Everything Gets More Basic From Here
Episode 4: Cold showers, group digestion, and learning not to look too closely
I hadn’t slept well. I couldn’t tell if I’d actually been asleep or just floated near it for hours. But when I woke at 5:30 a.m., I felt surprisingly okay. The dining room was empty except for a girl mopping floors. Two young men were cooking breakfast.
(📖 Read on the website - I tweaked the layout recently.)
I watched potatoes fall onto the floor, get picked up, and go straight back into the pan. One of them disappeared into the bathroom and returned to chopping vegetables. There was no soap.
Three days ago, I would have been appalled. Now I just thought: Good enough. Standards are a luxury up here.
The group gathered for breakfast with excellent news: Ratna had finally pooped.
He’d been constipated since day one. For three days, his digestion had been a collective concern. Eunice, who happens to be a doctor, had been giving medical advice. Others offered belly massage techniques. Nothing was too personal anymore.
The night before, I’d pulled out my secret stash: 暢快人生, a Taiwanese probiotic so potent it comes with warnings. With Eunice’s approval, I handed it over along with three regular probiotic packets and strict instructions: take this tonight, drink hot water in the morning, pray.
We all prayed.
It worked.
When Ratna announced success that morning, the room erupted. We cheered like he’d summited Everest. At altitude, your body stops being private property. Bowel movements become team victories. If the guide can’t shit, what hope do the rest of us have?
The day’s hike dissolved into a blur of uphill, downhill, repeat. I stopped trying to track time or distance. My legs moved. My lungs worked. I just followed.
We stopped for lunch at the International Guest House. Our guide had pre-ordered roasted chicken and mixed pizza. It tasted incredible, though I suspect our standards had dropped considerably by then.
Afterward, we sat in the sun, letting our bodies rest. No one was in a hurry.
Ratna warned us that tonight’s lodge would be basic. Not much choice at this elevation. I appreciated his honesty. With Ratna, when he said something would take an hour, it took an hour. Binod, our porter, tended toward wildly optimistic estimates, which probably served a strategic purpose in keeping morale afloat.
The afternoon passed in waves. Flat, uphill, downhill, repeat. At some point, a white dog started following us. He hesitated at a bridge, nervous, then gathered his courage and crossed. We were charmed. A new trail companion.
Then we reached a village, and he spotted a female dog. He abandoned us immediately, running toward her with singular focus.
That’s when we realized he’d never been following us at all. He had his own agenda. Still, he’d kept us entertained through the post-lunch slump.
We arrived at Lower Sinuwa around 3:30 p.m. to find long lines for the shared showers. A group of middle-aged aunties had staked their territory, arms crossed, bags planted on benches like territory markers. When a few of us tried to use what looked like an empty stall, the host shouted us down.
This was the only tea house available that night. Some of us gave up and took cold showers. Only one stall had hot water, and everyone seemed to know exactly whose turn it was.
Comfort wasn’t guaranteed anymore. You took what you could get and moved on.
Dinner was at 6 p.m. Meat was available, but local wisdom discouraged it this high up. We all ordered vegetarian. I got veggie noodles with a fried egg. Carbs felt like survival insurance for tomorrow’s climb.
Victor, Ingmar, and I shared a room that night. Back in the room, I lay on the thin mattress, feeling my body settle. Through the walls, I could hear others unpacking, rearranging, getting comfortable.
By day three, the pretense had worn off. In Kathmandu, I’d written about wanting the mountains to give me clarity, some sort of revelation. A reason for being here.
But the mountains weren’t interested in my wishes. They just made everything harder. Climbing. Breathing. Sleeping. Shitting.
At some point, I stopped asking the mountains for anything.
Tomorrow we’d climb toward 4,000 meters. The air would thin. The stakes would rise. But tonight, tucked into a room that smelled faintly of mildew and old wood, I felt strangely at peace.
I thought about Ratna’s poop victory and smiled.
Tonight, we’d earned our rest.
Next Up
Episode 5: Suffering in Company
Nine hours of climbing. Binod’s worst ETA yet. And the room we named Greyhound Bus.