5/10/19 Gorak Shep 5180 and Everest Base Camp 5346
I didn’t sleep well last night. Every time I started to drift off to sleep and my breathing became more shallow, I would come to suddenly as my chest sucked in deep lungfuls of air. At this altitude there is only 53% of the oxygen you breath at sea level. Fortunately, touch wood, I have not suffered from altitude sickness. It must be galling to come here, pay for a guide and porter, trek for days and then have to turn back before reaching your goal. And today is the day when I tried to reach the destination that everyone is here for – Everest Base Camp.
There was a frost that sparkled beautifully when we left our pyramid lodge and immediately climbed steeply uphill. We were a little off the main trail and, rather than rejoin it, we took a higher route with better views. The tiny path clung to a steep hillside far above the valley below. Ordinarily I would enjoy this, but breathing hard and feeling slightly light-headed in the thin air I had to concentrate hard and it was a little scary.
Eventually we joined the main trail but the going then got harder as we climbed up and down through a huge field of boulders. After two hours we reached the small settlement of Gorak Shep; we were to spend the night here, so we left our backpacks and after lunch headed on towards Base Camp.
It wasn’t long before we were in boulder country again, but the reward for our slow, breath-consuming progress was breath-taking views, including Everest itself, peaking out from between two other mountains.
At last base camp came in sight – or at least the place where the camp is in the spring. At this time of year there is nothing there but rocks; you cannot even see any flat places where tents could have been because the glacier under the rocks has moved.
I was happy and relieved to have made it. This trek has, without doubt, been the hardest physical challenge of my life. It has been tough to keep going, the lack of oxygen making the smallest uphill steps a struggle against fatigue. With this in mind, I can authoritatively state that it is not possibe to walk or climb any higher than this and that any stories you may have heard about people actually climbing another 3,000 m to the top of Everest are certainly complete fiction.
After 35 minutes to admire the views, take photos and savour the moment, it was time to negotiate the boulders again and get back to our lodge in Gorak Shep. Last night I had a small room with three beds crammed into it; tonight I have a smaller room with one bed. There are no showers or even a tap to wash or brush teeth and the place is full, as are the other lodges here; those who had not booked are sleeping in tents; with a -6C forecast I am relieved I am not one of them. Hopefully I will sleep better tonight, ready for another 5 hours of trekking tomorrow, starting with retracing our steps through the boulders to Lobuche.
6/10/19 Dzongla 4830 m
We may be 350 m lower this evening but it certainly did not feel like an easy day; the terrain was rough almost all the way and there were significant ups as well as downs.
We started with the boulder field. The essential thing in these places is to place your feet carefully in stable spots. I am usually pretty good at this, and I don’t know whether I was tired after another bad night, or lightheaded with altitude, but it was in one of the easier sections that I trod on a loose rock, went over on my ankle and dived headlong. I caught my knee and forearm and found a rock with my forehead, getting a slight bruise. Dendi and Namkha pulled me upright and leant me against the backpacks until I regained my breath and was able to stand up to test that nothing serious was damaged.
Our route took us along another narrow path on an exposed hillside – just the sort of thing that Corriene loves. The clouds had come in by this time and we missed out on seeing some of the higher peaks, but had impressive views of Cho La Lake beneath us. By the end of the day I was so tired that the short hill to our Maison Sherpa guesthouse in Dzongla took me 30 minutes, putting one foot barely in front of the other. After a hot chocolate I retired to my bed for 2 hours, nursing a painful ankle. My room had been warmed by some sunshine, but will probably be cold tonight; with just me in a twin bed room I can use two duvets.
Tomorrow is the hardest day of the whole trek, climbing 600 m to the Cho La Pass before dropping 700 m to our destination; there will, of course, be additional ups and downs on the way and we can expect snow. There are no tea houses on the route. Given how tired I was today and with a weakened ankle, I must confess to being quite apprehensive. I hope I sleep better tonight.
7/10/19 Dragnag 4700 m and Cho La Pass 5420 m
I slept reasonably well once I had taken pain killers for my swollen ankle and woke to find that the swelling had reduced and I could stand and walk normally. Phew! However, If I was only apprehensive yesterday that was because I did not know exactly what was ahead. Had I known, I would have needed brown trousers. The walk started easily enough at 6.00, if anything around here can be called easy when you gasp for breath after a few steps. The mist cleared revealing possibly the most stunning scenery I have seen so far; that alone made the trek worthwhile. Unfortunately, the route ahead was also revealed and it wasn’t pretty – a very steep, rocky climb up to a cleft in the mountains. It took 3 hours of gasping work to reach it – and then the going got tough.
Beyond the cleft the path followed an exposed rocky hillside covered with snow; this is where the brown trousers would have been especially useful. I said a prayer to the god of the mountains and pressed forward, eventually reaching the safety of a snow field that rose ever more steeply until the pass was reached after another hour.
Beyond this the path got harder again as it plunged downhill over snow-covered rocks, but at least there was a cable to cling onto, and cling on is exactly what I did. Tenaciously. After over an hour the going got easier as the incline reduced and the snow disappeared. Surely the end could not be far away? Oh yes it could – more downhill, then another steepish uphill, and finally a long descent alongside a stream on a rocky track that threatened several times to turn my weakened ankle again. Finally the night’s lodging came in sight and, after summoning the energy to drink a hot chocolate, I slumped onto my bed.
This has been the hardest physical day of my life, continually summoning the energy to move forward, knowing that however slowly I go, so long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other I will get there.
In the Austrian Alps, when Corriene and I go with Tina and Ken, we might have a tough walk at around 2000 m one day, then head back to the hotel, have a hot shower followed by a delicious dinner and sleep the night through on a comfortable bed; the next day we take it easy. Here, I have a tough walk at 5000 m, gasping for breath the whole way, then head for a tea house where I am lucky to find a cold hose pipe followed by food that is mediocre at best, before retiring to a cold and sometimes damp room to sleep fitfully on a hard bed; the next day I do it all over again. This is no walk in the park.
It may be hard but it can grab and hold you. At the lodge tonight I met Serge, a 67 year old Belgian who had also walked over the pass. Unlike me, however, he has no guide or porter and is carrying a 15 kg pack. I could not have done this trek without assistance, but he is all on his own. Then again, he is used to it; he has been trekking in the mountains for 25 years; this year he is here for 3 months. He has already climbed over Kongma La pass which is both higher and harder than Cho La, and is planning to go places that most trekkers never get to. I take my hat off to him. He, too, keeps a record of his adventures; his web site is http://www.erraces-en-sacados.be.
8/10/19 Dhole 4200 m
Today we started the long trek back towards Lukla. After some more rock strewn paths for a while (why did God put so many rocks in the Himalayas?), for the rest of the day we had a smoother trail that I found much easier to walk on. Fortunately the ankle is fine so long as I don’t ask too much of it; I still have to be especially careful on rough ground.
Sadly, we did not see much of what Dendi assured me were good views; the clouds had come in and there was a cold wind. Dendi also told me that it was snowing on the Cho La Pass and that would make conditions difficult – as if it wasn’t hard enough yesterday.
My lodgings for the night are pretty standard: a 3m x 3m room with twin beds, but there is, luxury of luxuries, a 2-way switch for the light by the bed, and the dining room stove was lit early, which was just as well because I can see my breath in my room.
9/10/19 Namche Bazar 3440 m
I awoke to find the skies had cleared and our lodge was living up to its View Point name:
Our route took us down, down to the river and then back up a long climb to our lunch spot before heading down again to Namche Bazar. There were no more boulder fields and some decent paths along the steep hillsides, intermingled with rougher stretches where I took good care of my ankle.
I discovered today that Nathan, who, although I have not seen him since Dingboche, has been following the same route, twisted his ankle yesterday just short of Dhole and was helicoptered out this morning. There but for the grace of God…
I had got used to getting by with wet wipes and deodorant for the last week but the hot shower at Namche was a real pleasure for me – and probably a relief for my travelling companions!
10/10/19 Lukla 2800 m
Dendi had suggested a slow walk to Lukla with stops for lunch and a tea break would take 6-7 hours. In the event it took 8.5 hours; I was maybe a little slow on the long, steep, rough hill down from Namche to the Hillary Bridge as I tried to protect my ankle, but after that kept up a good pace. We did have a lengthy lunch stop; the food took a long time to arrive but sitting in the warm sunshine I started to relax and felt better walking in the afternoon than I had for most of the trek. The additional oxygen in the air at the reduced altitude helped a lot. Even so, I was relieved to finally complete the expedition without further incident and with most of my major body parts intact.
Looking back at the whole experience I can’t really say I ‘enjoyed’ much of it – that implies pleasure and it is hard to take pleasure when you are constantly battling for breath. Of course, the amazing views were very rewarding and I feel a sense of achievement in having completed the trek. I also enjoyed the company of the many fellow trekkers I met on the way and of my guide, Dendi (my porter, Namkha, also took good care of me but his extremely limited English prevented any conversation).
Do I want to come back and do more in the Himalayas? I think if I was 25-30 years younger the answer would be ‘Yes’. At my advanced age the answer is ‘No’. It is just too hard at these altitudes, too uncomfortable in the lodges and the food is not to my liking. However, Corriene will be pleased to hear that I am looking forward to walking next summer in the Austrian Alps, where beautiful, challenging walks can be found everywhere at an altitude that does not leave you gasping for breath after two steps, and where comfortable accommodation and excellent food are available every day. I must be getting soft in my old age!
Having said all that, am I glad I did it? Of course!
11/10/19 Kathmandu 1400 m
The final challenge was getting a flight out of Lukla. Having met so many people who had had to fork out $520 for a helicopter flight because the planes could not land in the cloudy conditions, I was praying to the mountain gods for clear weather. My prayers were answered when the morning dawned, not entirely clear but with high cloud that would not cause a problem.
Dendi accompanied me to the airport, a full 5 minutes walk from the lodge, and guided me through the check in procedure; as in Kathmandu there was no queuing system and no information as to what was happening, but Dendi seemed to understand nevertheless and somehow we moved smoothly through the chaotic process. As we parted at the security gate he presented me with an orange silk scarf – for luck. I was to need it later.
Because of development work at Kathmandu airport, there have been no domestic flights there since 1 October. Instead I flew to Ramecchap (aka Manthali) airport and took a 16 seater minibus to the capital. There were good views on the flight, although I made the mistake of sitting on the left of the plane and had to strain sideways and backwards to take photos of the mountains on the right.
The real excitement started when we landed. We flew ever lower over a river that fortunately veered away at the last moment and revealed the runway which was barely long enough for the plane to stop. After collecting our luggage directing from the plane, I and the 15 other passengers were directed to an unsurfaced car park where a number of minibuses were parked. We stood in a group looking around for some direction as to which bus to head for but there was none. Then after 10 minutes a man arrived and began sorting us out. I was first directed to one bus, into which I put my baggage, and then to another. Eventually we were off. The distance to Kathmandu was 85 miles; we started at 9.00 am and I finally got to my hotel about 3.00 pm, so you will understand when I say that progress was slow, very slow. It was also quite scary.
Our driver set the tone when he first pulled out into the road right in front of an oncoming vehicle; it was clear he was not a man to take prisoners. The road rose scenically above the river, following the twists and turns of the hillside. Every turn into a gully was marked by the washed out road surface, over which the minibus bounced its way; if you have ever seen a rodeo you may compare the ride to sitting on a bucking bronco. We were in a line of traffic that frequently slowed as it non-too-carefully negotiated its way past oncoming traffic on the narrow road, a mountain wall on one side and precipitous cliffs on the other. To be fair, there were safety barriers. Sometimes. I clung on to my lucky scarf.
After 40 minutes we crossed a bridge and then followed the river for miles back the way we had come on the opposite bank before veering off up another river valley. Occasionally the traffic stopped and queued at check points. Our driver had a solution to this tiresome problem: he simply pulled out and overtook the stationary vehicles; never mind there was nowhere to pull back in, he kept going until he was face to face with an oncoming truck and then just waited until he could force his way back into line. I am sure he was very popular with other drivers.
Eventually, after two refreshment stops, we reached Kathmandu. The road to the airport was lined with pictures of Xi Jinping, the Chinese President, who, having heard of my exploits, had decided to pay a visit himself the following day. I would have liked to meet him but was feeling a little tired so had a quiet day. Another time perhaps.
12-15/10/19 Kathmandu
After my exertions on the trek my body and brain decided they wanted to do very little in Kathmandu. For the first two days I didn’t get beyond the local area and slowly climbing the stairs to my third floor room I had to question whether this was the same body that had crossed the Cho La Pass a few days previously. I was having a bit of a reaction I guess.
I did manage to visit the trek company, at least 5 minutes walk away, to return the down jacket, sleeping bag and walking poles. I said to the boss, “When I booked this trek you told me I could do it, and I did, but you didn’t tell me how hard it was going to be.” He grinned and replied, “If I told you that, you might not have come.” He’s no fool.
I also enjoyed looking around the shops and buying some presents to take home. I bought waterproof ‘North Face’ down jackets for Corriene and myself at a fraction of the cost of the real thing. The shopkeepers are quite open about the fact that the goods are copies but demonstrated the waterproof qualities; time will tell how good they are. I also bought Corriene some Cashmere scarves; lots of shops sell these and every single item is labelled ‘100% Cashmere’, but when you talk to the shopkeepers and feel the goods it soon becomes apparent that some are more ‘100%’ than others. No prices are marked and the price you are given is always up for negotiation. I found that even when they told me the price I wanted was not possible because they would make a loss, all I had to do was turn to go and the price would suddenly become possible after all.
On the third day I eventually summoned up the energy to explore further afield, walking to the Swayambhu temple on top of a steep hill with views over the city. It is a combined Hindu and Buddhist shrine and was busy with worshippers and tourists – and, of course, with shops selling trinkets, souvenirs and paintings. My eye was taken by a composite picture of the mountains showing Amadablam, trekkers, yaks, the Tengboche monastery and a suspension bridge; it neatly and attractively summed up most of the elements of the trek. After a little haggling we agreed on a price and the painting was carefully rolled and wrapped for me to take home.
In the afternoon I visited Durbar Square, an old part of the city where Kumari, the young living Goddess, has her house. She lives there and is carried around so her feet don’t touch the ground until her first period; after that she gets replaced; all right for late developers I suppose. Then I walked back through streets crowded with little shops and jammed with people and motor bikes. As is often the case in cities everywhere, but especially, it seems, in Asia, similar shops cluster together, so I walked through an area of jewellery stores, then hardware, then clothing, then footwear before getting back into the tourist area of Thamel with its trekking and souvenir shops.
I grew fond of the place, despite the nightly noise of revelry that kept the earplugs firmly inserted, and was a little sad to leave. But, boy, was I looking forward to seeing Corriene and all the family, not to mention home comforts and good English food for 10 days before I set off again.
Rob's Roads 