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We
Will Sleep In The Corral |
as we picked a
bag full of the dried leaves so I could bring them home. A
reminder of a bit of delicacy in a rough place.
The passes were icy and dangerous on the shadowed side and
fatigue was bearing down on me. Snow, refusing to melt on the
dark side made each step a thought, and a number of times
I
had to make my way off the trail to get traction. Lukla was only
an idea in my muddled mind. |
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Back in Lukla.
Yep, yesterday was a long day - the longest; and Dawa did
not help matters. He pushed me, pushed me hard, often times
getting out of ear and eye range. Gaining and falling,
gaining and falling, we attack the passes until we ate up
nearly 10,000 feet in elevation gain, and loss, and my
knees, after six weeks of tough use, cried foul.
There had been a wonderful aroma in the air and it had not
come from me! I have been traveling through it and have been
trying to figure out the source. It happened when I sat down
for a short rest break and the cinnamon and spice smell
enveloped me.
One of the countless bushes of brown-dried miniature
rhododendrons brushed against me. The aroma was strong
and intoxicating, a natural potpourri. Grabbing a
handful of the aromatic leaves I rubbed them on my cloths. Dawa
again humored me
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These
Low Lying Rhododendrons are a Living Potpourri Giving off
a Peppery, Spicy Aroma |
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