It feels good sitting here in Lukla.  No more walking.  No more cold early mornings.  No more worrying about supplies.

           Dawa is leaving this morning for Namche to return the boots and sleeping bag and to retrieve my American Express card.  I said my good-byes and he headed up the trail, a spring in his step.  Finally he is rid of me!  If everything goes well he should be back tomorrow night.

           Today I do little.  Perhaps tomorrow I’ll go for a little hike with the camera and no pack and test the knees.

           I can’t get the Loon Samba and the three statues out of my thoughts.  It turns out the Dawa’s cousin, the Lama of his village Gompa was the person who carved the replacement figures.  The originals had finally decayed beyond salvage.  The Buddha's are true works of art and to get replicas of the originals carved by the person who created them would be a real coup.  Dawa believes the Lama would be happy to do so and we have discussed a tentative price.  We shall see.

           Last Dinner at the Mera Hotel In Lukla.  I am flying out sometime tomorrow, but not worry free.  I am leaving behind well over a thousand dollars worth of equipment for Dawa to bring out when he follows.  We cannot leave together since he must fly standby, being a resident, and getting a special air rate.  Lukla is very busy, but Dawa knows the ticket master, and my seat is assured.

           The flight out should be interesting.  The runway, a gravel and dirt affair, sits on a narrow shelf with the runway going across the width.  If the plane comes in short it hits the lip of the shelf, if it comes in high it slams into the ridge.  The runway is inclined upward so that the incoming planes can stop in time.  To take off these 12 passenger Otters rev the engines with the brakes on hard till they achieve maximum torque and then, like a sling shot, they bounce down the canted runway to the abyss..

           I had a little trouble paying for the ticket since I did not bring a currency document from Kathmandu, needed for all currency that has not been converted.  They at first refused to accept my traveler’s checks, but after pleading stupidity on the laws of the land, and with Dawa’s help, we get it straightened out.  Walking out from Lukla for another ten days just was not an option.

           I am having Dalbot, if it ever arrives.  There is a large French group sharing the dining room, and it seems appropriate.  A Danish gentleman is discussing a possible bladder infection with a doctor associated with the French group.  She speaks English with an American accent. The Sirdar is counting a large pile of rupees, and two porters are in an intense discussion.

           Since my last stay here, on my way in, the lodge had installed a new wood stove with a chimney and a better heating system for the hot water shower out back.  The stove fills the room with it’s radiant heat.

           The French have been playing cards nonstop for six hours now.

           Sitting here waiting for the meal to arrive, I find it is easy to dwell on this adventure and how much travel means to me.

           The Dane has just offended the Sirdar by saying that in Jiri theft from the buses is a real problem and indicated that it was worse in Jiri than in other place in the world. The Dane has not been in New York!