So, after a couple weeks in Kathmandu, I embarked on my second trek, a “tea-house trek” (sleeping and eating in guest houses in villages rather than in a tent) in the Everest region. I flew to Lukla, put on my backpack, hiked only to the other end of the village, and had to sit down and catch my breath. Humbled, I decided I needed to hire a porter.

I sought a recommendation from a German couple who were waiting for a flight out of Lukla, and they had good things to say about their porter, who at that moment was introducing himself to me in halting English. He got himself hired. The entire time, and until the next day, I didn't notice he had a crippled right hand. The interesting thing about that was that only a few weeks before, on my flight from New York to London, I met an Irishman with some very primitive scrawlings on his left hand. He explained that he had given himself tattoos, just for kicks, from the age of twelve up into his teens. Amazingly, he kept the tattoos completely hidden from his father until he was 20. He simply kept his left hand in a place or position where his dad couldn't see it, while never looking like he was trying to conceal anything. “It's surprisingly easy to hide something from someone,” he told me.

In this picture Lhakpa, the porter, is making a quick stop at home, in his village about 20 minutes from Lukla, apparently to tell his family that he just got hired—in spite of his visible handicap—for yet another trek.

All images ©2002-2003 by Dietrich Neuman