The days really march by.

           From Urpa up and over the Mera La, pass Karka to Tangnuk.  We really blazed.  Two days into one.  I am in the best shape of my life, but my knees are taking a hammering and I wonder if they will hold up until I get out.

           That first evening in Tangnuk, I sat around the open fire, drinking coffee and listening to the chatter of the porters and shop keeper.

            There was a Japanese, travelling alone with his porters, cook, and guide.  He was gregarious and friendly.  After three pints of rum, which he called whiskey and which he shared freely, his only means of communication was wild gestures and a big smile.  He certainly had no need of the fire and language was no barrier.

           Coming down the trail I saw my little friend that I had met on the way in, and we waved at each other.  We did not stay at her parents hut, instead, we stayed at the home of Dawa’s friend.  Not to sleep, we had the tent, but to eat and pass the time.  Dawa said it was cheaper to eat, but I miss my little friend.

           There are three other rock huts at Tangnuk, occupied during the trekking season; but with winter fast approaching, Tangnuk soon will be abandoned.