Life on the trail took us past spectacular views, spiritual settings, children waiting for school to start, sherpas carrying heavy loads, glacier rivers providing fresh water, locals traveling up and down the steep paths, trekkers stopping for tea or lunch and endless yak and pony trains. Namestes are exchanged, minds ponder each others reason for such travel and people move on under the mountain gods careful watch.
Tomorrow, as I fly out above this confusing city and over the pure mountain slopes, I'll get one last look at the Himalayan giants that have intrigued and entertained me for a lifetime. Once again, I'll ponder the blatant inability of society to weave a cloak that blends into a pattern of purpose and inclusiveness versus random threads without connection. In 1953, when Europeans and westerners were allowed to enter, the people of this country, once a kingdom, were thought to hold the key to happiness. In reaching out to "help," without listening to the rhythm of the land and it's people, the results produced problems as well as solutions. Fortunately, Nepali people have held on to their friendly, happy nature so worthy of emulation and admiration without dissection or question. We should adhere to the eighteenth-century scholar, Jigme Lingpa's words in Treasury of Precious Qualities: 
My Sherpas and their wonderful friends up and down the trail, the Dutch, the Australians, the Israelis, my 18 hour overseas seat partner in crime John, the Germans, Deepak, Indira, the Australians, the New Yorkers, and last but most importantly, the Oregon boys.
This modern Tibetan kitchen produced the best old fashion Tibetan bread; however, I almost missed the opportunity to taste it My Sherpa guide got into a heated political discussion with this "strong" Sherpa woman. He lives much further down the mountains, below Lukla. After the Maoist promised his village many improvements, they got his vote. In contrast, the Sherpa woman, living very close to the Tibetan border with even closer ties to her Tibetan relatives, hated the Maoist. Words flew and it was easy for me to see that he was getting ripped and I was losing my Tibetan bread. I finally intervened, pushed him out the door, and started talking to her about her beautiful kitchen, village and monastery. Also, I told her I had spun all of the prayer wheels. At last, my Tibetan bread!
Along the trail, I saw children playing together and taking care of each other. They squealed with delight at "Hide and Seek," "Kick the Can," and "You're it." I watched them climb trees, swim in freezing glacier water, make their own bow and arrows and chase each other up and down the mountain sides. Moreover, they were eager to respond when I talked to them in Nepali. How refreshing to encounter children who's lives are not defined by technology; how difficult to reconcile that pleasure while seeing the lack of education in this impoverished country. 
Below, you see Namceh Bazar; from there, Cricket players from all over the globe have staggered up to a view point at 11,500ft. They are headed to Base Camp for a world record attempt at the highest altitude game of competitive sport ever. They hope to raise over L250,000 for the Lord's Taverners & the Himalayan Trust. Charlie Campbell, playing for Team Hillary, is an enthusiastic, jovial guy. When he started telling me about the match, he was hysterically funny. Seeing these large, athletic, macho men make fun of each other over the difficulties of trekking at this altitude put a smile on my face that lasted the whole trip. I'm looking forward to hearing all about the match and their trip.
Every time I heard the Yak bells, I let out a silent cheer! It meant listening to the clanging of the bells while my heart had a chance to settle to a quiet roar and my legs temporarily ceased protesting.
Then came the ponies with the ringing of their bells as they trotted along in rhythm. Fortunately, the goats soon meandered into the trail and offered up a photo opp! I would never have made it without these pleasant diversions.
