Altitude Ramble

Razor sharp ridge-backs slice through thin air.
And beyond, imperfect peaks
angular and discordant, carve their own niche.
Monstrous hulks, thrust up from long forgotten seas
blot out the light. Impassive, they wait.

When the morning sun burnishes snow silver,
inlaid glacial blue crevasses-
icy waterfalls suspended in time
break the monotony of rock face and scree.

Names of mountains emblazon maps;
are highlighted in guidebooks.
Famed because of other's conquests, other's falls.

Not even record-breaking Apa
will ever master Chomolungma.
He too will be claimed. His photo, unsigned
will join the many who already
paper museum walls.
A memorial will be erected in his honour
in the wasteland at the top of Dugla hill
while his wife, sleeps lonely in her bed.

Watchful eyes survey all.

Ancient prayer stones mark the way.
Finger-worn prayer wheels spin their own mantra.
Snot-faced children cry “namaste”
and “hello..bonbons?” as we pass.
Dakinis - spirit angels carried on high winds
are caught, held fast by raggedy prayer flags.
In the monasteries,
red-wrapped monks chant to achieve
a perfection that is
simplicity itself.

Later, teahouse hosts
humble us with their hospitality.
They have so little but give so much.
Under a star-filled, moonless sky
satellite TV beams in irrelevancies.
Sherpas, transfixed
are subtly tainted in ways they
cannot begin to comprehend.

Zo bells ring in swirly dreams.
Like spindrift, our minds shed surface skin
to launch into free fall.

At 6am, as we lie snug sipping bed-tea
reluctant to leave the
thick embrace of goose down,
others do our dirty work.
Breakfast is prepared and served
Tents dismantled
Bags strapped and yakked -
our camp transported
on the bent backs of porters.
Up paths steep enough to squeeze
the breath from our chests,
set the temples a-throbbing,
cause footsteps to falter
do we stop to consider
our easy ride?

Above us, golden eagles with flared wing-tips
ascend effortlessly on thermal, spiral stairs.
No wearisome trekking
No mountain sickness
No negative impact
They leave no trace, nothing
but slipstream.