After dropping in on a morning session of chanting in the monastery Ann and I hit the trail towards Pheriche.  We followed a valley with Ama Dablam growing larger on the right and Lhotse straight ahead.  This portion of the trail contained numerous statues and piles of rock that held some sort of religious meaning.  Ann took these religious monuments seriously and snapped at me whenever I made the mistake of passing on the right, which would supposedly offend the locals.

As we neared Pheriche (13,900 ft.) on a desolate stretch of trail the first side-effects of altitude set in.  As we took a break I looked across and saw what I thought was a bear heading in our direction.  Knowing full-well that there are no bears in the Khumbu I figured the bear must have arrived here by the efforts of a conservationist group trying to introduce bears to high altitude.  Determined not to alarm Ann, I told her a bear was coming our way and to remain calm.  She looked in the direction I was pointing, "that's a yak, stupid."  Sure enough, my one god-given feature of value, my eyes, had let me down.

We passed the yak and arrived Pheriche shortly thereafter.  We were "stuck" in Pheriche for two nights for an extra acclimation day, so we took extra care to pick the lodge with the lowest fares.  I had long since given up trying to live for less than $3 per day to accommodate my ravenous appetite.  A lack of food and high altitude was beginning to wither my already skinny frame.  My appetite had responded by eating everything in site, including extra meals and anything I could scrap off Ann's and other trekker's plates.

A large portion of time during the trek involved sitting in the dining room of lodges at night or when the weather turned foul in the afternoons.  Now that we were higher the nights were colder and there was no wood to burn for heat.  With nothing better to burn, solidified yak dung was put in the fires, which gave off a foul odor.  In addition to the odor, the thin air was making many trekkers sick casting a dark pall over the room.  Most ascend towards Everest at a certain rate to adjust to the altitude, so we consistently shared lodges with the same people.  The other trekkers were older, but we still enjoyed their company.

After a second night in Pheriche we set out across the desolate valley towards Lobuje.  By now we were in the midst of the highest mountains on Earth.  Apparently this area contains six of the eight highest peaks on Earth - indeed there were mountain faces of mind-boggling proportions in every direction.  Word on the trail said that Lobuje had limited sleeping capacity, so halfway up the trail I sprinted ahead to pass other groups in order to get Ann and I a place to sleep for the night.  I was successful in my bid to find us a bed, but unlike other lodges we weren't going to get our own rooms.

Every other town on the trail had been pleasant, but Lobuje (16,000 ft.) formed the one exception.  Nearly every group going to Base Camp stops here in order to not ascend too quickly.  The accommodations are too small, dirty, and un-friendly.  Although he tends to exaggerate, Jon Krakaeur describes Lobuje in his book Into Thin Air,

After all my scoffing at other trekker's misery, I started to become sick myself.  It wasn't altitude related - probably something I ate or licked since being in Lobuje.  What would have been ordinary misery became exponential as word had leaked out through the Khumbu Valley that Ann was only my sister.  Male trekkers took my sickness as a queue to move in on my sister.  Hunting season was open and my sister was the prey - and I could do nothing about it.  They all wanted in my sister's sleeping bag, but luckily Ann wasn't interested. 

During the night I made several trips out to the toilets to empty my bowels.  There were no cities nearby, and at this altitude the stars were out in force, but I couldn't enjoy because I also felt nauseated.  To my surprise each time I went outside to use the bathroom there were several others milling about fighting their own sicknesses.  This really was a miserable place.

Continued...