The plan was to hike from Namche to Deboche today. That didn’t happen. But what did happen was arguably better, at least for a bear who appreciates heated rooms at 3,875 meters (12,713 feet).
Nicholas was feeling noticeably better. The antibiotics from the hospital were kicking in, and for the first time in a couple days he wasn’t hacking up a lung every ten minutes. Pokin, on the other hand, was not improving. But the trail doesn’t wait, so off we went.
The hike from Namche to Tengboche is about 9 kilometers (5.6 miles). Not the longest day, but it’s mostly uphill and the altitude is starting to make itself known. Every incline feels a little heavier. Every rest stop feels a little more earned.
You round a corner, more mountains. You go up a hill, more mountains. You stop to catch your breath, mountains. It’s relentless.
The trail between Namche and Tengboche follows the Dudh Kosi valley and then climbs steeply through rhododendron forest. By now we’d gotten used to sharing the path with yak caravans and porters, but the traffic felt heavier on this stretch. More lodges ahead means more supplies going up.
And there she is. Ama Dablam. The mountain that looks like someone designed it specifically to be on postcards. At 6,812 meters (22,349 feet), it’s not the tallest peak around, but it might be the most dramatic. That sharp, angular summit with the hanging glacier on its face. It kept popping up at every turn for the rest of the trek, like a mountain that knows it’s photogenic.
We stopped at a teahouse along the way for a break. High Mountain Bakery, apparently. They had a big prayer wheel out front, and obviously I had to give it a spin.
More suspension bridges. This one framed Ama Dablam perfectly between the valley walls, which feels intentional but probably isn’t.
We made it to Tengboche by the afternoon. The monastery is the main attraction here, the largest in the Khumbu region. The entrance has the classic dharma wheel flanked by two golden deer, prayer wheels lining the walls, and stupas scattered around the grounds. The whole crew went inside to walk around. It had a prayer room and various halls with murals and statues. Pretty cool, even for a bear who typically prefers gaming rooms to prayer rooms.
Now, the original plan was to continue another 20 minutes downhill to Deboche, where the rest of the group would be staying. But Nicholas had two things on his mind.
First: the new moon was approaching. He’d been planning astrophotography shots for this stretch of the trek, and Tengboche sits on an open plateau with minimal light pollution. Perfect for shooting. Deboche, on the other hand, sits lower in a forested valley. Not ideal for sky views.
Second, and more importantly: Pokin wasn’t doing well. She’d been pushing through, but she looked rough. Nicholas noticed a brand new lodge right next to the monastery, The Himalayan, which had literally opened its new wing two days prior. He and DB walked over to check it out.
The room was heated.
At 3,875 meters (12,713 feet) in the Himalayas, heated rooms are about as common as bears with blogs. Power up here is scarce and expensive. Most teahouses are stone cold, sometimes literally. You sleep in your sleeping bag inside a sleeping bag liner inside all your clothes. So a heated room? That’s not just luxury. That’s Nicholas knowing his wife needed to rest properly.
He booked it. Everyone else hiked down to Deboche. Nicholas and Pokin stayed in Tengboche.
The room was genuinely nice. By any standard, not just by Himalayan teahouse standards. Loft bed, sitting area, wood paneling, actual curtains. For Nepal at nearly 4,000 meters (13,000 feet), this was absurd. Nicholas was paying American hotel prices for it, but one look at Pokin curling up in a warm room instead of shivering in a sleeping bag, and it was obviously the right call.
That night, Nicholas had his first shot at astrophotography. New moon. Dark skies. Ama Dablam as a backdrop.
The entire valley filled with fog.
Not a single star. He couldn’t even see the monastery from the room. Four thousand meters (13,000 feet) up, perfect astronomical conditions on paper, and the mountain had other plans. A preview of what was to come for the next several nights.
But the morning made up for it.
The fog was gone. The sky was impossibly blue. Ama Dablam, Thamserku, all of them just sitting there in the early morning light like they’d been waiting all night to show off.
Worth the detour. Worth the heated room. Worth every rupee.
Onwards and upwards. Literally.