Next morning we had a very early breakfast with two people, one of which
was still pink with embarrassment, from being walked in on. We went back to
our original rooms long enough for the last shower in possibly a long time.
Just as we came back from breakfast Anyanka and Giles Sherpas arrived, in a mini-bus outside the hotel. Anyanka settled up the hotel bill, while Buffy, Giles, and I loaded up the bus with our stuff.
By-by Kathmandu.
Hello really bad narrow roads; populated by homicidal and suicidal maniacs. I know plenty of those, and these drivers were. Ours had a small statue of Shiva on the dashboard. Giles told us that if we crashed the statue would make sure we got instantaneous rebirth. There were loads of roadside shrines for buses before us that hadn't made it. The two together did not exactly make for a great deal of reassurance.
The choice of music was even worse - the greatest hits of Bollywood. I have very sensitive ears, so ouch. Giles was in music loving pain. Buffy was singing along. I have to take her music appreciation in hand. Anyanka patted Giles, then rummaged in his bags. After a few minutes she found some bootleg tapes, he must have picked up yesterday. She handed them to Giles, and after some negotiations, the music changed.
It was The Doors "Riders on the Storm" - much better.
It was a long drive. We had to be fair, so there was lots more ear agony, interspersed with rock classics like "Space Truckin" and more Deepest Purple. The Van Morrison "Moondance" gave me enough dreams/memories to while away the hours. Having Buffy fall asleep on my shoulder only helped that. Anya and Giles played spot the mountains as we got higher.
I thought I'd seen mountains. I've travelled enough after all. I was wrong. I've munched skiers and mulled wine in the Alps. I've driven through mountains, and past volcanos in South America. I've seen foothills compared to these. What I thought was a bright white cloud over a mountain turned out, miles down the road, to be a bloody huge, white, mountain soaring over a foothill.
We stopped a few times to change drivers, fill up with petrol, food, drinks and the necessary. We must have driven for 48 hours. My legs were cramping by the time we got to the end of the road - literally.
We unpacked everything. The guides sorted everything into piles. Food, tents, supplies. Most of it went into big baskets to be carried by some guys in flip-flops that appeared from no-where. But since the Sherpa blokes seemed to know 'em, and what they were doing, I didn't worry. All we had to carry was some waterproofs, water, some nibbles, gloves, hat, and some of the weapons.
We started off.
The trail went on, and on, and on. The plus side was walking through the flowers with my lady. The downside was the up, down, up, down. But then, I'm used to that. It was a bloody long walk though, and since it was the first day we tried to stay with the guides.
We failed. Well Buffy and I are super-strong, it's not our fault. Fortunately we'd got good directions from the guide, and didn't have to wait more than a couple of hours before the tents arrived with the porters.
"Spike, aren't you supposed to get all boy scouty, and put up the tent?"
"Pet, I predate the boy scouts."
The Sherpas put the tent up. I was quite happy at that too. I've never had to put one up before, and I'm not starting now. If I needed one before I just ate the occupants. It's a heck of a lot easier than messing about with poles and ropes. There's far more entertaining things to do with those.
We'd decided during the drive that Giles and Anya would have one tent, and Buffy and me the other. Only seemed sensible, and everyone was happy, even if this isn't going to be easy.
Anyanka and Giles produced a cool-box from among the unpacked supplies, with some buffalo goodness in it for me. It's good to have friends. One curry and some beers later we all crashed.
Next morning I woke with my lady, both of us in layers of clothes and thick sleeping bags. "It's all icy inside the tent. Isn't it supposed to be like the other way round? I mean, not science girl here but something's wrong with this picture." Buffy pouted. I love that pout.
"Must be from your breathing pet, all nice and warm hitting the nasty cold tent." Hey I watch the Discovery Channel, ok, only while waiting for Passions and Jerry Springer to come on, but I do watch it.
Her eyes rolled to amp up the pout. "Not all my fault. You breathe too."
"Just to talk luv. Besides I'm all room, or tent, temperature, no freezing possible from my breath." I sometimes wish it were otherwise, but if wishes were horses beggers would ride, and a bloke's gotta make do with the cards he's got. I've got better cards than I thought I'd ever have, so I can't really complain, can I.
More poutage, as she'd put it. "You're certainly not much of a hot water bottle."
Ouch. Not much I can do with that one. Still room temp. Still dead, still drink blood. If the Mother couldn't fix that there's bugger all which can I reckon.
Must have shown in my face how much that hurt. Then again most things show in my face. I've got to stop playing poker, I'm crap at it for that very reason, and cheating might be harder in future, now I'm all re-tuned an all.
She tried. "Not of course that I need another hot water bottle, not with the nice water bottle, all full of nice hot water, keeping my toes all toasty. And not that I could get all snuggly with Anya and her sleeping bag, like I can with you. Not since we're all straight girls together, and she loves my watcher, not you, and neither of us is interested each other that way. Not that there's anything wrong with being all gay and stuff, and I'm babbling, and you're supposed to stop me when I'm babbling!"
It worked; she brought a smile to my face. I sat up out of my sleeping bag, smiled at her and said, "but you're cute babbling. I'll let you get changed. I laced my boots up, and still in the fleeces and gear I'd slept in, headed out into the dawn, for a smoke.
My lighter was out of fuel.
The mountains were such an incredible sight I was almost tempted to forgo a fag just to watch them. We were so high up it was so clear it felt like you could reach over and touch each ridge and sharp summit. In the early light everything was almost painfully bright. The snow on the nearby peaks was blinding, especially to my eyes, which have lived in darkness for over a century.
But I desperately needed a fag. I don't speak the local lingo, but the international language of smokers worked fine. I got a light. The boys and I smoked up a storm, while they made the chapattis. Well, can't exactly smoke in the tent, can I? Don't want to add smoky to icy.
After a nice brekky of eggs and chapattis for everyone, and one of the containers from the cool-box for me, we set off.
I'm pretty sure the sherpas hate me and Buffy. Giles and Anya would probably win the "who gets into camp first competition" in any other circumstances, but they both move at fast westerner levels. Buffy and I beat the sherpas into each meal stop, on top of the camp thing. For blokes used to a couple of hours to get their stuff done, and chat amongst themselves, it's gotta be hard to be overtaken by the little blonde and the Brit. I reckon even the porter blokes in flip-flops usually overtake the togged up westerners. For the top of the range cooks and guides Anya sorted us with it's just gotta rankle. They're good blokes though, always smiling, singing, and smoking. Gotta love 'em - especially the hot tea, and bowl of warm water to wash with, they brought us in the morning, even if we are high above river level now. Thank goodness they gave us good directions. When we got confused we waited, and talked, until they caught us up. We only had a few minor spats over the directions - we're making progress.
It was a day of solid walking up. At least that was better than the first day of up, down, up, down, up, up, up, down, down, up, followed by a recurring up motif, with a side order of down. I don't think this country has flat bits, none that my boots have come across anyway. But since that up and down's been with her, I don't care. I love this. I love the freshness in the air, and the clean start we've been able to make. A few blisters, that heal almost as fast as they form, are no cost at all in comparison.
We did stop at one point for a long time. The trail was almost non-existent at that point, and clearly saw very few people or yaks. That wasn't the reason we stopped though. Buffy spotted some hairs and blood caught on sharp edge of a rock. It smelt funny; not something I've come across before. She examined it, then looked at me and said, "my spider-sense's tingling."
"Huh?" She explained. Well I do have my limits and superhero comics are one of them. I nearly went off my head from boredom at the Whelp's, but I didn't resort to reading those. Might have been suicidal, but the William in me does have limits when it comes to reading material.
Since it'd sparked my lady's spider sense we waited for the experts. We waited a fair time, but at least it cheered up the poor Sherpas, at seeing the order into camp return to a normal one.
Giles and Anyanka walked up to us, hand in hand, and puffing slightly in the thin air. They both drank some water from their bottles, then took a look. Anyanka sniffed it. Almost simultaneously they said, "yeti."
Buffy's jaw dropped. "Yetis? I have to kill yetis? They're real? Abominable snowmen...snowpersons? But there's not so much snow? Confused Buffy here."
Giles smiled. "Yetis are real, but harmless, no need to kill them at all. In fact it's always be something of a dream of mine..."
"So I'm guessing from this here that they're not all snowmany. Inquiring Slayers wanna know."
Anyanka answered. "7 feet tall, reddish brown hair, bipedal, mountain dwelling, shy, but usually friendly to other peaceful demons. They have some language. I did a wish for one in the twenties, and her mate ended up as a pelt in a monastery near here, I think."
Research! Giles! interest was piqued. "Explains why the pelt was so low down. I'm surprised though to see this so low down."
Buffy stared at him. "We're so far above the clouds that the mountains sticking out from them are huge! This is low down? How high are we going?"
"Over a 21,000 ft pass Buffy. We're only at 17,000 ft here. Give or take a few feet, and a lot of breath. Yetis don't usually come down below 19,000 ft, unless they're frightened of something. "
"Or hunting that something, Rupie."
"Quite right dear. Or hunting what frightened them. Like many creatures they will defend themselves fiercely if attacked. So please don't attack."
"Ok, no attacky Buffy present and correct. Self-defendy Buffy reserving her rights."
"Quite right too, luv. But it'd be interesting to see one, wouldn't it?"
She smiled at me and said, "oh yes."
We all walked together after the Sherpas. Giles and I commiserated with each other over almost certainly missing the World Cup. The girls had an in- depth discussion on the perfect shoe. Well, Buffy's got bugger all interest in Becks foot, and who should play on the left in midfield, and I'm perfectly happy with one pair of boots, so it's all to the good for both of us to have somebody to talk to about footy and shoes who cares.
I think our all arriving at an approved time made the boys day. They fussed over us; sat us down on camp stools with hot, sweet tea, and some apples. Our tents were already up, and they were cooking dahl bhat and momos for dinner.
It was a good night, lots of good talking among the four of us. Lots of singing from the boys, followed by some dancing by candle and torchlight. We all joined in, and had a bloody wonderful time. We must have looked like right idiots all dressed up in fleeces, thick gloves, and woolly hats, but who cares when you're just having fun with the girl you love, and some great mates. So it was a late night for all of us.
I was finally getting some sleep - well you try sleeping with even a sleeping bagged Buffy leant right up against you - when there was a massive crashing noise. It was rapidly followed by the sound of cloth tearing, metal poles cracking, and giggling - a lot of giggling. This was followed by Anyanka's voice. "Rupie, we brought down the tent!"
Turned out Buffy wasn't asleep either. She started giggling. Her head emerged from the depths of the sleeping bag. She took one look at me, said, "they brought the tent down," and we both lost it.
Her face was inches away from mine. As we both laughed ourselves silly we twisted closer to each other in our sleeping bags. We'd both come part way out of the bags with laughing so much.
Giles voice sounded out clearly to both our supernatural ears. There was some pretty impressive swearing going on, and the sound of more tearing fabric.
I said, "we should help them."
She looked into my eyes, and said, "we should. Helpage would totally be of the good."
"And we're the good guys. Right? 'S what we do."
"Slayer and Re-tuned Guy! Chosen to save those that bring down the house. Nowhere too far, no rubble too icky." At the word rubble, her fingers started stroking my hair.
Her on the lam hat meant that only half her hair was free and accessible, but it still felt like the finest damask between my fingers. "Of course they're probably naked in there, and wouldn't be too keen on us pulling 'em straight out of there. Bit embarrassing, and all that."
Her fingers had wandered on to playing with my ear lobe. "And we're the good guys. We shouldn't do that. That would be, like, totally of the bad. Should we?"
My fingers had strayed from the silk of her hair, to the satin of her neck. The skin that runs from behind her ear down to her collarbone is so gloriously sensitive. I was barely touching her there, just running my fingers across the fine hairs, yet we were both melting. It was bloody hard but I just managed to choke out, "and we can't be bad, can we luv?"
She was almost purring. "Maybe a little bad, in a good cause, like giving them some time to get dressed." Then she kissed me.
I kissed her back.
Her fingers pressed me closer. My fingers stoked her face, dancing across her closed eyelids, her adorable nose, her cheekbones, and her soft hair. I drowned in her kiss, but this time we're both coming back for air, so we can do it again.
In separate arctic down sleeping bags, multiple layers of fleece, and clothing kissing was about all we could do, if we didn't want to follow Giles and Anyanka's lead in tent destroying, and embarrassing ourselves in front of the Sherpas. It was enough though, almost, for now.
Just as we came back from breakfast Anyanka and Giles Sherpas arrived, in a mini-bus outside the hotel. Anyanka settled up the hotel bill, while Buffy, Giles, and I loaded up the bus with our stuff.
By-by Kathmandu.
Hello really bad narrow roads; populated by homicidal and suicidal maniacs. I know plenty of those, and these drivers were. Ours had a small statue of Shiva on the dashboard. Giles told us that if we crashed the statue would make sure we got instantaneous rebirth. There were loads of roadside shrines for buses before us that hadn't made it. The two together did not exactly make for a great deal of reassurance.
The choice of music was even worse - the greatest hits of Bollywood. I have very sensitive ears, so ouch. Giles was in music loving pain. Buffy was singing along. I have to take her music appreciation in hand. Anyanka patted Giles, then rummaged in his bags. After a few minutes she found some bootleg tapes, he must have picked up yesterday. She handed them to Giles, and after some negotiations, the music changed.
It was The Doors "Riders on the Storm" - much better.
It was a long drive. We had to be fair, so there was lots more ear agony, interspersed with rock classics like "Space Truckin" and more Deepest Purple. The Van Morrison "Moondance" gave me enough dreams/memories to while away the hours. Having Buffy fall asleep on my shoulder only helped that. Anya and Giles played spot the mountains as we got higher.
I thought I'd seen mountains. I've travelled enough after all. I was wrong. I've munched skiers and mulled wine in the Alps. I've driven through mountains, and past volcanos in South America. I've seen foothills compared to these. What I thought was a bright white cloud over a mountain turned out, miles down the road, to be a bloody huge, white, mountain soaring over a foothill.
We stopped a few times to change drivers, fill up with petrol, food, drinks and the necessary. We must have driven for 48 hours. My legs were cramping by the time we got to the end of the road - literally.
We unpacked everything. The guides sorted everything into piles. Food, tents, supplies. Most of it went into big baskets to be carried by some guys in flip-flops that appeared from no-where. But since the Sherpa blokes seemed to know 'em, and what they were doing, I didn't worry. All we had to carry was some waterproofs, water, some nibbles, gloves, hat, and some of the weapons.
We started off.
The trail went on, and on, and on. The plus side was walking through the flowers with my lady. The downside was the up, down, up, down. But then, I'm used to that. It was a bloody long walk though, and since it was the first day we tried to stay with the guides.
We failed. Well Buffy and I are super-strong, it's not our fault. Fortunately we'd got good directions from the guide, and didn't have to wait more than a couple of hours before the tents arrived with the porters.
"Spike, aren't you supposed to get all boy scouty, and put up the tent?"
"Pet, I predate the boy scouts."
The Sherpas put the tent up. I was quite happy at that too. I've never had to put one up before, and I'm not starting now. If I needed one before I just ate the occupants. It's a heck of a lot easier than messing about with poles and ropes. There's far more entertaining things to do with those.
We'd decided during the drive that Giles and Anya would have one tent, and Buffy and me the other. Only seemed sensible, and everyone was happy, even if this isn't going to be easy.
Anyanka and Giles produced a cool-box from among the unpacked supplies, with some buffalo goodness in it for me. It's good to have friends. One curry and some beers later we all crashed.
Next morning I woke with my lady, both of us in layers of clothes and thick sleeping bags. "It's all icy inside the tent. Isn't it supposed to be like the other way round? I mean, not science girl here but something's wrong with this picture." Buffy pouted. I love that pout.
"Must be from your breathing pet, all nice and warm hitting the nasty cold tent." Hey I watch the Discovery Channel, ok, only while waiting for Passions and Jerry Springer to come on, but I do watch it.
Her eyes rolled to amp up the pout. "Not all my fault. You breathe too."
"Just to talk luv. Besides I'm all room, or tent, temperature, no freezing possible from my breath." I sometimes wish it were otherwise, but if wishes were horses beggers would ride, and a bloke's gotta make do with the cards he's got. I've got better cards than I thought I'd ever have, so I can't really complain, can I.
More poutage, as she'd put it. "You're certainly not much of a hot water bottle."
Ouch. Not much I can do with that one. Still room temp. Still dead, still drink blood. If the Mother couldn't fix that there's bugger all which can I reckon.
Must have shown in my face how much that hurt. Then again most things show in my face. I've got to stop playing poker, I'm crap at it for that very reason, and cheating might be harder in future, now I'm all re-tuned an all.
She tried. "Not of course that I need another hot water bottle, not with the nice water bottle, all full of nice hot water, keeping my toes all toasty. And not that I could get all snuggly with Anya and her sleeping bag, like I can with you. Not since we're all straight girls together, and she loves my watcher, not you, and neither of us is interested each other that way. Not that there's anything wrong with being all gay and stuff, and I'm babbling, and you're supposed to stop me when I'm babbling!"
It worked; she brought a smile to my face. I sat up out of my sleeping bag, smiled at her and said, "but you're cute babbling. I'll let you get changed. I laced my boots up, and still in the fleeces and gear I'd slept in, headed out into the dawn, for a smoke.
My lighter was out of fuel.
The mountains were such an incredible sight I was almost tempted to forgo a fag just to watch them. We were so high up it was so clear it felt like you could reach over and touch each ridge and sharp summit. In the early light everything was almost painfully bright. The snow on the nearby peaks was blinding, especially to my eyes, which have lived in darkness for over a century.
But I desperately needed a fag. I don't speak the local lingo, but the international language of smokers worked fine. I got a light. The boys and I smoked up a storm, while they made the chapattis. Well, can't exactly smoke in the tent, can I? Don't want to add smoky to icy.
After a nice brekky of eggs and chapattis for everyone, and one of the containers from the cool-box for me, we set off.
I'm pretty sure the sherpas hate me and Buffy. Giles and Anya would probably win the "who gets into camp first competition" in any other circumstances, but they both move at fast westerner levels. Buffy and I beat the sherpas into each meal stop, on top of the camp thing. For blokes used to a couple of hours to get their stuff done, and chat amongst themselves, it's gotta be hard to be overtaken by the little blonde and the Brit. I reckon even the porter blokes in flip-flops usually overtake the togged up westerners. For the top of the range cooks and guides Anya sorted us with it's just gotta rankle. They're good blokes though, always smiling, singing, and smoking. Gotta love 'em - especially the hot tea, and bowl of warm water to wash with, they brought us in the morning, even if we are high above river level now. Thank goodness they gave us good directions. When we got confused we waited, and talked, until they caught us up. We only had a few minor spats over the directions - we're making progress.
It was a day of solid walking up. At least that was better than the first day of up, down, up, down, up, up, up, down, down, up, followed by a recurring up motif, with a side order of down. I don't think this country has flat bits, none that my boots have come across anyway. But since that up and down's been with her, I don't care. I love this. I love the freshness in the air, and the clean start we've been able to make. A few blisters, that heal almost as fast as they form, are no cost at all in comparison.
We did stop at one point for a long time. The trail was almost non-existent at that point, and clearly saw very few people or yaks. That wasn't the reason we stopped though. Buffy spotted some hairs and blood caught on sharp edge of a rock. It smelt funny; not something I've come across before. She examined it, then looked at me and said, "my spider-sense's tingling."
"Huh?" She explained. Well I do have my limits and superhero comics are one of them. I nearly went off my head from boredom at the Whelp's, but I didn't resort to reading those. Might have been suicidal, but the William in me does have limits when it comes to reading material.
Since it'd sparked my lady's spider sense we waited for the experts. We waited a fair time, but at least it cheered up the poor Sherpas, at seeing the order into camp return to a normal one.
Giles and Anyanka walked up to us, hand in hand, and puffing slightly in the thin air. They both drank some water from their bottles, then took a look. Anyanka sniffed it. Almost simultaneously they said, "yeti."
Buffy's jaw dropped. "Yetis? I have to kill yetis? They're real? Abominable snowmen...snowpersons? But there's not so much snow? Confused Buffy here."
Giles smiled. "Yetis are real, but harmless, no need to kill them at all. In fact it's always be something of a dream of mine..."
"So I'm guessing from this here that they're not all snowmany. Inquiring Slayers wanna know."
Anyanka answered. "7 feet tall, reddish brown hair, bipedal, mountain dwelling, shy, but usually friendly to other peaceful demons. They have some language. I did a wish for one in the twenties, and her mate ended up as a pelt in a monastery near here, I think."
Research! Giles! interest was piqued. "Explains why the pelt was so low down. I'm surprised though to see this so low down."
Buffy stared at him. "We're so far above the clouds that the mountains sticking out from them are huge! This is low down? How high are we going?"
"Over a 21,000 ft pass Buffy. We're only at 17,000 ft here. Give or take a few feet, and a lot of breath. Yetis don't usually come down below 19,000 ft, unless they're frightened of something. "
"Or hunting that something, Rupie."
"Quite right dear. Or hunting what frightened them. Like many creatures they will defend themselves fiercely if attacked. So please don't attack."
"Ok, no attacky Buffy present and correct. Self-defendy Buffy reserving her rights."
"Quite right too, luv. But it'd be interesting to see one, wouldn't it?"
She smiled at me and said, "oh yes."
We all walked together after the Sherpas. Giles and I commiserated with each other over almost certainly missing the World Cup. The girls had an in- depth discussion on the perfect shoe. Well, Buffy's got bugger all interest in Becks foot, and who should play on the left in midfield, and I'm perfectly happy with one pair of boots, so it's all to the good for both of us to have somebody to talk to about footy and shoes who cares.
I think our all arriving at an approved time made the boys day. They fussed over us; sat us down on camp stools with hot, sweet tea, and some apples. Our tents were already up, and they were cooking dahl bhat and momos for dinner.
It was a good night, lots of good talking among the four of us. Lots of singing from the boys, followed by some dancing by candle and torchlight. We all joined in, and had a bloody wonderful time. We must have looked like right idiots all dressed up in fleeces, thick gloves, and woolly hats, but who cares when you're just having fun with the girl you love, and some great mates. So it was a late night for all of us.
I was finally getting some sleep - well you try sleeping with even a sleeping bagged Buffy leant right up against you - when there was a massive crashing noise. It was rapidly followed by the sound of cloth tearing, metal poles cracking, and giggling - a lot of giggling. This was followed by Anyanka's voice. "Rupie, we brought down the tent!"
Turned out Buffy wasn't asleep either. She started giggling. Her head emerged from the depths of the sleeping bag. She took one look at me, said, "they brought the tent down," and we both lost it.
Her face was inches away from mine. As we both laughed ourselves silly we twisted closer to each other in our sleeping bags. We'd both come part way out of the bags with laughing so much.
Giles voice sounded out clearly to both our supernatural ears. There was some pretty impressive swearing going on, and the sound of more tearing fabric.
I said, "we should help them."
She looked into my eyes, and said, "we should. Helpage would totally be of the good."
"And we're the good guys. Right? 'S what we do."
"Slayer and Re-tuned Guy! Chosen to save those that bring down the house. Nowhere too far, no rubble too icky." At the word rubble, her fingers started stroking my hair.
Her on the lam hat meant that only half her hair was free and accessible, but it still felt like the finest damask between my fingers. "Of course they're probably naked in there, and wouldn't be too keen on us pulling 'em straight out of there. Bit embarrassing, and all that."
Her fingers had wandered on to playing with my ear lobe. "And we're the good guys. We shouldn't do that. That would be, like, totally of the bad. Should we?"
My fingers had strayed from the silk of her hair, to the satin of her neck. The skin that runs from behind her ear down to her collarbone is so gloriously sensitive. I was barely touching her there, just running my fingers across the fine hairs, yet we were both melting. It was bloody hard but I just managed to choke out, "and we can't be bad, can we luv?"
She was almost purring. "Maybe a little bad, in a good cause, like giving them some time to get dressed." Then she kissed me.
I kissed her back.
Her fingers pressed me closer. My fingers stoked her face, dancing across her closed eyelids, her adorable nose, her cheekbones, and her soft hair. I drowned in her kiss, but this time we're both coming back for air, so we can do it again.
In separate arctic down sleeping bags, multiple layers of fleece, and clothing kissing was about all we could do, if we didn't want to follow Giles and Anyanka's lead in tent destroying, and embarrassing ourselves in front of the Sherpas. It was enough though, almost, for now.
