It's all mental, Part 1: Everest Base Camp, Nepal, 17,600 ft
Made it.?
“It is not the mountains we conquer, but ourselves.”
This quote has been attributed to Sir Edmund Hillary, who summitted Everest with Tenzing Norgay, but may have originally been said by George Mallory, who in 1924 vanished on Everest (his body was only recently found). It does not matter who said it; both men subscribed to the sentiment, and their opposing fates speak to the risks of pushing oneself to the limit.
I only went to Base Camp on a solo trek. It is located at 17,600 ft, and 60% up the highest point on earth. As I was trudging that final stretch, I spotted the yellow tents in the far distance, nestled at the foot of the Khumbu Ice Fall. "That's it??!" I thought, "I'm pushing myself beyond exhaustion for a bunch of tents??!" But like everything else, Base Camp is much more than a place; it's what it represents.
This is the endpoint for trekkers, who have basically walked and climbed at high altitude to get there. It's the crossroads that separates trekkers from climbers; those who are compelled to go to altitudes where humankind is not meant to be. Indeed, the body starts dying at very high altitude, and one does not stay there very long.?
In the end everything is mental not physical, an idea with outsized daring.
Most people are sensible and take a minimum of 8 days to climb to Base Camp. They build in at least 1 rest day. Yours Truly went up in 6 days; no rest days at all. A typical day was 7-9 hours' trek, with steep inclines.
It gets increasingly colder. The terrain changes. From an astonishing variety of flora, you cross the tree line and that's it, no vegetation survives at those high levels.
My experience with high elevation is that I don't get altitude sickness (thus far), but movement slows down, like being underwater. Heart is pounding, lungs are working hard. There is a tingling in the back of the head. On the mountain you never feel warm, you never get clean, you don’t sleep well and you have strange dreams. Lack of oxygen messes with your body.
Reached the last camp on Day 6, had lunch and set out for the final hike. Without a single rest day, I was starting to feel ragged. Base Camp seemed impossibly far away, but there was only one option, and it was all legs and lungs now.
Finally reached at 4.30pm. Way behind schedule. Sat among the prayer flags and took a few photos. Base Camp is only the halfway point of the day’s trekking. One has to get back...Unless you're a climber, you don't spend more then 15 minutes there.
I was concerned about impending sunset, cold and dark, not to mention dwindling water supply - only had 1/4L left. The guide and I were the last to leave, and the sun was already slipping quickly. Couldn’t feel my legs. Ignore numbness, ignore pain, ignore cold. One foot in front of the other. Stay alert so you don’t fall. Just keep on going on.
It got cold very fast. Perfect silence was broken by the sound of multiple avalanches on other mountains.
Then an unexpected treat: Sunset rays on Everest were breathtaking. Another surprise was how much one was able to see in the dark, with bright starlight. Moreover, this was snow leopard territory. We could not see them, but they were certainly observing us. What should have been an unsettling experience was actually rather magical.
Stumbled into night camp at 7.45pm. I'd been trekking for a full 11 hours that day, after 5 days of 8 hour uphill treks. But I had just crossed off a bucket list item!
On the way up is a place with plaques dedicated to those who have lost their lives on the mountain, with words of family and some photos. These are ordinary people like you and me, doing something extraordinary and it cost them the ultimate price. This is a somber place, commemorating lives cut short. Yet, they were doing what they loved.
Later, as you descend to Lukla, the oxygen-rich air floods your lungs. You feel a camaraderie with all these crazy trekkers, everyone on their own personal journey, and age really is just a number.
On the last night, as I wandered alone in the clamorous streets of Khatmandu – with shadows popping out, offering various things and slipping back – I thought about the silence, starkness and simplicity. Up there all you have to do is survive. It calls to you and pulls you back.
Physical effort is required, but you never do it on that basis alone.
Finally, you are in awe of raw Nature in all her majesty and cruelty. One cannot be unchanged by such an experience. There is no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. There is only you, better.?