Day 5 Rest Day - Thunderbirds, Haka's, Fluro tights, and Stop Bitching

I woke at 5am jusssssssst in the nick of time to save my underpants and my sleeping bag from being completely and thoroughly soiled. Thankfully nobody was up at this hour, as they would've got quite a surprise to see me gingerly striding off to the makeshift toilet, wearing trainers, socks, jocks and nothing else except for a bogroll and the key to my door hanging from my right hand.

I was now officially on the bad side of sick and forced some porridge (which tasted like wood shavings... Kiwi tried dissolving instant coffee in his to disguise the poor taste) down me whilst people organised themselves into Walking to school Attending/Walking 5 hours for acclimatisation/Walking wounded. I loaded myself up on Imodium and walked down to watch from outside the school walls with Dave Kirtley, who looked equally as solemn as I was not to be involved. Cheering me up a little was the sight of Neil cresting the hill with his brother. Alongside them was Ian, our Makem medic, and it was he that a few of us set-off to Kunde hospital with.

What proceeded was one of the best experiences of the trip. The Doctor (whose name I've embarrassingly forgotten to note down) at Kunde hospital was one of the most intensely interesting men I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. He talked us through his immaculately-kept hospital whilst Ian gasped at the wide range of skills he had. 'You just don't get generalists with such a wide range of specialist skills like this in the UK' was the exact comment. He showed us through the x-ray chamber, the overnight ward, the medical supplies, and the birthing ward. Helen quizzed him further on the birthing procedure and he responded that all the local women were very strict and reliable with their checkups, some of which would walk the 3 hours uphill from Namche and other surrounding areas whilst up too 8 months pregnant to see that they were getting the right treatment. This goes to show in equal parts the power of the maternal instinct, the determination of the Sherpa women, and most of all the esteem with which the hospital and it's facilities and staff were held in it's catchment area. The doctors themselves (3 of them) all lived around 3 hours walk away. They worked 6 days a week each, and stayed onsite. For all this effort, they awarded themselves no more than the average Nepali wage. Not the average wage for a doctor, but the average overall wage. The hospital had survived for over 60 years on a grand total of £50,000 worth of donations. Bear in mind that he could quite easily upsticks to the UK (he speaks perfect English) and in 6-8 weeks of applying could be earning much more than £50k per year on his own. These donations are mainly funded by The Hillary Foundation in Canada, however he was quite proud of his various worldwide connections and donations of medicines and equipment that he has procured. He stated that he had received no help from the Nepali government, and that without the help from Hillary and the various foundations he had set-up and that were set-up in his honour, it would be impossible for the only hospital from within a catchment area approximately the size of Greater London to continue existing. Walking from the school that Hillary also setup to listen to the stories of the hospital, it was pretty easy to see why he is so revered in this part of the world.

Breck later told me a story of the guy we passed being carried down the path to Lukla on a stretcher the day before. Turns out he had come form Kunde hospital and had a perforated ulcer. Apparently in this state a gentle breeze against your stomach is complete agony. I wouldn't be surprised if that guy had passed out from the pain as he bumped up and down on the rocky paths. All this certainly put my slight stomach issue into perspective and snapped me out of my (frankly embarrassing) blue funk that I'd whipped myself into.

Following this we had an acclimatisation walk of 400 metres up, almost completely vertical. Without packs on though it felt pretty easy, with Chris (generic superhero) and Joe (thunderbird) providing a visual treat in their fancy dress costumes. What these tight uniforms bought to attention was the sheer size of Chris Martin's balls. At first, he was pretty proud of them until everybody really started to inspect them closer and ask specific questions about where they hung, average weight etc etc. I could only describe them as 2 cricket balls in a stocking hanging from a clothesline. They were enough to turn Vicks Nicholson a bright shade of impressed pink when he politely gave her a surprise look on the final night in Lukla. Everybody seemed in good spirits at this point, although the altitude was starting to take affect when Butler asked 'Were there Jews involved in World War 2?' - Being a good friend I kept this very much under wraps and didn't stop everybody in what they doing to announce this faux-pas loudly. That was just be ridicule.

We returned to the teahouse to find out that a picture of BJ, cricket-bat strapped to his back like a true adventurer, gazing away at the summit of Mt Everest, had made the front page of The Independent. What was about to make bigger news, however, was our Karaoke contest. Fought between 3 evenly matched teams, we combined talent, commitment, and stage presence and ignored them all in favour of shouting and a bit of jumping. To be honest I could've taken or left the Karaoke due to tiredness but it turned out to be absolutely brilliant. Tenzing, Hillary, and the Trektators all performed 3 songs each, with the medics doing an outstanding job as Simon Cowell (Breck), Randy Jackson (Nick, who decided against blacking up), Sharon Osbourne (Isla), and Louis Walsh (Ian). Ian was simply outstanding the whole evening. As was Mike Preston, whose genuinely scary haka went down pretty well. Although it was lucky it was dark as I would've offended alot of people if they could see my complete hash of the movements. Even more offensive were the 6 pairs of bright fluorescent lycra tights that Markby had thought to pack. These were donned by a chosen few as I led the boys in a rousing rendition of Livin' On A Prayer, right down to cock-rock voices and hordes of screaming girls begging me to take them backstage... although I would've preferred a better description than 'the little one' from Isla. In the end the Trektators won due to Zooby and Brooksie being able to hold a tune... which was completely against the spirit if you ask me.