The Himalayas | Getting There
I had a dream
A year ago, I finally had the opportunity to make my dream of travelling to the Himalayas a reality. Ever since my first hike in the Drakensberg I’ve had a fascination with Everest and the Himalayas. I’ve always dreamed of following in the footsteps of Hillary, Tenzing-Norgay, Messner, Breashears, Viesturs and countless other mountaineers and trekkers to Everest Base Camp.
With the booking made through Nomadic Adventures, I didn’t give it much thought until I suddenly realised that only a month remained before boarding the plane to Kathmandu. I still had a lot to prepare for the three-week, 140 km trek — supplementing gear, obtaining medication, and collecting the small essentials that make or break a mountain experience: wet wipes, lip balm, sunscreen, and inner socks.
The biggest factor was weight. I was allowed only 15 kg of luggage for the flight from Kathmandu to Lukla — including hiking clothing for below-freezing temperatures, a −15 °C sleeping bag, snacks, medication, photography gear and tripod. It was a logistical puzzle.
Off towards Sagarmatha
With preparations complete, the journey began on Friday 13 October. After a six-hour drive from White River to OR Tambo International, I said a teary farewell to my fiancée and boarded an Emirates flight to Dubai — unexpectedly alongside a good friend I hadn’t seen in a decade.
Sunrise glowed over the Somali coast; later, the Burj Khalifa pierced the sky as we crossed the Gulf of Oman. The rugged Bruhui Mountains of Pakistan gave way to the lush plains of India, and finally, just before sunset, the Himalayas appeared on the horizon. A thunderstorm delayed our descent, and we touched down in Kathmandu after dusk.
Hello Nepal!
Customs complete, I experienced my first wild Kathmandu drive — a chaotic ballet of horns, scooters, buses and dogs, where intersections are optional and dust fills the air. The Thamel Eco Resort was a welcome sanctuary. A $3 soup and coffee soothed my nerves after 36 hours of travel.
A western view of Kathmandu from our hotel roof in Thamel.
The next day I explored the maze of Thamel’s shops — every third one selling outdoor gear. I bought a down jacket and sleeping bag for just $100. Had I known the deals, I would have waited to buy all my kit here.
Welcome boys!
By afternoon the rest of our team arrived. We toasted with one final beer on a rooftop overlooking the city — our last before two dry weeks of trekking. After dinner we weighed our bags; mine tipped 16 kg, so a few snacks and extras were sacrificed to meet the 15 kg limit.
The next morning chaos reigned at Kathmandu Airport. Lukla flights were delayed for hours due to weather and runway work. After seven stifling hours, our Tara Air flight was finally called — only to be cancelled moments before take-off. Plan B: charter a helicopter.
Fork out or stay
We managed to secure seats on a helicopter at $200 each — steep, but it guaranteed we’d at least get closer to Lukla. After weighing in, we waited for clearance. Lukla remained closed, but Ramechhap was open. We took off into the haze.
The outskirts of Kathmandu in hazy conditions.
Ramechhap
Twenty-five minutes later we landed at Ramechhap (2000 ft ASL), now even lower than Kathmandu — not ideal for acclimatisation. Our Canadian pilot, Eric Ridington, grounded for the night with us, and we found a local lodge for ₨ 910 (≈ $9). It was basic, but it had a bed.
Making our way back to the helicopter through Ramechhap village.
Pre-flight for our hop to Lukla from Ramechhap.
The next morning’s twenty-minute flight was unforgettable — sheer valleys, villages clinging to cliffs, and snow-covered peaks emerging through the clouds 12 000 ft above us. My first glimpse of the real Himalayas.
Approaching Lukla runway — short, steep and legendary.
The dragon has landed
We touched down safely in Lukla (2860 m). Meeting our guides, we planned to push beyond Phakding to Monjo — a longer first day to make up lost time. After tea and breakfast at the Himalaya Lodge, we set off into the Dudh Koshi Valley.
Crossing over to the western side of the river near Phakding.
The Dudh Koshi (“Milky River”), sourced from Everest’s glaciers, carved a turquoise ribbon between steep, forested slopes. Yak trains passed, bells clanging, as we found our rhythm at last.
One of dozens of stupas along the trek — always pass on the left.
Phakding to Monjo
We passed through small villages before reaching the entrance to Sagarmatha National Park and descended to Jorsalle for the night. Our lodge sat beside the roaring river — a natural white-noise machine.
The village of Jorsalle — our first overnight stop.
At Jorsalle I took one of only two showers on the entire trip — thirty seconds of warmth before icy water resumed. At altitude, wet wipes soon became a hiker’s best friend.
The glacial blue of the Dudh Koshi River at Jorsalle.
Yaks, donkeys and porters carry all supplies into the Himalayas.
Up up up!
Morning brought the three-kilometre, 700-metre climb to Namche Bazaar. Shortly after Jorsalle we crossed the famous double-deck Larja Bridge — a suspension bridge draped in prayer flags — before the long, relentless ascent.
Crossing the iconic Larja Bridge on the way to Namche Bazaar.
The climb is punishing but unforgettable — the trail clings to steep slopes, and partway up we glimpse Everest for the first time, rising beyond the Nuptse wall.
First view of Everest — still 20 km away, behind Nuptse.
Arriving at Namche Bazaar (3440 m) — locals washing in the canal.
After five days of travel, I finally felt I had arrived in the Himalayas.
Click below to continue the journey:
The Himalayas | Part 2 – Namche Bazaar to Dingboche
See more of Eksteen’s photography at waytogophotography.co.za.