Author Information
Yaks with Packs piled high on their Backs
The yak had decided for itself that it wasn't going any further. After a few weak whacks of its herder's staff, it sat down in the middle of the trail with a heavy thud, chewing its cud as if there were nothing else to do but be here now. Following its lead were the 14 yaks behind it, all settled in for what was shaping up to be a bovine labor protest. They were at the end of a month long line of Sherpas, guides, expeditioners & porters heading for Everest base camp. Their group, the last of the foot porters and the yaks with their herders, was already a day behind and pushing to make time. Fortunately for the yaks they were in the heart of Buddha land and no one would dare beat a yak for laying down. Yells up ahead stopped the traveling party and after many hours of pleading & prodding, head-scratching deliberation, a few curses and an impromptu prayer ceremony to Chomolungma, they loosed the cargo from the yaks, redistributed the supplies amongst themselves and dragged behind them what they could, hoping they could procure more-willing yaks in the next village. A month and a half later, when what was left of the expedition came back through the valley, the yaks were still there, happily grazing on the wild Iris and bright green sedge thriving along the edge of the alpine stream trickling down from the far-off Khumbu Icefall on its way to the Mighty Ganges.
