Chapter 4

Author's note: This chapter is inspired by stories of my father's climbs in the Himalayas.

The next return was not one the old man looked forward to. For Pride Mountain was one of the highest peaks in the Limihayas mountains of the West Orient. Now he never had actually scaled, or intended to scale, the 20,000 foot peak. But even the 13,00 foot hike to the lodge at base camp where the wooden pen had been taken was no stroll in the park. It was a ten day affair to acclimatize the inexperienced climber, at least: a day's hike a quarter of the way up, a day's rest, then back down the third day, then up to the halfway point on the fourth, rest on the fifth, then back all the way down on the sixth, rest–seventh, eighth all the way up to base camp. Ninth at base camp and tenth back down.

The old man hired the same sherpa from his previous visit, a strong young native of the Limihaya region named, Cho who had guided many to the top of Pride mountain. These facts were all he knew about Cho, for the old man was a quiet hiker and had not paid for companionship, only a sturdy back, and besides saying "No" every time the sherpa asked if he wanted to go to the top, about the only other conversation was when he asked Cho,"Why does mountain look like used car lot?" (leaving out parts of speech made himself more easily understood by foreigners). This question was asked on account of the colorful small flags stringed from rock to rock at different stops along the trail to which Cho answered,"They prayers to God. Prettiest at top-God nearest. You go top, boss?"

"No. I no go top," said the old man. And that was it.

But this time, after the sherpa loaded up all the supplies on his back for the long journey, and handed the old man his coat, he noticed all the pens in the suit coat pockets and another conversation ensued..

"Many pens. Me carry, boss?"offered Cho.


"No. My burden,"said the old man,"You packing enough."

"This nothing, boss," said Cho.


About a mile into their climb, the old man again felt impressed to open his mouth. "What Cho-heaviest load?"he asked.

The sherpa smiled,"I carry lots. Once I work South African climber. Him want me carry lots guns to top-you go top, boss?"

"No, I no go top."


"He want shoot how you say abomable snowman? He say: I shoot–you carry back. No snowman. But guns heavy. But no heaviest."

About halfway through their journey, the old man asked his question again to which the sherpa responded, "Once, we take pack mule for man and wife bring too much. Big mistake. Donkey get sick. I pack ass out. But no heaviest, boss."

On the hike back up to base camp the old man asked a third time to which the sherpa replied, "Once I take two Swedes. I say need two sherpas. No. Cheap, cheap!  I carry all to top. You go top, boss?"

"No, I no go top."


"Swedes eat lot. But no heaviest."


Finally, while at base camp getting a drink at the lodge, the old man said,"You tell great stories. But still no tell heaviest load."

Then the sherpa stopped sipping his tea and said,"Now I tell, boss...I have no son. I ask God. He give me one son. Beautiful. Strong. Like Cho. Wife. Me. Him. Happy. He grow. Then they come. Rebels. Take young boy from pasture. Join them. Fight."

Then Cho made sounds as if he was choking on his tea and said, trembling,"I go. I go to find. No. They say. He dead. He dead, boss!"

And the sherpa wept and wept from anguish.

The old man put his arm on Cho's shoulder but it was refused.


"I no forgive God,"said the sherpa,"I no forgive! That heaviest load, boss. God no understand."

At this point the man could not think of anything to say to comfort him.  

But then words came...


"God understand. He knows pain of Cho. God is father like Cho. Has son. Beautiful son. Like God. People come. Take away son." 

"Kill son, too?"

"Yes, Cho. Kill son, too."

"Why he not stop people if He God?"

"Love. Because God love Cho. God loves me. He give son for all world." 


You no want heavy load, Cho?"

"Yes. No want heavy load. Heavy, boss."

"Then pray. Pray everything inside. Best prayer. Prettiest."


"But how I pray if no forgive, boss?"

"You ask God forgive Cho first."

Cho's eyes lit up. "Then I go top mountain,"he said,"Nearest God."

"Yes."


"And pray?"


"Yes."


By now, the old man was sure, that short of perhaps on more yes, his work was done.


But then Cho asked,"You go top, boss?"

"No, I no go, Cho."


"Then Cho no pray."


"Cho pride higher than mountain?" preached the irritated old man.


"No. Cho no can write. Boss go top. Write prayer on flag for Cho?"

The old man heaved a heavy sigh and then relented, "Yes. I go, Cho."


And so, the old man accompanied his sherpa 7,000 feet to the top of Pride Mountain and there he was scribe with the wooden pen writing for Cho, the most beautiful prayer he had ever heard. 

Dear God,
I Cho. You God. You give me son. Beautiful son. And take away. Die. I angry. Hate God. I no forgive. But now I see. God no sin. Cho sin. God has reason for everything. I sorry for sin. I sorry for God's son. Sorry. God forgive Cho. Forgive! Amen.

After the prayer was hung, Cho wept and wept. But this time it was from joy.

"Heavy load gone. How God take?" asked Cho.

"He is Sherpa,"said the old man,"Sherpa carry all loads."

"Maybe Sherpa carry you pens, too,"said Cho.

"Yes, maybe," replied the old man.

And then they climbed down the mountain, returned the pen, and the old man descended and went on his way...