A knock on my door at 5:15 woke me from an uneasy slumber on a wooden pallet. As I contemplated the reason for the early wake up I knew I was going to have to give up my warm cocoon for the frigid air. I quickly tumbled out, added another three layers to what I was already wearing, tugged a cap over my head, slipped on my mittens and grabbed my camera. As I stepped outside, despite the wind whipping by, I breathed a small sigh of relief. The sky was clear so we should get good views with the sunrise. I clambered up on a rock, trying to position myself for a good view (and photos without other heads in them). There was just a hint of pink on the tip of Kanchenjunga as the sun began its slow rise. Click, click. It seemed every minute I was taking another photo as the light spread a bit wider highlighting more of the range. Now you can see the upper outline they call the sleeping Buddha. Click. Light has reached the lower peaks. A glimpse off to the east and the sun is starting to appear over the pine trees. Duoa, our guide, directs my attention to the west. As I slide down the rock a bit to get around a tree in my sight, I snatch my first glimpse of Mt. Everest. Proudly poking above the clouds, the sun is just now starting to lighten its face. I can't believe how big it is. A mountain above mountains. Yeah, yeah, you know its the tallest mountain in the world, but until that moment I didn't realize just what that meant. The idea that people actually climb to the top flabbergasts me. It seems to remote, so up there, that I can't quite believe that even at this moment there may be a group of climbers pushing to summit. For me, the view from this point is good enough. Well almost. I go clambering down and walk as fast as I can to the upper hill of this camping town, looking for that one spot that will give me an unspoiled view of both Kanchenjunga and Everest. A view that doesn't have trees marring the way. A view that I will hold in my head as we walk all the way back down to road.
