Walking to Everest

One WideWorld writer's journey to the foot of the roof of the world

For many nights now I close my eyes and see snowy mountain peaks, buzzing camp life, endless yak herds and winding hiking paths. I open my eyes: I am lying on a cheap hotel bed in Kathmandu, Nepal. I am anxious as it was only a dream and the real adventure hasn’t even started.

Our bus to Jiri leaves in two hours. It is 5.30 in the morning. Yawning widely, I grab my towel and head for the bathroom - who knows when I’ll see hot water again.  Jiri (1905m high) is a small dusty town 187 kilometres from Kathmandu. Our bus ride takes over 12 hours. The road is narrow and curvy. From time to time we stop to stow furniture or a couple of goats on the bus roof. Actually that’s where we sit as well - on top of the furniture and in the middle of the zoo.

According to my guidebook, the journey from Jiri to Everest base camp should take around 17 days. We march days without seeing anybody but local farmers; trails and lodges are empty and the first three days are extremely miserable – the temperature is over 30 degrees Celsius. We haven’t glimpsed snowy peaks yet and the journey becomes rather repetitive. Each morning we wake up around five, eat a heavy breakfast while studying the map. “At first we have about four hours uphill. That looks difficult but no worries, we’ll take our breaks,” rants our guide, known as N.G.

“Around 12 we should reach Lamjura Bhanjyang Pass (3530m). And then straight down back to the valley. It shouldn’t take more than seven or eight hours.” We grab our bags and head off without a complaint. It takes a while before we start eating properly again, stop falling asleep the moment we reach our lodge, muster the energy to wash our socks and take very cold showers.

Others on the trail

The first snowy mountaintops appear on the sixth day in Bupsa (2300m). Through the clouds we glimpse Cho Oyo (20km west of Everest and the sixth highest mountain in the world). We squeal excitedly and run to grab our cameras. N.G just smiles; he has seen these mountains thousands of times. It pours with rain the next few days and the temperature falls. Despite the terrible weather we are eager and motivated to move on.

On our eighth day we pass Lukla, a village 2860 metres above sea level. It is the main starting point for most of the people who want to reach Everest. Suddenly our “private” trail is swamped with mountaineers. Accustomed to the quiet and tranquility, we feel slightly cheated and a bit grumpy. We spend the night in Phakding (2650m). For the first time our lodge is full. Some are going up, others are heading for Lukla. We talk about weather and hiking and food. Somebody fishes out stack of playing cards.

The following day, after three hours of uphill marching, we reach the biggest ‘town’ in the Khumbu valley, Namche Bazar (3450m). We stay here for two days to acclimatise. It is cloudy and snowing. I pay a fortune for a hot shower and am all soapy when the water runs out. We visit a local bakery store, buy paper tissues, books, more warm layers, pencils and tonnes of chocolate. It is funny how simple things like eating boiled eggs or wearing woolly socks don't seem as important in everyday life, and gain a new importance the higher we go.

Roof of the world

At night we sit in the viewing platform listening to N.G's stories. “You see that one on the right is Kusum Kyangori, that one there Thamserku, Ama Dablam is my favourite, on the left Kantega, Thabutse and right there that’s Everest. It doesn’t look like the top of the world from here does it?” he says.

During the next few days we walk through rhododendron forests. Trees are disappearing. Long yak herds drag more and more equipment to Everest base camp. My bag weighs 33 pounds and it feels heavier with every step I take. We pass the impressive Tengboche Buddhist monastery (3860m). It is a beautiful place - rhododendrons are blooming, yaks wander on the plains and the clouds seem so close.

In Periche (4270m) we meet a group of hikers guiding their sick friend to Namche. This is the first ‘high altitude sickness’ victim we meet. N.G explains that tourists never take enough time to acclimatise. “People overestimate their health and abilities. They fly to Lukla, run straight up the hill, and few days later they collapse. People should have realistic aims,” he says. “If your vacation is two weeks long you can't see the whole of Nepal and climb to base camp.” Over the next few days five more people turn back. There is a rumour floating around that a man has died on Lhotse. We talk of nothing else in the lodge that night.

The Smell of Success

All the lodges look the same for some reason - large dining room, long halls with cement floors, tiny rooms with paper-thin walls. During the night the room temperature drops below freezing. I haven’t taken my thermal underwear off in two weeks. I sleep in it at night and during day I wear it under my hiking pants. N.G hints that I am staring to smell. Thankfully he smells just as bad.

Base camp is so close but I am mentally tired. After Tengboche the landscape is moon-like. Harsh wind blows day and night and it is difficult to breathe. Our last stop before base camp is Gorak Shep (5160m). We are physically exhausted but the night passes sleeplessly. I lie on my bed and think about our journey ahead. What’s it like at base camp? What are the people who are about to climb Everest tomorrow thinking about right now?

In the morning heavy snow covers the Khumbu valley. Our hike to base camp takes three hours. The view is nothing compared to Kala Pattar (5554m) and my face is heavily sunburned. I stagger on the shingle trail, climb over Khumbu glacier, jump at the sound of ice breaking and stop to listen as avalanches hurtle down the mountainsides. Is this road ever going to end? I turn the corner and there it is - an ocean of yellow tents, stretching as far as I can see. Wheezing deeply I sink on the frozen rocks not wanting to think how on earth will I ever manage to get back down.