Everest Base Camp - General Sherman, Small victories and Herd Mentality

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Well its been a good month since my last post, and about 3 countries, so lets just skip India all together and get to Nepal.

There is a famous Simpsons episode where Homer and Marge go to a marriage councelling camp and Homer goes fishing at Catfish lake searching for "General Sherman" which is obviously based on Hemmingway's "The Old Man and the Sea". My anology might be a little off, but Everest has always been General Sherman to me. A mythical beast dominating peoples imaginations and the entire region alike. Everybody believes in it but few ever get a chance for conquest. Catching (Climbing) the General may well be beyond my ability, or at least my means, but if nothing else Ill be able to get nice and close to him for a while. So, being in the neighbourhood, I might as well pop in for a visit. I booked a 14 day tour with Kumuka to treck all the way up the Himalayas to Everest Base Camp and away we went. Starting in Kathmandu in a swanky, 5 star hotel, I met up with Matt and Hanna from Melbourne and after a day tour of Kathmandu, that was rather uninteresting, andthe following morning we got up at 5am for our flight to Lukla airport.

Now i've been unable to find an official list, but Lukla is commonly known as the worlds most dangerous airport. Its been a couple of years now, but many a plane has crashed here. A

A 30-ish minute flight through low lying mountains, fog and turbulance and we were approaching the runway. The masking tape on the wing of the plane did not inspire much confidence, nor did the lack of a door to the cockpit, but it did allow for a clear view of the landing. The airstrip was around 200 meters long, up hill and came complete with a cliff at the beginning (or end depending on how you look at it). Exciting enough landing but we arrived safe and sound.

The everest base camp trail starts at around 2500 meters above sea level. There are no roads, no cars, no motorbikes. With the exception of a few vegetables grown locally, all food, building supplies, chairs, consumer goods, pool tables, practically everything is flown in on planes such as our one and then distributed amongst the various stores and tea houses along the trail. The problem is, the trail is around 60 kilometers long and essentially all uphill. This has resulted in a booming industry for the local "porters", who carry somewhere between 50-100% of their weight on their backs and, much like the post office, they deliver the goods right to the addressed doorstep. Our group had 2 young and enthusiastic porters to carry our 3 backpacks and as far as I can tell, had a pretty easy time of it compared to the older veterans of the mountain. I actually saw one poor bastard, miles from anywhere, carrying a fridge on his back. Each day was clearly laid out by our guide Tilac (who we were incorrectly calling Tila until the last day). 21 years of experience, happy go-lucky attitude and all round good guy. We were very happy to have him for reasons explained later.

The 1st day saw us hanging around Lukla for a couple of hours while Tila went off to conduct some business. We speculated it was one of 2 things. First, he was visiting one of his (possible) secret families in the mountains or secondly, selling goods to the local stores for a healthy profit. As described before, everything on the mountain gets flown in, so the prices are around 3 to 10 times the price you would expect to pay in Kathmandu. Either way, he returned and off we went. At this stage the going was pretty easy and we stopped after around an hour of treking for lunch. As all food was included in the price of the tour, we helped ourselves to some delicious Dal Bhat and I paid 5 times the cost for a bottle of coke. Tila told us a story of an Australian who visited the same restaurant several months earlier. Evidently the 300 kilo Australian stayed at the restaurant for 5 nights, eating his way through around 12 meals each day. Over the course of 3 weeks he made his way from Lukla to our end destination of the 1st day. Good on the guy for making the effort of coming to Nepal and giving it a try but it certainly made us feel better knowing that it took someone 3 weeks to traverse the distance we covered in our 1st day.

So without going into too many details, we slowly made our way up the mountain staying in spartan teahouses, eating momos, various potato recipies, bad pizza, scrambled eggs and dal bhat gradually befriending most of the fellow trekkers from other groups. Each little town is much alike to another at the beginning, starting with small communities and ending with 4 or 5 buildings towards the end. Our 1st rest day was at Namche Bazaar which is the business hub of the area. It even has an ATM and an Irish pub. We walked up probably the steepest hill ive ever traversed, rising about 400 meters, and had a cup of Masala Chai with an obscured view of Everest in the vast distance. It was clear that it was going to be a long walk. Breathing was already becoming a topic of discussion by this stage. We were around 3400 meters above sea level already, with another 2000 meters due to come. Local legend says that the higher one goes, the less oxygen there is to breathe, and hence, the more laboured the breathing becomes. However, with time, your body begins to produce more red blood cells and thereby account for the lack of oxygen. Either way, combined with the blistering cold, sleeping at night was not the usual daily delight it usually is.

By this point of the journey, It had been about 4 days without a shower and the supply of clean clothes was beginning to dwindle. There are no showers up the mountain (save for Namchee Bazaar which Matt and Hanna elected to pay 300 rupees for) and everyone was united in their stink (Matt and Hanna began to smell like the rest of us a day later). Everyone was wearing several layers of clothing though, so it was only when one took off their socks that they truly recognised their state of hygene. A group of 3 German girls decided to wash their clothes by hand and dry them by the heater. Im not sure what their original plan was, but all I saw was several bras hanging off the back of chairs in the common room. An unusual sight, but not really worth a second glance. Well, to me at least. It quickly became apparent that there was about 15 Nepali men moving suspiciously around the room. In a poorly disguised attempt to be discreet, each of the 15 men would walk out of the kitchen, one at a time, have a quick glance, snicker to themselves and then walk back into the kitchen. This was watched through the Kitchen window door by about 5 other men, all snickering to themselves. This went on for about 10 minutes. Days later we confronted Tila (one of the guily parties) He denied any knowledge of the incident. BS! I wonder what the reaction would have been if I aired my dirty undies?

The following day we made our greatest single climb to Tengcheboche, a daunting 4200 meters above sea level. Im not sure if the trail was poorly planned or not, but you actually drop back to abound 3200 meters during this hike, so that last hill before Tengcheboche was a real bastard. A good 2 hours of steep, rising misery. Im more than capable of walking for 4 or 5 hours but the hills and the new style of breathing made for a unique experience. Fortunately, Hanna is only mildy taller than Tyrion Lannister and her little legs (as well as her recently reconstructed ankle) made for regular rest breaks. The hike did however come to an end, so I decided to treat myself to a beer and a smoke at the local bakery. Later I found out that this was quite the sensation and topic of conversation amongst rival groups. Some stupid guy, dressed like a giant Lemon (I was wearing a Yellow ski jacket) having a beer and smoke (and reading my book) outside in -6 degree weather, while it snowed, wearing no gloves. The way I saw it, I might not see snow again in years so was happy to embrace the cold. I will happily admit that my fingers were pretty fucking cold though! The local monastery was meant to be a highlight, but I cant see why anyone would think so. So a bunch of monks decided to live up in the mountains and pray. So they let tourists visit for about 15 minutes a day, while they make odd praying noises and bang on a bell occassionally. I guess they forgot to tell me which part of the show was meant to be interesting! Tourists will do anything if someone tells them that its worthwhile. Im seriously considering a scheme whereby tourists come and watch me drink a VB and eat a lamington. Its got culture written all over it!

That night the first signs of altitude sickness began to show. Playing shithead with my group and various random hikers (if you dont know what game this is speak to an aussie or a pom, they will be able to fill you in) Matt began making some questionable moves. His cheeks were purple and his motor skills were failing. Hannah quickly rushed him off to bed, pumping him full of water and drugs. The symptoms of altitude sickness include nausea, fatigue, headaches and stupidity/acting in an unusual way (note: im no doctor, just going on what ive heard. The mountain seems to be full of doctors however). Matt was fine the next morning, but we were beginning to become hypercondriacs and any subtle change to our conditions led us to believe it was altitude related.

Another 4 or 5 hours of walking the next day to Dengboche was followed by a rest day. We left at approximately ridiculous o'clock in the morning and the landscape was now devoid of trees (they dont grow above 4000 meters) and increasingly human civilization. Earlier on, you couldnt walk more than a couple of kms without finding a town but this was now a thing of the past. I thought this would be an ideal opportunity to find some wildlife such as the Snow Leopard or Red Panda, but suprisingly enough it wasnt to be. I would have intentionally put myself in harms to find a Snow Leopard, but unfortunatley they were absent. Maybe next time. We arrived at our destination around 2pm, so I treated myself to another beer and smoke (as well as a bar of chocolate) and just soaked in the environment. When im back home, Im a busy guy. I usually dont get home from work and the gym before 8pm. Even at home you find that time is precious and you make the most of it. It takes a patient person to commit to a hike like this. You have nothing but time. A big chunk of daylight is used up walking with your thoughts, strengths and doubts and there is very limited entertainment at night. Time is passed in conversation, eating, waiting and playing cards. There really isn't much else to do in the evenings. Resources such as firewood and electricity (mainly solar) are precious and there is no TV, no radio. The fires are fuelled by Yak poo. We went for another acclimisation hike on the rest day, climbing up the bastard of a mountain next to the town. When it comes to exercise, I find it best to find your limit and then back off slightly. I made it to the top of the mountain far earlier then the rest of the group but noticed a slight pressure in my right pec muscle. Just breathing too much, surely! Went for an explore with Alicia, a lovely, fun, very young looking canadian girl (who turned out to be 37!!) and got majorly off track on the way back. A very helpful, ancient lady who spoke no English tried (in hindsight) to point us in the right direction. We thought she was just pointing to her yaks or her grandson. We had to tresspass through about 10 farms, a football match and a Stephen King-like fog to make our way back to the town. But, all in all, the day that was quite uneventful. General Sherman was still staring down at us with a look of contempt, as if to say "Whats taking you so long?".

Now for the more serious stuff. We made our way up to Debouche the next day, followed by Gorak Shep the following day. Gorak Shep is the final stop before Everest Base Camp. We arrived at Gorak Shep to the news that someone had died the night before, at the Teahouse right next to ours. Gorak Shep is around 5100 meters above sea level. The way the story goes, an expedition of Estonian hikers had made it up to Gorak Shep and the team leader had fallen ill. Having a good deal of experience, he brushed off concerns from his companions and told them to continue on without him. Later that night, a group of German hikers heard raspy, strained breathing coming from a nearby room and managed to enter the room to find the Estonian man in a bad way. Around 10 people fashioned a stretcher and carried him the 4 or so hours back to Debouche (the same place where we were spending the night) all in pitch black and hellishly cold conditions (around midnight). Several attempts to save the guy were made, using the diamox, oxygen etc. but around 3 in the morning he died. His girlfriend showed up shortly afterwards. I should mention that I saw none of this, but actually took place about 50 meters away, in the room next to Alicia. A Norwegian Doctor, who we happened to share several days with, wasnt told until it was too late and was highly critical of the whole process. The teahouses do have limited supplies of medication and oxygen for sale on-site, but do not see it as their responsibility to act as hospitals. In fact, the nearest hospital was about 3 days walk away and the medivac helicopter could not come due to weather conditions. One must remember that Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world and local health care, not to mention the value of life, are not the same as the the west. That said, this was a life that needent be lost. Special praise must be given to the Germans and the porters who put themselves at considerable risk in an attempt to save the mans life. One or more could easily have succomed to the sickness or broken a leg walking the stretcher back down the mountain in the dark. These were selfless men who deserve recognisition for their efforts.

Now, being the desensitised guy I am, while others were feeling bad for the poor guy and his girlfriend, I started thinking about my own mortality (Note: Im sure others were thinking the same). Thinking of the symptoms of Altitute sickness, I was fatigued (had been walking for over a week), I had nausea (lack of appitite and BAAAD dihoreea), had been taking Panadol (IBPROFIN) for the throbbing headache. One will have to forgive me for reflecting on myself instead of dwelling on the poor guy who died. I would not have even gotten travel insurance for the trip had it not been a mandatory requirement of Kumuka. I was also becoming increasingly concerned by the regular pressure in my chest. No pain but a little discomfort. Like a turd in a swimming pool, it just did not belong. On the morning when we were due to hike to Everest Base Camp, or EBC (after a 3 hour hike from Debouche, the same day we heard about the death) the medivac helicopter arrived 3 seperate times. The day before, it was seen a few times as well. This is a place where people just do not belong. I estimate that between 2-5 % of people that made it to Gorak Shep were actually flown out. At breakfast, Hanna, Matt and Myself were doing our utmost to avoid talking about the soon approaching hike. No one wanted to bring it up, but it was clear that we were all having serious doubts. Sensing the drama, Tila (who had been excellent until this point) tried to reassure us that when its peoples time to die, they die. Continuing on, he reassured us that several people had died under his care during his 21 years being a guide! With this knowledge in mind, we decided that despite our inclinations to the contrary, it would be crazy to come this far only to turn around now. If it was too much for us we could stop and rest or even turn around. Comprimising, we elected to go, but we would not be making the trip the following day up to Kalipatthar.

Sucking up what remained of our courage, we set off in search of EBC. The hike was set to take around 5 hours and an increase of about 200 meters altitude. Not too bad by comparision to days past. That said, the path was practically all loose stones and a giant glacier, so the going was espically tough. Overtaking the "Gap Adventures" group gave us a lift. There is nothing quite as satisfying as overtaking a group of 50+ year olds! Subconsciously, I didnt want to consider what type of man I would have been knowing that people far more prone to death than I went. A helpful dog greeted us upon leaving the teahouse and followed us for the duation of the hike. Now there is 2 ways to view this dogs presence. The first, and correct way, is to assume that he had nothing else to do and wanted some food (which we eventually provided). But I like to see him as the spirit of the mountain, leading us to safety, ensuring that no harm came to us.

With the end in sight, we sat for a much needed rest break and Matt threw up. I do not say this to shame Matt in anyway. He was suffering from Altitude sickness more than the rest of us and he showed real courage making it to the end. Rather, we had a decision to make with the end so close. Should Matt decide to return to Gorak Shep, Hanna (Matt's girlfriend) would have to follow and Tila would be duty bound to return also. I on the other hand would have to decide whether to return and assist Matt, knowing that walking back to Gorak Shep would be a further 4 hours, or whether to press on by myself. I was in a bad way. The panadol had worn off and my headache was back. My chest pressure was worse than ever. I wouldn't be making EBC if I returned. All I had left was my pride but my better nature would have seen me walking back to Gorak Shep. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself knowing my selfish pursuit of glory had contributed in a fatal way to another. All my theorizing however was for nought, as Matt found his feet shortly after and we walked the remaining 30 minutes to EBC.

At this point I would be only too happy to say what a glorious finale EBC made to the trek. However, much like a final exam at school or uni (Or the finale to "The Dark Tower" by Stephen King) it is not the end that was important, but the journey (Tangent: This is the only context in which I will ever use the word Journey. People use this word far too freely). There is practically nothing at EBC thats noteworthy. There was 4 tents for people waiting the 6 week acclimisation period to actually Climb Everest and a rock saying "Everest Base Camp". You cannot even see Everest from Everest Base Camp, as the surrounding mountains completely obsure it. We posed for our photos, congratulated each other on the achievement, gave "the spirit of the mountain" some food, I selected a rock to give to my dad, sat and soaked in what we had achieved and had a sudden realisation that technically we were only at the half-way point of the trip. We had to walk all the way back again! The Irony!

We made it back to Gorak Shep, wishing luck to all our new friends that we passed on the return, providing advice and encouragement. The next morning, a handful of people made the sunrise pilgrimage atop Kalipathar for the best known view of Everest but we elected to give it a miss. Those that went say it was the hardest part of the entire trip (note that I didnt use Journey here), and I harbour a small regret that we missed it, but my goal was EBC and I truly don't believe I was being a hypercondriac with my symptoms. Maybe I would have made it up that hill (Kalipathar is right next to Gorak Shep but about 450 meters further altitude). I might have risked my life to find a Snow Leopard but I can walk up a hill anytime! The realisation that the next 4 days would be meerly retracing our footsteps made for a dour mood. Suprising that it took this long, but it was right about this point that I began thinking about things that I missed. I would like to say family and friends, but Ive been travelling so long that that much like a foot deprived of blood, that subject has gone numb. Rather, I began thinking of Portugese Chicken burgers, showers, warmth, Scotch and most importantly, the ability to be lazy if I so choose to be. The days passed in a blur of Shithead (Ill save your a conversation, its a cardgame), Dal Bhat, returning appitites and 20 kilometer plus days. It took 8 days (I think) to make it to base camp, but it took 4 to return (including 2 wasted days at Namchee and Lukla).

One incident does come to mind however. While eating our lunch one day, an English guy took ill and another Medivac helicopter was called. Our Doctor friend from Norway was on hand this time, and with the aid of Tila's emergency kit, he administered the limited care he able to provide. To tangent somewhat slightly, can someone help me with a societal anomaly? Why is it, that when someone gets ill everybody in the area closes in around the sick person as close as they can, jockeying for the best view? At the beginning, the poor guy was sitting on a chair with 2 guides talking to him. From my viewpoint 5 meters away, I heard him say "I can't breathe" and suddenly there was 40 people within 2 meters of him. I know people want to do all they can to help, but invariably these people provide absolutely no assistance and consume the valueable and limited air around said person. If you cannot do anything, then back the fuck away!!! Fucking idiots, its as if they are watching a medical drama and don't want to miss anything. It was meant to take 2 hours for the helicopter to arrive but in a strange twist, it had been called earlier in the day for another lady who was already waiting at the same location. Evidently she was in ok health, as no one seemed to known anything about her situation.

As far as anyone knows, the people that were medivaced to the hospital by helicopter are today in good health. Even the most pessimistic of people did not voice an opinion otherwise. What I find amazing however, is that our sheltered lives are not used to death. Much like when a Lion takes down a Wildebeast in Tanzania, the EBC herd would continue on with its business and make the Massai-Mara like march to the promised lands. Sickness and death are part of the EBC trek. If you look up the wikitravel page or any other documentation of the hike, you will see testaments to this. I didn't climb Everest, but I have heard that around 1200 people have successfully climbed to the summit. 170 have died.

Now, I do not criticise anyone or myself for continuing with their lives, but rather would like to mention how people adapt to unusual circumstances. I have always had an opinion that humans really are animals pretending not to be. People that graffiti are the same as dogs that piss on a telegraph pole marking their territory, people that decorate their homes are no different to Birds of Paradise that sweep the ground to attract a mate, Male deers and rams that butt antlers are the same as men in a bar fighting "Thats my woman" and so on. We hide behind Art, Culture, Communication, iPODS etc but the same primeval instincts are shared. When you take away the distinctions we act in a similiar vain. When a Buffalo calf is killed by a lion, the herd feel bad for a little while but they move on, as did we. There are plenty of monuments to the fallen on the mountain, piles of rocks, flags, engravings but people keep going back. For pride? Experience? Adventure? Call it what you like, these desires are difficult to seperate from the grass and water the wildebeast search for in their annual migration through Lion and Crocodile infested lands.

In years past I have put myself in situations where ive been in danger. Cage diving with Great Whites In Cape Town, white water rafting down the White Nile, swimming in Hippo infested waters, crossing the street in Vietnam, Vang Vieng, flying to Lukla and its crazy airport (beginning and end of the hike). Heck, life is full of danger. Its makes things interesting. Walking up to a pretty stranger in a bar has its share of dangers. But electing to continue onto EBC was the first time I have ever had to stop and consider "If I do this, it really is possible that I might die". The chance may have been slim ill admit, I'm being dramatic I know, but there was a proven chance it might happen. The Medivac helicopter was a regular sight throughout the journey.

You know, I'm truly glad I did the hike. It was a great experience and I sincerly will remember it for the rest of my life. For anyone with a sense of adventure, and reasonable health, I do recommend it. But we see so much scripted violence and death through various medias that we are led to believe that such scenarios are ficticious. I implore you to recognise that there are risks with this hike. There are experiences to be had, people to meet, amazing scenery, breathtaking mountains, even more breathtaking walks (literal not discriptive) and no doubt stories to tell once completed. Have a good time, be take precautions and be aware of the risks.

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