  So we began getting up every day at 5-6am when the light is best so we could take photographs.

Photo Credit: Colin Fairbank

After a while, we wouldn't need to set early alarms anymore because we would be so exhausted from the hike that we'd pass out as soon as the sun went down and wake up at 5:30-6am when the sun would rise again.  But for the time being, we were simply getting up to enjoy the morning light and the photo ops.

We hiked for a few hours until we encountered a teahouse where we decided to grab some tea and breakfast.  After the meal, the rest of the group caught up to us.  We hiked another few hours until we reached the town of Kinja, where we had lunch.

After lunch, it was time to begin the grueling 1050 meter ascent to Sete.  Colin and I got started behind the rest of the group, as we stayed behind to photograph the first snow-capped mountains that we'd seen on the trek.

After we'd put the awkward and bulky camera equipment away, we began the ascent.  The sun was a real enemy that late in the afternoon, and caused me to pour sweat for the entire climb.  I only had two liters of purified water with me, so I attempted to conserve it as best I could.  Eventually I got so exhausted and dehydrated that I stopped to sip some water every time I reached some shade.

I did eventually make the top after 2 hours and 10 minutes, the third of the group to reach our destination.  Colin and Dan, already at the top, were impressed with my speed as I passed several Sherpas on my way to the top.  We all did our hundred pushups and had a shower.

When I got out, I was treated to an amazing sunset.

At the guesthouse in Sete we met a very nice guide named Ngima Sherpa, who was guiding two Frenchmen from Jiri to Namche Bazaar along our same path.  He didn't speak French and his clients didn't speak English, so there was obviously a little bit of tension.

We made friends with him quickly, and Wim (who speaks French) acted as a bit of a translator.  Ngima Sherpa was happy to have the help, and in return, constantly gave us advice on the trail (places to stay, times, routes, etc)


Day 3: Sete to Junbesi

6-7 Hours, 1280m ascent, 1220m descent

According to our Trekking book and maps, day 3 was to be the most difficult day of the entire trip: "The first half of the day is a long and draining climb" to Lamjura, the point of highest altitude (3530m/11581ft) before reaching Sagarmatha National Park.  After that is a high pass to a descent of 1220 meters into a "moss-cloaked forest of gnarled rhododendron, magnolia, maple, and birch trees."

Day 3, for me at least, would prove costly.  I began a video diary that day, wanting some live-action footage of the epic trek that I was on.  Watching it now, I can see my health deteriorate over the course of what felt like one of the longest days of my life. 

On day 3 Wim really established himself as the strongest of the group, and he rocketed to the front of the pack and shot up the mountain, probably a good half-hour ahead of the rest of us.  My muscles ached with every step I took, and I quickly fell behind Dan and Colin as well (I stayed well ahead of Eran and the girls).  

I don't know of a time when my legs were more sore than that day.  The ascent of day two really sapped my energy.  My calves were in constant pain.  There wasn't a single point of my entire body that didn't seem to hurt in a way.  My hips were so sore that I'd loosen my waist strap to alleviate the pain, but then after a few minutes my shoulders (now bearing more of the burden of my 35lb pack), would ache, and I'd have to re-distribute the weight with strap adjustments.

I finally made the top, had some tea with Colin and Dan, had a rest, and tried to stretch a bit to alleviate some of the muscle pain.

No pain, no gain.  Photo Credit: Colin Fairbank

The weather was very cold at 3500 meters, so we got on our jackets and pants and continued along the high pass to the next valley.  After only 20 minutes or so of walking, we ran into Wim.  He had gotten so far ahead that he stopped at a teahouse for some food.  Since we had found him, we decided to stop as well and get something to eat.  I was thrilled that we had a longer rest period before the descent.  My muscles were in total agony.

After eating, Wim the Belgian Machine (as he became known after the days' end) took off again, as did Dan, and Colin and I took our time on the rocky descent.  Eventually it got too hot to continue in our jackets and pants and we had to strip back down to t-shirts and shorts.  

By this time I was extremely fatigued and was beginning to feel awful.  My muscles were a constant problem, but now I was wondering if I even had the ability to make it.  My knees began to ache as well from the constant pounding they were taking as I made my way down the mountain.  We did eventually reach the valley floor, and seeing a town just a short distance away, Colin and I stopped for a water break and to take a few more photos.

We reached the town only to discover that it was not Junbesi.  We asked a couple of Sherpas along the path how far to Junbesi to which they all replied, "three hours."

This information was absolutely crushing.  I didn't have much left in the tank, let alone enough for a 3-hour hike.  There wasn't much I could do about it, so I sucked up the pain, threw my bag on, tightened the straps, and made my way down the trail.

After a period of just over two hours, I stopped at a teahouse completely spent.  I ate a candy bar to try to get some sugar in my system, but I had no idea how much farther we had to go.

Just then, Ngima Sherpa turned up and said Junbesi was 40 minutes away.  I psyched myself up for the hike, threw my pack on and took off with complete determination.  Wim set a rocket pace and I kept up with him as best I could, desperately needing the day to be over.  I reached Junbesi in about 30 minutes and as I approached the guesthouse I slowed down.  

All of a sudden all of the pain I had been ignoring came rushing up all at once and I almost collapsed.  I took off my pack as I caught up with Wim.

"Just a few more steps man, you're almost there," he said in encouragement.

I dragged myself across the entrance of the guesthouse, dropped my pack, and slumped into a chair Wim grabbed for me.

I sat outside as the rest of the group arrived, drinking tea with lots of sugar to try to get my blood sugar levels back up.  After everyone made it, I walked upstairs with a good bit of difficulty, unrolled my sleeping bag, and instantly passed out.  It was 5:30pm.

The team woke me up around 9 for dinner and I put on a smile to try to act a bit more normal and not so completely fucked up.  Truth was I was feeling a lot better.  But it didn't last long.  I ate my rice and went back up to bed.

Day 4: Junbesi

I awoke at around 7am as alarms began to go off.  I knew instantly something was wrong.  I felt horrible and had no appetite.  I told Colin and Dan, my roommates that night, that I was going to skip breakfast and stay in bed.  I told them to wake me when it was time to pack and go.  I hoped I'd be ok to hike and quickly passed back out.

Colin came back in the room around 8am and told me the group wasn't leaving yet and I could keep sleeping.  I told him I was definitely sick and might need to stay behind, at least for a few hours.  He said that wasn't a problem and said that I could take a few more hours and we'd leave later in the day when I felt better.  I passed back out.

I awoke an unknown amount of time later, shivering, sweating, and shaking uncontrollably.  I was determined not to fall behind and got out of my sleeping bag and began to gather my gear.

Colin walked in and saw the condition I was in.

"You ok?  You don't look too good."

"I think I can make the hike today," I said, pouring sweat and shaking as I tried to put my boots on.

"No way.  Get back in bed," he responded.

"Well I think--"

"I said get back in your fucking bag, mate.  I'll figure something out."

He and Wim stayed behind with me that day.  Wim ran up the mountain an hour and 40 minutes to tell the group I was sick and he and Colin would stay behind with me.  I can't express the amount of appreciation I have for Wim and Colin for how much they helped me that day.  I crawled back in bed and fell asleep.

I kept drifting in and out of consciousness for the next few hours.  I began to get scared as I had cold sweats and was shaking uncontrollably.  The truly disconcerting fact was that I was in the middle of nowhere; Junbesi is a two-day hike from the nearest hospital.

I began having extremely vivid dreams and hallucinations.  At one point, I dreamt that I was back at my home in Maryland.  In the dream, I knew that I had been sick in Nepal but couldn't remember how I got home.  I was trying to convince myself was it was real and that I wasn't dreaming.  I walked all around my house, checking things for normalcy.  Everything seemed in place.  I figured something bad must have happened in Nepal because I was suffering from amnesia and couldn't remember how I got back.  I eventually concluded that I wasn't going to figure it out and I lay down on my bed, content in the comfort of my childhood home.

Then I woke up in a freezing room in Nepal, in a sleeping bag, shaking and sweating.

I began wondering if I was experiencing symptoms of malaria.  I could have picked it up from bites I received in Sri Lanka or in Kathmandu.  I took my temperature: 101.6.

I knew if my temperature climbed any higher or if my condition deteriorated any more, Colin and Wim would have to start considering calling in a helicopter evacuation for me.

I opened up my medical kit and began taking ibuprofen and antibiotics.  Over the next two hours my fever dropped to 99.3 and then to a comforting 98.6 by the evening with no real lingering side-effects.

I have no explanation for my condition that day.

Day 5: Junbesi > Nunthala > Bupsa

5.5-6.5 Hours, 900 meter ascent, 1250 meter descent > 5-6 hours, 800 meter descent, 900 meter ascent

We had a few epic days over the course of the 17-day trek.  Day 5 was certainly one of them.  I woke up feeling strong and we wanted to catch up with the group.  That, of course, meant doing two days worth of hiking in one.  We still had a lot of the girls' shit in our packs, and gave it all away to the owners of the guesthouse, rather than carry it all the way to Bupsa

We set off that morning just after 6am.

On their day off while I was sick, Wim and Colin hung out around the guesthouse and made friends with the people working there.  In particular, they befriended the 16 year-old orphan working for money for school.  His yearly tuition costs less than $100, but he didn't think he'd be able to afford it more than one more year.  

Wim spent a few hours helping him with his math and both he and Colin spent time helping him practice his English.  As a gesture of thanks, he made us all walking sticks to help with the hike we were about to embark upon.  Both Wim and Colin already had walking sticks, so they gave them to me.

They were far too heavy to use on a long hike like the one we were doing, but none of us had the heart to tell him we couldn't use them.  I was determined to at least use one, in spite of the weight, to try to take some of the burden off my swelling knees.

The good news was that I felt great and my muscles weren't really sore anymore.  After a slow start, I really hit my stride and powered through the first half of the hike.

It started pouring on us after a few hours, followed by a hail storm.  Still, we reached Nunthala at 11:30am.  We brought our clothes inside a teahouse to dry and they made us lunch and tea.  It was nice to warm up and relax a bit, but we still had another full days worth of hiking ahead of us.  We were supposed to be rewarded at Nunthala with our first view of Everest, but it was a view that was to elude us for another 5 days.

We powered on for a few more hours after lunch, through the mud and the rain, until the weather lifted and we were able to go back to t-shirts and shorts, far more comfortable in the humidity.  I stopped to take off my rain jacket and accidentally dropped my home-made walking stick into a pile of yak shit. Oh well, I guess it had a good run.  Damn thing was giving me blisters on my thumbs anyway.

We reached the town of Jubhing and happened upon a few French tourists.  We were completely exhausted by this point, having already hiked for 12 hours, and Wim asked a couple of them how far to Bupsa.  Upon hearing their response, he turned to us looking a bit disheartened, and said only, "I'm not translating that."

We walked for about another hour, along a steep ascent.  We knew we were close, but we were all exhausted and it was getting dark.  We stopped at a teahouse for a breather.  I drank some tea and forced down a candy bar before what I knew would be a very steep ascent into Bupsa.  As night fell around us, we put on our packs, flicked on our headlamps, and made our way up the hill and into the darkness.

I had absolutely nothing left in the tank.  But I kept putting one foot in front of the other and Colin and Wim were both there to help motivate me to the top.  I don't know how long it took us, but eventually we reached Bupsa.  We had hiked for 14 hours.

The rest of the team came out of the guesthouse and applauded our effort, conceding that they didn't think we were actually going to make it.  We walked inside, took off our sweaty gear, and warmed up.

The owner of the guesthouse was a very nice man and prepared us some food.  He inquired as to why we showed up so late.  When we told him we had walked from Junbesi that morning he was astounded.

He said, "I've climbed Everest twice, and I'm extremely impressed with the hike you boys just made."

From left to right: Colin, Wim, Me upon our arrival in Bupsa

Day 6: Bupsa to Surke

5-6 Hours, 1000 meter ascent, 650 meter descent

We were originally supposed to walk to Lukla from Bupsa, the point at which most people fly into the region.  Instead, we wanted to bypass Lukla, as there was a more direct route to Namche Bazaar.  With our energy levels pretty low after the 14 hour hike from the day previous, we didn't quite make it to our destination of Chheplung.  Not only that, I had more bad luck in store for me.

The hike throughout the day remained pretty casual and laid back.  We weren't moving at our normal let's-push-the-envelope paces.  Let's face it, we were exhausted.

As the hours dragged on, we realized that it was getting late and we might not make it to our destination before dark.  Not wanting a repeat of the previous days night climb, we picked up the tempo to try to see if we could make it.  Some of the team members expressed concern that they weren't as fast as some of us and wanted to discuss stopping before Chheplung.  I basically made the decision for everyone without intending to.

The path is always extremely rocky, and everyone inevitably comes close to tripping or twisting an ankle at some point during the day.

I don't really remember how it happened, but I looked up to see where the path was heading, lost my footing on a downhill section, and had no room to recover.  I went ass over elbows right into a bunch of rocks.  I was falling downhill, so my first instinct was to protect my head.  I threw out my arm and pushed myself over so I landed on my backpack and not my face.  Gotta protect the face...that's the money maker.

I thought I was ok, but I rolled over and blood started gushing out of my hand, knees, and shins.  Eran the Israeli medic and Colin were right behind me, and we all got out our medical kits to start patching me up.

My fall took the most damage on my left hand, which I used to roll myself over.  There was a quarter-sized chunk of flesh that had been gauged out, and I grabbed it and ripped the rest of it off to make room for the bandage.  Once we had that sorted out, Eran got out the gauze and taped up my knees and legs.  Colin gave me a codeine for the pain, and I limped another mile or so to Surke.  We stopped there for the night.

Day 7: Surke to Namche Bazaar

Epic Day #2: 10 hours, 1150 meter ascent

The ascent to Namche was brutal to say the least.  Long, winding, and steep, it is a grueling climb to the top.  You ascend in altitude to 3420 meters (11,220 ft), 300 vertical feet shy of the top of Vail Mountain and 8 vertical feet higher than the summit of Aspen mountain, both in Colorado, USA.  While skiing might be fun at that altitude, if you have any appreciation for the oxygen levels at 11,000 ft, climbing up a mountain is not an easy task.

The girls Carla and Audra told us they'd be unable to complete the hike to Namche in a day but that we should go ahead.  We did.

We hiked several hours until we got our first views of Ama Dablam in the distance.  Ama Dablam stands at 22,349 feet and is one of the most gorgeous mountains we saw in our time in the Himalayas.  At first it was a monster way off in the distance.  In a few days time we would be sleeping at her base, and yet a few days after that we'd be seeing her in the distance again, dwarfed by the shadows of Everest, Nuptse, and Lhotse.  We had a view of Ama Dablam from that moment through the end of the hike and it almost became like a friend.  I think I can speak for the entire team that it was our favorite mountain we saw over the course of our trek.

Ama Dablam as we approached from the Southwest.  The mountain seemed to get more spectacular every day as we continued towards and eventually past it.

At a certain point, our trail merged with the much more commercialized trail from Lukla.  Lukla is the main hub from which people enter and exit the region.  After going a week and seeing only a handful of people, we didn't much appreciate all the other people crowding the trail.

We also didn't realize just how much the previous 6 days had whipped us into shape.  We were able to outpace and out-climb every single person we encountered for the rest of the trek.  No, that is not an exaggeration.  Our first bit of proof came as we ascended past Monjo to Namche.

As we entered Sagarmatha National Park, the scenery seemed to improve every step of the way.  Crystal clear rivers flowed with glacial melt water.  The scent of forest pine filled the air (for at least a little bit, but I'll get to that later), and massive peaks like Ama Dablam loomed off in the distance.  

We ate lunch in Monjo and got our packs ready for what was supposed to be a 3.5 hour climb to Namche Bazaar.

As we ascended one particularly steep section of trail, a sweet Australian woman stopped me to ask for directions, and struck up a conversation.

"It's really steep here.  Must be one hell of a climb for you," she said.

"Ah, it's not too bad, I've been hiking for a week already, the trail is worse by Sete."

"Oh wow.  We flew into Lukla..."

It was about then I realized just how far I'd pushed myself in that week and how much it had paid off.  We passed Sherpas, porters, guides, and every group we encountered on the hill.  Colin and I didn't even need to stop.  We ascended all the way from Monjo to Namche in just over two hours.

Namche Bazaar, carved into the hillside

Shops in Namche, giving it the nickname, 'Little Thamel'

A side note on the hike:

I want to take a moment to talk about yak shit.  I realize it's an odd topic, but bear with me.  Yak trains cruise up and down these mountains every single day.  Hundreds of them, constantly moving equipment, food, and other supplies up and down the hill.  They shit everywhere.  They shit constantly.  Their shit smells like shit.  And they always seem to shit on sections where you're climbing uphill.

You'll be sweating, panting, exerting yourself trying to move uphill with all your gear when you'll get a huge whiff of yak shit.  It's not like you can cover your mouth and nose and not breathe it in.  You're hiking at altitude, and sometimes it's a real struggle just to catch your breath.  You have no choice but to inhale the foul odor as you ascend.  You take a full breath of it.  Sometimes you take a few.  There's no way around it, and you never get used to it.  This is one of the reasons it was so nice in those brief moments when you could smell something fresh, like forest pine.  

Why can't they just shit on a downhill when you don't need to breathe it all in?  I don't know.  But I don't like yaks so much anymore.  I really wanted to like yaks.  They seemed cool.  Sherpas are cool.  Why can't their yaks be cool?  It's not just the shit that makes me dislike yaks.  It was simply the most present issue.

Anyway, I digress.  I could go on all day about yak shit (joke).

We got a room at a hotel in Namche and relaxed with an Everest Lager (what a name), knowing that for the first time in a week we wouldn't have to hike the next day.  We were to spend at least a day in Namche to acclimatize before ascending towards Mount Everest.

Namche to Everest Base Camp and back in my next post.  The best photos from the hike were from Namche to Everest as well, all coming soon...

Namche Bazaar

I'm currently in Namche Bazaar, Nepal. I arrived here after a 7-day hike through the mountains. I'm taking two days here to rest and acclimatize before departing on a 10-day hike that will take me up to Everest Base Camp and back. I'll post about the whole experience upon my return to Kathmandu

Kuala Lumpur to Sri Lanka

Note: I apologize for the lack of pictures in this post...I got only one uploaded.  The rest wouldn't survive the unbelievably slow internet.  I'm about to take a long trek through the Himalayas and once I return, I'll put up a big post with the pictures that belonged on this blog post.  I'll also obviously upload another post about my Himalayan trek (complete with pictures!).




It's been a pretty wild few days.  I spent 5 days in Malaysia and somehow ended up in Sri Lanka.  The twists and turns the adventure takes is sometimes strange and always keeps you on your toes.  

I arrived at the airport in Sydney nice and early, two hours before my flight to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.  When I arrived I was notified that my flight would be delayed by 5 hours.  That meant that I had to kill seven hours at the airport.  I was so irritated.  The flight had already been given a 5-hour delay before I even arrived.  If I had been notified in any way I could have spent another day in Sydney, enjoying the city and possibly hanging out with a few of my friends.  Instead I had to kill seven hours in a terminal that you could walk from one end to another in about five minutes with very little to interest me in between.

That was only a minor inconvenience I suppose.  The real problem was that I arrived in Kuala Lumpur at 2am rather than 8pm.  Moreover, the airport is a good hour plus away from the city center.  I landed at 2, it took an hour to get my bag (an hour which I spent nervously anticipating an "oops, we lost your luggage.  Sorry!  Enjoy your stay in Malaysia!"), and over an hour to get to the hotel.  I arrived at about 4:30am and promptly fell asleep and slept through much of my first day.  I awoke in the afternoon and had a good wander around, saw the famous Petronas Towers--formally the tallest buildings in the world--and got some 'authentic' Malaysian food.  That night, I went to meet a Belgian fellow named Wim, who I was put in contact with through my friend Colin who I met and traveled with in Peru/New Zealand.

Wim was staying down in Chinatown, which was a cool part of the city and one I had wanted to go see and explore.  I got more than I bargained for, as I spent a considerable amount of time trying to navigate the tiny crowded street markets and hawker stands while searching for this Hostel called the Bird's Nest or something like that.  Everyone I asked pointed in different directions and nobody seemed to have a clue or had even heard of a place called Bird's Nest.  I was lost; crouching under low awnings and squeezing past excited and drunk "gwai-los" (white devils) while searching for some unknown location and simultaneously warding off shop owners hounding me for my cash and intentionally misdirecting me rather than spend energy explaining the way to Bird's Nest gave me the distinct feeling that I was back in Bangkok.  I eventually made my way out of the market and found myself on a dark and deserted street.

I walked up to a one-toothed man leaning against his motorbike pleading, "please can you tell me where Bird's Nest hostel is?"

"I sorry.  No Engrish."  

Ah.  What a lovely and completely unexpected response.  Now What?  I'm lost in Chinatown on a dark and deserted street and I can't find this damn place.  Mr. Miagi over on his motorbike wasn't any help, and there wasn't a soul on that street.  I saw a street sign that confirmed I was in the right place, so I decided to brave the darkness and proceed down this street that appeared as though it had sheet-metal armor on every door and entrance, complete with the graffiti that seems to magically appear whenever a piece of sheet-metal goes up.  But, as luck would have it, I found Bird's Nest.

I met and got to know Wim and his Argentinean girlfriend, Crystal, while we went out for some food.  Crystal was pleased to meet someone that had traveled to her home country and she loved conversing in Spanish with me, as limited as my Spanish-speaking skills are.  Wim seemed like a very nice guy and decided to travel to Nepal with me and Colin (who I was meeting in Kathmandu in a few days time).  We enjoyed a fun outdoor meal of some kind of curry/rice/chili that was prepared in clay pots.

After dinner we went to a bar and had a few beers and talked about what to do in Kuala Lumpur, as they had been there for a few days time.  We had fun for a few hours and then split ways and went home.  I woke up the next morning and my t-shirt that had been so fresh and clean the day before reeked of cigarettes.  That'll happen in a bar with a ton of second-hand smoke, I guess.  The upsetting part was the t-shirt only got one day of use before it got rotated to the laundry bag.  Such a shame.  It could have been reused several times.  You never know when you're gonna be able to do laundry when you're traveling, and now I was prematurely down a t-shirt.  

My time in KL was unfortunately a bit frantic and I didn't really get the full experience.  My plans went haywire and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out exactly what to do.  I had originally planned to fly to Borneo and meet up with some friends to do a jungle trek and some diving.  After that I was going to go back to KL and then fly from there to Kathmandu.

First, my cheap and direct flight KL > Kathmandu disappeared.  What was left in its place were limited options, all of which were miserable and usually entailed long layovers in multiple countries.  I found a flight that would have only one stop, in New Delhi, but that would be a 21-hour layover.  I figured I could do that, drive the 4 or so hours from Delhi to see the famous Taj Mahal, drive back, then catch my flight to Kathmandu.  NOPE, you need a visa to enter India, which I did not have.

I looked into flights to what seemed like dozens of cities, all of which were too expensive or else required long layovers in Delhi or Chennai, layovers which I'd have to sit out at the airport.  At the same time, my plans to go to Borneo were falling through.  My friends in Kota Kinabalu said it was constant monsoon-like rains, and they had sped up their itinerary to get out of the storm areas.  I was looking into all kinds of alternatives to try to get to Borneo: fly to K. Kinabalu and bus transfer a few hours somewhere, fly into any other Borneo airports and bus transfer or take a turboprop somewhere, blah, blah blah.  At the end of it all, it was just too much of a hassle.  I was upset I wouldn't get to see Borneo, but I had to figure out some kind of solution for my current predicament.

I pulled up google maps to see if there was anything I was missing.  Embarrassingly, I don't think I could have pointed out Sri Lanka on a map before last week.  It was a war-torn country that I knew little about.  But hey, it was on the map in my neck of the woods.  Found a flight to Colombo, the capital.  Hey, it's cheap!  Found a connecting flight from Colombo to Kathmandu two days later…I think I have something going here.

I knew the civil war in Sri Lanka had ended in 2009, but knew little else.  I did some basic research and decided I'd rather book my ticket to Sri Lanka and chill on the beach for two days rather than spend over 24 hours flying to Kathmandu, the majority of it spent sitting in a Delhi airport.

Sri Lanka it is!

I emailed Colin to tell him of my change of plans and to inform him that I'd be arriving in Kathmandu at 2:45pm on April 14th.  Just as I was about to take off, I got an email back:

"Haha I'm in Sri Lanka!  Come to Kandy, get a train.  Me and Meredith can meet you there."

Well this was a surprise.  Here I was traveling to this small island nation on the other side of the planet and not only was Colin there, Meredith (who I had met in New Zealand and had joined us for three weeks in our Homer van) was there as well.  

Still, I had one night left in KL.  On my last night there I got a chance to have dinner with Florence Sloan's sister Winnie and husband, Joe.  I got in touch with them on my last day and they very generously offered to take me out to dinner for some authentic Malaysian food.  It was absolutely delicious.  I can't remember what any of it was called (and probably couldn't spell it anyway), but there was a chicken curry dish, a dish of I believe fish tails, and a dish with some kind of bright-green colored veggie that was supposed to be very good for you.  I ate it all and loved it.  It was a real privilege to eat a proper meal and I really appreciated the time Florence, Winnie, and Joe all took to make me feel welcome in this foreign part of the world.

The next day, I took the short flight to Colombo, got off the plane, and got a transfer to Kandy, which was about three hours away.  I went to the hotel Colin and Meredith had advised me to meet them at and got some food and some advice on Kandy from the exceptionally sweet woman running the hostel.

While I was a bit stand-offish when I first arrived (I didn't know the culture or how likely I was to get conned or robbed), I quickly discovered two things:  Sri Lanka is awesome and Sri Lankans are some of the nicest people I've met in my travels.  Sri Lanka had a type of tropical jungle/mountain mystique that fit my preconceptions of what Vietnam would look like more than Vietnam did, if that makes sense.  It was like being on the set of Apocalypse Now.  All I needed was a couple of Hueys, Valkyrie blasting through a speaker, and Robert Duvall with his surfboard to complete the picture.

Monkeys, giant lizards, chameleons, elephants, geckos, all manner of bird life, and giant beetle-like insects are some of the incredible wildlife I saw in only a day and a half in Sri Lanka.  It was one of those places where you arrive and like it so much that you want to stay.  One general thing I've tried to avoid in traveling is making strict plans; it always messes things up.  I would have spent two weeks in Sri Lanka easily, but I had a flight to catch and only had one full day there.  Such a shame.  I don't think I'll probably ever return.  I know people say, "well why not?  If you liked it you can go back."  Duh, it's possible.  But let's be reasonable here.  What were the odds of me ending up in Sri Lanka in the first place, let alone going back?

I awoke my first morning in Sri Lanka because my father called me at 6am not realizing the time difference.  He and I needed to discuss law school plans in the event I didn't hear back from GW before the deposit deadline for AU.  While on the phone, I figured I'd check my email one more time and lo and behold there was the subject line "Congratulations!" right there in the inbox.  I was so excited about my acceptance to GW I couldn't go back to sleep.

I went upstairs instead where there was a common area and spent some time enjoying the view.  The entire valley was covered in a thick mist that slowly burned off over the course of the morning.

The woman running the hostel made me some eggs, toast, and tea, and I relaxed in the warm morning air reading my book, All Elevations Unknown, which was given to me by my aunt.  It's about a jungle trek in Borneo so naturally I was again disappointed I never made it there, but it's still a good book.

Eventually I got tired of sitting around and woke Colin and Meredith up.  We wandered into the city and met a very nice Sri Lankan tuktuk driver who called himself Laxman.  He made us a very good deal and he spent the day giving us a tour of Kandy.

We saw tea fields and factories (they produce 12 million pounds per month for export), a temple supposedly containing one of Buddha's teeth, and all sorts of beautiful scenery.

At the end of the day he dropped us off and we signed his book so other travelers could read it and know that he's a nice guy and a good tour guide and not one of those people you meet who are simply trying to con you out of a few dollars.

We had some dinner and enjoyed an absolutely incredible sunset.  It was one of those kinds that seems to  keep getting better and better before the sun finally disappears over the horizon.

Early the next morning (3am), one of the owners of the hostel very generously offered to drive us the 3 hours back to Colombo airport (he got a biiiiiiiig tip).  Colin and I boarded our plane and took off for Kathmandu as Meredith caught her flight to Australia.

More from Kathmandu...

The Great Barrier Reef

The Reef was absolutely one of the things I was looking forward to most about Australia.  It's one of those places you've always heard about and always wanted to go see.  I got to Cairns expecting to take a few days and figure out which dive company I was going to go with.  At my hostel, the very nice Swedish receptionist suggested I go with Pro Dive.  She also mentioned that she worked there part-time, so initially I was pretty skeptical.  But even despite my skepticism, Pro Dive had this deal that I just couldn't walk away from.  I was to go on 'Standby,' where they'd call me when they didn't have a full boat, and I'd get to join for a price that was a few hundred dollars less than advertised.

I called them, got put on Standby, and within 15 minutes they called to say, "Hey, James.  We have an opening for the 3 day/2 night trip leaving tomorrow morning."  It was Saturday night, and I had been looking forward to going out in Cairns.  Unfortunately, the pickup for the boat trip was at 6:15am Sunday morning, so going out Saturday night would be virtually impossible.  I went out for an hour or so, but crashed early so I would be able to wake up for the diving trip.

I wasn't quite sure what to expect, as my research in the company only showed me that it was reputable, had good equipment, went to good diving spots, and that I would get "a few dives per day along with a night dive."  As it turned out, I got 11 total dives, including two night dives.  Amazing.  All this plus a private room on the boat and 3 square meals a day for less money than what I got my diving license for in Thailand (and that was only 4 dives...).

We all boarded the boat and headed out for open water.  The weather was a bit drizzly and overcast, but we were all hoping it would clear up once we got out to the reef (it didn't, and only got worse, but that didn't really matter).  The sea was incredibly choppy, and over the course of the 3-hour trip out to Milln Reef where we were going to do our diving, I'd say more than 50% of the 30 passengers got sea sick and puked on the way out.  The guy running the PADI open water course on the boat even lost it and puked.  I don't really get motion sick, so I was fine as long as I stayed away from the stern where 20 people were all puking over the sides of the ship.

The 30 passengers on the ship were comprised of the following groups: Team Deutschland (12 or so Germans who were all on board together getting their PADI open water certificates from a German-speaking instructor), another group of about 10 people (one Canadian, 2 Swiss, one American, a handful of Germans that weren't on Team Deutschland, and 2 from the UK all getting their open water certificates from an english-speaking instructor), a group of 4 people all getting their PADI Advanced Open Water certificates, and then 5 of us who were certified and just there to go diving.  It made for a bit of an anti-social environment because everyone was always separated into their groups.

My group (those already certified) was myself, a mid-aged American named Steve who became my diving buddy for the trip, one Bulgarian who had a diving certification but didn't have a clue once she was underwater, and two mid-aged Swiss people that were very nice but generally kept to themselves.

The really cool thing about Pro Dive that made the trip all the more enjoyable for me was that they were very hands-off.  All the other diving I've done has been with a guide who is kind of acting like a babysitter the whole time.  When we were in New Zealand (before I got certified), our friend Colin got lectured for separating from the main diving lady, even though he was certified and diving with a buddy. These Pro Dive guys I was with were very much "you're certified...so go dive on your own and have fun.

Each dive started the same way.  All the people in the classes were downstairs on the boat in classroom areas learning the basics of diving and going over what skills they would be practicing underwater.  Steve and I (my dive buddy) would go upstairs with the boat supervisor, who would lay out a map of the reefs and give us directions on how to get out there and back while underwater.

This is the dive plan for one of our dives on Flynn Reef

 Then the trick was to get suited up and get underwater before the classes headed down.  If we got the head-start, there was usually more fish and marine life for us to see before it got mobbed with 25 dive students.  Also we all had to get in the water one at a time and be checked out as 'off the boat' for safety (so they always knew if people were on board or not), so when the classes had to do it, it was usually a long wait.

We got out to Milln Reef a little late because of the rough seas, but jumped in the water for our first dive at 11:03 am.  The rain was really coming down, along with a very strong wind.  My rig was set up far at the stern, completely exposed to the weather.  Almost everyone else had their gear set up under cover from the rain or at least with some kind of protection from the beating wind.  I just sat there, freezing in the wind and the rain, getting pelted in the face by huge tropical raindrops as I set up my first stage, BCD, and wetsuit.  Actually it wasn't even a wetsuit.  It provided no warmth whatsoever.  It was a lycra suit which functioned as jellyfish proofing, because April is still 'stinger' season in northern Australia and a Box Jellyfish can easily kill a human.  As it turned out, I never even saw a jelly and (according to my dive computer) the water was always between 82-84 Degrees, nice n' warm.  It was always much more pleasant underwater than at the surface where the rain and wind made us shiver as we donned the water-saturated lycra suits.

Photo taken on the last day when we got about 2 hours sunshine before more bad weather settled in.  That's me on the right and Steve my dive buddy on the left.

So I jumped in the water with my dive buddy Steve and we made our way over to the buoy line, choking all the way through the 2-3 foot swells.  The current at the surface was strong and we had to fight against it.  We didn't want to use our regulators (because we wanted to conserve as much air as possible), so we kind of snorkeled over to the line, all the while getting tossed around in the waves and current.  We popped in the regulators and descended along the line to 18m/60ft, where we checked our compasses and headed out toward the coral bommies.  I instantly knew this was going to be an epic diving experience.  We saw one stingray, a pair of Giant Clams (the larger of the two being ~ 5-6ft across), and a couple of marine creatures I could have only hoped for: sharks and turtles.

Photo taken on day 2--this clam is considerably smaller than the clam on day 1, which is pretty remarkable because it's still huge.

That's me on the left, you can kinda see the turtle on the right

We saw a big Green Turtle first, and it completely caught us off-guard.  We were moving around, exploring the coral, and almost in passing we noticed this turtle looking for some food among the staghorn corals.  We paused, suspended in the water, as this turtle (3.5 ft from head to tail) looked up at us and started swimming directly at us.  He moved slowly and deliberately, as you'd expect a turtle to move, and swam right past me as if I wasn't even there.  He was almost close enough to touch.  It was incredible.  He swam right up to the surface where we watched him take a couple gulps of fresh air before descending again and disappearing into the distance.

A few minutes later we were circling around this pillar of corals, Steve leading, when all of a sudden he stopped and froze.  I pulled up next to him and saw what he was looking at: a 4-5ft long white-tip reef shark.  It was laying right there on the sandy bottom, seeming to stare right at us.  Until that point, I had absolutely ZERO experience diving with sharks.  It's not like we had a spear or a dive knife or anything, and I had no clue if these guys were aggressive or not.  Turns out they're not.  We watched him for a minute or two before heading off.  Eventually our air started running low and we decided to surface.  The dive lasted only 38 minutes; clearly both Steve and I were both a little out of practice.  My air consumption got much better as the trip progressed.

Our second dive was at 2:40pm; a solid surface interval and plenty of time for us to decompress after our 18m dive.  The Bulgarian lady asked if she could join Steve and I on the dive.  We, of course, said yes.  I don't know what her deal was, if she had a fake dive certificate or what (it wasn't PADI), but she was clueless under the water.  She didn't have enough weight on her belt and couldn't stay under.  She kept popping to the surface like a balloon.  I swam over to her, trying to get her farther down where I figured the pressure would compensate for the lack of weight on her belt and kind of hold her down.  I realized at that point that she was inflating her BCD rather than deflating it, so I showed her the proper way to do it but she still couldn't get down.  Steve and I had her by the hand and took her down 5m or so, at which point we let go and she floated topside like one of those plastic scuba divers people put in their fish tanks without so much as a kick of her flippers in an attempt to stay submerged.  Very annoying.  We surfaced, told her to go back to the boat, and continued the dive.  Didn't see much, but a lot of cool coral.  37 minute dive.

By now the storm had upgraded to almost a full-blown cyclone.  The skipper came downstairs and told us it was too dangerous to try to move the boat, so we'd have to stay put.  Since we couldn't go anywhere, let's go diving!  We geared up again and got ready to jump in the water.  As we were standing at the stern about to jump in, the skipper came down and told us to wait.  He brought us each a glowstick to keep in our pockets "in case you guys surface and we can't see you in this weather."  Well that made me feel all nice and comfortable…

As unpleasant as life on the surface was, underwater was warm and calm.  We did much better on this dive and got to see another Giant Clam, another large turtle, and one black-tip reef shark (3.5 footer).  Stayed down for 48 minutes as well; very solid dive.

That night, after dinner, it was time for a night dive.  None of the other certified divers were going, including my dive buddy.  The advanced class (3 people) was going down to practice underwater navigation at night.  I was invited to join; I'd just have to wait for a few minutes while they practiced a navigation drill.  It was absolutely incredible.  Diving at night was extremely disorienting.  It was tough to get the hang of the navigation when your vision is limited to how far your flashlight penetrates the darkness.  We saw 3 sharks on that dive, each of the 3 main types of reef sharks: white-tip, black-tip, and grey.  They're attracted to the light from the flashlights, and will suddenly appear in your beam as you scan the darkness around you.  It's pretty creepy to see them appear out of nowhere, gliding silently through the water.  

At one point, the advanced instructor stopped and had us all gather around.  I didn't realize it at the time, but he was trying to get his bearings to the boat.  We all turned off our flashlights so we could see the glow from the boat and know our way back.  But as soon as all those flashlights turned off it was a disconcerting feeling to be suddenly enveloped in darkness, seeing only the pink haze of the glowsticks attached to our tanks.  

We started making our way back to the boat, and I realized that as my flashlight scanned the coral all around me, there were hundreds of tiny little eyes peering back at me.  Turned out they were little crustaceans, but it was really cool seeing them all like that.

The next day we were able to move to new dive sites and we went to another area of Milln Reef.  Our morning dive was at 7:41.  Only got 34 minutes of dive time, but saw a big blue butterfly fish that was easily the size of my head, 3 rays, and one shark.  I think the shark was a white-tip, but I only caught a glimpse of him.  The visibility underwater had deteriorated to only about 7 meters.

With the sea constantly churning because of the weather and the 24-hour downpours mixing with the salty seawater, the visibility wasn't that great.  Normally we'd get a few more meters visibility, along with the sun shining through the water, illuminating all the different colors of the coral and fish.  But it was ok, there was absolutely no reason to complain; this was easily still the best dive experience I'd ever had.

Second dive was at 11:06, lasted 41 minutes, and I saw 4 Green Turtles, 3 rays, 1 Giant Clam, 1 Trumpetfish.  This dive was notable also because Steve and I became a bit disoriented and eventually realized we were completely lost.  We surfaced with 50 Bar in the tank and realized we had to kick a good 250 meters back to the boat.  Very tiring.

For the third dive on day 2, we moved to another reef altogether, called Flynn Reef.  Dive started at 3:31 and lasted 46 minutes.  I saw 2 Giant Clams, 1 ray, 3 green turtles, 1 black tip reef shark, 2 pufferfish, and one giant Maori Wrasse.  The Maori Wrasse is absolutely enormous.

Obviously not my photo...but this is the size of the Maori Wrasse

That third dive was absolutely amazing.  The location on Flynn Reef was like an underwater jungle gym.  Mazes of coral, caves, huge crevices, columns that reached to the surface, the works.  We headed out, got lost, and ended up in some really shallow coral areas--which is dangerous because the current can smash you against the sharp coral.  We turned back, found some caves and massive crevices, ducking and diving around coral outgrowths, and suddenly wound up at the bottom of the buoy line.  Very fortunate.  We ascended along the line back to the boat.

The night dive on day 2 was very interesting as well.  For some reason, all the certified divers looked to me to lead them and navigate the reef.  They all walked up and said, "we're not really comfortable navigating by ourselves at night...can we come with you?"  I made clear that the only night dive I'd ever been on was yesterday, but they all seemed to think I knew what I was doing, which I didn't.  I had my whole rig on and was preparing to jump in the water when I realized there was a large grey reef shark right below me, circling under the boat.  I just kind of prayed, "please don't let me jump on a shark right now..." and stepped off the boat into the water.  2 of the other 4 people following me joined me and we fought the current over to the buoy line.

The other two jumped in but were unable to fight the current to get to us.  So there I was, stranded on the buoy line with two other people getting trashed around in the surf and attempting to hold ourselves in place.  I didn't want to separate from the other people that were struggling with the current so I swam back to them, helped them get back to the boat safely (they were slowly getting swept off the reef), where they decided they weren't gonna join us.

I swam back to my two amigos stranded on the buoy line and we finally descended.  That whole trek against the current trying to help out those people cost me half my air supply and our jump start on Team Deutschland, who were also going on the night dive with their instructor.

My group reached the bottom and proceeded out along our dive plan.  At a certain point I was having trouble seeing ahead of me, as I was being cast in shadow.  I turned around and there was all of Team Deutschland shining their flashlights at me.  To make things even more confusing, they all were using green glowsticks, the same color my group and I were using.  I couldn't recognize anyone.  It's hard enough recognizing a diver underwater.  Add no light to the mix and, yeah, bad situation.

I stopped to let Team Deutschland pass and the two in my group stopped as well.  We wanted to separate from them, because they were obnoxious and taking up a big area, so we diverted to the left.  Mistake number 1.  Don't change your dive plan, especially at night.  We got completely lost.  Eventually we couldn't even find some of the coral bommies and all we saw was sand.  I knew this wasn't good.  I checked my depth and realized I was at 17m.  Mistake number 2.  It was my 4th dive of the day, to be at 17m is completely unsafe.  Irresponsible.  We quickly realized the mistake and leveled off at 10m.  

Since we were hopelessly lost and I was beginning to get low on air, we stopped to try to get our bearings.  Then my flashlight malfunctioned.  Stopped working.  I whacked it a few times and it turned back on, but it cast a very dim light.  I asked the other divers to turn out their flashlights so I could find the glow of the lights on the boat.  When I found it, I decided to head straight for it.  That ended up being the best decision I made.

We reached the boat and stayed underneath it at 5m.  Then the sharks started circling.  I can't tell you how many sharks there were because I honestly don't know.  It was a lot.  Maybe 7-10 of them.  One big sucker--6 footer at least--kept circling us and got a little closer each pass.  You'd be shining your flashlight into the abyss and all of a sudden you'd see these green eyes flash in the distance and then the fins and body of the shark would appear.  Very freaky.  Completely awesome.  We got several minutes just watching the sharks until Team Deutschland showed up.  The crowd was too dense so we surfaced and got back on the boat.

The last day of the trip I had 3 dives and saw 1 white-tip reef shark, 1 trumpetfish, 4 Maori Wrasse, 4 Barracudas (scary lookin fish, 4 footers), 3 rays, and a school of at least 30 parrotfish.

Parrotfish.  Not my photo, but you get the idea.

After our dives we took the 3-hour chug back to Cairns.  That night everyone got together at a fun pub called Rattle and Hum for some dinner and drinks.  I had a great night and we all had a lot of fun messing around with some of the instructors and crew in a place were they weren't working.

The next day I flew to Sydney, where I spent the night.  Today I'm heading to Malaysia, although my flight got delayed by 5 hours, which is kind of a drag.

More photos from the trip:

My room on the boat

We got two hours of sunshine the entire trip, so I took advantage of it

Main deck where everyone hung out or got lessons in between dives

Haaaangin' out

Cairns

When I arrived in Cairns, I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting.  It's hot.  It's humid.  It's in a rainforest.  I broke out in a sweat just walking on the jetway from the plane to the terminal.

The hostel I'm staying in is cool.  It has a decent vibe to it, but isn't at all very social, which is too bad.

I've spent most of my time here wandering, and you can walk around in the city in a short amount of time.  They've got this public man-made lagoon at the end of town, right near the water, so people can swim without worrying about getting stung by the jellies (including the deadly box jellyfish) that surround this area.

It rains a LOT here (in a rainforest...go figure).  It's rained for hours each of the two days I've been here.  It's rain, really hot sunshine, drizzle, rain, rain, sunshine, downpour, etc.  Also the hostel was very tricky...they claimed on the internet that each room is equipped with A/C.  Upon arrival, the A/C is coin operated and only lasts for 3 hours at a time.  If you don't like it, you get to sweat through the night.

Anyway, tomorrow I'm headed out to the Great Barrier Reef.  I'll be on a boat and out of contact for three days, returning Tuesday (Monday for all you people back home, a day behind Aussieland).

When I get back, expect a post about my diving adventure on the reef (sharks, rays, night diving, the works), complete with a bunch of pictures.