Warehouse Find Part Deux!
I cast my eyes up into the murky gloom of the enormous chamber, the
beam from my head lamp cutting through a million tiny dust particles like a laser.
Nestled in the rafters above I saw a few boards, upon which were stacked more boxes - I could clearly make
out a "V" on the side of one.
One of the burly Sherpas was made to throw a rope with a grappling hook over the closest rafter that seemed sturdy.
Niblik, our guide, shimmied up the rope to check the cartons.
"Speek-trom Pessen-Jar Yet," he said in broken English as he dangled from the rope.
After we made a safe exit from the rickety and treacherous warehouse, and the Yaks were loaded with our precious
cargo, I stood and looked at the decades-old building, thinking I'd have to come back here someday and see what other ancient relics may be buried deep within its dark recesses.
Then we slowly made our way down the mountain and towards home, the Sherpas singing a solemn song in their native tongue.
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