Annapurna Base Camp
If you are physically able, you can reach the Annapurna Base Camp at an altitude of over 4,000 meters in a trek lasting several days. Mirko, on the other hand, would like to, but is neither fit enough nor willing to take on such a strenuous hike. The financially solvent tourist can therefore also take the easier, but in my eyes unsafe way and fly in with a helicopter in only 15 minutes to the base camp, enjoy a coffee in front of the panorama of the Himalaya and then let himself fly quite comfortably back to Pokhara.
Of course, this is exactly to Mirko’s taste and he jumps around next to my bed in the morning like a three-year-old to deliver the good news. Let me put it this way: I’m out. Of course, that doesn’t keep Mirko from telling me about 100 times how great his idea is. My enthusiasm is limited, because first of all everything that can fly is scary to me anyway and I trust neither Asian aircraft nor the pilot. Secondly, I am quite sure that at 4,000 metres you become directly altitude sickened. And aside from that, I don’t even have a jacket. With jogging pants and T‑shirt I didn’t necessarily want to go into the deep snow and certainly not into the high mountains! Mirko, on the other hand, is in good spirits, his temperature sensation is a completely different one than mine anyway. Not to forget argument number three: One has to take care of bringing Micro’s remains back to Germany.
Before he can book the tour, however, there is some uncertainty in the office about Mirkos weight. The heavier, the more you have to pay and of course no Nepali wants to miss a single rupee.
Therefore Mirko is loaded onto a motorcycle and ridden to the weighing. Without a helmet, of course, this is perfectly normal. While that makes me sweat again, Mirko is happy like a little boy just before Christmas that he can finally ride a motorbike. About 20 minutes later the moped and Mirko reappear intact, but without finding a scale. I would have been really surprised if there had been a scale in the main office.
The next morning he heads out to the airport at 7 am. Besides Mirko, the father of our Swiss family is also reckless today and is flying into the high mountains with him. That reassures me a little, because in the case of the cases, there are still Sybille and Olivia, who can then organize the removal of the mortal remains to Europe together with me. I also consider briefly whether I should inform myself at the ADAC in advance how exactly this works with the removal and what it will cost me. I’m already sure that the call with the crash message won’t take long.
Meanwhile there is a bigger discussion at the airport. Contrary to the previous day’s agreement, Mirko is now supposed to leave his camera backpack and its contents at the airport and anyone who knows Mirko, knows that he would rather stick glowing shish kebabs through both eyes than moving a millimeter away from his camera. Accordingly, he insists on taking the agreed backpack, which has at least the weight of another person.
Of course, Nepalis cannot understand this at all. Surprisingly, they don’t want more money for the extra weight either. And that should really worry you, because that someone here voluntarily renounces only one rupee because of drastic safety concerns due to overload, probably never happened in the last 1,000 years. Seems like a real emergency. After further discussions it is offered to take the next flight in half an hour, as the permissible total weight has not yet been exceeded. Nevertheless, it is surprising that a small surcharge is not charged at least for rebooking the flight. Of course Mirko will be there immediately and also our new Swiss friend will postpone the flight for half an hour. So Theo and Mirko stay at the counter while the other 6 passengers head for the runway. Wait, six people? The helicopter only has room for 6 people plus the pilot and a flight with a total of 8 people would not have been possible.
So 30 minutes of discussion about a camera backpack, just to move 2 people to another heli. It could have been easier for the Nepalis. That’s probably also the reason why nobody wanted money, now that explains a lot.
As planned, the flight actually starts after half an hour. In my eyes the heli looks much too small to fly 7 people over the mountains. I don’t understand how anything can fly anyway. Must be genetic, because even my great-grandmother couldn’t believe that mankind actually flew to the moon.
Mirko, on the other hand, squeals like a newborn piglet when the helicopter finally leaves the airport and he can take the first aerial photos of Pokhara. Theo, sitting in front next to the pilot, is now equipped with the video camera. After all, this is a unique experience and it has to be recorded both in pictures and on film and if Moni isn’t there, someone else has to take over my role. When the heli flies into the valley after fifteen minutes, I can hear Micko’s squeaking almost all the way to the hotel. At least 12,000 photos are taken of the Machupuchare, the Holy Mountain, which is not allowed to be climbed. Directly next to it you can see the Annapurna and some other high mountains. A breathtaking panorama.
After landing Mirko storms the base camp in a T‑shirt. Finally, the sun shines and the temperatures are quite pleasant despite the altitude. Since no one is on hand to take a proper picture of Mirko and the Holy Mountain, the next best Chinese tourist is hired to take on this important task. Unfortunately, the lady doesn’t understand enough English to comply with Micko’s wishes, nor did she ever take a photo herself, because either Micko’s feet are cut off or the mountain is cut off. Actually, it can only be minutes before Mirko has his next rage. In a miraculous way, however, he reconsiders and now has to show her how it works. A few tens of thousands of Chinese photos later the desired picture is ready.
After Mirko has photographed all surrounding mountains so often that they should not even be there anymore, it is theoretically time for the return flight. The announced fifteen minutes stay is over and a small man Mirko can hardly tear himself away from the photo spot on the north side of the camp. Only with the greatest efforts whistling guy can get Mirko to the landing site. Probably he has to breathe pure oxygen for a whole hour after the whistling concert to get over it. When the gentleman finally arrives at the desired location with his camera luggage, he has to realise, to make matters worse, that the heli he has just landed is not the one who is supposed to bring the group down. Neither is the next one, nor the one after that. Meanwhile a whole hour has passed and I am sure that altitude sickness and spontaneous altitude death will not be long in coming. As if by some miracle, however, both the Swiss and German bodies survive the mountain strains and can fly two more helicopters later back to Pokhara again. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the boys from the office hadn’t noticed until the evening that they’d forgotten half of Europe in the mountains.
The return flight brings another small highlight, because when this time a rather loud beeping alarm goes off and the pilot says bored that it is due to the fact that they fly too fast, I would probably have collapsed directly. Good thing I’m lying in my hotel bed taking an early nap.
After everyone has landed safely, it takes about 2 hours until Micro’s phone rings. The office has apparently just awoken from its midday nap and has thought about where they can collect another 50 euros today. So it’s just in time for them that Mirko didn’t pay a surcharge for being overweight this morning. And that’s probably what they think: asking costs nothing. Seriously? They call us in the afternoon and ask if Mirko can’t bring another 50 euros? Uh, no, he can’t!
Continue: Shanti Stupa and Sangkott