Namche again - on the way down

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December 16th 2012

Published: December 16th 2012

Greetings under-fed readers.

Many apologies for the sparsity of updates but finding an online presence has been tricky since I left Dingboche all those days ago (feels like weeks). So, I left you as I was heading up to Chukkung and onwards to the pointy bit of Imja Tse. I'll try to post some details below but first I need to make a statement to alleviate some fears raised by a little bit of miscommunication. Status: All fingers fine, all toes fine, all thumbs fine, health good (if one ignores the sniffles and nasal congestion of high altitude). Hiking away happily and strongly every day apart from today (rest day in Namche). Apologies for any concerns I raised by being jovial about the temperature of my extremities.

Right, now back to the story. So, after my last post, we spent the night in Dingboche and headed off for Chukkung early the next morning. On the way to Chukkung, we bumped into the Chukkung lodge owner who had closed up and was heading down. We gently convinced him that we needed his services this evening and he kindly turned around and headed back up to Chukkung with us to re-open his lodge and provide tea and the like to keep our spirits going. Jangbu sat awaiting the arrival (from Dingboche) of the guy who runs the equipment store while I hiked off solo up Chukkung Ri (18208ft / 5550m). A good hike up for a couple of hours despite the lungs complaining a bit at the thin-ness of the air was rewarded with stunning views back to Makalu and Baruntse (and Imja Tse) and the Nuptse glacier lying graceful below the mighty Nuptse-Lhotse wall.

Back down to Chukkung in an hour and Jangbu and the guys have collected an impressive array of equipment with which to create our base camp. We check out all the kit, make sure everything fits sungly onto the wanderer and then retire to dinner and sleep. Early next morning, collecting chapattis, cheese, and boiled egg supplies, we're off on the 2.5 hour hike out to base camp. On arrival, base camp (16,666ft) is set up in less than half an hour and is feeling homely. As I've mentioned before, the land is very dry up here this season but we do manage to find a trickle from the (small) Imja Tse glacier and fill a jerry can with water for cooking and hot drinks. Energy levels need to be as high as possible so the chapattis, the cheese, and the (rather uncertain) eggs have been consumed. A howling cold wind is dropping the temperature impressively despite the sunshine. We're aiming for a 02:30am start but I'm feeling strong and confident.

A little before sunset, we brew up tea and noodles and heat up some meals-in-a-bag. The tea tastes appaling and I really don't know what that stuff floating in there is. It's been boiled so at least it must be dead right? The noodles even worse. I have water in my bottles but I need that for the ascent tomorrow. Short of dehydrating dangerously, there is no option but to drink this stuff, consume the noodles and hope for the best. The waning one wanes some more as the evening progresses. By midnight, I'm lying in my tent with two options: open up the tent and risk freezing or keep the tent zipped and risk suffocating from the obnoxious noxious gases my body is emmitting. I opt for the latter but I really don't think any sleep of any value happens.

2am and more tea arrives. I sniff it - it smells like poison. Don't want to offend my porter, so I just leave it aside. Noodles arrive - they smell like poison. Don't want to offend my porter, so I just leave them aside. Jangbu is up and ready to go. I'm sorely tempted to call the whole thing off but I've come a long way for this. I manage to pull on my warm clothing and get my pack together with harness, crampons, ice axe etc. It's a beautifully clear night and the stars are shining brightly as Jangbu and I head off around the mountain to the beginning of the ascent.

The twenty minute walk behind the moraine feels like a ten mile march. We find the path in the dark and begin to ascend. Within five minutes I'm bent over retching, wishing I could expel whatever is in my body but it's too late. I straighten up and march on. There's a problem with apline starts that I need to come back to more seriously some day but, basically, it's incredibly cold above 16,000ft in the middle of the night. And, tonight, there's another problem. I don't know about you but, if my digestion is not working, my body seems to produce no heat. Warm becomes cool, cold becomes freezing. As I lurch up the mountain my limbs are getting colder and colder. My core is too hot, my limbs are too cold. My head is the only thing that still seems to be working.

Bent over retching again, my mind finds time to admire the moon rising majestically through the Baruntse gap. This is one of the most beautiful nights of my life. And I feel sicker than I have ever felt before. By the time we reach high camp (18,372ft - there's no camp there, just a relatively flat piece of rocky ground), I've tried every physcial and mental trick I know. I've eaten a muesli bar (frozen), swallowed warm water (poison), swallowed cold water (poison), even eaten chocolate (frozen poison). I feel no better, I feel much worse. I can still feel parts of the middle toe of each foot and I can still feel three fingers and a thumb on each hand.

Everything else is numb and very, very cold. My stomach feels like a mortal enemy that is rapidly trying to dispatch me from this beautiful world. If I continue from here, I'll be putting crampons on, crossing a glacier, then roping up and ascending a steep snowfield before negotiating the knife-edge ridge to the summit. Here, on rock, every time I put a foot forward I'm trusting to luck that it won't topple me. None of this is safe. I am in no state to be here. I sit on a rock. I stare at the moon and her stars. I imagine a man sitting on a mountain warm and strong. He's a stranger. A shiver runs through me. What it runs through feels completely and utterly hollow.

There are tears in my eyes as I speak to Jangbu "I'm sorry Jangbu, I have to go down." He confirms with me twice then patiently says "Ok". I had imagined that I would feel relief when I gave up, I had hoped I would instantly feel better and think myself a fool for turning back. I feel no better. There is no relief. There is only pain, sickness, cold, pain. I trudge down the increasingly freezing mountain pausing only to double myself over and fail to eject any of the enemies in my body. At base camp I drop my pack and head for the long drop (toilet). This place has a season's human excreta built up in the hole between my legs but what's coming out of me smells a thousand times worse.

Hollowed-out completely I trudge back to my tent, mumble something to the ever-attentive Jangbu and crawl into my foul sleeping back to lie still for two hours. When I rise, my toes feel warm again, my fingers feel warm again, and the rest of me feels hollow and disgusting. I had briefly thought I might sleep this off, try again tomorrow, but there's no will left, no energy here. We pack up the camp and I trudge back to Chukkung in a sorry state. The next day, I've cancelled all thoughts of the night before. It's just a failure up a mountain. They happen. I'm not trying that again this trip. I'm going to enjoy this stunning place.

I've hardly eaten or drunk a thing for 36 hours but I set off to cross the starkly beautiful Kongma La (18,159ft) and across the mumbling Khumbu Glacier to Lobuje. I drink a few cups of tea and have a few mouthfuls of food before retiring to bed. I rise the next morning to a snowy heavenland. A cup of coffee is all I can face before heading out into the cold to march up to Gorak Shep and visit Rob Hall's chorten. I leave him a 12-12-12 remeberance note and drop down to the wee lodge at Gorak Shep to attempt lunch. I nearly finish a plate of potatoes and feel a wee bit healthy. I hike back to Lobuje with FD - an Aussie girl who's struggling to get any use out of her grumpy and rude porter/guide.At the lodge that night, I actually finish a meal. The next day we hike south to Dingboche where the grumpy porter/guide is nowhere to be seen (they'd all gone ahead which is no issue for me as I know where I'm going but not great for FD).

We try to call my guide (he's likely to be down the hill in Pheriche) but the phones have been out for a couple of days. We pause for lunch and he eventually turns up claiming to have been looking for FD (not true). After some stern conversations about respect and care for your client, FD sends him packing. I walk up to the top of the village with FD and show her beginning of the path to Chukkung then double back to march down through the beautifully peaceful Khumbu valley to Pangboche. The next day I rise and climb to the stunning beauty of Ama Dablam base camp (15,091ft). Base camp is populated only by yaks and a lone yak-dung collector. The camp is like a desert. The only trickle of water nearby is frozen and hasn't been replenished for days. The two glaciers on Ama Dablam's belly come to a dry end above her navel. FD joins us in Pangboche again that evening and the next day we hike down through Tengboche (hmm - still tempting to stay) to Namche, arriving in the dark after a long day's hiking.

And so I sit typing today approaching the end of another gloriously fulfilling adventure in the Himalaya. Tomorrow we hike down to Lukla and hope to fly down to Kathmandu the next day. I hope this missive finds and leaves you all well. There are many, many problems up here at the top of the world but none that can diminish the stunning beauty of this place.

Namche again - on the way down

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