Everest Expedition (Day 13) - Kalapathar

Climbing Kalapathar - April 8, 2015

I've lived a charmed life throughout my Himalayan hike. I should have known it would continue.

I awoke at 4 a.m. to beautiful weather, so decided to climb Kalapathar for one of the best views of the Everest summit, aside from actually scaling Everest.

If you look over my left shoulder, you'll see the top of a black mountain jutting up from behind the mountains in front. That's Everest's peak.

Here's a closer look.






The rest of the scenery was stunning, as well, 360 degrees worth of snow-capped mountains.

View from Kalapathar

As I snapped these pictures, I was standing at around 18,000 feet. Kalapathar's summit lay at least an hour away. I felt fine, but reaching the top just didn't seem that important.

Factoring in my altitude sickness from two days before and the all-day hike awaiting me after breakfast, I decided happily to return to town, where most of my hiking colleagues were still sleeping. Plus, I'm not superstitious, but the mountain gods had been quite good to me during my journey. I didn't want to push my luck by being overly greedy.

After breakfast, I began my return hike. It took me nine days to reach base camp. Now, I've got three days to make it back to Lukla. How's that possible?

The big difference is I no longer have to worry about altitude sickness. My body is acclimatized to 18,000 feet, so I can push much harder dropping down in altitude.

Today, I lost more than 4,000 feet in elevation during a seven-hour hike to Pangboche, where I'm spending the night. My guide Pasang said the same hike going uphill would have taken two-and-a-half days. We think we covered almost 15 miles.

Even though a lot of the hike was downhill, seven hours trekking is still seven hours trekking; however, my body feels strong, although my ankle is rebelling.

Tomorrow, it's another long one.



NOTE: These are the exact, unedited journal entries I wrote during my trip. Because of limited internet access in the Himalayas, I am posting them now, rather than during my actual journey, which I finished two weeks before the first earthquake. I hope it's not perceived that I'm disrespecting the dead or those suffering. On the contrary, I'm hoping to provide some insight into why so many people, considering the risks, continue to be drawn to the Himalayas year after year.

Tourism will likely be what fuels Nepal's recovery. Until that happens, Nepal continues to need our immediate help, which is why I'll continue providing a list of relief agencies for anyone wishing to donate.

Please see Why I'm Resuming My Everest Blog for an explanation of my decision to restart the account of my Nepalese journey.

Everest Expedition (Day 12) - Base Camp

My guide Pasang and I at Everest Base Camp - April 7, 2015

I made it to base camp!

I made it with a little luck, a lot of help from my guide Pasang, and a daily dose of prayer.

If you had asked me early yesterday afternoon, I didn't think I'd ever get here. My headache was overwhelming, and I had zero energy, but after taking Diamox for altitude sickness, a pain killer, and eating a hearty bowl of soup, I rallied.

This morning, I faced a difficult decision  – take the Diamox again, which can cause dizziness, fatigue, confusion, and stupor, or hope that the altitude wouldn't bother me.

I went with the medicine.

First, I hiked two-and-a-half hours to Gorak Shep, gaining more than 1,000 feet in elevation to 17,349 feet (5,288 meters).

                         

At times, the trail seemed like a freeway, especially with the number of yaks carrying supplies to base camp.






One of my animal encounters was a bit too close. I saw a pair of horns headed toward me, dug in with my trekking poles, and hoped for the best.

Looking back, it's comical to think that my poles would have prevented a yak from knocking me off the trail, but fortunately, he just missed me, and I did follow the rules by keeping away from the edge of the drop off.

Also, I crossed paths with dozens of porters hauling gear to base camp. I'm told porters can carry upwards of 209 pounds (95 kg) on their backs. Incredible. The porters attach the loads to the front of their heads with a strap called a namlo.


After lunch, I hiked another four-and-a-half hours to the base camp, reaching an altitude of 17,700 feet (5,380 meters).

Everest Base Camp - April 7, 2015 (Prior to Earthquake)

If you look to the left, you'll see the orange tents of those hoping to scale Everest. The date is now April 7. Most climbers attempt to summit in May before the summer monsoons begin, so in the coming days, the camp will be jammed with people from around the world.

Back in 2014, an avalanche here killed 16 Sherpa guides, the highest death toll ever for an avalanche on the mountain. The guides, in protest of the government's lack of protection, refused to work, canceling the climbing season.

Despite last year's avalanche, there's more climbers this year than last. The government has issued 357 climbing permits.

 (The April 2015 earthquake triggered an avalanche that killed 19 people in base camp. The government wanted to reopen Everest, but the Sherpas refused to rebuild the climbing route, citing safety concerns, which again ended the climbing season for two years in a row).

Now, look to the right, that's part of the infamous Khumbu Icefall, the head of the Khumbu Glacier, where climbers begin their ascent of Everest.

Everest Base Camp - April 7, 2015 (Prior to Earthquake)

The icefall is considered to be the most dangerous part of the southern route up Everest because the unstable glacier moves downhill several feet a day, exposing climbers to the multiple threats of deep crevasses that can open up without warning, ice towers known to topple over at any moment, and avalanches.

While approaching base camp, I actually heard an avalanche, although I didn't see it, and returning to Gorak Shep, I witnessed a major rock slide. I was in no danger, but both incidents reminded me that the Himalayas can be unpredictable.

It's hard to describe my emotions at finally making it here after nine days of hiking. It's a combination of elation, relief, and a sense of accomplishment. It just feels good, but, at the same time, it's a bit anticlimactic.

As I arrived at base camp, I immediately thought of a card that my girlfriend Alexandra gave me last year with the famous quote by Alfred Souza, "Happiness is a journey, not a destination."

For years I'd dreamed of reaching base camp, but as I surveyed the landscape, I reflected more on how I arrived, not on what I was seeing  – the challenge of the daily, arduous hikes over some of the most beautiful mountains on earth; the hundreds of hours of preparation before the trek; the support and encouragement of my family and friends from the first moment I said I wanted to go to Everest; the gratitude of having a job and the health that allows me to wander the world.

That's what I'll remember, long after the exact details of what I saw today begin to fade. Yes, Alexandra, it is more about the journey.

On my return hike to Gorak Shep, I experienced the dark side of the Everest experience, what some might call the obsession.

For two nights, I'd been talking to a group of Hong Kong trekkers staying at my tea houses. On the trail, I came across one of the women, who was suffering from extreme altitude sickness.

The porter said she had a severe headache, had been throwing up repeatedly along the trail, and the circulation in her hand was so bad that she kept asking the porter to slap it to generate some sensation.

Both her porter and Pasang urged her to turn back, but she insisted on moving forward.

"There's a chance she could die," said Pasang.

Over the years, I've read numerous accounts of climbers who lost their lives on Everest because they refused to heed the advice of others and turn back from the summit due to adverse circumstances, but I'd never glimpsed it firsthand.

As I write this, I'm back safely at my tea house in Gorak Shep, and I'm feeling no altitude sickness, although the temperature is a bit extreme. The high was 26° Fahrenheit (-3° Celsius) and the low is expected to be 14°F (-10°C) with 20-30 miles per hour winds.

Tomorrow, is up in the air because as I walked back from base camp a snow storm moved in.

If the weather clears, I'll hike up Kalapathar to gain a good view of the Everest summit. If not, I'll start my return hike.





Ironically, it's impossible to see the top of Everest from base camp because the summit is hidden behind two other mountains. Either way, I'm a happy and an exhausted camper.



MEDICAL UPDATE: The following day Pasang found out that the Hong Kong hiker made it to base camp and afterward returned safely to Gorak Shep; however, she's still suffering from altitude sickness. The thought of hiking to Lukla didn't appeal to her, so she planned on taking a helicopter back, instead.


NOTE: These are the exact, unedited journal entries I wrote during my trip. Because of limited internet access in the Himalayas, I am posting them now, rather than during my actual journey, which I finished two weeks before the first earthquake. I hope it's not perceived that I'm disrespecting the dead or those suffering. On the contrary, I'm hoping to provide some insight into why so many people, considering the risks, continue to be drawn to the Himalayas year after year.

Tourism will likely be what fuels Nepal's recovery. Until that happens, Nepal continues to need our immediate help, which is why I'll continue providing a list of relief agencies for anyone wishing to donate.

Please see Why I'm Resuming My Everest Blog for an explanation of my decision to restart the account of my Nepalese journey.

Everest Expedition (Day 11) - Lobuche

Near Lobuche, Nepal

This was one of the many culprits during my four-and-a-half hour hike, a hike with a 2,000-foot gain in elevation, a hike that's left me wondering if I can physically make it to base camp. A few hours ago, I would have said "no."

As I approached Lobuche, nestled at 16,174 feet (4,930 meters), my energy level dropped dramatically, and I developed a slight headache. When I finally sat down in the dining room at the tea house, the headache kicked in with a fury.

For an hour, I remained in a daze, wanting to get up but not having the stamina to move and fearing I'd throw up if I tried. At one point, I asked my guide Pasang when we'd begin our hike tomorrow to Everest. "We'll see," he replied.

That's not what I wanted to hear.

For the first time in my trip, Pasang didn't ask me how I felt. He didn't need to. He's been a guide long enough to recognize altitude sickness.

I understood what "we'll see" means. It means that if my condition doesn't improve I'll be returning to Dingboche.

Although many of my trekker colleagues have been gobbling down the medicine Diamox to prevent and reduce the symptoms of altitude sickness, I resisted, until today, when I took the drug, as well as a pain killer. I had no choice. I don't want to turn back.

The picture above sums up my entire hike. The landscape is beautiful. The experience is magical, but, at times, it's difficult work, just putting one foot in front of the other.  Look closely at the hikers on this easier section of the trail. They're not joking around. They're not talking. They're not even smiling. They're just focused on the task at hand, and although they're in a group, they're really very much alone.

For most, the goal is to just make it to Everest. For others, it's to climb to the top, which is why the trail is now clogged with porters and yaks hauling gear to base camp.

When I began my trip, I said that I wanted to do it for the experience, and it's been a wonderful one, but now my trip has become more of a challenge – dealing with the extreme cold; pushing through the fatigue of the daily, multi-hour hikes; and overcoming illness and the altitude.

Speaking of the weather, the high today was 40° Fahrenheit (18° Celsius) and the low 26°F (-2°C), which helps explain the difficulty of life without heat.

As I look toward tomorrow, I've got another 1,600 feet to conquer. I hope I make it, but my guide keeps reminding me that anything can happen in the Himalayas and that, ultimately, Everest is in , charge.

I am feeling better, and I remain optimistic, as does Pasang; however, if I don't get to base camp, Pasang this evening left me this with these words, "All life is precious. The mountain will always be there."



NOTE: These are the exact, unedited journal entries I wrote during my trip. Because of limited internet access in the Himalayas, I am posting them now, rather than during my actual journey, which I finished two weeks before the first earthquake. I hope it's not perceived that I'm disrespecting the dead or those suffering. On the contrary, I'm hoping to provide some insight into why so many people, considering the risks, continue to be drawn to the Himalayas year after year.

Tourism will likely be what fuels Nepal's recovery. (See Adventure Travelers Helping Rebuild Nepal). Until that happens, Nepal continues to need our immediate help, which is why I'll continue providing a list of relief agencies for anyone wishing to donate.

Please see Why I'm Resuming My Everest Blog for an explanation of my decision to restart the account of my Nepalese journey.

Everest (Day 10) - Dingboche - Rest Day

Dinboche, Nepal

On my rest day, I awoke to an overnight snow, making my two-hour hike all the more scenic. Originally, my guide Pasang wanted me to hike an additional couple of hours, but after we reached an overlook, he decided to give me the rest of the afternoon off, saying it was a good idea for me to conserve my energy for the task ahead. Tomorrow, I hike to Lobuche, leaving me just one day from Everest base camp.

Over the last week, I've seen several hikers struggling, but during my "rest" trek, I witnessed something far beyond that. It's one thing to get winded, but this trekker seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating, laboring with each step, as if it might be his last.

A guide was accompanying him the whole way, surely suggesting that the trekker turn back, but a guide can't force someone to stop. I knew he needed to stop. My guide said he needed to stop, and I'll bet the hiker knew he needed to stop, but onward he went.

I admire persistence, but if I'm struggling that much in the future I'd like to think I'll listen to Pasang. Then again, I can be quite bullheaded. Although we're each on our own journey, it was painful watching a fellow hiker endure such an ordeal. I fear he's headed for trouble. Hopefully, I'm wrong.

As I write this, I'm enjoying a hot cup of tea and anxious to get one step closer to Everest. My goal is almost within reach.



MEDICAL UPDATE:  At the end of my trip, I found out that the struggling hiker began to exhibit signs of pulmonary edema, so he was airlifted back to Kathmandu, where he fully recovered.

NOTE: These are the exact, unedited journal entries I wrote during my trip. Because of limited internet access in the Himalayas, I am posting them now, rather than during my actual journey, which I finished two weeks before the first earthquake. I hope it's not perceived that I'm disrespecting the dead or those suffering. On the contrary, I'm hoping to provide some insight into why so many people, considering the risks, continue to be drawn to the Himalayas year after year.

Tourism will likely be what fuels Nepal's recovery. Until that happens, Nepal continues to need our immediate help, which is why I'll continue providing a list of relief agencies for anyone wishing to donate.

Please see Why I'm Resuming My Everest Blog for an explanation of my decision to restart the account of my Nepalese journey.

Why I'm Resuming My Everest Blog

Near Dingboche, Nepal

Religious tradition in Nepal dictates that the dead be honored with a 13-day period of mourning. For the victims of both earthquakes, that's long since passed. Afterward, families are encouraged to resume their daily lives.  

Admiring the beauty of the Himalayas, it's easy to forget that these mountains were formed millions of years ago by the violent collision of two tectonic plates, pushing the land upward. To this day, Nepal remains quite active geologically, meaning earthquakes are common.

I debated about when, or even if, to continue the account of my journey to base camp, considering the loss of life and magnitude of the destruction from the earthquakes. Suddenly, my story seems so trivial.

Regardless of the temblors, it doesn't change the fact that tourism is the second most important component of the Nepalese economy, after agriculture, and rightfully so because the beauty here is almost indescribable.

I grieve for those who died, but I'd hate to think of future travelers not getting to experience what I did out of fear for what might happen beneath the earth.

Although we don't like to admit it, life by definition is quite unpredictable, often beyond our control, and, at times, ruthless. Yes, earthquakes pose a threat in Nepal, just as they do in Japan, Indonesia, Turkey, and Mexico, but fear shouldn't prevent us from visiting these places, just as the threat of crashing shouldn't keep us from getting behind the wheel of a car.

I'd still enthusiastically encourage anyone to come to Nepal, and tourism will likely be the catalyst for the country's recovery, so I decided to resume my blog. 

I hope it's not perceived that I'm disrespecting the dead or those suffering. On the contrary, I'm hoping to provide some insight into why so many people, considering the risks, continue to be drawn to the Himalayas year after year. Maybe, the picture at the top explains it a lot better than I ever will.

Before resuming my blog, I would like to share a message from the Nepalese tourism board.

Nepal Tourism Board offers its sympathy to all those affected in 25/04 Earthquake and condolence to those who have lost their life.

We have to look ahead and realize that the task of rebuilding the nation starts now. Tourism is the only key to rebuilding process that will put the world-famous smile back on Nepalese faces.

Nepal Tourism Board wishes to inform all friends of Nepal, both tourists and the global travel industry that, from autumn 2015, Nepal is Open for Business. We look forward to welcoming guests from around the world to our magical country of great beauty and rich cultural diversity.

For those who have already booked travel for autumn season and thereafter, we urge you to continue with your plans.

For those intending to visit between now and autumn season 2015 we ask that you be flexible with your programme, mindful of the situation as the country picks herself up, but do come. Please check your travel plans with your agent or directly with us at mediacenter@ntb.org.np

Please visit http://www.nepalpolice.gov.np/nepal-police-crisis-response.html to get update information about tourists being missing, found, wounded and dead.

Nepal continues to need our help. Here's a list of relief agencies for anyone wishing to donate.

Everest Expedition (Day 9) - Dingboche

Trail to Dingboche, Nepal

"The guides are so serious all of a sudden," a fellow trekker said to me today. I've noticed it too, although it's subtle. There's less talking on the trail. There's less joking, and the guides are sticking closer to their trekkers, but mainly it's the increasing frequency of questions.

"How did you sleep last night?" which really means, Did you have any shortness of breath?

"How are you feeling today?" which is really asking, Do you have a headache? How intense is the headache? Is the headache getting worse? Do you have any nausea, vomiting or dizziness?

"What did you think about that last climb?" which is really meant to ascertain a hiker's energy level and rate of breathing.

If I were a guide, I'd be in everyone's business, too.

We're well above 10,000 feet, the altitude where 40% of us would be expected to experience some form of acute altitude sickness The Merck Manual of Diagnosis and Therapy.

Rest, drugs, or, perhaps, a day or two at a lower elevation, can alleviate most acute altitude sickness, but what the guides are really concerned about are the two biggies - high-altitude pulmonary edema (fluid in the lungs) and high-altitude cerebral edema (swelling of the brain).

If those strike, it's life threatening, meaning the hiker has to be moved to a lower altitude immediately. Fortunately, such reactions occur in only about one percent of the population, but it's always on the minds of the guides.

Enough of the medical talk.

In case you're wondering, the picture at the top of this post is from a mountain pass about two hours straight up from Phortse Villlage.

I've already mentioned my guide, Pasang. It seems like an excellent time to also introduce you to my porter, Dorje.

I carry my own backpack, which is the tiny blue thing on the right, but Dorje carries extra gear that I won't need during the day, such as my sleeping back, poncho, and any extra clothing. Really, I probably don't need a porter because my pack is so light.

When I arrived at Lukla, one of the guides picked up my pack and laughed because it weighs about 15 pounds (7 kg). Hey, I've learned to travel light, but Dorje's services were included in my fee, and I feel good about providing him with the work. Plus, I plan to give him a nice tip.

As Pasang has told me on more than one occasion, money is hard to come by in the Himalayas, so trekking-related services are a way to earn a lot of much-needed income.

Dingboche, Nepal

We've now arrived in Dingboche. At 14,304 feet (4,360 meters), it's about the highest I've ever been, certainly the highest altitude where I've attempted to hike for several hours. It took me six hours of grueling trekking to get here. The view didn't come cheap.

The foot traffic is picking up, both with hikers and with porters carrying supplies to base camp on Everest.

Although there's an occasional "hello" from passing trekkers, each person seems to be absorbed, concentrating on the rocky, uneven trail; not wanting to waste too much energy in pleasantries, energy that's needed to climb; and focusing on reaching his or her personal goal, which for one might be getting to base camp or for another getting through the next hour.

Tomorrow, I've got another "rest day," featuring a local, two-to-three hour acclimatization hike and afterward just two more days to Everest. I'm extremely excited.

My strength remains high. My ankle feels fine, and the only problem I've experienced with the altitude is a slight headache.

Even though I haven't been in contact, I feel your positive thoughts and your love floating to me through the chilly, mountain breezes as I continue my trek toward the top of the world.

Everest (Day 8) - Phortse Village

Phortse Village, Nepal

Welcome to the latest stop on my Nepalese tour, Phortse Village. About the only foreigners you'll find here are headed to or from Mt. Everest. It sits at 12,573 feet (3,810 meters).

Here's my tea house.

Today's trek took four hours, another up and down affair. Each day, the names of the villages change, but the hikes are almost identical - long,difficult, and tiring.

Still, even on the toughest days, the views can't be beat. I know. I know. You're heard it before, but the pictures just don't do the landscape justice. Pictures can't convey the smell or the sensation of the crisp, cold mountain breezes blowing against one's body. Pictures give no hint of the sound of solitude at the top of mountain passes. Pictures can't capture the satisfaction of making it successfully to the end of another hike.

Life is difficult here, especially the work.

Planting Potatoes 

One of the most important crops in the Himalayas is potatoes. These women are planting them by hand, after having dug up the rocky soil with simple spades. Subsistence farming is the norm.

Bulls are also used to make the task a little easier.

I discovered an interesting fact about meat. Because the country is overwhelmingly Buddhist, many Buddhists won't slaughter livestock, so meat has to be carried up from Kathmandu, just like everything else.

Imagine unrefrigerated meat after two or three days on the trail. That's why it's not recommended to eat it above Namche. Everest turns a lot of hikers into temporary vegetarians.

Before I began my hike, the owner of my trekking agency told me there are several mental challenges on the journey. I've already faced rain and fatigue. Today, it was illness.

My stomach has been out of whack for the last couple of days, which is understandable because hygiene tends to be lacking at higher altitudes. That's not a criticism. Water is a precious commodity, so there's not a lot to go around for things like hand washing. I've got hand sanitizer, but I can't control the rest of my environment.

This morning, I again awoke seeing my breath, with the added challenge of how to get through the day so far from a toilet. Sure, there's always a rock to hide behind, what my guide and I like to call the "mountain toilet," but, well, you get the picture.

A prescription pill got me through. I'm hoping my problem is short lived.

I realize though that it's all part of the experience. Lately, I feel each morning that I must answer to some kind of nameless, faceless, impersonal mountain god. He's got only one question, "Do you want to keep moving forward?"

That's it. He doesn't ask me if I've had a good night's sleep or if I'm sore or if I'm in the mood to hike five more hours.

It's just a simple, "Are you in or are you out?" It provides amazing clarity. My answer has been nothing but an enthusiastic "yes," each day. The only alternative is a long, disappointing walk home.

The bottom line is no one cares about my problems, which are minimal. All trekkers share a common goal, but we each are on our own journey with our own set of challenges.

At lunch, I witnessed the heartbreaking sight of a hiker limping toward his table, barely able to move. I wasn't sure if he was going to make it to the other side of the room, let alone any farther up the trail. I'm sure his journey is about to come to end.

That's the cruel, random fate of the trek. That's Everest.

Everest Expedition (Day 7) - Khumjung

Khumjung, Nepal

I've now arrived at Khumjung, a small village known for its Sherpa culture. If you're attempting to climb to the top of Mount Everest, this is where you'll probably find the porters and guides to get you there.

One of the tourist attractions here ...

is a 600-year-old monastery
containing a rather unusual
relic, a supposed scalp of  a Yeti, "Abominable Snowman".






I made a small donation to see the glass case with the artifact and was allowed to take a couple of pictures.

Judge for yourself.

 

Is this part of an Abominable Snowman?

Khumjung is located at 12,475 feet (3,790 meters). The 1,000-foot gain in elevation took me about two and a half hours of serious, uphill climbing.

The higher I hike the colder it gets. Down jackets, down sleeping bags, and hats are now a necessity. Mornings are rough. With no heat, the second I unzip my sleeping bag the frigid air chills my bones and leaves me seeing my breath each time I exhale.

The accommodations in the Himalayas are called tea houses, simple structures with a common bathroom and a communal dining room.

The only temporary reprieve from the cold is a cast-iron stove that gets lit in the dining room each evening for a couple of hours, which is why you'll find trekkers, guides, and porters alike seated around the stove struggling to keep warm.

Speaking of the dining room, the food has been quite good and quite abundant. I can choose anything from rice dishes to pasta dishes to pizza. I've never had so much food piled on my plate, which makes sense because I need the extra calories for hiking, but my guide told me that digestion slows down at higher elevations, so it's a real guessing game to eat enough food without overdoing it.

The national dish of choice is called dal bhat, a platter of soupy lentils, rice, and normally some type of vegetables, such as potatoes. As the saying goes, "dal bhat power 24 hours." Dal bhat has powered me up my share of mountain passes.

Although 80% of the population is Hindu, Buddhism still permeates all aspects of life in Nepal. Believers turn prayer wheels to obtain blessings and for good luck. The wheels contain scrolls inside with mantras written on them. Buddhists believe that when someone spins a wheel the mantras are activated and released, bringing positive benefits to all.

Travelers often turn the wheels upon leaving or entering a village, a practice I've embraced, seeking any assistance I can get.

In many ways, I feel like I'm living hundreds of years ago, as far as transportation. If a person wants to get to another village, he walks because there are no cars, buses, or even roads. The only alternative is a rather expensive helicopter ride, which is out of the question for most.

At this point in my trek, I've passed the last major outpost, Namche. From here forward, the climbing gets harder and harder, but each step is bringing me closer to the Everest base camp.

Everest (Day 6) - Namche - Rest Day

This is the view I woke up to this morning. Not bad.

Although it was a "rest day," I'm beginning to realize the term "rest day" is a euphemism for "you're going to do a grueling hike but you're just not leaving the village" because I trekked for about three hours, most of it uphill, to further acclimatize.

I'm certainly not complaining. It just makes me think there are some difficult challenges ahead, if this was my "rest day." What are I being prepared to face in the coming days?

This morning, I felt a bit of a minor headache but nothing else to indicate the onset of altitude sickness. Having suffered the condition in Peru, I know what to expect, and it was a far cry from that debilitating experience.

My guide Pasang says the fact that I haven't had any more serious symptoms of altitude sickness, as well as my continued high-energy level, are both positive early signs, as we head toward even higher elevations.

This psycho-looking guy is me at the conclusion of my steep "rest day" trek to the top of a mountain above Namche.

After hiking, I enjoyed one of life's simple pleasures - a hot, $4 shower. Hot water is at a premium, so showers cost extra. However, it's so cold at night without heat that most trekkers chose to forgo bathing, which I'd done for three days, but since I finished my hike early, and the sun was still out, I took advantage of the opportunity, not knowing when I'd have it again.

By the way, here's my latest room, which has been the most comfortable, so far.

Tomorrow, I'm back on the trail.



Note;  After two days of flight cancellations, the rest of my group finally made it to Lukla, but they'll never catch up, so it looks like I'll be hiking solo throughout my journey. At least, I get along with the guy in the picture.

Everest (Day 5) - Namche Bazaar

Namche Bazaar, Nepal

Namche is seemingly in the middle of nowhere, but it's a bustling market village rivaling Kathmandu, as far as the availability of goods, especially anything related to trekking.

The village is built into a mountain face, 11,286 feet (3,440 meters) above sea level. I arrived here after a strenuous, five-hour hike, climbing almost 3,000 feet in elevation.

This was the most terrifying part of the trek. Do you see those two suspension bridges dangling in space? Yep, I had to cross one, the higher one. My guide said many a hiker has wanted to turn back at this point, and on more than one occasion, my guide has had to hold a trekker by the hand, leading him across, while the hiker shut his eyes. Now, take a look at the rocks on the far right leading uphill. Actually, that's the trail. It gives a good indication of what I climbed up and down most of the day.

I'm not afraid of heights. I love rappelling into caves, but this was not an experience I enjoyed - gingerly walking across a bridge hundreds of feet above a river, a bridge that bounced with each step and swayed in the breeze, a bridge with two-way traffic, some of whom were porters weighed down with tremendous loads that forced oncoming walkers to turn sideways and cling to the side. If you're curious, yes, people have been knocked off occasionally.

I chose to not glance down.

Here's a closer view of one of the bridges, a much lower bridge I encountered earlier in the day. There was no way I was pulling out my camera for the big one or doing anything else that caused me to lose focus.

Still, what a thrilling hike. The views throughout were nothing short of stunning.

Today, I learned a couple of basic rules of the trail. First, porters and animals have the right away. Second, hikers, next to cliffs, always need to stay to the inside of passing animals, especially donkeys, because they've been known to push people off. For that matter, it's also a good idea to not walk to the outside of porters because sometimes they might not see an approaching trekker.

So far, my body is holding up well. My guide, Pasang, kept reminding me to slow down, although at times I felt like I was a 90-year-old man taking baby steps.

I wanted to trek much faster, but Pasang said the secret is to keep moving forward at a steady pace, don't lose one's breath, and give the body time to acclimatize to the altitude gradually. I've now reached a height where altitude sickness can begin to appear, but I feel great.

This morning, the rains stopped, leaving me with gorgeous weather and allowing flights to resume to Lukla, at least for a few hours, before fog shut down air traffic again.

I'm not sure if the rest of my group made it to Lukla, but my trek continues. My guide this afternoon said I'm a "very lucky man" for having left a day early. I feel fortunate in more ways than one.

Tomorrow, I'll enjoy a luxurious rest day because trekkers need additional time to acclimatize at certain elevations before moving higher; however, I'll still do a local hike, although it will be a much shorter day.

I hope you're enjoying my blog. I'll keep you posted from Nepal.

Everest Expedition (Day 4) - Phakding

Phakding, Nepal

I might have made the wisest decision of my trip by asking to fly to Lukla early because fog and rain cancelled flights for the entire day, meaning I hiked to Phakding alone with just my guide and a porter.

Before arriving in Nepal, the director of my outfitter warned me to be mentally prepared for poor weather. Sure enough, I hiked three hours this morning in nonstop, pouring rain. Fortunately, Mountain Monarch provided a poncho, as well as a down jacket and a sleeping bag, due to the cold nights.

This is the type of terrain I trekked on. In places, the trail was paved, but it mostly consisted of dirt interspersed with stones, intended to provide better footing in inclement weather;

however, I found the stones to be quite slick in the rain, filling my mind with visions of ankles snapping. Still, I think I did rather well, and my weak ankle feels O.K.

I promise this isn't going to degenerate into some kind of medical blog, "The Daily Exploits of Mark's Ankle," but it's a key factor in my hike.

Back in college, my right ankle ended up in a cast twice in four years. Since then, I've had to wear an ankle brace for excessive exercise and have avoided serious injury.

My plan for the trek will be to wear the brace at all times while on the trail, take ibuprofen daily, do a series of exercises each night with an elastic band, elevate my ankle while sleeping, and hope for the best.

If anything, I'm mentioning it because no one considering the trek should let a physical issue, within reason, stop you. I've talked to people with a plethora of conditions ranging from knees to backs to shoulders to you name it, and they're walking the same path.


Earlier, I naively asked my guide if we were hiking along some sort of tourist trail. He laughed and said we were walking along the ONLY trail. There are no roads in the Himalayas, so the trail serves as the artery between the villages. Any supplies have to be carried up, which explains why we shared our route today with a lot of foot traffic, as well as donkeys, cows, and yaks.

I can't tell you much about the vista because my head was covered by a hood all day and clouds shrouded the mountains.

I'm staying overnight in the village of Phakding, located at 8,694 feet (2,650 meters), so I've dropped a little bit in elevation. Don't worry. I'll make up for it tomorrow.

There's not much happening here, just a stop along the way to Everest.

The accommodations are rather basic but comfortable enough. There's a common toilet down the hall, the Western kind. We'll see if that lasts.

The sleeping bag on the bed will come in handy because I've discovered that there's no heat in the Himalayas. Apparently, it's just too expensive.

Tomorrow, it's a biggie - five to six hours of trekking to Namche, and it's mostly uphill. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the rain stops.

Everest Expedition (Day 3) - Lukla

My mom and I maintain a don't ask/don't tell policy. She never inquires about any potential risky activities during my trips abroad, and I never tell her, until I'm home safely. That might explain why I never mentioned I'd be flying into Lukla, the gateway to Everest, and home to the world's most dangerous airport. You can spot the runway on the far left of this picture. (Click on photo to enlarge)

Lukla, Nepal

Pilots must battle unpredictable, ever-changing weather, tricky wind currents, and, oh yeah, they fly through the Himalayas, seemingly so close that it felt like I could reach out and touch the mountains on either side.

Flights are frequently postponed or cancelled, much to the frustration of hikers, but an old adage clearly illustrates why, "In Nepal, our clouds have rocks in them."

Above all, clouds present the greatest threat to pilots because, without radar or navigation equipment at Lukla, pilots rely on their line of sight to land. If the weather isn't clear, if clouds roll in unexpectedly, they're flying blind, which is why if there's any doubt about the weather, planes are grounded.

And there's one more hazard of flying into Lukla - an inclined, 1,600 foot (487 meter), tiny runway beginning at the edge of a cliff, hundreds of feet above the valley floor, and terminating at the base of a mountain.

After a pilot makes his approach, there's no turning back. He's got one shot to stick the landing and bring the plane to a stop within the equivalent of about five American football fields.

Take a look for yourself.

Once it landed, the plane took less than 10 seconds to reach the number "24," where I was standing on the mountainside. Had it gone any farther it would have met a rocky end.

Here's video I took of the plane departing. The 12% incline helps planes speed up for takeoff and slows them down while landing. It's the equivalent of a 10-story building.

Pretty sobering, but for some reason, the thrill of the flight outweighed any fear.

However, the airport has had its share of accidents, including fatal ones. Back in 2004, a plane without passengers rammed into a nearby hill, killing all three crew members. Then, in 2008, high winds blew clouds in at the last minute, covering the runway, just as a pilot was attempting to land. He missed the runway, hit a fence, and crashed, resulting in a fireball that killed 18.

There's an alternative to the 30-minute flight: a 12-hour bus ride, followed by, at least, a two-day hike, but most trekkers don't have that sort of time. During the height of tourist season, as many as a dozen planes land here each hour, so I felt that the odds were in my favor.

Lukla, itself, is a sleepy village, but the view is breathtaking. It's surrounded on all sides by snow-capped mountains. Sorry, I don't have any better shots because a few minutes after I landed clouds rolled in.

By the way, in several of my pictures, you'll see these brightly-colored flags. They're called Buddhist prayer flags. Buddhists believe the flags generate spiritual vibrations that are released when blown by the wind, carrying good will, compassion, and blessings to all.

The rest of the day I explored the village, including a monastery, and spent several minutes watching an impromptu cricket game.

My plans are a bit sketchy. My outfitter allowed me to fly to Lukla a day early in case bad weather cancels a day or two of flights. Unfortunately, I have little flexibility in my vacation schedule. Right now, that appears to have been a wise decision because the weather forecast is grim.

Tomorrow, hopefully, the rest of the group flies in after breakfast. If there are any major delays, I'll begin my trek without them, since my guide is already here. Later, the group will catch up.

I can't say enough about Mountain Monarch Adventures. This morning, the owner picked me up at my hotel, drove me to the airport, and walked me up to security, where an airline representative was waiting.

The rep escorted me to the front of the check-in line. Ten minutes later, I was in the departure lounge. After the plane landed, another contact was waiting to walk me to the hotel, where I met my guide.

I paid a little more, but so far, the service has been stellar and worth every cent.

As far as the altitude, I've jumped from 4,600 feet in Kathmandu to 9,186 feet (2,800 meters) in Lukla.

It's much colder, and I've been struggling to catch my breath going uphill, but other than that, I feel good.

Tomorrow, I'll hike to Phakding, with or without the group.

I can't believe I'm finally in the Himalayas. It's even more than I expected.

Everest Expedition (Day 2) - Kathmandu

Kathmandu is a city of five million, seemingly set up to cater to the country's second most important source of revenue - tourism. I've never seen so many sporting goods stores selling outdoor gear ranging from hiking poles to sleeping bags to footwear. Still, despite the overabundance of tourists and commercialism, Kathmandu has its charm.

As part of my trekking package, I visited a couple of the city's famous sights, including Pashupatinath and the Boudhanath Stupa.

Pashupatinath is considered to be the most holy Hindu location in Nepal. It's where the dead are brought to be cremated, next to the holy river.

On the other hand, the stupa is one of the most holy sights for Buddhists, worldwide. A stupa is a shrine containing relics, often the ashes of Buddhist monks, that is used as a place of meditation.

It's the largest in Nepal and one of the largest stupas in the world.

The eyes on four sides represent the all-seeing eyes of the omniscient Buddha.

Before the cultural tour, I received my pre-hike briefing. It's obvious that the guides and the company's director know what they're talking about, which put my mind at ease.

I'm looking at trekking days ranging from 3-7 hours. That much hiking, especially with my bad ankle, makes me nervous, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Tomorrow, I fly to Lukla - home of the world's most dangerous airport - to begin my 12-day adventure. I hope you'll join me for the thrill ride.





Note: These are the exact, unedited journal entries I wrote during my trip. Because of limited internet access in the Himalayas, I am posting them now, rather than during my actual journey.