The Everest Files

by Matt Dickinson

  ‘A couple of hundred dollars, maybe more.’ The frog man said. ‘But there would have to be a photo, you understand? The two of them together doing something … intimate.’

  Pemba whistled happily at the sound of all that cash. Nima gave an eager nod, downed the rest of his beer as Kami glared at him.

  ‘Have you got a camera?’ the man asked.

  ‘Kami’s got one,’ Nima said.

  ‘Great.’

  The frog man reached into his pocket, extracting a wallet from which he pulled some business cards.

  ‘Here’s my contact details. You guys know how to use email, right?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Pemba replied eagerly. ‘There are internet cafes in almost all the villages now.’

  ‘Great. OK, so I’ll look forward to hearing from you if you see anything like that.’

  Kami didn’t want to offend the man so – along with the other two – he put the card in the pocket of his fleece and left him to his beer.

  Back in the kitchen Kami rounded on the other two. ‘You shouldn’t get involved with that guy,’ he told them sharply.

  ‘Why not?’ Nima shrugged. ‘Money is money, right?’

  ‘Can’t you see he’s stirring things up? He’s a troublemaker.’

  Pemba turned on Kami. ‘So what? All he needs is one stupid photo. If we can make some honest money out of it then who cares?’

  ‘But it’s not honest money,’ Kami insisted, ‘the boss is the boss. You’d be betraying him.’

  ‘Anyway, maybe nothing’s going to happen,’ Nima said sulkily. ‘The boss will keep his hands off that girl and that’ll be the end of it.’

  ‘Just forget about it,’ Kami told them.

  Back in the Sherpa tent, Kami found sleep was elusive. The row with Nima and Pemba had been upsetting and he was angry with Nima for siding against him.

  When he did manage to slip away he was plagued by unsettling dreams.

  The next day turned into something of a fiasco. The late night party had left the press guys groggy and their faces were a picture when they realised there was a brisk thirty-minute climb up a steep hill to the place where the photocall was to happen.

  Tenzing ordered Kami and Nima to take a dozen chairs up the hill. They split the load between them, and, carrying six chairs each on their backs, set off with the photographers.

  The walk was an eventful one. Two of the photographers vomited up their breakfast as they struggled up the slope and another had to scamper behind a bush, victim of an acute attack of diarrhoea.

  Kami and Nima couldn’t help sniggering at his plight and their shared laughter broke the ice between them. The argument of the previous evening seemed to be forgotten.

  The place for the photocall was well-chosen, an open field with an unrestricted view of Everest and Lhotse. The location was right next to Namche’s military post and a handful of chilly-looking soldiers came out of their guard posts to watch the show.

  ‘Where’s the star?’ one of the photographers asked.

  Kurt made a brief walkie talkie call and Alex Brennan sauntered out from one of the military buildings in the company of the base commander. Kami was struck by the theatre of the moment, it was an entrance in the true sense of the word and the gathered press men hurriedly picked up their cameras to get their first shots of the senator.

  ‘Really appreciate you guys making it,’ he told them, ‘now let’s make sure you get what you need.’

  A row of chairs was set up and the Western team members seated with Alex Brennan in the middle. The Sherpas were arranged standing up behind them and the photo session began with a blizzard of flashes as the press pack got to work.

  ‘This way Alex!’

  ‘Over here Alex!’

  ‘We’re going to be famous,’ Nima whispered to Kami.

  They smiled their way through the session and then stood aside with the rest as the press pack requested shots of Alex on his own.

  ‘A bit to the right, Alex. We need Everest right behind you.’

  ‘Look towards the mountain please.’

  Brennan did as he was asked, smiling gracefully throughout, and then nodding almost imperceptibly to Kurt to signify he’d had enough.

  ‘OK,’ Kurt said abruptly, ‘That’s all, folks.’

  And with that Alex Brennan beat an elegant retreat, whisked back to the camp by Kurt while the photographers compared shots on their digital screens.

  The press pack spent the rest of the morning emailing their shots back to Base, then the entire circus packed up and headed for Lukla. They left behind an Everest-sized pile of empty beer bottles in the backyard of the lodge and a lingering scent of cigar smoke.

  Namche suddenly seemed an empty and rather silent place.

  ‘We pull out tomorrow,’ Tenzing told the team that afternoon. ‘The yaks will be here at dawn. I want the loads roped up and ready by 5 a.m.’

  Chapter 6

  Just after daybreak the team hit the trail, gaining the ridgeline in record time as the town of Namche fell rapidly away behind them. They passed through the village of Khumjung and began a spectacular traverse around a monumental cliff.

  Midway through the trek Kami saw that Sasha was right behind him. Nima had told him that the Western team members would tend to group together on the trekking days so he was surprised and pleased to have her company.

  He waited for her to catch up, admiring her easy grace as she picked a route along the rocky path. She had tied her blonde hair back in a pony tail and he noticed how the flowing part of it caught the sun as she approached.

  ‘Hey Mr Tungsten!’ she said cheerily, ‘How’s life?’

  ‘Not bad,’ Kami replied shyly.

  They started to walk together. He had to pick up his speed to match her, her long legs giving her a slight pace advantage over him.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep last night I was so excited,’ she told him. ‘I’ve wanted to get to Base Camp ever since I was a little girl.’

  ‘Really?’ Kami was charmed by this.

  ‘Yeah. This is the best reporting job I’ve ever had.’

  ‘Me too. My best job,’ Kami replied.

  ‘Have you done other things?’

  ‘Mostly cutting wood with my father.’

  Sasha playfully tweaked Kami’s bicep with her fingers.

  ‘That’s where you got the muscles, right?’

  ‘I guess.’

  They walked side by side for another hour as the trail entered the confines of a vast pine forest, then sat down to take some time out. Kami was packing a huge load on his back and he was relieved to get a sit down.

  ‘So is there a little Mrs Kami waiting for you back home? I heard you guys get married really young.’

  Kami laughed nervously. The comment had been a bit close to the mark.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he told her, ‘Maybe there’s someone.’

  ‘There you go! I knew you’d have some lovely Sherpani girlfriend. What’s her name? Is she pretty?’

  But Kami wouldn’t go further. Apart from anything else, he was superstitious about uttering Shreeya’s name. So he just grinned and bluffed it out.

  ‘I’m single at the moment,’ Sasha told him. ‘I finished with this guy I was with back in the States. We were together for years and it all went a bit wrong at the end so I was kind of down for a while.’

  Kami didn’t know what to say so he just replied ‘uh-huh.’

  ‘That’s why I chose this assignment,’ she continued. ‘It’s totally simple and clean. A guy goes to Everest and climbs it. That’s the type of story I need right now in my life.’

  Their rest stop was over; Kami shouldered his load once more and they regained the trail as it continued to traverse the side of the massive valley.

  Finally, the track reached a fork in the riv
er and began to climb. Conversation between them petered out as the long ascent to Tengboche Monastery began to take its toll and it was late afternoon by the time they reached the high plateau.

  ‘Phew! That was a tough one!’ Sasha exclaimed as they came to a halt outside the monastery. She wrapped her arms around Kami and hugged him hard. He could smell the perfumed scent of sun tan cream on her neck.

  ‘Come on Kami! Hug me back man! That’s how we do it, you know? Don’t be so … Asian!’

  He held her tight for a second or two then waited until she released him.

  The rest of the team soon arrived and Kami was quickly ordered to start putting up tents. As he worked he thought about that day’s trek with Sasha; the conversation with her had been fun but her final comment had stung him in a curious way.

  Don’t be so … Asian.

  Kami had never really thought of himself as Asian. Or as anything really other than just himself. But the more time he was spending with the Westerners it was true that he felt different. They were so open, so direct, so confident with everything.

  ‘They are like us. And not like us,’ Jamling had warned him.

  Kami was beginning to see the truth of those words.

  That night, in the small hours of the morning, Kami went outside to take a pee. The yaks shifted nervously at the torchlight, their coats already dusted with a layer of frost.

  The night was gloriously clear. By the faint illumination of the stars he could see the delicate white/blue profile of Everest and Lhotse, still many days’ walk to the north.

  Over in the monastery he could hear the monks gathering for their nightly prayers. Smoke drifted across the plateau, laced with the pleasing aroma of incense.

  He went back to the tent and pulled the blankets tight, shivering with cold for a few minutes before his body warmed. In the time it took him to fall asleep the monks had begun their prayers in earnest, the muffled drone of the trumpets and the clash of cymbals echoing around the village.

  At first, the trail from Tengboche descended. As so often seemed to be the case, the route was striking against the grain of the land, forging across valleys the hard way.

  They passed a number of holy shrines. Everywhere there were signs of Buddhist devotion, prayer flags strung across the rugged hillsides, scriptures carved into boulders, and prayer wheels mounted on posts outside the tea houses that cropped up along the way.

  Just past the village of Pangboche the team arrived at the designated lunch spot – a field next to the river. Lopsang and his assistants had already put up trestle tables on which sandwiches and cakes were laid out ready.

  The day was exceptionally warm; the spring sun blasting out of a cloudless sky. The whole team lay around sunbathing after lunch, enjoying the chance to relax. Then Sasha came back from the river and made an announcement.

  ‘There’s a bunch of kids messing around in a pool down there,’ Sasha told the group. ‘Anyone else fancy a swim?’

  ‘Great idea,’ Kurt replied and within five minutes the Westerners had dug their swimming costumes out of their packs and were heading down to the riverside.

  Kami followed them and put his hand in the water.

  ‘Too cold for you?’ Sasha asked him.

  ‘I don’t want to get frostbite,’ he told her with a smile.

  The glacial temperature didn’t seem to bother the Westerners. Kami watched them for a while as they joined the local kids who had excavated the pool. There was a huge boulder above it and they all took it in turns to jump off the top, screaming and fooling about.

  Then he felt Tenzing’s hand on his shoulder. ‘Time to do the washing up.’

  The two of them returned to the kitchen tent and Kami set to work as Tenzing looked around the field.

  ‘Where’s Nima and Pemba?’ The Sirdar asked him testily. ‘They should be doing this with you.’

  ‘No idea,’ Kami told him.

  Only later did Kami find the other two; they were huddled together in a quiet spot in the village, chatting animatedly together and staring at something that Pemba was holding.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Kami asked them.

  Pemba swiftly tucked the object into his pocket.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  Nima looked seriously guilty.

  ‘Let me take a look,’ Kami insisted.

  ‘No.’ Pemba stood and strutted off.

  ‘What was it?’ Kami asked Nima. But his friend made no reply. The bizarre encounter gave Kami a bad feeling and when he returned to the field he decided, on a hunch, to check his daypack where he straight away made an unwelcome discovery.

  ‘You took my camera,’ he snapped at Nima.

  ‘It … it was a joke,’ Nima blustered. But he looked gutted to have been caught.

  ‘What were you doing with it?’ Kami raged.

  Nima just hung his head and mumbled an incoherent reply as the others looked on curiously.

  ‘Tell Pemba I want it back,’ Kami hissed.

  The ugly little incident blotted Kami’s day and he could take no enjoyment in the remaining hours of trekking as the trail rose in a series of rocky turns to a massive rocky plateau.

  He kept an eye out for Pemba but he was nowhere to be seen and just before nightfall they made it to Dingboche, the last village of any size on the great trek to Base Camp.

  Pemba finally showed up later that evening and he tossed the camera to Kami without a word of apology and watched with a sly smile as Kami turned it on to check it.

  ‘Where’s the memory card?’ Kami demanded.

  ‘You’ll get it back later,’ Pemba said. And with that he walked out.

  Kami had to bite his lip. Alex Brennan and some of the other Westerners were close by and he didn’t want to create a scene in front of them.

  But Pemba was seriously starting to get on his nerves.

  After supper a lively session of cards kicked off. Brennan had decided to teach some of the Sherpas poker and they had quickly taken to the game, playing each evening for a handful of rupees. That night the games got rowdy, finally climaxing with an arm wrestling competition in which Alex Brennan took on all comers.

  Brennan got a big cheer from the Sherpas as he stripped to the waist.

  ‘Let the battle begin. A hundred bucks to anyone that can beat me!’ Brennan cried. He banged at the table with his fist until the first of the Sherpas stripped off his shirt and came in for the test.

  The commotion had brought Sasha into the tent and she stood smiling indulgently in the doorway sipping a hot chocolate as the fights began.

  Tenzing, the Everest veteran, gave the American a run for his money, knuckles white as they gripped each other’s hands. The Sherpa was blowing like a harpooned whale, the veins on his arms about to pop. But Brennan got him in the end. Lopsang was too sozzled to offer much resistance – he fell in seconds. Next came Norgay, the guy who looked after the equipment stores; he had a lot of natural strength and looked powerful in the early moments, but Brennan gradually forced his arm back and killed him off with a final explosion of raw power.

  Then he turned his attention to Kami.

  ‘How about you, Kami? Want to have a go?’

  ‘No thank you.’

  Brennan gave him a keen look.

  ‘You don’t say no to the boss,’ Jamling rebuked him with a smile. A second later Jamling and Tenzing pounced on Kami and wrestled him to the floor. Chairs flew as they crashed into the corner of the tent and a flask of hot chocolate fell with a fatal crunch onto the ground.

  ‘Bundle!’ Brennan shrieked as he jumped on top of the writhing Sherpas and the whole pile collapsed in hysterical laughter as Kami’s fleece and T-shirt were pulled off him.

  Finally, the young Sherpa managed to extricate himself from the scrum. He stood there, bare-chested, in front of the men, brea
thing heavily from the mock fight. The sight of him silenced the laughter for, although he had never even seen the inside of a gym, the sixteen-year-old Sherpa had a torso which was every bit as ‘ripped’ as Brennan’s.

  ‘My gods!’ Tenzing stepped forward and gave Kami’s biceps a squeeze. ‘You can beat him!’

  Sasha took a photograph.

  The contest began. Brennan tried a swift attack, trying to slam Kami’s arm down with a quick assault. The fast move took the young Sherpa by surprise and the back of his hand hovered perilously close to the table surface for a second or two before he managed to recover.

  He steeled himself and launched an audacious counter attack, giving the American a first taste of what he had to offer. The Sherpas cheered as Brennan’s arm bent backwards, his knuckles white as he gripped Kami’s hand for dear life.

  ‘Way to go!’ Brennan laughed at the cheek of the move but he was gradually able to force his arm back upright.

  Brennan was growing red in the face. The strain of resisting Kami’s assault was getting to him and his bicep had developed a telltale tremor as lactic acid began to build.

  ‘You can do better than this,’ Brennan admonished him. ‘Give me the best you got.’

  Kami realised the competition had reached a curious state of deadlock; he felt he could resist Brennan’s strength indefinitely, perhaps even wear him down and beat him in the end. But the young Nepali’s head was beginning to swim; the cries of the other Sherpas and the shouts of ‘Go! Go! Go! Go!’ from the Westerners were overwhelming him. He throttled back on the power for a beat or two then let Brennan slam his arm over for the victory.

  ‘Got you!’ Brennan roared. The Sherpas went wild. Sasha photographed Brennan as he did a victory jig around the tent.

  Later Kami went out of the tent to the washstand. He cupped his hands and bathed his face in the cool water, then found that Brennan had followed him out. He was shoulder to shoulder, doing the same.

  ‘Did you let me win?’ Brennan asked him in a low voice, ‘Cos you know that would really piss me off.’

  ‘Perhaps it was the gods who decided.’

  Brennan stared at Kami for a moment then nodded slightly, recognising the grace of the reply. Then he wiped his hands dry on the towel and walked back to the tent.