That night at dinner we all talked about the effects of altitude that we were feeling. Everyone had some symptom like mild headache or slight breathlessness and so the feeling was, albeit reluctant, that we should start taking Diamox and looking back now we all should have started to take it when advised to do so.
The morning had us take the steep path out of Namche Bazaar, heading for the village of Phortse Gaon which was only 9 km away but would take us 6 hours as we would be stopping in small hamlets for tea and lunch.
The path was dry, rocky, dusty and forever uphill but the sun was shining and the views were stunning especially those of the mountain Amadablam .At 6,812m it dominated the scene. Amadablam the guide told me, meant “mother of the goddess”, the goddess being Everest and this was where the Sherpa was tragically killed during the earthquake a few days earlier.
Along the way we passed many Buddhist shrines which had to be passed on the left. There were also rows of bells which had to be spun on passing ,all for good luck of course !
The village of Phorste Gaon sits at 3,810 metres and the houses were spread out to take advantage of the parcels of fertile land that were separated with dry stone walls. The fields were just bare flat soil with a few small mounds here and there. We were later to learn that potatoes were grown here and when harvested pits were dug and what was not to be used right away would be buried to protect the crop from freezing.
The tea house we were staying at was owned by a Sherpa who had summited Everest 14 times, quite a record! Again the food was good and filling. The hot shower was a bucket on the roof of a shed which was filled with hot water but no-one used it mainly due to the fact that it was getting very cold in the evenings.
Things were also getting more expensive the higher we were climbing.Tea had doubled in price, a shower was RS 500, wi-fi was RS 500 for 200 mb of data and a charge for the phone was RS 500 per hour.
Some of the girls had back up batteries but the cold took a toll on them. Villages at this height relied on solar power and battery power or some had small generators to supply their electricity but remember petrol had to be carried in on the back of some poor animal so it was not cheap.
We hit the trail again heading for Dingboche at 4,410 m and above the tree line. It was to be a 6 hour walk, higher and higher along the boulder- strewn path which we often had to clamber off of to make way for trains of yaks or ponies sometimes 50 strong with their herders shouting and whistling continuously. Also there were the human mules overtaking us too, carrying massive loads, I felt guilty about my measly 10kg backpack.
The evening was cold at minus 14 and nobody dared a shower so the next best thing was to get the baby wipes out, heat them by the stove and wipe yourself down, only exposing one body part at a time!
In the morning the water bottles were frozen along with the water pipes and the toilets. Things were getting messy. I had a shave in a freezing stream much to the amusement of the locals while beside me a porter was washing his thick black hair, talk about brain freeze!!
This “rest day” was spent with, you guessed it, a 3 hour walk up to a nearby peak to enjoy the amazing views that surrounded us. Gemma was now really struggling with altitude sickness.
Day 7 on the trail and we were heading for Lobuche at 4,900 m. One hour into the walk and Gemma could not continue so the decision was taken that she should descend immediately and if possible try to make it to Namche Bazaar under the supervision of one of the porters. She was not alone as we would often see dejected faces pass us heading down, or some would hire a horse to carry them down. AMS (acute mountain sickness) can effect anyone regardless of age or physical condition.
Just outside many of the villages like Dingboche we would see long piles of flat stones with Buddhist writing carved into them, these were the villagers “memories” where the lives of the deceased were written into the stone.
The sun was shining but a strong, cold wind blew the sand into our faces as the path widened into a flat plain. Then after a few hours of flat we again ascended a steep hillside where at the top the terrain again flattened and on this area there were dozens of cairns.
We rested a while here and had time to inspect the cairns which were memorials to some of the people that had lost their lives in their pursuit of conquering Everest.There were names from all over the globe and a lot had died on the descent from the summit.
Lobuche is a very small hamlet situated at the foot of the Khumbu Glacier and it was to be another cold night but spirits were high as our goal was now in reach.
No one slept well as the altitude was affecting our sleeping and even turning in bed could get you breathless. However we were on our last lap, or so we thought, as we set off along the mighty Khumbu Glacier for base camp.
The Khumbu Glacier is the world’s highest glacier with its source on Everest at 7,600m and it ends 12 km later at 4,900m. Like most glaciers worldwide, the Khumbu is retreating. Its speed of retreat has been measured at 20 metres per year and it has thinned by 40m over the last 63 years since Hillary and Tenzing first climbed Everest.
This was to be a hard day with 9 hours of breathless walking over boulders and ice. We stopped for tea at Gorakshep which is a small hamlet at 5,140m and is situated next to an ancient lake bed which the yaks and horses ran to to lie down as it seemed to hold the heat from the sun.
Only an hour and a half to go! We made our way along the edge of the glacier and as we got close, the guide would point and say,” That’s base camp there!” I’m looking but all I could see was rocks and ice. Naively, I thought that there would be tents and people everywhere but the Everest climbing season is short, only the 2 months of April and May.
We descended on to the surface of the glacier and as we made our way across to a pile of stones which marked base camp, I could see our Sherpa guide getting very agitated. He had spotted a tall, skinny guy with a long beard dancing naked at the campsite so as we got close, the Sherpa ran up to him and gave him a right dressing down (pardon the pun) about disrespecting the culture, local traditions and the mountain. I whispered in the guide’s ear, “I told you he would be from ##!” The aging hippie took his telling off well and with balls in hand apologised profusely.
He looked a right sight,pure white apart from burnt legs from just above the knee to the boot line. We had seen him earlier with shorts on.
Meanwhile everyone was congratulating each other with hugs and handshakes.We spent about half an hour at base camp taking photos and looking around, especially across at the famous Khumbu ice fall which has claimed so many lives during assaults on Everest.
(To be continued…..)