Everst Base Camp and Kala Pathar

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It’s been quite a bit of time since my last entry, but the trek into the Himalayas with "Himalayan Encounters" (via Intrepid) was absolutely fabulous but also, in some ways, the worst 2 weeks of my life!

There is really no way I can go into any detail about the whole trip here, but on Saturday, 2nd April, met up with the group of 11 other trekkers, comprising 3 Australians, 2 Americans, 2 Irish, and 5 English (9 girls, 3 guys). I’d been concerned about how the group would work, but as soon as we all went for dinner that night, it was obvious, I think, that pretty much everybody was very like-minded and would get on well.

The following morning, we had an extremely early start for a flight to Lukla, renowned as being the most dangerous airport in the world! The runway lies perpendicular to a narrow mountainous valley, so planes (mostly single or twin props) need to fly into the valley and make a right angle turn onto an extremely short runway (so short, in fact, that it is inclined to 12-degrees, to both slowdown landing planes, and assist planes taking off in acceleration). From Lukla, after a small bit of time to collect the nerves again, we met up with our 5 porters and 3 assistant guides, as well as Prakash, our lead guide, and set off into the hills.

Without going into detail of each place, we generally followed the river valley of the "Milky River" up towards basecamp over 8 days, including 2 acclimatisation days, climbing a total of 3,500m to Everest Basecamp. I could never have anticipated the toll that altitude could take, seemingly more on the boys in the group (aka "blouses") than the girls! Everything from splitting headaches, to middle-of-the-night panic attacks, to vomiting and diarrhoea... non-stop for all but 3 or 4 of the group! The day we made it to BC, one of the guys was so ill that he was on the point of being carried back down by two of the porters, ironically enough in the same place where, tragically, two days before, a porter had collapsed with, and died from, acute altitude sickness. It subsequently emerged that, except in the most extreme of emergencies, where we were at that point is generally considered inaccessible for even helicopters.

The Himalayan porters are incredible workers, whether they be porters for trips/groups like ours, or carrying provisions, supplies or even building materials to the primitive tea-houses where we ate and slept. The tried-and-proven means of carrying everything is on the back, but rather by straps on the shoulders or around the arms, all weight is supported by a thick, rope-bound strapping around the forehead, and the load carried by leaning far enough forward to hold the weight by the head while also balancing it on the back.

It was funny how little things stuck me as we progressing higher towards basecamp... whatever about there being no cars (obviously), it occurred to me that, after three or four days, there were no trees - just the burnt purple of dried juniper shrubs , the slatey shale rock and the endless, swirling clouds of dust. I just couldn't wait to see trees again! Although, truth be told, the priorities fast became some decent food (never let me see Dal Bhat again), a western toilet, and a shower that didn't involve somebody pouring warm water into a roof mounted bucket...

For me, the definite highlights of the trip were the group with whom I shared it... definitely people there that I would really hope to stay in touch with a remain friends with, but also, as far as the trip goes, reaching both Everest Basecamp, tekking the Khumbu Glacier and witnessing 1st hand the Khumbu Icefall, but also making it, at 6 in the morning at -10degrees, to the top of Kala Pathar, a smallish (5,550m) hill directly in front of, and with extraordinary views of, Mount Everest. To see the sun rising, peaking up from the valley to the left of Everest, with air so cold and so thin I could barely gasp it standing still, has to be what epitomised that trip for me. As someone said the night we got back to Kathmandu, it was the best, and worst, two weeks of my life!!!

The real horror for me, though, funnily enough, was at the end of the trip, once we had made it back to Lukla, we were back out of the 3,000's, we had had our celebratory beers... the last night before a red-eye flight to KTM, when I experienced food poisoning / Nepal-belly / delayed altitude sickness / physical exhaustion so badly that I literally thought, between fever and illness, that I was going to die. I didn't though, and once back in the relative civilisation of Kathmandu, faired considerably better.

We returned to KTM on the 16th April, and spent the next three days relaxing, meeting for dinner (unfortunately, the rest of the group with European bound flights were delayed days because of the Icelandic Volcanic Eruption). Lawre, my Singapore-based travel buddy, arrived on the 19th, and quickly mingled with the ex-Everesters and took quickly to Kathmandu.

It was fantastic to have him there, and it'll go down as quite a memory sitting on the largest temple in Kathmandu Durbar Square with Lawrence, showing him the sights, like two Michael Palins, before going, once again, to see the Kumari on her daily in-house wave to the waiting tourist masses! On Monday, we hired a taxi (taxis are great in Kathmandu... imagine the oldest Suzuki Swift you've ever seen, painted white and then left sitting in a scrapyard for 5 years) and toured the valley - leaving the city behind and taking in Kurtipur, the hillside village of Chobar, and then my old haunt (anyone remember the old barbequed chilli buffalo story?) of Bungemati.

That night, sadly for me, was our last in Kathmandu before leaving for Delhi and onto Goa. What I remember most of the evening was a last supper with the best Everest Basecamp crew ever; a very out-of-my-depth conversation with two girls - an art-critic and a lawyer - on classical literature; a lesson in mind-altering meditation from a Dutchman, and many, many people saying "The season in Goa is over. Goa's DEAD out of season. Don't go to Goa!".

Next day we head for Delhi... and then to Goa.

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Comments

[Margaret Martin]

Wow
Dad has used a cinch (which I think is what the head strap is called, many times when he was surveying in Newfoundland/Canada). Aren't you lucky to have had such a super group. I'm sure after an experience like that, you will keep up with them. Is Goa really out of season? Dying to hear what it is like. When does Monsoon start?