Two days later, Frank sat outside chatting with Da-wa about the climb when Sangye came up to them and pointed to a party of red-robed monks headed their way over the western moraine. Frank stood, and shading his eyes with his hand and saw a Sherpa driving a couple of yaks carrying supplies. As they neared Base Camp, he noticed an old man wielding a dark staff leading them. Frank blinked, wondering if his eyes were cheating him. Tashi? He could hardly believe it. The old lama rarely left the monastery these days, and for him to come all the way from Khum Jung up to Base Camp dumbfounded Frank. But he had come nonetheless.
Fifteen minutes later, the old lama was standing in front of him with Sangye’s brother, Bajay, along with another young monk Frank hadn’t met before. “Namaste, Frank,” Ta
