I was really working on my breathing―deep breath in through my nose
and big exhale out through my mouth during an exertion. I was still slow as
hell, but didn’t seem to stop as often.
My morphine drip, my affectionate name for my hydration pack, was working well as I sucked down over three liters of water spiked with electrolytes.
Terri continued to be healthy and strong.
Ironically, one of the best ways to avoid altitude sickness is to go slow. Ishor said “slowly, slowly” when we went up particularly steep parts. Whenever he said that, I just laughed as I only had one speed.
We had to go down over 650 feet (200 meters) to get to the river before having to go back up 1,975 feet (600 meters)—a perfect example of Nepali Flat.
Our
lunch stop was along the river, but without views. I spoke briefly with an
American woman travelling on her own with a guide and a porter. Turns out she
hadn’t planned on travelling alone, but no one else had booked the same dates
with her trekking company.
There were more water-driven prayer wheels next to the restaurant.
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