We woke up in Tengboche to the kind of morning that makes you briefly forget you’ve been coughing for three days. Blue skies, mountains everywhere, and a lodge lobby that had no business being this nice at 3,875 meters (12,713 feet).
Today’s plan was simple: descend from Tengboche to Deboche, then climb up to Dingboche. About 11 kilometers (7 miles). Not the worst day on paper, but the altitude was now firmly above 4,000 meters (13,000 feet), which is where things start getting real.
The trail dropped into a mossy, shaded forest that looked like it belonged in a fantasy game. Twisted roots, mud, dappled light through ancient branches. And then, right on cue, we arrived at a place that leaned into that exact vibe.
Deboche sits in a hidden valley below Tengboche, and someone decided to name their lodge after Tolkien’s hidden Elvish sanctuary. Honestly? Fair. The valley does have that tucked-away, last-homely-house energy. No elves, though. Just a lot of laundry drying in the sun.
This was where the rest of our group had slept the night before, while Nicholas and Pokin stayed up in Tengboche for the heated room and the (failed) astro attempt. We were here to regroup and keep moving.
The trail between Deboche and Dingboche is where the landscape starts to change. Trees thin out, the valley widens, and you start seeing more of the big peaks without having to crane your neck around a ridge.
It’s also where the woolly yaks show up.
I’d seen yaks before on this trek, but these were different. Full winter coat, long shaggy fur hanging almost to the ground, the kind that look like they were designed for a blizzard and accidentally wandered into spring. The ones lower on the trail were more like yak-lite. These were the premium edition.
The trail kept climbing, and Ama Dablam kept showing off. At this point she was practically following us.
The up-and-down nature of this trail is something nobody warns you about. You’d think “hike to a higher village” means you just go up. No. You go down 300 meters (984 feet) into a river valley, cross a bridge, then climb 500 meters (1,640 feet) back up the other side. Repeat. The Himalayas don’t believe in flat.
We stopped for tea at the Everest Bakery, because of course there’s a bakery in the middle of nowhere at 4,000 meters.
Past the bakery, the terrain opened up into high alpine valley. Stone walls, carved mani stones, and the mountains just sitting right there with nothing between you and them.
The weather started turning around midday. Clouds rolling in from the valley below, temperatures dropping, the peaks disappearing one by one. By the time we hit the final approach to Dingboche, it was full overcast and Pokin was running out of steam.
She’d been pushing through since Tengboche, but the altitude was winning. The last stretch into Dingboche is a gradual uphill across an exposed plateau, and when you’re not feeling great, gradual is just a polite word for relentless.
Dingboche is the last major stop before things get properly extreme. The air is noticeably thinner. Walking up a flight of stairs to your room leaves you breathing like you just sprinted. Nicholas seems to be back to normal, but Pokin was heading in the wrong direction.
Dinner, though? Dinner was good.
Tomorrow is the 5,000-meter (16,404 feet) acclimatization hike. Can’t wait to see how that plays out.