Peak by Roland Smith Page A

Sagarmatha."
    This is what the Nepalese call Everest.
    "My dad bought it," I argued. "He might need it."
    "Your father told me to make sure that you have everything you need to climb the mountain. How much money do you have?"
    I told him, but I didn't mention the credit card Mom had given me. I didn't think she'd be happy about a huge bill for Everest gear.
    "It's not enough to get the things you will need," Zopa said. "Hopefully, we will be able to trade all this." He started to gather up the gear from the trade pile.
    "Best not to argue," Sun-jo whispered, and he and I helped haul the gear downstairs, where a Toyota truck and driver were waiting for us.
     
     
    IT TOOK HOURS to get the replacement gear. In the process I got quite a tour of Kathmandu. It seemed that most of the places Zopa liked to shop were located down dark scary alleys. He was warmly greeted wherever we went, until the bartering started, when he and the proprietor would end up in a shouting match until a bargain was struck.
    The most difficult things to find were my boots. I'd try on a pair I liked, tell Zopa they fit great, then he would make me walk, and shake his head.
    "Not right," he'd say.
    "What do you mean?" I'd insist. "They fit great."
    "Too small," he'd say. "But when your toes fall off inside from the swelling and pinching they will fit perfectly."
    We finally agreed on a pair that did fit great, but they were pretty battered up on the outside. In fact, all the stuff we bought was banged up.
    "I hope this gear wasn't taken from dead climbers," I said offhandedly.
    Zopa looked horrified. "Bad luck to use gear of the dead. No, this is from people who come to Kathmandu to climb and decide it is better to stay in bar and drink."
    I must have looked horrified myself.
    "Don't think ill of them," he said. "They lived."
    Zopa also bought a few things for himself and Sun-jo, who I guessed was coming with us to Base Camp by the gear he was getting. Unlike me, he listened carefully to Zopa's opinions and bowed every time the monk gave him something.
    It was late when we got back to the hotel. We went up to the room, packed everything, then loaded it into the truck.
    "We leave for Tibet tomorrow morning at six," Zopa said.
    He and Sun-jo got into the truck and drove away.

TIBET
     
     
     
    THE NEXT MORNING Sun-jo, Zopa, the driver, and two Sherpas were sitting on the tailgate drinking tea. By the look of their disheveled hair and rumpled clothes they must have slept in the truck.
    Sun-jo confirmed that they had. "But only for two hours," he said. "We were out getting supplies up until then."
    He wasn't kidding. There was so much stuff piled in the bed, I didn't know where we were going to sit.
    We squeezed ourselves between the gear along with two Sherpas (brothers, named Yogi and Yash) and left the blue haze of Kathmandu behind us.
     
     
    WE TOOK OUR TIME, stopping at Buddhist temples and monasteries along the way, where Zopa picked up boxes of food and supplies. We already had plenty of food and some of the food he was given wasn't going to last very long up on the mountain. I asked about it but got the standard shrug in reply.
    Away from the city, Nepal was everything I had imagined it to be. Beautiful valleys, rustic villages, fields tilled by oxen-pulled plows, all against the backdrop of the massive, sparkling Himalayas. I had been up on Mount McKinley and Mount Rainier, but they would be dwarfed by these snow-covered peaks.
    We stopped for the night outside a tiny village. Sun-jo and I started to help set up camp, but Zopa waved us off.
    "You two go climb." He pointed to a wall about a quarter mile away. "Don't fall. Come down before dark."
    He didn't have to tell us twice. We jogged over to the wall. It wasn't a difficult climb, but about halfway up I had to stop to rest and catch my breath. Sun-jo, who had picked a more difficult route, scrambled up the rock like a lizard, smiling as he climbed past, which taught me a couple of things about