Boots, a Backpack, and my H/PC

At Tengboche Monastery we declared a rest day. We were thirteen thousand feet up in the Himalayas -- we felt we deserved it. Four days ago we had left bustling, chaotic Kathmandu, at a somewhat healthier four thousand feet, and we were now starting to feel a little shaky with the altitude. Two days further up the trail was Everest Base Camp, the Holy Grail of Himalayan trekking, but, sadly, it didn't figure in our plans. "Next year," promised my friend and traveling companion Greg.

If Tengboche isn't situated on the most spiritual point on the planet, I'll eat my boots. It's surrounded on all sides by impossibly high mountains, uplifting and humbling the soul -- a perfect place for a monastery. To the north, Sagarmatha (Mount Everest) presides over all, silently and implacably, an irresistible magnet for the eyes. Ama Dablam, smaller, but arguably the most gorgeous mountain on the continent, sits regally off to the right.

I sat on a rock, immersed in the spirituality that only truly huge scenery can inspire. In half an hour the sun would set behind Cho Oyu, at which time I knew from experience that the temperature would plummet dramatically. Perched on my lap was my trusty HP 620LX Handheld PC, poised ready to capture any thoughts that the mountains might evoke.

A trekker walked past, alone and carrying his own pack. Impressive, I thought, considering how easy it was in these parts to find a porter that would carry your gear for two dollars a day. I waved a friendly greeting at him.

"Hi," he called back, and then stopped and did a double-take. He turned and walked over. "Excuse me," he said, with a faint German accent, and indicated my palmtop. "Is that a computer?"

"Sure is."

"But it's so small! It's really a proper computer?"

I decided that a dissertation on the subtle differences between Windows 95 and Windows CE could wait for another day. "Uh-huh."

"Amazing." Then he paused, as if trying to think how to frame a question. "Um, can this computer of yours send e-mails?"

Again, the simplest answer was, "Yes."

He asked me if he might be able to borrow it to write an e-mail, and whether I might do him the favor of sending it when I returned to civilization. I told him that I'd be glad to, but that I wouldn't be anywhere near the Internet for another two weeks. Apparently, this was no problem -- he wasn't planning to return himself for at least three more months.