Nicholas came straight off the mountain to breakfast. No shower. No change of clothes. Sleeping bag rolled up, camera packed, ready to go. The plan was always to head down today — back to Tengboche, back to Pokin, back to lower altitude where humans can breathe without having to think about it.
But there was a problem he didn’t know about yet, because he’d been sleeping on a mountain.
Po On was not doing well. She’d been struggling for a couple days, but overnight it got worse. Not just the altitude anymore. She was getting genuinely sick on top of the altitude sickness. DB took one look at her that morning and made the call: she was not going over any more passes. She was done. She’d be heading down to Tengboche with Nicholas and me.
The question was whether she could actually hike it.
She didn’t think so. So what did we do?
We rented a horse.
Chestnut is probably back in Las Vegas right now beaming. “I’m so proud! Horses are so helpful! One of my fellow equines out there helping Po On in her time of need!” He’d be insufferably optimistic about the whole thing. He always is.
The horse’s name was Sunny. Or Suni. Or Soy. Or Soya. Honestly, every time the guide said it, it came out slightly different. We asked him to write it down. What he wrote had no obvious relationship to anything he’d been saying out loud. So the horse’s name remains a mystery. I’m going with Sunny because it makes the most sense.
But first — a look at what Nicholas was leaving behind.
This was the room at the lodge in Thukla. Shared squat toilet. Blue water barrel. The works. Given the state of things in there, Nicholas was actually glad he’d spent the night outside on a mountain instead. Better stars. Better air. Fewer things you don’t want to think about.
Meanwhile, back in Tengboche:
Yeah. Two very different mornings.
So the new plan: instead of going straight to Tengboche, they’d swing back through Dingboche on the way down. Nicholas had already visited the doctor there twice with Pokin, so why not make it three for three? Same clinic, same doctor, new sister.
Po On rode. Nicholas walked behind with the porters. Down through the valley, past the settlements, retracing all the steps he’d been speed-running upward just a few days ago. The whole thing was a lot more pleasant going downhill, aside from the part where everyone was sick or becoming sick.
They made it to the doctor in Dingboche. Nicholas walked in and said, “Hey, I’m back. With the other sister.”
Po On’s diagnosis was similar to Pokin’s. Respiratory infection, probably from the altitude and cold. Same antibiotics. The good news: no HAPE. No fluid in the lungs. Less severe than Pokin’s situation. The bad news: she still needed to go down. No more high altitude for her.
So they kept going. Down from Dingboche, through the valley, up the final climb to Tengboche.
That last stretch into Tengboche is deceptive. You’re descending for most of the day, everything feels like it’s winding down, and then the trail goes straight up. Steep switchbacks through the forest, right when your legs have already decided they’re done.
Pokin spotted them coming up the trail from her patio. Reunion at the lodge. Everyone alive, mostly functional, varying degrees of sick.
So here we are. Back at The Himalayan in Tengboche. Pokin has her heated room. Po On has antibiotics. Nicholas has a cough that’s getting worse and a body that’s finally catching up with three nights of no sleep at extreme altitude.
But the three of them are back together. Steve, Alice, and DB are still up there doing the Three Passes route, but this crew is reunited. That counts for something.
Rest time.