It seems that whenever I am required to wake up hours before dawn, a tinge of adrenaline in my blood in expectation, I either wake up continuously throughout the night, anticipating the alarm, or sleep so deeply I don't wake up on time. This morning I was the later. Deep into a vivid elevation dream, Em woke me by whispering my name. Was I going up to Kala Pattar? Looking at my watch, it was 0454, giving me six minutes to get ready and meet Bishnu. Leaping from bed, I tore through the morning routine. Quickly shuffling through our freezing room, putting on cold, truly gross trekking clothes, packing my daypack, and miraculously finding my headlamp in the melee to go to the bathroom down the hall. All the while, the mix of adrenaline and elevation had my breathing coming in great ragged gasps that I couldn't seem to slow down. Grabbing a packet of almond butter to help wash down the Diamox, I was only one minute late in meeting Bishnu.
My second error of the morning was eating almond butter while extremely congested, at elevation, walking uphill, and without water (it was in my pack, and I wasn't coordinated enough to get it out while scrambling uphill). The sticky butter lodged itself securely in my throat, and only after coughing up a wad of it about twenty minutes into the climb was I able to breath deeply. Lovely, and I know Bishnu appreciated all my throat clearing.
The sun rising over the mountains. Everest is the bright orange peak on the left.
I thanked with each step God that Kala Pattar isn't nearly as steep as Gokyo Ri, although it is still a relentless uphill toil. Ascending the long dirt switchbacks in the dark, I could see a trail of headlamps behind Bishnu and I also making the sunrise journey. Slowly we walked, one foot in front of the other. My progress was slow, but so was everyone's. Breathing deeply, I leaned into the ascent, stretching my calves on the crumble of rocks and snow that fell underfoot. Leveling off on a small flat valley, I still couldn't discern the summit of Kala Pattar. Two massive hills lay to the left and right, but Bishnu said the summit was still concealed. A little overwhelmed at the daunting task of climbing, I called on my mental strength fortified in the last couple of days to tell myself I could do it. That I was doing it.
Finally the summit revealed itself in the new day, and I could see a rainbow of prayer flags in the upward distance. I let out a great exhale. Oh, it seemed so teasingly far away. How were my legs and lungs going to carry me so far? I looked around me for encouragement. It isn't hard to be inspired in this place. All around me, above me, below, left, right, in my very lungs and beating through my veins, is beauty. The sun was beginning to glow on the mountains, and my heart swelled, even as my breathing felt short. I kept pushing.
A view from Kala Pattar, Everest flanked by Nuptse and Lotse. The Khumbu glacier runs below.
Reaching the final stage of climbing, I was grateful for leaving my trekking poles behind, as it was a hands and feet scramble over large black rocks. And as every journey begins with a single step, so does each small journey end and with one final leg burning push, Bishnu and I stood at the top.
I think my mouth may have fell open as I was presented with a 360 degree panoramic of soaring mountains, glaciers and lakes. The bitter cold, whipped around me as I stamped my feet and clapped my hands to regain feeling in my appendages. The other side of the hill is actually a sheer drop off, thousands of feet down to another converging glacier. Clambering to a higher vantage point, maneuvering around the tangle of prayer flags, I just stared at Everest's south face. Strangely enough, Everest still appears smaller, and frankly, uglier than the mountains around her. While the summit of Everest is brown with a dusting of white snow, Lhotse, Nuptse and Pumori, are soaring, delicate peaks of slender white grace. As a quote from mountain writer Ed Douglas in our trekking book puts it, "Everest is like a grossly fat man in a room full of beautiful women." I wouldn't necessarily go that far, but I am impressed and awed with Everest for its majestic grandeur, it's ability to inspire (me), it's sheer strength in size rather than its beauty. For beauty, I personally think Ama Dablam takes the cake.
The crown of Everest above me.
Spending 25 bone chilling glorious minutes at the top, I reluctantly gave Bishnu the go ahead to make our descent. I was standing at 18,187 feet, having worked and strained and struggled to get there. All around the Himalayas proudly poured forth, Everest coolly surveying everything below her. How could I walk away from this? Only with a heavy heart. So much went into to achieving this personal triumph, and I shall never, ever forget it. The Himalayas...
Descending quickly what took so long to gain, we met Em for breakfast before our breakneck descent towards Dingboche. Setting off at an unsustainable pace, we retraced our steps to Lobuche, where I nearly collapsed in the dining room of our previous lodge for lunch. Restored following sustenance, and with a non too subtle hint to Em and Bishnu to slow it down a tad, we continued on towards Dingboche.
"Finisterre" sticker I discovered on a window at Buddha Lodge in Gorak Shep. Fate?
Backtracking on the main EBC trail was welcome new scenery, as we passed countless trekkers huffing and puffing towards Gorak Shep. While we were on winged feet, able to descend as quickly as our bodies can handle, those ascending must take it step by grueling step. Were we really just fearing and uncertain before the gauntlet of Cho La a few days ago? The scent of thousands of rhododendron plants filled our senses, inducing a dizzy sensation of walking in a dreamland.
On the crest of a steep climb for those trekkers headed towards Lobuche, is a broad memorial site to the many lives lost in pursuit of Everest. The largest memorial marker and tangle of prayer flags belongs to Babu Chiri Sherpa, a legendary climber who has the fastest ascent time of Everest, and once spent 21 hours on the summit without supplementary oxygen. He died on his 11th attempt. The 1996 Everest disaster, the deadliest year on the mountain is also commemorated with a memorial to guide Scott Fischer. The various trekkers walking amongst broken dreams and tragic losses is a stark reminder of the unforgiving nature of these mountains. Our hearts can be fit to burst with adventurous spirit, but we cannot think ourselves conquerers. Life and Earth is a balance. It is sad to walk amongst these memorial markers, but all of these people dreamed and dared greatly, and so lived life with splendor.
After a relentless day of trekking, we finally arrived in Dingboche. From the top of Kala Pattar to Dingboche, I had descended 1,185m. Days of acclimitization and painstaking effort, and we can undo it just like that. We decided to splurge and pay extra and take hot showers. Going after Em, I stood under the lukewarm water for enough time to suds up my hair, before the water flow slowed to a trickle, eventually ceasing all together. Being that the shower was an extension of the dining room, I was forced to finger comb out the shampoo, shivering uncontrollably, until I could put my clothes on and emerge not only still dirty, but also damp. Later when Em revealed that she had washed her hair twice during her Hollywood shower (the reason there was no water left), it took every ounce of humor to laugh about the situation.
Lounging in the dining room of Hotel Family Dingboche, feasting on Sherpa stew and momos, we are embraced with good cheer in our accomplishments. In that amazing mystery of life, that throws up coincidence at all the perfect times, I am meditating upon a quotation by Rene Daumal I randomly received via email the day Em and I crossed Cho La:
"You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again...So why bother in the first place? Just this: what is above knows what is below, but what is below does not know what is above. One climbs. One sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen. There is an art to conducting oneself in the lower regions by the memory of what one saw higher up. When one can no longer see, one can at least still know."
Perfect.
this looks amazing! I am out of words.
ReplyDeleteYou had a wonderful trip :)