Rugged Tales

Wherever my feet may take me…


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What goes up must come down

Everest Base Camp is a watershed: your choices are to climb up or walk back down. Climbing (as the attentive reader will have spotted from my last post) is not for me, so down it was.

The day of our departure dawned sunny and mild. I drank in the views from my tent for the last time as I packed up and headed for a final camp breakfast. The climbers were also leaving that day, heading back down to climb Lobuche for the next phase of their preparations. We all walked out of camp together, pausing by the entrance sign for a team photo before heading off back down the trail to Gorak Shep.

The IMG Hybrid team and their trekking companions - together for the last time!

The IMG Hybrid team and their trekking companions – together for the last time!

As we descended, the weather – and my mood – clouded over. I was sad to say goodbye to the climbers, and although I had nothing to add to the proceedings it felt somehow wrong to just abandon them to the challenges ahead. But abandon we must: a little past Lobuche, they headed up along the right hand side of the valley and back to Lobuche Base Camp, whilst we climbed the left hand side back to Dughla and Pheriche. It started to snow as I watched them grow smaller and smaller in the vast mountain landscape until, finally, they disappeared round the curve of the hill. I already missed their company, and wondered when I would see them all again.

In the chilly, gloomy weather and this sombre frame of mind I came upon the largest concentration of memorials to those who have lost their lives on Everest. Rising stark against the leaden sky on a hilltop above Dughla they were an unwelcome reminder of the risks my friends will face in seeking to achieve their ambitions.

The memorials to those who have lost their lives on Everest.

The memorials to those who have lost their lives on Everest.

I remarked to my fellow trekker, Dale, that I would prefer not to be passing so many memorials just after having said goodbye to everyone. “Why couldn’t we have come upon monuments celebrating all those who’ve climbed successfully instead?” I grumbled. “Well,” he replied, “for one thing there isn’t nearly enough room.” And it’s true: the thousands of successful summits dwarf the fatalities, the ratio is still improving and IMG has a particularly impressive safety record. Thankfully, there has never been a safer time to climb Mount Everest.

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Feeling the height

It turned out I was altogether too eager to get into my thermals. Although the air was cool when we set off from Pheriche, with the edges of the slower moving streams fringed with ice, the wind had dropped and the sun was hot. The valley – and I – quickly heated up, and half an hour after we started I had to stop and take off several of my tops or risk collapse from heat stroke. My long johns had to stay, however: the flip side of the unobstructed views of the valley that we enjoyed was that everyone else would have an unobstructed view of me in my knickers if I tried to take them off.

Leaving the Pheriche valley behind.

Leaving the Pheriche valley behind.

Slightly cooler, we made our way slowly to the top of the valley. At the bridge across the river at Dughla we waited for a dzopkio train to pass…then we waited for another…and another….and then several more. I had never seen so many dzopkios and yaks all in one place and lost count after the first couple of dozen. Ten minutes later they were still filing by. But eventually the seemingly limitless column of animals came to an end and we could take our turn, climbing up a short way on the other side for a break at the tea- house before heading off the main trail to Lobuche Base Camp.

The terrain became steeper and narrower on this side path, with a series if short switchbacks leading up and around the base of Awi Peak.

The steep climb up to Lobuche Base Camp.

The steep climb up to Lobuche Base Camp.

With one final glance back down the wide valley to Pheriche we turned the corner and headed into a much narrower one with the snow-capped Tabuche (6,495m / 21,310ft) and Cholatse (6,335m / 20,784ft) towering above us and the dramatic curl of the Chola Glacier sweeping down to the frozen Chola Tsho (lake) below. Another turn, and we made our way down a path slick and muddy with melting snow to Lobuche Base Camp (around 4,900m / 16,000ft).

A small cluster of tents tucked into a sheltered corner of a valley surrounded by snow-capped peaks I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful setting, or a more peaceful one. With just our group there it made a relaxing change from the bustle of the peak-season tea-houses that we’ve stayed in since arriving in the Khumbu.

Home sweet home: the beautiful remote setting of IMG's Lobuche Base Camp.

Home sweet home: the beautiful remote setting of IMG’s Lobuche Base Camp.

But the wonderful setting was not without cost. That night I developed my first altitude headache, the dry cold triggered a nosebleed, and the thin air interfered with my breathing and prevented me from sleeping. Come the morning I wasn’t sure I wanted to tackle the acclimatization hike 300m (1,000ft) up to Lobuche High Camp. But after a slow start I felt better and made it all the way up to see the compact area by the side of a small frozen lake. It was covered in several inches of snow and I was glad I wasn’t camping up there – though our climbers will be back in a few days to tackle the peak as part of their preparations for Everest. I hope the snow has melted for them by then – although being much hardier than me they are probably less bothered by such trifles!

Meanwhile, after a better night’s sleep with my headache gone, and the tactical application of lotion stopping any further nosebleeds we set off on the final stretch to Everest Base Camp. After 12 days of hiking I can’t wait to reach our destination, and see where our climbers will be staying as they mount their campaign to reach the summit of the world’s highest mountain.