The following notes were recovered from the dirt encrusted pink stripper pants of Everest explorer Caedyn Stinson. He was found unresponsive, and presumed dead, in the notorious Phuket strip club ‘The Gentlemanly Surprise’, surrounded by Mai Tai’s, crumpled up 100 Baht notes, and a scantly clad Thai lady with a rather pronounced Adam’s apple who announced herself as his business associate. His fellow travellers insisted this was delayed onset altitude sickness, meaning that the high price of seeking heights not meant for man, had cashed in the career of another of the world’s premier mid level, non-tecnhical, tourist route, climbers.
And:
They were the kind of Aussie guys who it was easy to instantly feel comfortable around, and I think we were bagging each other out about 15 minutes after we first met. They were far more experienced than I was, having trekked around Tassie for years, and they were attempting the far more challenging Three Passes trek. I spent the day wandering around with them, and since the following day we were heading to the same place, we figured we’d see each other in the next town, or along the way.
Once I got back to the town, I checked out the local Buddhist temple. Most of it was pretty standard, but my favourite bit was the prayer wheels which demonstrated how they cleansed your soul with porn. All over the Himalayan trekking routes there are prayer wheels, which when rotated by the passers by, gives them good luck. In a pictorial display which illustrated exactly how your karma improved as the wheel was rotated, the walls around this temples' wheels started with pictures like this:
Then ended with happy fun sex like this:
The weather turned for me, and amazingly the clouds slowly but surely cleared, giving me the most stunningly spectacular view of my life so far. While the view would have been amazing regardless of how I arrived at it, there was something about climbing in thick fog, only to be rewarded with a view I definitely didn't see coming. This was my panoramic view of the Himalayas , and while Lhotse and Everest weren't visible, I had an amazing view of the rest of the surrounding peaks.
Today Dylan was really feeling it, and some combination of a virus, and altitude sickness, had really laid him low. He didn't manage to get up for our morning expedition to Kala Patthar, and when we got back and he stumbled out to breakfast, John made the quite astute observation that he ‘Looked like he’d been hit in the face with a sledgehammer’. We made the decision to head on anyway, since we’d be going to a lower altitude, which could only be good. Our aim was to get to the bottom of the Cho La pass that afternoon, something that should’ve been relatively easy given good health, but by the time we stopped for lunch, Dylan decided to call it a day, and we settled down for the night. We had a a couple of days up our sleeve, so it didn't actually matter, but unfortunately we were back in ghetto-ass Lobuche, meaning we had to spend one more night in the least desirable location on the trail.
We ended up finishing our trek at a town called Thame, 1500 metres below the top of the pass, and a kilometre below where we’d slept the night before. The scenery changes we went through were amazing during this walk, with the landscape changing from the arid rocky conditions at the top, to gradually greener and lusher areas below, with us passing sheer cliff faces the better part of 500 metres tall, and then briefly sand dunes, then through towns that could’ve been in Scotland, before entering the neatly fenced farming town of Thame. Having spent the trip up going only a few kilometres each day, it was a nice change to really eat up some distance and realise just how diverse this area is.
Below is the chilling contents of the harrowing journey Caedyn partook, before his luck ran out in The Gentlemanly Surprise, leaving six children, and five widows, to mourn the loss of a father who would never return. (Editors note: Police investigations into the possible faking of Mr. Stinson’s death, with the intent of dodging alimony payments, are ongoing at the time of publication, and his representatives were unavailable for comment).
Pre-Trek Log
I have arrived in Kathmandu, a welcome relief from the craziness and hectic pace of India . Interestingly, most travellers who have arrived from western nations find Kathmandu to be a nightmare, with the bustle of activity and honking invasively overwhelming. But compared to India, Nepal’s epicentre is almost zen like, with my favourite activity being going into a store and have the option to just look around at my leisure, with only a polite hello from the store owner, rather than the Indian penchant for constantly haranguing you and telling you every lie they can think of about whatever product you accidentally let fall into your sight line.
I only had a narrow window with which to do my trek in Nepal . I had set my eyes on travelling to Everest Base Camp, a trip which, the moment I found out was possible for the common punter, was placed at the top of my priority list for this trip. I've always been fascinated with Everest, and the brave, yet plainly insane, people who wanted to climb it. Like most things of such an epic nature, I knew there was a lot of mysticism surrounding Everest, and part of my reason for wanting to travel there was to remove some of that magic and get a more tangible idea of the world’s highest peak, and what it takes to ascend it. Sure, base camp lay 3km below its’ peak, but considering I’m sure I’d never been over 3000m before, this was going to be uncharted territory for me.
Like most of my favourite travel destinations, this trek scared me a little. I love going into the unknown, and while the only way to truly explore the unknown in this day and age is to be in the space program, or be James Cameron, I substituted my colossal sense of ignorance, and ill preparedness, to replicate this sensation of stepping into uncharted territory. Chief among my concerns was how my asthma would be affected by the ever-thinning air as I ascended higher and higher. Cursed with asthmatarditis since birth, my lungs have forever been my physical limiting factor. Especially of concern was that dry cold weather is where my lungs really give me grief, which happens to be the prevailing weather type in the Himalayas . On top of this, I had no idea how I would cope with the altitude. I was a little concerned with the fact that I had randomly fainted in a Delhi bar just a week before, despite only having consumed 2 beers. I had dived into the Ganges earlier that month, meaning there were about 3 million possible ailments responsible for my fainting, however it was still weighing on my mind that at sea level my brain was struggling for oxygen enriched blood; what the hell would I be like at 5500m, where there was only half as much oxygen available?
Also of slight concern was that I’d never done anything like this before. I’ve been on many day hikes, but I’d never done a multi day journey carrying my own backpack through the wilderness. Luckily I wouldn't have to be fully self sustaining as there were beds and food available in the tea-houses along the trail, but it was still a little daunting going into this trip with so many unknowns. What made these concerns exponentially more worrying was that if something went wrong on the trail, there were no roads for ambulances to come and get me out, only $10,000 helicopter rides, which thanks to the dubious wording on my insurance policy, I was pretty sure I would have to pay myself. This would present me with a truly difficult decision if I were in dire trouble. On one hand I might die, alone and cold, on a yak trail. But on the other hand, I might have to pay $10,000, and this would mean the end of my world trip!!
But all these worries aside, I was actually quietly confident. For one, I was blessed with the looks feet of a mountain goat. I’ve always been pretty nimble, and I wasn't at all worried about any of the technical trekking or climbing issues that may face me. I was also lucky enough to have been born and raised at altitude, on the mighty Mount Gibraltar in the Southern Highlands , standing at an imposing 863 metres tall. While this may not sound like much, I did some research and discovered that Everest Base Camp lay almost 3500m below the peak of Everest , the continent’s highest peak, while Mt Gibraltar (or The Gib to us locals) was only 1365m below Australia ’s highest peak.
I’ve never liked trying to make comparisons between the world’s best; Roger Federer was the greatest of his generation, Rod Laver the best of his; to try and compare the two would be pointless. And so, comparing Australia ’s highest peak (Kosciusko) to Asia ’s (Everest), is a pointless exercise. Therefore, we can only rank a nations' mountains against those within the same country. Since my home town was so much closer to being the highest peak on its' continent than Base Camp, I figured my body would be so well acclimatised that my walk would actually be pretty damn easy. Using this infallible logic, I calculated that I essentially grew up at an altitude equal to Everest Camp III, sitting at 7470 metres, meaning Base Camp, over 2km below, would be a doddle. In summary
If:
If:
Then:
Therefore:
There was a small temptation to hire a guide, but I was lucky enough to meet a cool Dutch guy called Gert, who had just done the Everest Base Camp trek solo. He gave me a complete run down of everything I’d need to know, including some tips that I would've definitely never thought of, and some reasons not to hire a guide. Of the most concerning was the rumour he’d heard that they received 20% of the helicopter fee, and so most guides would push tourists too hard, meaning they’d be more likely to get altitude sickness and need evacuation. It may just be an old wives tale, but sadly, I fear there’s a percentage of the guide community who I wouldn't put this past. Gert also gave me some less than useful information: the statistic that in the past 10 years 8% of trekkers to Everest Base Camp have died. I still have no idea about the validity of this information, but he got told it by a researcher working at a lab along the trail, and he swears it’s legit. While I can’t see how it could possibly be so high, this, coupled with his statistic that only 60% of people who set out for EBC actually reach their goal, just added further concern to my already worried mind.
Luckily I have a friend who is studying medicine, (almost) Dr. Alexander (Yogi) Davis . Not only does he have many leather bound medical tomes, and a stethoscope, but he had also hiked the Inca trail a few years earlier, and was able to give me probably the most valuable advice I received for the trek:
'Altitude, while concerning, is not something that will sneak up on you. You’ll know it’s happening, and only if you push through the symptoms will you’re brain explode, your lungs fill with blood, and you end up melting like Jeff Goldblum in the movie The Fly.. Your real concern is gastro.'(Dr. Davis’ words, not mine).
He instructed me that tainted water and food could get me in trouble very quickly, and gave me the antibiotics that would fix me up in case I took on a few hitchhiking parasites or bacteria. Luckily, inNepal , antibiotics are found on supermarket shelves for about $1 for a full course, so it was pretty easy to stock myself up.
'Altitude, while concerning, is not something that will sneak up on you. You’ll know it’s happening, and only if you push through the symptoms will you’re brain explode, your lungs fill with blood, and you end up melting like Jeff Goldblum in the movie The Fly.. Your real concern is gastro.'(Dr. Davis’ words, not mine).
He instructed me that tainted water and food could get me in trouble very quickly, and gave me the antibiotics that would fix me up in case I took on a few hitchhiking parasites or bacteria. Luckily, in
In fact, everything is dirt cheap here. I came to Nepal with my warmest piece of clothing being a slightly too small hoodie, and a pair of thickish shorts (one leg pretty much didn't have holes in it), so I needed to do some shopping. I managed to get a pair of pink ski pants that unzipped all the way to the waist (complete with Velcro… definitely stripper pants), a windbreaker/waterproof jacket, a -10oC sleeping bag, some quick-dry, odor eating (we’ll see about that) socks, thermal underwear, a water bottle, and a flimsy little thermometer/compass/yeti-rape whistle, all for the princely sum of $AU70 (That’s about 500 US pesos for my American friends). All the gear was North Face... well it had the North Face logo, but it was all actually water/wind proof, and with the exception of slightly dodgy looking zippers on some articles, they were as good as the real thing.
With that, I was set. I was a tad sad that my trek wouldn't require me to assemble a Sherpa team, along with a lead Sherpa who I would befriend, and take his photo atop of Everest Base Camp, and we wouldn't tell anyone who actually got there first, and we’d be a symbol of trans-cultural relations, and they’d make a statue of us. But screw it, that’d been done before, and I couldn't really afford any of that crap anyway.
The night before I left I watched a movie to inspire me, about a couple of guys climbing a previously unsummited mountain face in South America . This turned out to be a mistake, as the expedition quickly went to crap, and while they both survived, one guy lost so much of his body to frostbite that he looked like Darth Vader when he takes his helmet off at the end of Return of the Jedi. To counter any negative psychological effects I might get from this, I decided to go out and buy the book ‘Into Thin Air’, which would surely be more inspirational and get me in a better frame of mind.
Day 1: Kathmandu (1338m) to Lukla (2840m) to Monjo (2835m)
Waking Temperature: 15oC (although red hot just metres away)
Hike Time: 3 hrs
Sleep Elevation: 2835m
Hike Difficulty: 2/10
Random Thought of the Day: Altitude Schmaltitude, this shit is easy.
Oh come on!! Are there any trekking stories where people make a plan, set out to do it, and achieve their fucking goals? Into Thin Air turned out to be a bust, as I quickly realised while reading it on the plane that going to Everest involves people dying of altitude sickness, being swept away by avalanches, or getting frostbite so bad their noses get amputated.
Anyway, pushing aside the knowledge that I would either die on my trip, or never have a book written about it, I headed off on my first ever trek. I could’ve killed my hostel owner when I found out he’d booked me on a 6am flight, requiring a 4am wake up call. Groggily switching off my alarm and stumbling past the English guy and Canadian girl still making love in the bed next to me (no lie, they actually were), I showered and got to the airport. In hindsight it was a stroke of genius. The flight from Kathmandu to Lukla, where the main trail to Everest Base Camp begins, is as hairy as they come, and the weather in the region is extremely unpredictable. However, the mornings are almost always calm and drama free, and so my plane was able to take off no problems, and I experienced an uneventful, yet spectacular flight. I had the foresight to clamber into a seat on the left side, meaning I could watch the Himalayas the whole way, and it was an amazing experience, especially as we climbed high enough into the mountains that we flew below the surrounding peaks, and at times could practically see the expressions on the farmers faces that we passed.
The landing strip at Lukla is no less spectacular. Perched in a natural amphitheatre, it is cleverly designed so that landing craft land on an uphill slope, assisting in their deceleration, and planes taking off fly downhill, with a drop off at the end giving the extra boost needed for the planes to get airborne (if your plane is large enough you get a stomach tingling drop off the end before you finally get lift).
The landing strip at Lukla is no less spectacular. Perched in a natural amphitheatre, it is cleverly designed so that landing craft land on an uphill slope, assisting in their deceleration, and planes taking off fly downhill, with a drop off at the end giving the extra boost needed for the planes to get airborne (if your plane is large enough you get a stomach tingling drop off the end before you finally get lift).
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| My plane; It's not great when you can see exactly where they've welded and screwed the bits of steel together on a flying machine. |
I wasted no time in Lukla, and quickly set off. The days' hike could be to the first major town, Phakding, or you could push on to the town of Monjo . It was forecast as a five and a half hour our hike, but usually I’m a bit quicker than these estimates, and finished it pretty easily in three hours. Holy crap, what a beautiful walk. The trail takes you downhill at first, climbing down through the lush green countryside of rural Nepal , until you join up with the river. For the rest of the day you walk uphill, mostly following the river, with the rushing sound of the water being pretty much the only sound accompanying your footsteps, as you mostly have the track to yourself.
After walking for an hour or so, the first snow capped peak comes into view, and it’s an angry one. More than any other mountain range I've seen, the Himalayas are angry. Geologically young as they are, time hasn't had a chance to weather them down to more peaceful and smooth mountains like you'd find in the Alps . Instead these mountains loom threateningly above. I've always had a slight fear of massive snow capped mountains and of snow. Having grown up in Australia , I know exactly what to do in most hot weather emergencies, or in tropical storms, and while the conditions there can concern me, I feel I’m prepared for them. Cold weather emergencies on the other hand freak me out a bit. What the hell are you supposed to do if you’re driving along, hit black ice, and fly into a snow drift where no one can see you? How the hell do you help hypothermia victims, doesn't making them too hot too quickly screw with their heart? And don’t even get me started on the concept of building an Ice Cave
Apart from appreciating the amazing geology, the scenery is supplemented by the amazing colour and life of the Nepali village culture. You can never take too many photos of the prayer flags, good luck messages carved in the stones you pass (always pass on the left for good luck), the yaks and porters carrying inhuman amounts of goods (the sherpas are legally allowed to carry more than the yaks), and of the many perilous looking steel rope bridges traversing the raging river below. I walked around the whole time with a big stupid grin on my face, and thoroughly loved it.
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| That sherpa is talking smack to that Yak. |
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| Mum, you'd love it here. |
The only real downside of the walk were the stinking state of some of the trekkers returning from wherever they must have been to. I get that it’s tough work, and that there are barely any showers, but come on, who can possibly stink that badly!
That night I stayed at the hotel/tea house belonging to the family of some kid I was walking with for the last half of my walk. The place was nice enough, and his 90 year old grandma looked like Yoda, so that was good. The food was pretty good, and thankfully very filling, but unfortunately I was the only trekker there, and so I was a bit bored, and finished Into Thin Air by about 8pm. With nothing else to do, I decided to get some sleep, something not too hard after my 4am wake up.
Day 2: Monjo (2835m) to Namche Bazaar (3440m)
Waking Temperature: 6oC
Hike Time: 3 hrs
Elevation Increase: 605m
Hike Difficulty: 6/10
Random Thought of the Day: I think it’s time that the American ‘extreme’ sports fans, who followed Andre Agassi’s every move in the 90’s, let the whole pirate look go. I saw about three trekkers rocking the bandanna and earring look, like they were straight out of a Pepsi Max ad.
Holy crap it was cold this morning. 6oC is way too cold for sleeping. Despite being freezing, and having to wake up in the middle of the night to put on my thermals, it was a pretty good nights’ sleep. Today I set off towards Namche Bazaar, a quite easy walk until the final climb hit, a formidable ascent of about 500 metres. I’d skimped a bit on breakfast, partly because Gert had suggested going light on food in the morning, and then getting a heavy lunch and dinner as a good strategy, and partly because I’m a cheap backpacker trying to save a buck wherever possible. This strategy proved to be somewhat ill advised, as after flying through the flat section of the trek, and half of the winding mountain pass into Namche, I hit the wall big time. Luckily I had a hearty stock of Snickers bars in my pack, but this was only a band-aid fix, and when I finally got to Namche, only a full pack of Pringles and a plate fried rice was able to save me, and I vowed from that moment on that I’d return to my usual routine of stuffing myself for breakfast.
Today was the first day I saw Everest. It was only a small peak in the distance, but it still counts. I actually thought I could only see Lohtse, Everest’s neighbour, and after asking a guide, who refused to tell me (kind of a dickish move), one of the hikers under his guidance told me that I was actually seeing Everest as well as Lohtse. The guide looked pretty pissed off at me, a theme that would be repeated many times on the trail, as they saw I was trekking sans guide or porter.
Today I noticed that inside my head I had already turned the trek into the Le Tour de France, and that Phil Liggett was encouraging me every step of the way, especially as I made a break away from a group of sherpas (‘He’s going right past them’), or when I started to feel the strain (‘I think they've broken him, he’ll need a huge effort to come back from this’). The result of this was I did a 3.5 hour hike in 2 hours, despite running on empty for the last section, and that I was getting a slight headspin from the first effects of altitude.
After settling into my hotel, I headed up the hill that backs Namche. The town is set in an amphitheatre, and faces a series of beautiful imposing mountains. I really liked the place. A lot of people don’t like it because it’s the most metropolitan town of all the Sherpa villages leading to Everest, but you’re still sharing the streets with yaks and mule trains, and I thought being surrounded by a semicircle of green mountains backed with severe snow covered peaks was just about the most amazing spectacle I’d been lucky enough to sleep under, although I will admit it looked a bit like a ski village. I managed to gain an extra 300 metres altitude that afternoon, with each few steps being accompanied by a pause to catch my breath. I’d gained close to a kilometre of altitude since the morning, and my shortness of breath was huge. But I was sticking to the mantra of hike high, sleep low, which I’d learnt in my research of trekking at altitude.
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| View from above Namche |
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| One of the peaks that provides a spectacular backdrop to the town. |
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| Being a porter from Namche to the town up the hill must suck. |
Despite the breathlessness at high altitude I feel amazing. I’m falling madly in love with trekking, and the Himalayas , and so far the altitude has been challenging, but nothing more.
Day 3: Acclimatisation Day in Namche Bazaar/Hike to Khumjung.
Waking Temperature: 4oC
Hike Time: 5 hrs
Elevation Increase: Zero
Hike Difficulty: 4/10
Random Thought of the Day: Tasmanian people are actually pretty cool. Between the girls I met in Florence and the lads I met today, they all seem sound. Maybe it’s time to lift the apartheid and let them back on the main land? Even just on a trial basis?
My sleeping bag, labelled as -10 oC, must be defective. Otherwise the -10 oC rating indicates that at -11 oC you die. It’s recommended that you only gain 300 metres a day while climbing, and so since yesterday saw me ascend 600 metres, today was a rest day. As I mentioned before, it’s still recommended that you hike up higher on days off, so that your body acclimatises to an altitude higher than where you sleep. Luckily there’s a convenient day trip up the hill from Namche in the town of Khumjung . Along the way you pass via an amazing view of Everest, and then descend into a quiet valley community.
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| The smoking mountain is Lohtse, and to the left is Everest, which the French guy I asked to photograph managed to chop off. |
While wandering around Khumjung, I found a couple of kids playing a game of cricket. As an Australian, I couldn't resist stopping and watching for a bit, in the hope that I’d get a bat. This may sound a tad weird and immature, but I swear it’s just the natural impulse of an Aussie male. To prove this, I was the fourth such Aussie hanging doing this very thing. These three guys turned out to be pretty cool, and I joined them for lunch. They were three surveyors from Tasmania , John, Dylan and Frenchie.
John was a super laid back guy with a wicked wit that was developed as a defense mechanism while being dressed like this for most of his childhood:
John was a super laid back guy with a wicked wit that was developed as a defense mechanism while being dressed like this for most of his childhood:
Frenchie was a laconic, blue blooded lad, who’s ambition was always aimed slightly above what should’ve been humanly possible, and who had turned the use of the C word into a poetic art form.
Dylan, was a sick child, who’s last wish with the Make A Wish foundation was to see Everest, at least I think that was the case. The poor bastard was a walking corpse for most of the trip as he struggled with a cross between the dreaded Khumbu cough, a virus, and possibly leukemia.
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| Left, Dylan, savouring every breath. |
Day 4: Namche (3440m) to Tengboche (3860m)
Waking Temperature: 4oC
Hike Time: 3.5 hrs
Elevation Increase: 420m
Hike Difficulty: 7/10
Random Thought of the Day: I’m officially over photographing Prayer shrines, as well as obeying the command to go to the left if it means staying behind a duckling line of a tour group crawling along at a step every three seconds.
Disaster struck today. After the first few days posing no major hurdles, I was now struck with a tragedy that threatened to derail my entire trip. My sunglasses broke!!! Luckily with some MacGyveresque ingenuity, and a band-aid, I was able to fix them. Sadly they left me looking like this:
While fixing my sunnies, the three Tasmanians caught up with me, and we continued on our way together. Today was a longish hike, with another hill climb finish. Annoyingly we had to descend 400 metres before having to ascend 600 metres up at the end of the day. There’s nothing worse than giving back hard earned altitude, but annoyingly the Sherpa civil engineers were pretty inconsiderate while designing the Himalayas , and so the final climb was a doozy.
Today I bonded with the Tasmanians over our mutual hatred of tour groups, and especially their walking poles. For those who have never done any trekking, or who have only done trekking with fellow humans, there is a group of devolved organisms who have lost the ability to walk on their own volition. They’re not disabled, have no birth deformities, in fact medically there’s nothing wrong with them, and for all looks and appearances they appear perfectly capable of bipedal ambulation. However, these humanoid herds move around, slowly, very slowly, using two telescopic ski poles.
This becomes a major pain when the track narrows, as it began to today. Another baffling feature of the pole using trekkers is that unlike most four legged creatures, whose limbs align with slightly more width than their shoulders, Pole using trekkers managed to spread their artificial forelimbs as widely as possible. This results in them taking up an unprecedented amount of track space, and given that pole users tend to travel in packs, it means that they cause more traffic jams than the slow moving yak trains, with the downside of being far less adorable.
Despite bitching about people walking with poles, the day was challenging, yet good fun. The final climb really sorted the men from the boys, and then almost separated us from the women. John absolutely flew up the last half of the hill, leaving Frenchie, Dylan and myself to straggle in well behind him. Upon reaching the top, we discovered that the reason for John's burst of speed was related to the girl who had been hiking in front of us for most of the climb. Despite our pace being enough to constantly overhaul a healthy number of people during our ascent, this girl managed to keep a constant distance between us and her, and John feared she'd beat him to the top, and he'd have to resign his alpha male status. But in a display remnant of Lance Armstrong, he dug deep, and was able to maintain his manly status by zooming past her and easily beating her to the top, proving that in the post doping world, the only way to replicate the feats of the doping era will be to have a female in the field. Who needs EPO when you've got your manhood at stake.
After reaching our hotel at Tengboche, Frenchie and I went for a hike up the hill that rose above the town. John had managed to ascend so quickly that he’d given himself a bit of altitude sickness, completely losing his appetite and all his energy, so we left him asleep at our dining table. Dylan was suffering from whatever terminal condition that he would soon die of, and was also in no shape to head any higher. I ended up leaving Frenchie about a hundred metres above town, as he was starting to get a bit queasy, and I was still feeling quite good. I ended up meeting a Canadian guy who was walking up the same mountain, and together we pushed on to the top. It was definitely worth pushing through some pain to make it to the top, as despite having no view, we were instead presented with the sensation of being perched on an isolated peak, completely surrounded by cloud, with only about 20 metres of limited vision in each direction.
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| Oh, and I got a jump photo. It's always worth it if you get a jump photo. |
This was easily the most I had felt the altitude so far (and in hindsight would be the worst I’d feel it). It’s a bit of a weird sensation. The issue with altitude is all down to the thinning of the atmosphere, which affects our bodies thanks to the limited supply of oxygen. The first and most obvious symptom you feel is shortness of breath. Just taking a few steps up the mountain feels like you’ve just sprinted 100 metres, and you feel like you’re gulping, or swallowing air, just to get enough to not suffocate. As you’d expect, this also leads to light headedness. This was the symptom that presented itself most often when I was affected by altitude. Thanks to being asthmatic, being short of breath isn't new to me, and despite feeling like I was chomping on the air just to drain every last molecule of oxygen, it didn't really bother me as much as the headspins and light headedness. The other main symptom is a slight uneasiness of the stomach. This could have been due to the Nepali food, but for the most part, I think it was linked to the altitude. If you ever wanted to replicate the early symptoms of altitude sickness, hold your breath for 20 seconds, down a stein of beer, and then sprint 200 metres. That's pretty much guaranteed to give you every sensation you feel on the mountain (and is a great way to get out of paying for your drink).
These light symptoms are actually nothing to really worry about. So long as you don’t push too hard when you start feeling them, you’ll be fine, but ignoring them can be deadly. Between your capillaries leaking blood into your lungs, and fluid building pressure in your brain, you have the option of either being killed by an edema in the brain, or basically being drowned in your own bodies’ fluid. Luckily this didn't seem to be an issue for me so far in the trip, and I actually felt really fresh and was able to catch my breath and lose the headspin sensations really quickly.
Once I got back to the town, I checked out the local Buddhist temple. Most of it was pretty standard, but my favourite bit was the prayer wheels which demonstrated how they cleansed your soul with porn. All over the Himalayan trekking routes there are prayer wheels, which when rotated by the passers by, gives them good luck. In a pictorial display which illustrated exactly how your karma improved as the wheel was rotated, the walls around this temples' wheels started with pictures like this:
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| And you all doubted me about the whole Yeti rape thing. THIS is why I bought that whistle. |
After a day where I gained somewhere in the realm of 600 metres, I felt I needed a reward. For the most part, the Nepali trail food is filling, but pretty unsatisfying. It’s all made with the exact same spices, so that everything tastes like the same combination of soy, salt, mild Indian, and salt….with a bit of salt thrown in. Luckily there is one dish that would be welcome on any menu in even the worlds’ premier Michelin restaurants: the Snickers Pie.
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| As beautiful and delicious as it sounds. |
Also available in Mars form, this food of the kings is an ingenious combination of chocolate bar, Nepali batter, and deep fried goodness. In a place where even the heartiest of appetites will struggle to consume enough calories to maintain weight, this ball of pure energy is about the most satisfying end to the day known to a trekker.
Day 5: Tengboche (3860m) to Dingboche (4410m)
Waking Temperature: 3oC
Hike Time: 3 hrs 50 min
Elevation Increase: 550m
Hike Difficulty: 7/10
Random Thought of the Day: I’m officially over taking photos of Yak trains, no matter how fluffy they are.
The yak trains have transformed from being awesome photo ops, into traffic jam causing nuisances. One of the golden rules of trekking here, is whenever passing a yak, always stand uphill from them. Some of the drops here are pretty treacherous, and relying on a yak to be courteous as a method of life preservation is not recommended. The locals treat their animals with more respect than some places I've been to, but they’re still pretty harsh to them. They seem to indiscriminately whack them with sticks and yell at them for no obvious reason. The yaks for the most part only have one real trail they can take anyway, and there’s no perceptible change of speed when they’re yelled at. Having said that, it took me about two days to try and get the yaks to move by yelling ‘BAHH!’ at them, and I’ll be damned if it didn't work.
The hike to Dingboche was pretty uneventful. Since John and Dylan were still feeling ill, we went pretty slowly. The scenery began to change pretty dramatically as we said goodbye to foliage and went above the tree line. The path became far dustier, and we all donned balaclavas, which as a perk also humidified the dry air, making it a bit more pleasant to breath, but annoyingly also meant our sunglasses fogged up. I also got a chance to experience the life of a sherpa, and I'll be honest, I don't think it's for me.
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| There's the child of a chiropractor somewhere who will be able to afford College thanks to this photo. |
After arriving, the others all assumed a position around a table in the dining room, and didn't move for the rest of the afternoon. With all three of the guys strewn out along the benches lining the walls, I decided to excuse myself and get as much extra altitude for the day by climbing the nearby peak Nangkar Gompa. Standing around 5100 metres, about 700 metres above the town, I originally set out just to get as much altitude as I could and then come back down.
I left my climb quite late, and by the time I started, the cloud level was so low that only the bottom 50 metres of the mountain were visible. The weather in the Himalayas was relatively consistent while we were there. The mornings were the best part of the day, with clear skies and no wind. As the day progressed, the conditions worsened, with cloud accumulating and the wind kicking up until around 5pm, at which point the wind would stop, and the clouds would clear. On Nangkar Gompa I was completely shut in by cloud for the first half of the mountain. As I mentioned before it’s not a bad thing. While being able to see the surrounding view is obviously preferable, there’s something really cool about literally walking through the clouds. But then this happened:
It may have been a result of the adrenaline of such an awe inducing sight, plus the stubbornly determined part of my ego, but I decided to push on for the peak. At this point it was close to 4:30pm, meaning I had about an hour and a half of light left. With the weather having completely cleared, I also had a great view of the next set of clouds snaking its' way up the valley below, and knew I had to hurry if I was to make it to the peak, and get back down with enough visibility to be safe. Not being able to actually see where the exact peak was, I decided to go until 5pm, then turn around, and so I set off as fast as I could up the mountain.
The higher you go, the slower your progress gets, and after going for sections of about 50 metres at a time, I began to get dwindling returns. I then got what appeared to be a glimpse of the top, and again the adrenaline kicked in, and I startled flying up the last bit of the mountain. Despite there being 3 different false peaks, and the fact that the last hundred metres were all scrambling, I actually felt better darting up the last section of the mountain than I had the rest of the climb. My head was spinning a bit, but my lungs felt amazing, and I managed to reach the top with enough time to take a few hundred panorama photos (as well as wandering around on cliff faces with a headspin).
The descent proved to be more difficult, as my knees began to hurt pretty badly with the pressure of my body weight thundering down on them step after step down the 30 degree incline. Due to my limited time I wasn’t able to baby them too much, and essentially resorted to running an S pattern, cutting back and forth. When I finally reached the bottom (after a one hour descent) I was greeted in the mist (the clouds closed in on me in the last third) by a worried looking Frenchie, and then the other two, who had all assumed I had been Yeti’d to death, having taken way longer than expected.
Day 6: Rest Day in Dinboche, hike up Nangkar (again) 5100m
Waking Temperature: 1oC
Hike Time: 5 hrs
Elevation Increase: Nil
Hike Difficulty: 6/10
Random Thought of the Day: ''I stood up and began exercising, violently — activating my explosiveness, as Titín calls it... I jumped up and down, ran in short bursts from one end of the cramped space to the other — no more than six metres or so. I stopped short, rotated my neck, my shoulders, my wrists, crouched down and bent my knees. Then more jumps, more mini-sprints, as if I were alone in my gym back home. Always with my earphones on, the music pumping inside my head. I went to take a pee. (I find myself taking a lot of pees – nervous pees – just before a game, sometimes five or six in that final hour.) Then I came back, swung my arms high and round my shoulders, hard.'' excerpt from Rafa - My Story, by Rafael Nadal
Today was an acclimatisation day, which would pose a far more arduous task than any of our hiking days would, as we were forced to kill time. The one problem with trekking at altitude is that you have a lot of down time. I can’t imagine how different it would have been if I hadn't met these three guys. My imagination is pretty active, but the task of entertaining myself with only a book and my thoughts would’ve been enough to drive me to madness. I had already finished Into Thin Air on my first day, and in Namche had brought the latest novel by Ken Follett, a book that measured 900 pages, and weighed in around two kilograms (sadly they only had the hardback version, meaning the book accounted for about 15% of my bag weight). Every ounce matters when your hiking, and the fact I was willing to bring something so heavy should prove exactly how dire the availability of entertainment is on the trail.
Our down time entertainment included a lot of cards. Cards were great as they provided a mindless distraction that really ate up the hours, and also presented the spectacle of Frenchie getting angry at John’s ultra competitiveness, John questioning Frenchie’s etiquette, Frenchie calling John a c@#t, and entire dining rooms full of people glaring at our table as we laughed our asses off. Dylan, Frenchie and I were also lucky enough to be shown a game called Crazy 8’s by John, the only card game that can end in a draw. In fact, it always ends in a draw. Barring a miracle hand, none of us could see how anyone could ever win it, and yet we played it more than once; further proof of just how starved for entertainment we were.
Perhaps the best source of entertainment was Rafael Nadal’s biography. John had purchased this inspirational tome for the trip, but it was Dylan’s public readings that provided the most fun. Billy Connolly at the height of his powers couldn't hold a candle to Rafael Nadal for sheer comedy value. Rafa is the greatest clay court player ever, and one of the best players of all time. His single minded devotion to tennis has made him one of the most intense players on court, and one of the fittest athletes of all time. Sadly his autobiography is exactly what you’d expect from someone with a perspective carved from a life of single minded devotion, and it reads so painfully dull as to be hilarious. I kid you not, there are entire chapters dedicated to point by point descriptions of his match against Federer for his first Wimbledon title. It's like reading a novel by Dustin Hoffman as Rain Man, but the OCD is directed at a little yellow ball.
After an inspirational reading from the book of Rafa, John, Dylan, and myself headed back up Nangkar. Despite the fact I’d done the same climb the day before, I headed up again because a) the view was so amazing, b) I needed to keep acclimatising, and c) I have no regard for my well being. My knees were aching pretty badly from the descent the day before, but I figured it was just soreness from late onset muscle soreness, but by the end of the climb down that afternoon it was pretty clear I had tendinitis in both knees where my quadriceps anchored. Luckily it just hurt, and didn't actually affect the way they worked, so I decided to push through the pain and add anti-inflammatories to my breakfast which already included anti-malaria pills, multivitamins, and antibiotics for the Giardia I had picked up due to my water purifying tablets protecting against everything except Giardia.
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| At least I got a photo at the top this time. |
That afternoon, we summoned Frenchie from his stomach bug induced death bed, and headed to the neighbouring town of Periche , where an altitude sickness clinic was located. Every day they do a presentation on altitude sickness, and, wanting to save Rafa’s words of wisdom for later in the trip, we thought it’d be some time killing entertainment. The clinic didn't teach us too much new, but we did learn that:
*Altitude sickness is a concern, but only if you ignore the symptoms. The Kiwi Doctor was pretty laid back about it.
*Even strapping a bastard red headed American step child into an oxygen rich re-acclimatising bag won’t shut them up.
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| How to increase someone's blood oxygen saturation. Sadly, not how to make a spoiled brat stop annoying everyone. |
*I should’ve become a doctor. Dr Tim Hill from NZ (great name for practising your Kiwi accent) was blessed enough to be married a girl way out of his league, who was also a doctor, and who was cool enough to come to Nepal to live for a while. Tum Hull is doing pretty well for himself.
We also learnt that asthma is a super power at altitude. So far in the trip I had absolutely cruised with the altitude, and at the Periche clinic it became clear why. We had our blood oxygen saturation levels taken, and I returned a level of 94%. The other guys ranged between 91%-83%, which was still well over the acceptable 80% level at Periches' altitude. Having spent a life living with less oxygen than everyone else, they were all dragged down to my level, and ironically, the limited oxygen actually made my asthma go into complete remission, and my lungs have never felt clearer. Naturally, as someone who knows how hard it is to struggle with breathing difficulties, I was very magnanimous in my victory in the blood oxygen readings. Ha, just kidding. I gloated like a guy with a small penis driving through Harlem in a convertible. If it’s possible to have asthmatic Napoleon syndrome, then I’d have been the textbook case.
Luckily for me, the Tasmanian guys were nice enough to let my gloating slide (despite ironically nicknaming me Reinhold, after the world famous climber Reinhold Messner), and agreed to let me tag along with them for the Three Passes trek. I figured that since altitude wasn't going to be a problem, I may as well give it a shot.
Day 7: Dingboche (4410m) to Chhukhung (4730m)
Waking Temperature: 0oC
Hike Time: 2 hrs
Elevation Increase: 320m
Hike Difficulty: 10/10 No hike is easy, it would be disrespectful to the trail to suggest so.
Random Thought of the Day: I think I’ve been reading too much of Rafa’s autobiography. I think reading this, combined with the low oxygen level, has made me go a bit weird. I’m writing, and I suspect acting, like Rafa all of a sudden.
Today was not an easy hike, but with my training behind me, I know I am prepared. My knees, they hurt, but thanks to my Uncle’s training I can push through. Before we go out on the trail I do not talk to any of my fellow hikers. I am always competitive, and I will not talk to them until the end, as I must focus on my own trek, and only my own trek. After waiting for them to assemble out front of our hotel, I jump up and down with my pack on, then drop for some push ups, just to get in the right frame of mind, and perhaps to intimidate them. I am completely in my own zone, but I still notice Dylan coughing violently. Allowing sympathy for an opponent is a weakness I can not afford, so I focus on my own climb. If he drops behind, I can not allow my level to drop to match his.
We begin climbing. The first rise is easy, but I feel my knees already sore. I step gingerly on the first rock up the hill, then push with some more confidence to the next stone, then begin climbing with more speed. I step well with my left, I notice Frenchie, who was close behind me, step poorly with his right, and with another sweetly timed movement, I step hard with my right foot, and move swiftly upwards. The others fall back, and I am first to the top of the rise. It is a good start, but I must refocus. I must concentrate on being first to each peak, even if I have easily won the race to the peak before.
We pass some horses. I do not trust horses. I do not trust any animals, as you do not know their true intentions, as it is not possible to talk to them, like you would talk to a human, who can talk your language, unlike an animal, which a horse is. I am very nervous, but we pass them and I continue forward. By the end of the walk, I have won. The others are far back, and come in much later. After we have all finished, I congratulate them each, as it is important to be humble. We then play cards, and I once again I go into my zone, as I do not like to lose at anything. My friends, they try to talk to me as we play, however I have gone in my zone and refuse to lose focus, even though they think it is just a game. I do not congratulate them on their good hands, it is just not in my nature. I end up losing, and I get very angry, and accuse Frenchie of cheating.
That afternoon, I go on hike of nearby Island Peak
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| I found this photo of Island Peak on my camera, and I have no recollection of being there. |
Day 8: Rest day in Chukkung
Waking Temperature: Who cares anymore. Freezing, bloody freezingoC
Hike Time: 0 hrs
Elevation Increase: 0m
Hike Difficulty: N/A
Random Thought of the Day: All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy. All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy. All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy. All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy. All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy. All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy. All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy. All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy. All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy. All work and no play make Caedyn go crazy.
Today I decided to rest my knees, as for some reason I went really hard on them yesterday, as if I was giving every step 100% or something. The other guys all headed up the nearby Chukkung Ri
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| I also spent a few hours trying to figure this poster out. No idea. |
Day 9: Chhukhung (4730m) to Lobuche (4910m) via Kongma La Pass (5535m)
Hike Time: 10 hrs
Elevation Increase: 180m
Hike Difficulty: 8/10
Random Thought of the Day: No more photos of Sherpas carrying superhuman amounts. A few hundred photos should document it adequately.
Today was the first of the three passes I planned to travel over with the Tasmanians. The second and third passes connected parallel valleys, and were both the only practical routes over the mountains between. There was no such need for us to hike over the Kongma La Pass, as the flat route through the valley was only a four hour hike, whereas this day would take us over 8 hours, and would take us up to over 5500 metres. The only reason for taking the route was for the challenge, the spectacular views, and because ‘The Three Passes’ sounds way more impressive than just two. It ended up being well worth it, as the view was incredible. The day of rest had made my knees much better, and despite the fact I had missed a day of acclimatisation, my Aussie Sherpa blood wasn't even remotely troubled by the altitude. Although I fear the thin air may have gotten to Frenchie:
The route itself was challenging, especially due to the altitude, but nothing we couldn't handle. The main challenges came from the two times the surveryors let me lead the way and I lost the trail. The first was on the final approach to the top of the pass, where the trail went left, weaving along a well worn dirt path. We instead went right, meaning we were left to scramble and rock climb up some razor edged shale, a path that actually left us slightly above the pass. However, this wasn't too much of a problem as it gave us a chance to carry some of the burden of climbing on our arms, giving our legs a bit of a break.
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| View from slightly above the top. |
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| Smug bastard. |
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| The glacier that we stopped and ogled every ten metres on our way down. The photo does it no justice, but it really was a thing of beauty. |
The second time I got lost, it was much harder to find an upside. After descending the other side of the pass, we were left with one obstacle in our way before our camp for the night: the Khumbu glacier. This, now extremely receded glacier, runs all the way from the base of Everest, down the valley below. Previously an impressive ice filled wonder, it is now reduced to the rock shell that previously contained the ice above. This rock shell is still about 100 metres high on either side, and the interior of the glacier, while not as impressive as in the past, is still a moving, evolving, route made up of rock covered ice. It’s about as desolate and hopeless a sight you’ll see in the Himalayas , and walking across it feels about as hospitable and scary as I imagine the surface of the moon would be.
This was the location I chose to lose the trail for the second time. Feeling pretty strong still, and relieved to have finished the huge, and for me, pain inducing, descent, I was keen to power on to the next town. The other guys were hanging back with Dylan, who was really struggling with a virus, and so we decided that I’d head onward towards Loboche, get us a room for the night, and meet them there. After easily hiking the ascent and perching myself over the valley of despair below, I managed to incorrectly locate the next rock can (the little piles of rocks that mark the path) as being right ahead of me. After sliding down what I quickly realised wasn't the path, I was left at the bottom of a very loose wall of rubble, with only massive rocks ahead of me. Unfazed by the prospect of having to scramble up rocks again, I quickly realised this wouldn't be as easy as I thought, when the first huge rock I trod on began wobbling. The rock piles I had to clamber over had all been deposited by the receding glacier, and had been left precariously piled on top of each other. Any sections where a path hadn't been established were extremely unstable, and I was left walking and climbing over rocks that weighed about ten times my weight, which would wobble and sway, and potentially collapse under me. You know when someone falls into a gorilla enclosure and everyone around them just stops and helplessly stares. I feel I know what that must feel like now, because as I looked up from the top of the first pile of rocks I had climbed over, I noticed that there were now about 20 hikers all frozen to the spot, gazing at my predicament with a concerned look of intrigued fatalistic voyeurism. Well, except for the Tasmanians, who were laughing their ass off and waving ironically at me with big grins on their faces. Luckily the rocks were kind to me, and I managed to avoid a 127 hours situation.
Day 10: Lobuche (4910m) to Gorak Shep (5140m) to Everest Base Camp (5364m)
Hike Time: 7 hrs
Elevation Increase: 230m
Sleep Elevation: 5140m
Hike Difficulty: 4/10
Random Thought of the Day: Nothing takes you down a notch like flying along the path to Base Camp, overtaking duckling lines of pole using hikers, and feeling like this whole trek to Base Camp is a piece of cake, only to have someone jog past you as part of their training to ascend Everest, looking like they’d barely blow out the candles on a birthday cake.
This morning was an early start. Not because we had that far to go today, but because Lobuche is a shithole. Between the trash pile just outside of the town, the yak dung lining the street, and the Sherpa’s who stare you off as you walk into town, it’s easily the most ghetto town we experienced on the trail.
Yesterday we encountered two small groups of climbers. The rest of the time we were completely alone, and were able to enjoy the isolation that you would expect when hiking around theHimalayas . Today we were undoubtedly on the tourist trail. Despite the fact that the trail here is quite wide, there were not only yak caused traffic jams, but also human duckling line sourced bottlenecks as well. In one particularly entertaining instance, we encountered about fifty slow moving hikers trying to ascend a short but steep ridge. John and Dylan, who were a bit behind, got to have a laugh at the spectacle of Frenchie and I going into Reinhold mode, as we sprinted and weaved between the people who were causing the traffic jam, sending walking poles and elderly ladies flying left and right.
Yesterday we encountered two small groups of climbers. The rest of the time we were completely alone, and were able to enjoy the isolation that you would expect when hiking around the
OK, I’m being particularly unfair here. The EBC trek is probably the most popular trek in Nepal, and most of the people we encountered were over 50, and some must have been over 80, and I can only hope that I’m that spritely when I’m their age. But it was quite an unpleasant change to go from the peace and tranquility of the pass the day before, to the busiest part of the whole trek. However, the nice thing about trekking in Nepal , is that even at the most touristy part of the whole trip, you’re never actually that crowded, with the crowds that annoyed us comprising of only about 20 people.
After dropping our bags at Gorak Shep, we headed off to Everest Base Camp. EBC gets a pretty bad rap. It is fair to say that it doesn't share the beauty of ascending a peak, or winding across cliff faces on one of the passes, but there is something special about standing in a place where so many remarkable people have spent a considerable amount of time preparing for such amazing feats. It’s like going to Cape Canaveral , or even to a sport teams' stadium tour. You’re not actually witnessing what makes the site great, but it helps to make all the stories you've heard, and all the images you've seen, that much more vivid.
It’s also not as ugly as people make it out to be. You can’t actually see Everest from the site, but you can see the notorious Icefall, the glacier that marks the first challenge that must be overcome on the way to the top of Everest.
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| To give you an idea of scale, the Icefall (the jagged river of ice running from bottom left to the middle of the picture), is a few hundred metres tall. |
You can also see the head of the Khumbu glacier. Further down the valley, this just looks like a death zone especially when you get lost in it), but at EBC, it’s a dramatic and beautiful deathzone.
It’s also quite an amazing place for people to have set up camp. I always imagined that the camp was just set up on a plateau below the Icefall. Turns out it’s smack bang in the middle of the glacier, with tents set up around natural lakes formed by pockets of fallen away ice, and camp sites made on what look likes the least hospitable place on earth. A lot of climbers now consider Everest far too touristy, and with the number of guided tours, and the fact that completely amateur climbers can now reach the top, they believe the prestige of summiting the world’s highest peak is gone. I can completely understand where they’re coming from, there are so many people there now, I can only imagine the traffic jams occurring on the way up. However having only seen the way they live at the very easiest part of the whole expedition, I can tell you it is no easy feat. I would struggle just to live the required 2 months in those conditions, let alone have to then climb higher than anywhere else on earth. So while EBC was by no means the highlight of my trek, it’s definitely worth the day trip, and there is nothing wrong with the many trekkers who just set their sight on this place as their final destination.
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| It's no University of Newcastle beach front lab, but I reckon it'd be a pretty cool place to work. |
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| 'Yeh, this looks good. We'll set up camp here.' |
Day 11: Gorak Shep (5140m) up Kala Patthar (5550m) to Lobuche (4910m)
Hike Time: 5 hrs
Elevation Increase:-230m
Hike Difficulty: 6/10
Random Thought of the Day: Errrrgrhhhhhghhhhhhunnnhhhhh. (Sorry, shouldn’t have written this when I first woke up).
Today we woke up at 4:30am. I only know this because I found myself halfway up Kala Pathar around 5:30am when I gained consciousness. Kala Patthar is a mountain that stands over the town of Gorak Shep , and it runs as an equal headliner for people trekking to EBC with the base camp itself. The reason for this is it grants a spectacular view of Everest. Despite freezing our asses off waiting for the sun to come up, it was well worth the early wake up, as the view from up here, and watching the orange and pink hues hit the white snowcaps as the sun peaked over the back of Everest, is something I’ll never forget. Another of the ‘touristy’ bits of the trek, this just showed exactly how spoiled travelers to this part of the world are, as after John and I reached the peak before anyone else, we then began to lament how our previously private location was gradually overrun by around 15 people. For most people trekking here, this was the highest altitude that they would encounter, and as a result, even when the numbers ‘swelled’ to their maximum, the people usually took a quick picture, then descended back to the thicker air down below as quickly as possible.
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| Everest is the black triangle to the right of the Sun |
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| Everest (second peak from left) and the Khumbu glacier heading off down the valley. |
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| Thawing out when the sun finally came out. |
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| Thaw complete |
Day 12: Lobuche (4910m) to Dzonghla (4830m)
Hike Time: 3 hrs
Elevation Increase: -80m
Hike Difficulty: 2/10
Random Thought of the Day: I never want to see a plate of Nepali fried noodles ever again.
It’s hard to figure out which is the activity I least look forward to. Having to get into an ice cold sleeping bag, in a bedroom which is clocking in at -5 degrees. Waking up and having to use a squat toilet, which has frozen urine all over the floor. Or eating the same bloody meal over and over. To give you an idea how bad the food here is, I’d have to go with the latter.
It’s definitely not an easy task preparing food up here. There’s no Woolworths or Walmart, and everything has to be brought up by sherpas. There’s also very little that grows at these heights. As a result you end up getting fried rice, or fried noodles, with the same combination of a few wilted tasteless leaves of spinach, a couple of pieces of bland shredded carrot, the same generic spices, and worst of all, an ungodly amount of salt. Food becomes very utilitarian up here, because you’re purely looking for calories, and some salt to help prevent cramping.
The most popular meal up here is Dal Bhat, an Indian style dish with a chickpea soup, a small portion of curry, a heap of rice, and if you’re lucky, a papadum. The real reason it’s so popular is that you get free refills on everything except the papadum, meaning it’s the best, and really the only way, to truly feel full. My problem was I had OD’d on Dal Bhat in India , and while I did enjoy it a couple of times, I really couldn't stomach it day in and day out like some people. After that, every place served fried rice with vegetables, and fried noodles, and then there were a variety of western foods on offer, however they should’ve been written on the menu with an asterisk. Anything Italian was served with ketchup in place of actual tomato based sauces, anything with cheese was liable to be served with stinky yak cheese, and anything incorporating meat was riskier than taking a shortcut across a glacier. There were a couple of meals that were OK like Mo Mo’s: a dumpling that came either fried or steamed, or macaroni and cheese, but even these two meals still contained the same Nepali spices which were present in every other dish. By this stage of the trip I was living on French fries and snickers, John was ordering meals and then having staring contests with them, and Frenchie and John had no appetite (meaning I had their meals after they pushed the plate away…I’d lost my sense of pride as a scavenging backpacker months ago).
Todays’ walk was easy, but as described above, everything else was a bit of a struggle. The one happy moment was when John discovered we could get 5 litre jugs of hot orange tang, and then promised to live off tang for the remainder of the trip. The rest of the day was spent playing cards, and saving our energy for the next three days, which contained our last two passes. As he sat coughing his lungs out, Dylan conceded that he was 90% likely to head back down via the valley to Namche and meet us there. The trek was starting to become a challenge.
Day 13: Dzonghla (4830m) to Gokyo (4790m) via Cho La pass (5330m)
Hike Time: 8 hrs
Elevation Increase: -40m
Hike Difficulty: 6/10
Random Thought of the Day: I think I found Korean Indiana Jones:
Today Lazarus rose from the dead. Well kind of. Dylan woke and announced he was going to give the Cho La pass a crack. Despite concerns the vibrations from his now sand paper dry cough may start an avalanche, we welcomed the news by looking dubiously at each other and removing everything we could from his backpack and placing it in ours. I’ll let the pictures do the talking for another beautiful day of climbing, with another hideous and intimidating glacier as a final hurdle (I didn’t get lost this time!).
The one highlight worth mentioning was encountering the World Expedition tour group. The tourists themselves are nothing too remarkable, they’re just normal westerners (mostly Aussies) who saw the World Expedition guys as ethical, conscientious, and rugged. I think it was mainly the fact that the tour company really emphasises the ruggedness of the experience their organisation provides that made their clients look kind of ridiculous. They travel around and stay in tents, which is fine, that’s quite rugged and outdoorsy, except that the tents are all set up ready for them when they get to camp, as is a fully functioning kitchen, a socialising tent (complete with generator for heating and electrical charging) and pretty much as many facilities as we had in our tea houses. But the bit that really looked funny, was that all this equipment (gas oven and generator included) were hauled along by their supporting Sherpa team, a team which after also adding porters, easily outnumbered the clients by at least two to one. It looked less Bear Grylls, and more Downton Abbey, with the help there waiting on them 24/7.
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| View from above the pass. |
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| Ugh, glaciers.... Why the hell do we want to save these bastards again? |
The one highlight worth mentioning was encountering the World Expedition tour group. The tourists themselves are nothing too remarkable, they’re just normal westerners (mostly Aussies) who saw the World Expedition guys as ethical, conscientious, and rugged. I think it was mainly the fact that the tour company really emphasises the ruggedness of the experience their organisation provides that made their clients look kind of ridiculous. They travel around and stay in tents, which is fine, that’s quite rugged and outdoorsy, except that the tents are all set up ready for them when they get to camp, as is a fully functioning kitchen, a socialising tent (complete with generator for heating and electrical charging) and pretty much as many facilities as we had in our tea houses. But the bit that really looked funny, was that all this equipment (gas oven and generator included) were hauled along by their supporting Sherpa team, a team which after also adding porters, easily outnumbered the clients by at least two to one. It looked less Bear Grylls, and more Downton Abbey, with the help there waiting on them 24/7.
Oh, and just in case you’re questioning my validity as a rugged, outdoorsy, traveler, today disaster struck again, and I was once again forced to call upon my Bear Grylls like survival skills. The zip on my pink stripper pants broke, and I was forced to sew it up with a bit of needle and thread that John had with him, but luckily I was a natural seamstress (never sewn anything before), and I’m pretty sure it will hold for the rest of the trip, despite the doubts of the other guys. But in true gritty style, due to my isolated location, I was forced to use multiple colours of thread, and alarmingly, some of them totally clashed with my pants.
Day 14: Gokyo Ri (5357m) and Gokyo Lakes
Hike Time: 9 hrs
Elevation Increase: 0m
Hike Difficulty: 5/10 then 8/10 with wet feet.
Random Thought of the Day: I now have enough photos of Everest to fill a movie length slide show. I think from now on, the only reason for me to take any more cliché Nepal photos would be to get the holy grail of a photo of Everest, framed by prayer flags, with a Sherpa carrying a massive load on his head, while riding a Yak.
Today was technically a rest day, but Gokyo is simply too beautiful too not explore. In the morning we headed up Gokyo Ri
After this, the other guys headed back to the hotel, while I headed out to see if I could make it to all 6 Gokyo lakes. The lakes look like they would be quite spectacular during the later part of the year, when they had thawed, however, now they were just massive piles of snow atop thick sheets of ice. Nevertheless, I was keen to see them all, something I probably could’ve done if it weren't for me coming across the one place where the ice had thawed. Following foot holes which had been trodden earlier that day, I got the shock of my life when my right food plunged through the ice into the freezing water below, followed by my left foot, as I scrambled to get out. Luckily I hit the deck immediately, stopping me going any further through, and was able to crawl off the ice, but at this stage I was about half way between the last two lakes, quite a way from the cabin. With the wind howling up through the valley, I decided I should abandon the last lake and head back. Luckily, after wringing out my socks and bashing most of the ice off my shoe, the warmth generated from hiking stopped my feet from falling off, and the afternoon calm came through just in time, and I wasn't forced to endure a long wet walk into a head wind. To compound my misery, when I finally got back to the room, I couldn't get my shoes off because the laces were frozen solid, but after camping out next to the dining room boiler, the shoes came off.
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| Go to the word hotel below, and directly above the ho is Everest. |
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| Lake number 4. |
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| Lake 5. |
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| Not a path. |
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| That's ice interwoven in the mesh. |
Day 15: Gokyo (4790m) to Thame (3800m) via Renjo pass (5360m)
Hike Time: 11 hrs
Elevation Increase: -990m
Hike Difficulty: 8/10
Random Thought of the Day: Today I found out that Adam Scott won the bloody Masters! In a life time of missing important sporting milestones (my AFL team only wins when I’m in a different country without access to the game), this has to take the cake. When the guy told me about it, I actually threatened him with strangulation in case he was pulling my leg, but a quick wifi hook-up confirmed one of the least likely stories I’ve ever heard.
Today was our final pass. We were aiming to be quite ambitious and make it as close to Namche as possible, so that I could have a short walk back the next day to catch my flight from Lukla, and so the guys could have as close to a day off, catching up on some creature comforts that were available in Namche. For the entire ascent we had a panorama centred around Everest to our backs, meaning every time we stopped to catch our breaths we were greeted by a real life postcard view. Again, I think it’s best to let the pictures do the talking, but this pass was absolutely spectacular, and we could enjoy it as the climb was made easy by our conditioning. Well, for everyone except Dylan, who had not improved at all, but who managed to somehow will himself over the top. I think the two enduring images we’ll all have of Dylan from this trip is watching his red hat appear from behind a ridge as he slowly trundled up, then watching it flop down, as his head dropped and he had to stop and reach for another shot of energy that just wasn't there, and the way he would just flop down on his back at the top of climbs, completely spent. John, Frenchie and I climbed the three peaks, Dylan put in an effort that would've eclipsed Everest, Lohtse, and K2 had he have been healthy.
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| Just another incredible view, standard. |
After posing for a few hundred photos at the plateau below the top of the pass, we made our final assault and all reached the top with a huge sense of jubilation, having conquered all three passes. Frenchie had the most spectacular entrance to the top of the pass. The day before we’d been joking about an old lady from Adelaide, who was being guided as part of a small tour group. We hinted that Frenchie may struggle to beat her to the top, and a small wager was made toungue in cheek by John, stating that she’d easily beat the Frenchman to the top. The next morning her group set off as we were walking into the dining room for breakfast. The jokes continued that he would now really struggle to beat her. After spending a seriously long time goofing around taking photos, we turned to see her group was almost at the top of the pass, and that we’d have no chance of beating her. However she must have run out of steam, as John and I powered along, and managed to pass her with a few cut backs left to the top. With Frenchie quite far behind us, we joked that he’d now have no excuse, and we were sure Frenchie would greet the top of the final pass with an avalanche causing C bomb, but then, as the lady approached the final corner, just 30 metres left till the top, we spotted Frenchie powering up from below. Spotting her, he pinned his ears back, and summoned speeds not yet seen by any of us during our trek, and with only metres left, pushed past the old ladies tour group conga line, pipping her to the top, where he was greeted with high fives and a pretty massive celebration. I’ll be honest, the old lady looked less than thrilled, but maybe if she had read Nadal’s autobiography, she too could have found the ruthless desire to win that Frenchie was able to muster for that one glorious moment atop the Renjo pass.
From there it was all downhill. We caught our last glimpse of Everest, then headed down, with every step bringing a little more oxygen to our lungs. Mercifully, it was a pretty gentle slope down once we’d descended the first few hundred metres, so my knees, which by now were pretty worn out, were spared. Passing by a stream we even had the luxury of having a bit of a wash, with me rinsing my hair for the first time since Kathmandu , and Frenchie washing his feet (a Yak died down stream right after he did this, he insists this was coincidence).
The only real hairy moment was when I once again lost the trail, and ended up sledding down a 45 degree slope on my ass. It was actually really fun once I got going.
The only real hairy moment was when I once again lost the trail, and ended up sledding down a 45 degree slope on my ass. It was actually really fun once I got going.
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| My lasting impression on the Himalayas, a 90 metre long butt print. |
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| The view back up to the top of the pass. |
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| In the foreground, the beach, in the background, Scotland. |
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| Thame |
Day 15: Thame (3800m) to Lukla (2840m)
Hike Time: 6.5 hrs
Elevation Increase: -960m
Hike Difficulty: 6/10
Random Thought of the Day: Burger Burger Burger Burger Burger Burger……
Today was my final day of hiking. I still had quite some distance to go; two hours to Namche, then retracing the first two days of my trip through the valley, and annoyingly up hill for the final approach into Lukla. I had to reach Lukla by 5pm to confirm my flight, and so I spent no time messing around. Frenchie and I stormed off pretty rapidly, leaving John and the ailing Dylan to cruise the short hike to Namche where they would spend a night. At Namche, I left Frenchie to have a well deserved shower, and sped back to Lukla. Due to my time constraints I really went hard, and by now my knees were seriously burning. The last approach was murder, as every steep part of the incline sent piercing pains through my knees, but the knowledge of retreading familiar ground, and that a big, fat, juicy cheeseburger and a beer were waiting for me in Lukla, really spurred me on, and I made it in, exhausted, but unbelievably satisfied. I spent the whole last day with a massive smile on my face. Actually, I spent the whole trip grinning like an idiot. I can’t believe it took me so long to discover how much I like this kind of thing. Before leaving I genuinely didn't know whether I’d make it up to Base Camp, and the fact I not only managed that, but so much more, was immensely satisfying, especially since I'd done it by myself (kind of). I can’t express just how much you don’t need a guide for trekking in the Himalayas . The advantage of having a guide is that you won’t have to think at all, and you’ll just walk, and take photos. The downsides are:
*You’ll have to make awkward conversation with a stranger who most likely will be a moody, bored, middle aged Nepalese guy.
*Every beautiful vista will now be accompanied by the noise of your guide loudly (offensively loudly) clearing phlegm from his throat.
*You’ll feel like an idiot when you realise just how easy it is to find your way.
*This may be an urban myth, but allegedly the guides get 20-30% of any helicopter evacuation fee, so they will push you too hard on purpose. Even if it is just a myth, you’re still having someone else make decisions on your behalf, and if you’re in a big group, you may either be held back, or made to go outside your limits, due to the differing levels of health within the group.
*You won’t have done it by yourself. This is the main one, it just can’t feel as good walking behind someone, and having them tell you everything, just like a school kid. You’ll have still achieved something, even with a guide, but I just can’t help feeling that it’d be far more satisfying without one.
In regards to having a porter (bag carrier), I would personally also stay away from this, if only because everyone I saw who hired a porter ended up packing with absolutely no discipline, and the poor sherpas had to lug these massive bags, and you don’t want to be walking around behind the poor guy who you know you’re paying a pittance to, thinking about how much of a bastard you are for bringing your full sized marble chess set. There is a decent argument for hiring one, as you’ll be supporting the local economy. If you really want to do this, Frenchie had a brilliant idea. Hire a porter, give them an empty bag, and for the whole trip you can put all the rubbish you find in this bag. The porter wins, Nepal wins, and despite the trails not being especially dirty, it will mean less goddam coconut biscuit packets wedged under rocks.
While enjoying my last day of trekking, the only real negative I noticed, was all the smug bastards smelling freshly showered, with the floral accent of their clean laundry still fresh on their skin. After catching a few disapproving glances at my disheveled dust covered state, and noticing them tending to walk as far to the opposite side of the track from me to avoid my smell. I really wanted to snap and scream ‘WHAT? YOU THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME?’ and push one of them into some mud to take them down a peg. Sadly I probably wouldn't have been able to run from them as I was now walking like Frankenstein’s monster, but given my altitude conditioning it might’ve been worth a shot.
And like that it was all over. After a massively satisfying burger (no Nepali spices or yak cheese!!) and my first exposure to the outside world in more than two weeks, I was all set to fly out. I did have a funny moment, when my friend Gav gave me a news update of everything I'd missed by telling me a couple of sports results, then as an after thought informing me ‘Oh yeh, and there was a terrorist attack in Boston, an earthquake in China, and a silo explosion in America’, which were important events, but not as important as the Broncos result that week. My flight the next morning went off without a hitch, and after flying through the valleys, albeit a few kilometres lower than I’d been walking just a few days before, I was able to finally have a shower, wash my hair, wash it again, wash my hobo feet, wear some clean clothes, burn my old ones, and then begin eating and drinking and not stop until I finally fell asleep in my warm bed. The one disappointment I had upon my return, was that my beard wasn't nearly as majestic as I had hoped for. My Dad has had a beard my whole life, and it makes him look wise, and almost regal, but sadly my trekking beard just looked patchy, and in the wrong light, a tad ginger.
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| Still a long way to go before my beard makes me look respectable... |
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| ...just like this. |
This whole trek was amazing, and I couldn't help but feel that this experience was a miniature version of my entire trip. The feeling as it began to wrap up, as my whole experience is beginning to, was one of relief that I’d finished what I’d started out to do, but also one of huge sadness that it was over. But as I imagine I’ll do immediately after I finish this trip, I've already begun planning my next visit to Nepal , with the Annapurna circuit just waiting to be explored. Although it’s going to have a lot to live up to, as the Three Passes trek is as good as anything I've ever seen or done. I just can’t imagine anything more rugged or beautiful than the sights that were there.
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