Nestled deep into the Khumbu, at least a week’s walk from the closest airport, and two weeks from the closest road, lies a village with an aura and setting that every backpacker, wanderluster, businessman, laborer, working mom, housewife, retiree, and Instagram-addicted teenager dreams about. A place where emerald lakes run into snow covered peaks, where strolls along the lakeshore lead only to more lakes in both directions, where every window in town provides a lake view, and where adventure or serenity awaits, take your pick.
Descending upon Gokyo after an arduous 8-hour day over Cho La pass felt like discovering an oasis in the desert, a respite from unforgiving terrain. I had but one desire upon making our way down to the shores of the lake: take the plunge to cleanse from the 2 shower-less weeks and to re-energize my tired feet, legs, back, shoulders, and mind. Alas, my intentions proved to be futile, as the lake is considered to be holy for the native Sherpa, no swimming is allowed. I understood, but lamented what I considered to be a waste of pristine natural surroundings waiting to be enjoyed.
After checking in to our $1.75 room and enjoying some salty yak butter tea along with a fresh-baked brownie, we stared out our window onto the glistening lake, watching the sun make its way slowly behind the peaks as the afternoon fog rolled its way in. The following morning, we made our way up Gokyo Ri, a summit just outside of town, for a panorama of all the surrounding lakes, Everest, and the whole valley. The views never get old, even if the words to describe them run dry. Despite the panorama in front of me, my gaze continued to revert below, as the now tiny village of Gokyo and its dozen or so lodges lay perfectly positioned on the emerald lakeshore, directly opposite a string of peaks similar to Lake Moraine in the Canadian Rockies.
After making our way back to town, I decided to take a walk along the lakeshore in the late afternoon sun. Past breeze-blown prayer flags and meditating trekkers, I found a spot as close to the water sans swimming, and stared through the scattered clouds into the reflected rays on the water, through the peaks, into the hazy sun. I prayed, I praised, I let myself go for a bit, freeing myself from the physical and mental challenges of the trek. With the warmth of the sun fading, I became overwhelmed with emotion as the urge came to speak with my grandfather, catching up on all the things he’s missed since he passed almost 5 years ago, and just how much he’s inspired them all: the trips, the work, the life I’m living. I laughed, cried, joked, and smiled. A long overdue conversation, a physical and mental reminder of what heaven looks like. As the tears dried, the clouds descended, and the sun disappeared, I bid farewell and made my way back along the lakeshore to town, fresh off a cleansing and re-energizing that no dip in the water could have ever accomplished.
Perhaps it is a holy lake after all…