It's a short day from Thame to Namche, which can be easily located by following the thronging masses of over-equipped American trekkers, armed lethal flailing ski-poles and excitedly shouting inane rubbish to nobody in particular with loud irritating accents. It's not that I'm xenophobic, but after four week's peaceful isolation even the most agreeable westerner is transformed into an arrogant loud-mouthed impatient imbecile. Still, they've only just arrived.

Tom poses above Namche Bazaar Photo (c) Alan Geer 1998

Namche Bazaar appears quite unexpectedly below us, spread dramatically throughout a deep scoop in the valley side, bounded on the riverward side by an immense line of prayer flags undulating in slow dramatic and slighly nauseating waves above the town. The lower part of the town is a large market area, dominated in the centre by a vast while stupa.

The town itself is a colourful jumble of wooden buildings, most of which are now either guest houses or shops. There are also several bakeries and bars in the town, though they are tourist-orientated and subsequently as expensive as home. It's been a long time since we've had bread, cakes or beer though.