Post #1472241

Trekking through the Himalayas. Woke up with a headache. Other members of the party recognized it for what it was - early altitude sickness (which will kill you within hours). Normally we walked between breakfast and lunch while increasing elevation, then spent the rest of the day lazying about; maybe four hours of hiking was enough for the entire day. This day, to drop elevation, we were on the move for about ten hours straight, not stopping because we needed to descend while also making it to a good village. The trails up there are "not maintained", meaning one might be scrambling over rocks at times. Also, there's no way to bring up supplies into Sherpa country other than on your back, so food is what ever they're able to grow in their little hard-scrabble plots. Which translates to no-meat. I was already mildly hungry owing to a week of either dal-bhat (beans and rice) or pancakes, and nothing else, and combined with the effects of altitude sickness, I was a walking zombie. I had no input to offer the leader; he told me to walk, I walked; stop, I stopped. We finally get to some civilization, which was a collection of huts, and he arranged a meal for us. Which was a potato each pulled from the ground next to the hut. We waited while they were cooked, which was over a little clay "oven" that burned one stick at a time, with the heat going up through a hole to where a single pot or pan could be placed. Must have been a dutch oven on the stovetop. Picture how long it would take to bake a potato in a dutch oven fired by a candle. I was so hungry when we arrived, I just sat in a daze. Then this woman dropped a potato in front of me. There might have been a plate. Funny enough, while the Nepalis eat with their fingers, the Sherpas eat with utensils. Unless you're too poor to afford them. She was "dirt potatoes" poor, so I ate this thing with my fingers. Which was a chore itself; the outside was poorly brushed. The inside was a hot potato. I had to handle, open, and scoop out hot potato with my fingers, which oh-by-the-way weren't exactly clean. (I must have either alcohol swabbed or just held the potato from the outside which munching the inside). It was delicious. I'll never forget it.