lucky I feel to write this. The course of events had been only slightly different, it would have never been written and my wife Yati and I would probably never be found.
I had planned to go on the Langtang-Helambu Gosainkunda-trek - the part of the Himalayas, just north of Kathmandu - as early as February, just to get out of Jakarta for two weeks . I became less enthusiastic than the trip approached. Unfortunately, everything was already booked. I was not feeling too fit; I had a badly swollen and inflamed left toe and I tore my right meniscus, causing me pain, especially down steep slopes. I had the feeling that rotation 74 trips like these are not as easy as they were some years ago. Ironically, my toe infected probably saved our lives.
We start at 7:30 am, planning to finish the day in Langtang, 1100m with a distance of about 18km. After 600m above sea level, we are out of the forest, the valley widens, with blooming rhododendron trees everywhere. We pass through villages with lodges and teahouses, where ladies Sherpa cook and serve, children play, and we see yaks, sheep, horses, dogs - everything was peaceful. We reach the village of Langtang early afternoon, the largest in the region with about 250 inhabitants.
Our plan is to continue upwards to Kyanjin Gompa, a Buddhist monastery. Among the guests was a couple, apparently from Eastern European and two Japanese girls in their early 20s, playing with their handphones and laugh. I'm pretty sure that all are not living.
I have an uneasy feeling of going to Kyanjin Gompa - I do not know why. I consider it, but my painful, inflamed toe makes me refuse, insisting return immdiately. This was probably the best decision I ever made. The valley of Langtang, including all villages emptied the next day. Almost everyone has perished.
The Saturday, April 25, we are on our way down.
After about four hours, we arrive at Pahara Lodge. Shall we sit down and have another tea or soup noodles, or just continue? It's early days, 13 hours, and we have a lot of time, so I say, we'll stay here for a while. A decision to continue we would kill in seconds.
We sit; Madan put our luggage against the dressing room wall. I get a pen to write our order. At this very moment something happens that is difficult to describe.
The stone slabs on the ground begin to vibrate.
I look at the dressing room wall as it moves forward and backward and threatens to fall on me.
The most frightening noises fill the air; a deep growl, louder. A few meters after the lodge, a stone avalanche giant rocks began rumbling down.
Without much thought, I run amid shelling, take my backpack and run up into the forest. We hide in a dirt hole behind a rock, eight of us closely pressed together. A stone avalanche rolls on a single 80m from us, right next to the lodge. Stones of the shoe cartons of size, some small, some bigger, cruising around with a horrible hissing sound. We hear the cracking of the falling trees, the sound of the impact when the stones and rocks hit the ground; it is a destruction concert. The air is filled with dust so thick you can barely see.
After about five minutes the shaking and noise stop - an uneasy silent sets in people next to me are in shock .. An English girl is kissing her boyfriend in a trance. She believes that this is the last time, she can be with her beloved. A very nice Israeli girl is mentally absent, murmuring prayers and weeping silently. The lady who owns the lodge sees his property in ruins and lamentations. Yati is silent, rolling his eyes and moving his lips, begging for mercy.
Suddenly: a replica. There is a feeling that the soldiers should have been in the First World War, sitting in their trenches, not knowing if the next blow will end their lives.
Some Sherpas try to keep everything under control. They recommend waiting about a half hour, avoiding possible replicas before continuing our descent into the relative safety of Syabrubesi. Despite the warnings of others, I leave our hiding place and go for an inspection.
The entire lodge is gone. I look beyond; the track is completely gone, buried under meters of huge boulders and rocks. 200 meters, I can see reappearing track, covered with some stones - still passable. I look for our luggage; two bags carried by our doorman, and can not find anything. Close to the lodge was swept away by the avalanche and buried deep under rocks.
It is quiet, but a replica could come at any time, so we try to go all avalanche areas as quickly as possible. We climb huge rocks to reach the original track. One hour down, crossing three most dangerous areas of landslides and a tributary of Langtang Khola, we arrive at a small village, badly damaged. We continue as quickly as possible, 5 km farther Syabru.
Two km down the track is completely destroyed, where it used to be is a gaping gorge to the river below. The only way to move is up. Yati is ahead and Madan comes to help me over obstacles. Then a chance of crossing parallel to the old track, but higher and steeper again to where the trail still exists. I manage, partly on horseback down on the buttocks, and see the track again.
A little further on, the trail crosses a large stone area fell about 200m. I try to go, discover a green snake fear among the rocks, where two carriers hide remember. Not a moment too soon as another avalanche hit. After several minutes, stop the stones and the two guys who saved me are running on the field as weasels. I can not follow as quickly, and in the middle of the field defines another replica everything moving again.
I jump in a hole in the ground under a rock, with a rather knotty tree on top. All the biggest rock hit my stash was going to kill me. Hell is worse, such as large rocks that cars down left and right, thankfully not in the middle. The worse things are to endure the noise. I can not say how long it lasts. Three minutes maybe, but this can be an eternity.
I almost faint, and I am doing something I have not done for 60 years. I pray. Oh Lord, have mercy on me.
The noise finally stopped. Was it prayer? I can not tell. I come out of hiding; rub my body all still there.
I continue my walk as fast as I can. Yati and Madan crossed the place earlier and I know they are safe. Two more km, crossing small stone falls to the village in front Syabru on the east side of the Bhote Koshi Nadi. A few hundred meters to a point in the village collection, Yati and Madan and wait, immensely relieved to see me.
Recently, I read that about 112 trekkers are missing in the Langtang region. My decision that day to cut the trip short and down saved our lives. I think of the many trekkers I could move mountains, full of optimism - they are not with us anymore. The region of Langtang was probably most affected in Nepal. April 25, 2015 was a day that I can confidently say was the worst day of my life.