Nepal - Island Peak

Written By Tudor Popescu

november 2023

27.9242° N, 86.9373° E

how i hiked up the slopes of a glacier for a mountaineer’s christening

Island Peak - shot from the base camp. film, Fomapan, ISO 100

how many days of living does it take to make a life? have i lived a particular year or have i lived through it? rhetorics aside, i’ve always been of the opinion that it only takes a few months to make a life. not that one should go ahead and begin planning for death whenever extraordinary events occur, as if their life was “made.” instead, i am proposing that all it takes is a few months, perhaps years, if they’re lucky, to make one’s life meaningful. a transformative few months, whether marked by calamity or even one’s encounter of the “love of their life”, i’d argue often bear more weight than whatever else precedes or succeeded them. such a transformative experience shines new light on the mundane.

as it typically is the case with the subject matter of such prologues, the experiential nucleus of an adventure is laid bare within the confines of a somewhat dirty hotel room. it’s in the Hotel Manang in Kathmandu this time, where on the 20th day of my adventure i thanked the heavens for every last bit of modern comfort the place could afford me. i hadn’t really had too much of a hard time dealing with the ubiquitous cold, the long trekking hours or the basic food. no, not at all - i had dissected my previous trek in Nepal time and time again, squeezing each and every lesson i could out of it, tempering my expectations, and preparing appropriately. 

no, it wasn’t the objective circumstances. instead, i had loosened up once i saw myself atop that peak. once i did so, the cold, the altitudes, the whole thing really pressed down on my shoulders with the entirety of their weight.

there comes a point when you’ve been at something for long enough that you cross a particular threshold. you’re no longer a beginner or dilettante. instead, you’re experienced, perhaps calloused, a practitioner, one of “the boys”. Island Peak isn’t exactly a trekking peak. it is fairly technical, but not too complicated. tall, but nowhere near the death zone. cold, but still achievable with (mostly) common gear.

it was my mountaineer’s christening.

the Annapurna Range trek, in 2022, had set in motion an entire year of planning for Island Peak. i spent the rest of the year training and preparing. one day at a time. no exceptions. i was only looking forward to the 11th of November 2023, precisely one year after my first entry to Nepal. have i lived this year? with Island Peak firmly crossed off the list, i claim: yes, i truly have.

it is no secret that i deeply enjoy hiking. the sort of spiritual cleanliness it helps me achieve is (woefully) unmatched in my life “at home”. but hiking often spirals into a messy, uncomfortable affair. it takes a little mental fortitude to grapple with the bitter cold, questionable food, or the incessant dust-filled wind. all of these things could be seen as the challenges of hiking or “part of the experience”, but during my second hike in Nepal, their novelty and sense of honest challenge had worn off and i found them downright annoying. 

as one of my fellow hikers aptly put it, once you’re up, you must get down as quickly as possible.

key takeaways

as always, i’d suggest reading this entire piece. however, if you’re only here for a few quick facts to help you decide whether you want to try Island Peak or not, see below.

Imja Tse (aka Island Peak), in spite of its technical aspects, is likely accessible for anyone decently in shape. by the latter i mean that if you can become acclimated to altitudes of around 6,000 metres, can (with or without much effort) lift your own bodyweight, and have a reasonably productive attitude towards discomfort, then you’re probably in good shape to try Island Peak. even if these prerequisites are met, i believe you should still think about the following:

  • give yourself sufficient time for acclimatisation, unless, of course, you’ve a proven track record of quick ascents. i’m no expert, but if you can handle running up to altitudes of 5500 metres or more, you’ll probably be okay to only reserve the time you need to physically get to base camp and subsequently, the peak.

  • protein is harder to come by beyond Namche Bazaar, though not entirely gone. meat of any kind is no longer an option - as it travels by porter, it simply won’t be fresh and risks getting you sick. stock up accordingly or get ready to eat loads of eggs.

  • rent as little gear as possible. as Better Hiking strongly suggests in a video about Island Peak, using your own gear improves your chances at a successful summit. this is particularly true if you’re pushing the limits of your physique, not just functioning within the limits of your (known) abilities. equally important is the reassurance of provenance with your own gear: while renting a climbing harness and a pair of crampons poses little risk if they are in good condition, using rental boots, a sleeping bag or clothing more broadly may expose you to all sorts of diseases. by renting a pair of boots (and using them exclusively for the summit) and a sleeping bag, i made sure to bring back scabies and a mild case of athlete’s foot. a hole in my bank account too, as renting is surprisingly expensive.

  • your immune system should be in good shape - you will almost inevitably come in contact with hikers who have caught a cold. often, the “cold” will be a full blown bout of flu, requiring heavy treatment or prolonged rest. personally, i see catching a cold as one of the inevitabilities of hiking. though a good strategy is to stay away from crowded tea houses, as Better Hiking suggests, this is hardly an option if you’re trying to stay warm or wish to have reasonably comfortable accommodation. in other words, depending on the timing of your arrival to Nepal, you may be able to pick a room in a less crowded, somewhat worse tea house, but i believe the best strategy, for most people, would be to work on that immunity.

once you have decided you are definitely going, then consider the following:

  • try to drink as little alcohol as possible - naturally, i am no arbiter of hikers’ good behaviour, but it’s probably best to stay away from the dehydration that comes with heavy alcohol consumption, especially on the way up. coming down is a completely different story, but it’s still not worth overdoing it.

  • if you ever get food poisoning and are absolutely unable to eat, a bottle of Coke may save your life. this may also apply if your altitude sickness is killing appetite completely.

  • nepalink internet cards are not universally accepted, meaning that the 7-day card you purchased will not necessarily work with all the wifi spots found in lodges. take that as you will, but it may be cheaper to buy 24-hour connection cards whenever you need them.

this by no means exhaustive list would have really helped me have a more comfortable Island Peak experience. for complementary suggestions and an account of a functionally similar hike, check out my Annapurna Trail article.

in a nutshell

Kathmandu - Lukla (2,860m) - Phakding (2,610m)

Lukla runway. Nikon D750

the hike kicked off with a short, early morning flight between Kathmandu in Lukla. while i did arrive well ahead of schedule in Tribhuvan International, in Kathmandu, the same cannot be stated about my flight. nonetheless, i see waiting in the all too familiar pre-departures hall as time well spent.

having changed attire in Lukla, i started out on the trail. the flavour of Nepal comes across from the get go, with tiny villages dotting the valley of Koshi River, along with fir trees and turquoise flowing waters. as you walk through many picturesque settlements, signs of tourism-focused development become apparent - you will have no trouble stocking up, charging your devices, or getting properly rested here. there should be no reason to limit your diet either, as perishables need not travel too far to reach Phakding and thereabouts. it should be noted that hot showers or wifi won’t be free here, both in the ballpark of RS500, a price likely to increase as you get further into the wild.

speaking of which, it is not clear to me where Phakding is meant to start or end. it felt to me as if we’d been walking through the exact same extended village, all the way from Lukla. nonetheless, referring to the entire area as “picturesque” hardly does it justice. 

Phakding (2,610m) - Namche Bazaar (3,440m)

a typical sight around Phakding. Nikon D750

i was pleasantly surprised by our reasonable starting times - the previous year’s trek had often meant getting before dawn. in truth, it would have been unnecessary to get going too early, as Namche Bazaar is a comfortable five to six hours away. before Namche Bazaar, the trail becomes slightly wilder, with thicker forests, suspended bridges, and longer stretches of uninhabited land. it should also be noted there are portions of challenging ascent, but nothing to throw any sort of hiker off. still, the trail can be quite busy with livestock, porters and tourists. it doesn’t hurt to mask up and wear goggles, as the dust can be overwhelming at times. 

once you’re in Namche Bazaar, it may be wise to enjoy its amenities - edible meat is scarce beyond this point and you are not likely to find a better place if you’d like to plug any gaps in your gear.

a short ascent north of Namche Bazaar will take you to the Everest View hotel, a shockingly luxurious establishment. but for those less inclined to spend on high end accommodation, the hotel also offers a panoramic view of the valley and beyond. many prominent peaks can be seen from here, including Ama Dablam.

Namche Bazaar (3,440m) - Pangboche (3,985m)

birdseye view over Namche Bazaar. Nikon D750

the route from Namche Bazaar zig-zags all the way to Tangboche. the latter is best known for its historically significant monastery, which subjectively, is a pleasure to visit. if that’s your sort of thing - it certainly is mine -, you may even request a blessing, which may bolster your chances at a successful summit. the trail then dives below the altitude of Tangboche, a welcome change of pace, especially if you’ve still got some acclimatisation left to do.

at this point, the scenery starts looking more akin to what you would expect from such altitudes, with smaller settlements, sparser vegetation, and occasional yak sightings. Pangboche itself is a modest village, but you’re still well within a populated area… relatively speaking. electricity will most likely be a paid commodity at this point, so will be any sort of hot water. yet all the potential drawbacks take a back seat when you’re sleeping under the watchful gaze of Ama Dablam.

Pangboche (3,985m) - Dingboche (4,410m)

en route from Pangboche. Nikon D750

to get to Dingboche, you are sentenced to walking some of the most barren, but equally beautiful paths your journey so far has had to offer. should the weather be stable, brace for being blasted with the rays of the sun - sunscreen may come particularly in handy at this stage.

Dingboche may strike you as uninhabited, but i can assure you that is not the case. ironically, the best lodge i had the pleasure to spend the night in was the Dingboche Resort. i feel other lodges in the area could be of the same standard. for me, this is where acclimatisation truly began - 4,410m alt. is nothing to scoff at and it may even affect your sleep.

to cure any high altitude blues, one has the option of ascending nearby Narkang Hill (±5,080m). this could make for a good acclimatisation day in Dingboche, while also providing an incredible view over the Khumbu region. in the wake of this three hours’ ascent, my sleep on my second night in Dingboche improved markedly.

Dingboche (4,410m) - Lobuche (4,940m)

Dingboche from Narkang Hill. Nikon D750

as you walk to Lobuche, watch the scenery change - you may even get the feeling you’re walking on a different, somewhat less hospitable planet. large boulders populate the valley and icy waters flow through, and you may encounter yak caravans. at this point, supply lines are mostly maintained by porters, livestock, and at times, helicopters, which puts a premium on most wares. 

once there, one should not expect too much comfort from the accommodation in Lobuche. nevertheless, what quickly becomes apparent is the settlement’s proximity to the Nuptse Wall. though some may have a hard time dealing with the altitude, the sight of Everest’s last line of defence may just put you back on your feet.

Lobuche (4,940m) - Gorakshep (5,160m)

Nuptse (7,860m), as seen from Lobuche. Nikon D750

as you walk further from civilization and draw ever closer to the tallest peak this planet has to offer, you will find the environment grows increasingly inhospitable. in fact, part of the day’s trek follows the moraines of the Khumbu Icefall, the cold of which appears to bolt upwards and over the pathway. though this portion of the trek does not have many changes in altitude to put you through, the ice, unstable rocks, and even the cold emanating from the glacier could prove treacherous. 

built in the proximity of a flat stretch of land, Gorakshep could easily be a new site for Burning Man. i found the settlement eerily appealing - basking in the strongest sunlight i have ever experienced, the helipad and a very small number of structures may fool you into anticipating a cold or uncomfortable night. not in my experience - though the rooms are matchbox sized in the lodge i spent the night in, the powerful sense of community among the many hikers is what truly made a difference. huddled together, all warm-blooded creatures in the area will spend the evening in the mess hall, exchanging stories, opinions, and possibly, viruses. 

you’ve got it right - this is a cautionary note. Gorakshep, as the last settlement before Everest Base Camp, can be quite crowded. while you won’t have anywhere else to go, a mask could potentially spare you of discomfort in the future.

speaking of which, the Everest Base Camp is a mere couple of hours away from Gorakshep. this part of the trek should, i believe, be approached cautiously - it may seem like just a few extra metres in altitude, but those are sure to burn through a substantial amount of your resources.

Gorakshep (5,160m) - Chukung (4,730m)

Gorakshep. yes, that would be all of it. Nikon D750

this stage of the hike was actually split by an extra night spent in Dingboche, though this is by no means a must. verily, it could be useful to spend a night in the comfort of a proper lodge: any sort of accommodation in Chukung is likely to be much worse than anything you have experienced so far. 

as a far less popular node, Chukung has decent accommodation, but entirely built out of lightweight materials, all of which provide little in terms of insulation. equally, the many icy slopes and glaciers nearby likely serve to chill the area even more. it is here that i woke up to most of my water and electronics completely frozen.

nonetheless, Chukung offers one last opportunity for acclimatisation ahead of Island Peak: Chukhung Ri, standing 5,550m tall. should you still have sufficient resources, this could be something to do as you do your final preparations for Island Peak.

Chukung (4,730m) - Base Camp (5,160m)

the Chukung gulag. i’m just kidding, relax. Nikon D750. sheesh.

in the unlikely event that you have actually gotten a reasonable night’s sleep in Chukung, you will be primed for the short hike to Base Camp. at this stage, the landscape and relatively unbeaten pathways should come as no surprise.

after what will perhaps be a two hour hike, you will find yourself at Base Camp, to be trained for climbing, get your gear in order, and rest for as long as possible. 

it should be noted that the Base Camp is mostly comprised of tents or other similarly shaky structures. this is not a place to spend much time in, but it’s still an excellent launchpad for the final ascent.

Base Camp (5,160m) - Island Peak (6,180m)

eyes on the prize: view of Island Peak from the Base Camp. Nikon D750

depending on your pace, you may have to bear with a very early start: 1am would not be too uncommon. following this is a light breakfast, probably involving noodles and broth, as well as a whole bunch of packaged sweets. nonetheless, it is important to eat just about enough to kickstart your engines. over- or undereating is not advisable, as you are about to deal with an altitude gain of over 1,000 metres. i barely put anything away that fateful morning, just a boiled egg, maybe a few noodles, and some biscuits.

for the first stage of the summit, you will not be seeing much altitude gain. instead, only when you get to a rocky, steep pathway will you know you have begun ascending in earnest. this is not likely to change for a few good hours, which are bound to feel very, very long due to the darkness and the lack of spatial awareness that comes with it. 

once you get to Crampon Point, around the part where the ice begins, make sure you rest up and get your climbing gear on and in order. this includes the crampons, which you should always test rigorously before you begin digging into the glacier. this could mean asking your guide to do it, or just knocking them around a bit to see whether they pop off or not.

once this is all set, you will begin walking on ice. i’m assuming there is quite a bit of variation as to how this is done, but tethering together a team of four has been my guide’s method of choice. caution is highly advised here: as you will soon find out, any sort of pressure applied by a single climber will be shouldered collectively by the rest of the team. 

the technical climbing starts at the ice wall. at this point, you are nearing your objective, so remain focused. in just a couple of hours, you will be gazing over a magnificent view of the surrounding peaks… and beyond. 

the way back

view from the top. frozen Nikon D750

getting back down to Base Camp comes with its own set of difficulties, with a key obstacle being the exhaustion brought about by many hours of high altitude climbing. nevertheless, you will eventually make it back down and it’s probably advisable to rest for a while before walking back to Chukung or further.

in principle, what comes next is a return trip to Kathmandu. in my humble opinion, the best course of action is to fill any “gaps” you may have left on the way up, then get back to civilization as swiftly as possible.

a detailed account of climbing Island Peak

day 1 - from Lukla (2,860m) to Phakding (2,610m)

my excitement peaked right around the time when i laid my duffle bag next to the makeshift Summit Air counter. i wasn’t the only one in line and i felt my ego sting a little when a large group of English-speaking hikers took priority over my own position in the queue. i was slightly groggy and the domestic departures terminal at Tribhuvan International was abuzz with its usual assortment of hikers - some primed for adventure, backpacks and duffle bags in tow, others, ready to head home and succumbing to repeated fits of “Kumbu” cough.

what really kicked my system into fifth wasn’t all the coffee i had chugged on the way to the airport. instead, it was the worryingly strong smell of kerosene i sniffed as soon as the Soviet-era bus approached our propellered plane. shrugging it off, i walked onboard and before i knew it, i was picking up my duffel bag in a small terminal right off the runway in Lukla airport.

i met Sera Sherpa shortly after, shook his hand, and was led to a nearby lodge (the “Himalayan Lodge”) to get changed and grab a bite to eat before eating the trail. i soon realised Sera was not much better than poor ol’ Tenzi as far as communication went, but he spoke just about enough English to convey meaningful messages. i was grateful for that, though i knew two weeks of relative silence awaited both him and myself. the porter too made an appearance and it quickly became apparent he was Cool.

Cool - new dimensions in porter apparel. shot on the way to Base Camp. film, Fomapan, ISO400

the route to Phakding showed all the signs of tourism-oriented development, with relatively well stocked shops (though very vaguely differentiated in terms of inventory), a glut of guest houses, and a seemingly endless array of homebrew “rent-a-horse” adverts. this portion of the journey included the entrances to the Sagarmatha National Park, where fierce-looking camo-clad men checked hikers’ documents and at times, the contents of their bags. in spite of it being off-season, this sometimes resulted in a mind-numbing wait. the dearth of GSM coverage did little to alleviate the boredom and soon my lust for the trail turned into ennui.

plenty of visitor ammenities. Nikon D750

up in Phakding, warmth and good food awaited. i had stored my sleeping bag in Lukla, as i had been told it simply would not cut it - a sleeping bag fit for -30°C we would have to rent from Namche Bazaar. belly full and well warmed up, i took a good look at the coniferous forests outside my window and drifted to sleep.

day 2 - crossroads, metaphorically or not, at Namche Bazaar (3,440m)

i’m going to cut to the chase: hauling ass from Phakding to Namche Bazaar is no small feat. what kept me serene was the scenery, with its picturesque mountain villages, Buddhist iconography, turquoise waters, and white peaks. otherwise, one is left to contend with the usual suspects of a nerve wracking trek - dust, cold, and sweat. a lesson i had supposedly learned the year prior, masking up against the dust was hardly on my to-do list. this, naturally, made progress through the forested portions of the trail fairly uncomfortable, as i choked and struggled to keep my glacier glasses clean.

as a first timer in Nepal, one may be fooled to believe that the many settlements between Phakding and Namche Bazaar are abandoned, but in reality, it was the off-season which made it all appear deserted. the route to Island Peak coincides with a big portion of the Everest Base Camp trek, making it “high-traffic” for a mountain trail, but would it ever be as crowded as to warrant this many lodges?

the Hillary suspension bridge. film, Fomapan 100.

Namche Bazaar made a startling appearance from behind a wall of green hills, just about five hours into the trek. a stupa marked the entrance to the settlement, along with a modest row of buildings on the other side of a hill overlooking a hollow. but the buildings kept popping up and i soon realised Namche Bazaar was much larger than i had initially ascertained. in fact, the settlement had been built up the slopes of a large u-shaped depression, all of its streets converging at the bottom. down there, the stupa, a football field, and several other amenities had been built. to my surprise, this included large, well-decorated shops, several cafes, a hairdresser’s, even an Irish bar! it made sense: the profitability of Namche Bazaar, as Sera explained, had to do with it being the last node of civilisation to which supplies could be delivered with relative ease.

Namche Bazaar - helipad side. film, Fompan, ISO 400.

i was just as surprised to find that the third day of Diwali had brought about a rare break from Buddhism’s hostility towards gambling. along one of the streets, countless men had lined up to play games of dice. as soon as the dealers, all grinning with relish, shuffled their blacked out buckets and rolled the homemade “dice” across the pavement, rupees would fly. 

though Sera explained gambling is “forbidden”, i took it as “frowned upon” - much later in the trip, he himself would engage in a game of cards, winning “a little bit” of money as a result.

in fact, the patrons were so absorbed in the game that i had no trouble pointing my lens in their direction, sometimes making my way deeper into their personal space than i really should have. not that i was the only one - a visibly amused Japanese gentleman, he himself shoving a camera into their faces, commented: “imagine if the Chinese knew about this!” right before dashing off.

in fact, the patrons were so absorbed in the game that i had no trouble pointing my lens in their direction […] a visibly amused Japanese gentleman, he himself shoving a camera into their faces, commented: “imagine if the Chinese knew about this!” right before dashing off.

late afternoon in Namche Bazaar. Nikon D750

day 3 - acclimatisation practices at Namche Bazaar

it really takes a vantage point to gauge the importance and equally, the visual wealth of Namche Bazaar. 

that morning, one step at a time, we made our way towards higher ground, using a well beaten passageway through many dry shrubs. at that point in our collaboration, Sera had not yet gauged the abilities of his new teammate. i felt he took advantage of the situation to rev up the engines just a little, knowing a well equipped settlement was well within reach. should i falter, he would have the means to get me back on my feet with relative ease.

hidden behind the trees, the Everest View. Nikon D750

it should come as no surprise, then, that we comfortably overtook effectively all of the groups which had started from Namche Bazaar alongside ourselves. around Syangboche, a cluster of structures which resembled a monastic retreat of sorts, i took a good look at Ama Dablam for the first time, a peak which has in the meantime become magical in my imagination. nevertheless, my fascination with the surroundings could not have intensified any further when i laid eyes on the panorama offered by the Everest View.

i understood Namche Bazaar had mostly become the centre it had due to its “middling” position between the well connected cluster of towns around Lukla and the rest of the Everest Base Camp trail. it was all in the details - choppers made it practically everywhere on the EBC trail, but for Namche Bazaar, it was heavy traffic; a massive number of porters came in and out the settlement, practically at all times; large groups of hikers could be seen enjoying the amenities, as late as December. 

a domestic scene in Namche Bazaar. film. Fomapan ISO400

a mere three days into the trip i was already feeling unusual about all the spare time i had on my hands. i’d spend my time reading and readying myself for the coming day, but would still end up grappling with a feeling of “i should be doing more.” i did not quite enjoy it and it wasn’t before i began reading much, much more that i once again started feeling like myself. blaming it on the altitude, i often gave in to a sort of “hiker’s lethargy” - an amalgamation of abandon and craving for physical comfort. as i warmed up the stone slab i had sat on right outside my lodge in Namche Bazaar, i was at risk at dozing off in the warm rays of the afternoon sun.

day 4 - Pangboche (3,985m) and the early signs of Khumbu Cough

between Namche bazaar and the famous Tangboche Monastery, the road simply zig-zags on the side of the mountain. by the looks of it, the area had been the target of attempts at development, though very little could beat the well travelled consecrated through hundreds of years of porter, and later tourist traffic. still, i’d requested we move slowly, on account of my incessant sweating. that did very little to help with the heat - ironically, walking in the shade for a few seconds would chill me to the bone, but exposure to the sun almost certainly meant i was going to be very hot. with the seal “broken” (my t-shirt, soaked), i thought i’d floor it to Pangboche.

the monastery of Tengboche (3,860m) itself is perched atop a saddle of sorts, overlooking the lowlands around the river of Imja Khola. i requested we stop and at least visit the monastery - photography was prohibited. in earnest, i wanted to receive a blessing, a wish destined to become true with the appropriate monetary contribution. having surveyed the ancient works of graphical art decorating the walls of the gompa, we were summoned by a monk to bow and receive our literal blessing - a dubious-tasting pellet, as well as red string, tied around our necks. 

self-suggestion or not, this brief encounter would cool my nerves for days to come.

what followed was a rapid, descending trek to Pangboche, chasing the wavering rays of the sun along the Imja Khola riverbed. we would finally catch them as we reached our resting point for the day.

en-route to Pangboche. film, Fomapan, ISO100.

the evening brought about a decision i thought i wouldn’t have to make at such an early stage - equipping my super warm skiing trousers. in hindsight, an altitude of 4000m warrants this sort of change no matter the arguments, but the faultlessness of my decision became apparent as i waited for dinner in the mess hall. the customarily crowded room had brought together all warm-blooded creatures in the area. among the participants at the ad-hoc dinner was a well equipped group of hikers. one of them appeared to be in particularly bad shape - their deep, cavernous, and especially, perpetual cough rattled them to the core, their torso quaking with every fit. eating looked very much like a chore, with rib-shattering hacking between spoonfuls of soup. “you had better be going down” i thought to myself.

day 5 - Dingboche (4,410m), or high altitude prosperity

i really did not think much of the Dingboche Resort when we first approached the village. with the usual gompa greeting us on the way there, a bunch of structures which hardly passed as homesteads, as well as several industrial-looking tea houses, Dingboche was best described as “unassuming”. only when we faced a multi-national crowd of hikers in the mess hall of the Resort did it sink in: we were in probably one of the busiest settlements the EBC trail had to offer. 

near Pangboche. film, Fomapan, ISO 400.

Sera promptly ushered me in, pointing towards a table which would become our haunt. underneath the glass panel covering it, i saw several notes, currency i did not recognise, with the exception of Romania’s own 50RON bill. a momentary feeling of warmth washed over me, knowing my own kin would have at least attempted to make it to Everest Base Camp. but that feeling was promptly dashed by the sort of coughing nobody really wants to hear in closed spaces. the gentlemen stationed at the table next to mine looked (and frankly, acted) rather rough. something within me stirred, i must admit, as i eavesdropped on their conversation: though justifiable with the necessary commitment of time and mental acrobatics, jumping straight to antibiotics when dealing with a cold is hardly, in my view, an optimal course of action. all the more frustrating was that they were actually heading back to Kathmandu. their symptoms would undoubtedly get better as altitudes decreased. compounded with other poor habits, such as leaving used, virally loaded tissues lying on the table, it all made for a surprisingly frustrating moment.

it didn’t help that i had grown rather frustrated with Sera too, though unrightfully so. though i had no objective reasons to think such nonsense, my mistrust had led me to question his determination to climb effectively. from the get go i had treated the itinerary (both its original and updated versions) with an understandable degree of suspicion, but when Sera repeatedly suggested we take it easy, i began worrying in earnest. as i would eventually understand, Sera’s approach was calculated at worst, or at best, a masterful demonstration of his intimate understanding of the functioning of the human body at high altitudes. eventually, i settled to simply trust the man - after all, he had been reasonable and responsive. spare time would also provide ample opportunity to reflect upon such thoughts.

Sera’s approach was calculated at worst, or at best, a masterful demonstration of his intimate understanding of the functioning of the human body at high altitudes.

but enough of that - my notes would suggest the trek to Dingboche had been “spectacular, albeit [...] short”. indeed, the trek would have been quite brief, but walking up the Imja Khola valley, Ama Dablam looking over us, did indeed count as spectacular. 

in the Imja Khola valley, Ama Dablam in the distance. film, Fomapan, ISO 400 (?)

day 6 - Narkang Hill (5,080m)

as i reached over the table for a bottle of ketchup, the two Italian gentlemen sitting across recoiled in disgust. my three-egg omelette spanned the entirety of my plate and i added to it some of the nak cheese i had purchased all the way in Namche Bazaar. i understood there was no messing with the Italians when it came to food, knowing they blended stringent traditionalism with innate fine taste. i placed the bottle back on the table, slowly, taking turns at making eye contact with each one.

as i reached over the table for a bottle of ketchup, the two Italian gentlemen sitting across recoiled in disgust. […] i placed the bottle back on the table, slowly, taking turns at making eye contact with each one.

mornings at Dingboche, i would find, were warm and pleasurable, usually made even better by the “no holds barred” approach i had taken to breakfast. i wasn’t too chuffed at the thought of all the vegetarian food waiting for me the remainder of the day, but breakfast? breakfast was going to be a blast every time: eggs, cheese, honey - the works.

  • “nak” is only the term used for a female yak. consequently, i doubt anyone would prefer the cheese of a yak instead.

    that being said, nak cheese has a shockingly fine flavour, not too dissimilar to a mild version of emmental. i am no true connoisseur of dairy, but i will be as bold as to claim this would make a killing in the European market.

i was convinced all this would be overkill given the day’s itinerary: a “short hike” up to Narkang, a hill (easily a peak for European sensibilities) overlooking Dingboche. in earnest, i had seen a long line of people trying their capacities at ascending said “hill” the day before. given that most of them stopped not too far off from one of the cairns halfway, i thought the rest of the ascent had been barred off. that was not the case - Narkang Hill was perfectly accessible, but most people only did part of the hike, probably as a stepping stone in their process of acclimatisation. 

one of the denizens of Narkang Hill. Nikon D750

in spite of his insistence that i slow down, i went as hard as i could up that slope while maintaining appearances - i did not want Sera to think i was struggling. in all fairness, i was - the altitude was no longer a joke. around the 4800m alt. mark, Sera suggested we stop - “not necessary to go higher” -, yet i neither agreed, nor declined. i simply powered on, giving him no choice but to follow. 


day 7 - in the shadow of Nuptse

i was glad to be on the move again. not that i disliked Dingboche, but i had grown accustomed to it and its little comforts, in a way that one settles for something familiar, but not entirely satisfying. the landscape had changed dramatically and i could hardly pick out recognizable details to ground me in reality. a thin, white sheet of ice covered most flowing water and very large boulders stood to the left and to the right of the trail. in the distance, the Nuptse wall, Everest’s own last defence, filled the horizon. 

view in the general direction of Pherice and Dingboche. Nikon D750

interestingly, Sera and the porter insisted on “sandwiching” me as we walked. perhaps experience had taught them hikers began feeling the altitude in earnest around that point and wanted to make sure i would not collapse. nonetheless, my notes indicate i had indeed started feeling rough around this point - i wonder, was this the point when i had to grapple with my own hikers’ flu?

surveying the damage: a porter investigates a downed copter, on the way to Lobuche. Nikon D750

to nobody’s surprise, Lobuche (4,940m) was a modest settlement, with nothing but a few lodges, a helipad, and an abundance of empty miscellaneous containers. our own tea house provided a remarkably warm and cosy dining room, as well as surprisingly wholesome food. for the sake of truthfulness, i am going to paste a snippet of my notes, verbatim:

“I can’t tell whether I’m experiencing the flu or just processing the altitude. The room is full of flu-stricken Brits, trying to call Barclays as they play cards. I’m thinking MOLASSES slow. I’ve brought out the [sic.] serious cold gear. [...] I feel many more photographic opportunities are about to open up come tomorrow. ”

i elected to head out after lunch, as it appeared i had plenty of time to spare: Sera had already engaged in an intense-looking game of cards. i was happy for him - he seemed to need very little to be cheery. his game of cards, in the company of the buxom cook, the pretty innkeep, and several other guides appeared to make him happy. 

i spent the afternoon pondering over the condition of the mountain. with my glacier glasses on (which, in hindsight, could have easily doubled as a welding hood), i looked upon the many details of Nuptse. not only that, but i also counted the elements present in the little universe of Lobuche. it was most pleasing - for someone as structured in thinking as i am, to be able to make a comprehensive inventory of a place is miraculously soothing.

the general vibe at Lobuche. Nikon D750

as it is typical, the real struggle started towards the evening, when the state of my health took an obvious turn for the worse. i could not say whether i was feeling feverish or not, but my body was certainly battling the flu. with my faculties slowly going awry, i crawled through the freezing corridors of the lodge to what could best be described as my cell. 

in spite of my impending decline, Sera had won “a little money” at his card game. in effect, it had been a good day.

day 8 - Gorakshep (5,160m), or the chronicle of an ideal new location for Burning Man

with sufficient exposure, it is true that discomfort eventually becomes second nature. yet the real test awaits once you become uncomfortable within your own body, as it had been the case with the hikers’ flu i’d been battling the days before. 

the altitude at Lobuche should not have been that big of a challenge, but it had still been a jump of over 400 metres. it would have taken a good degree of fortitude to acclimatise to that. but to top it all off, i believe i had subconsciously decided it was a “now or never” moment when it came to ridding myself of the flu.

the night before, between tossing and turning, i would sometimes pop my head out of my sleeping bag, only to be forced right back in by the cold. a bout of fever passed rather quickly, but i was left gasping for air throughout the night. i was later told it had most likely been a dream, but i swear breathing inside my sleeping bag led to it filling up with carbon dioxide. in essence, i’d been repeatedly shifting between suffocating inside my bag or freezing right outside of it. it had all felt awfully real.

the night before, between tossing and turning, […] i swear breathing inside my sleeping bag led to it filling up with carbon dioxide. in essence, i’d been repeatedly shifting between suffocating inside my bag or freezing right outside of it. it had all felt awfully real.

in the morning, crawling out was no small feat. i still felt feverish and the cold sent tremors up my back. but i had no choice - i pushed myself to pack up and head to the mess hall. likely looking as if i had undergone endless ordeals, stiff-shouldered and with a fading voice, i went for breakfast and quietly chanted one of Macho Man Randy Savage’s best known slogans: the cream rises to the top. 

what followed was a tough start to Gorakshep. i felt deeply uncomfortable with a foggy eye, which i had performed numerous ablutions on in the morning. on account of the thick layering, i broke a sweat almost immediately and could hardly focus on photographing through my glacier glasses. i eventually had to take all of it in my stride.

the trail to Gorakshep can be kind of cold, kind of unforgiving. Nikon D750

in Gorakshep, i was already feeling a little dissociated, but resolved to crack on. i pulled myself together within a few minutes of taking tea at the Buddha lodge, a well used structure next to what could have been an ideal new site for Burning Man. 

sports facilities at Gorakshep (5164m). film, Fomapan, ISO 100 (?)

it must have been around 2PM when we left Gorakshep. Sera really picked up the pace. he appeared to be praying and his whispers surely reached the heavens. as i struggled to keep up, my heart and lungs begun redlining. by the time we reached Everest Base Camp, i had a slight ringing in my ears and the wind gliding along the Everest Ice Fall was preternaturally cold. 

there wasn’t much to speak of at the Everest Base Camp itself - scattered memorabilia, fragments of gear. i was not surprised at all.

not an awful lot happening at EBC. Khumbu Icefall in the background, flowing down from Everest. Nikon D750

on the way back, i felt my strength diminish gradually, but pushed on nonetheless. i have no recollection of this, but my notes suggest i had endured a psychologically tumultuous journey back to Gorakshep. allegedly, numerous existential crises unfolded, all disappearing into the fog of my brain, much like the frayed ends of hemp rope. 

at the Buddha Lodge. iPhone 13 Pro

my evening at the Buddha Lodge was remarkably cosy, with tens of intrepid hikers huddled together in the mess hall. with two grand heat sources giving their utmost in tandem, it had become very hot inside. i took my time reading and slurping my noodle soup, all the while observing each of those in the room. by 19:40 i was in bed, looking forward to Kala Patthar (5,164m).

an extension of the Khumbu Icefall, metres away from Gorakshep. film, Fomapan, ISO100.

day 9 - the Chukung (4,730m) gulag

a 5:30AM start did little to better the situation - i’d hardly slept a wink in my cold, matchbox-sized room. as is usually the case, restful sleep had only come towards the time when i had to be up. i fumbled around in the dark mess hall - a stark contrast with the previous night’s warmth and sense of community - and found Sera all geared up. he handed me a mug of black tea: that would be my breakfast. it was much unlike him to do so, but he hardly waited for me to finish. we would have to floor it - he was already out the door by the time i was struggling to put my gloves on. i followed along and saw him check his watch several times. clearly, we were behind schedule. we simply had to catch the sunrise on Kala Patthar.

he really did step on the gas. running on an empty stomach and few hours of sleep, i started panting heavily. my buff did little to help - i could hardly breathe in. i kept up for a while… heroically. but then, as our objective drew closer, my spleen gave in. in truth, it had all been a little too much for the fragile acclimatisation i had gained. 

  • the following are hardly going to be scientific. if you’d like hard numbers and true experts’ opinions, i believe consulting a bunch of academic journals would be better.

    as i previously pointed out, Sera is nothing short of an expert in high altitude trekking. to bolster my chances at success, he pushed the boundaries of my acclimatisation every day of our expedition. he would check various details about the state of my health every morning, then increase the altitude just a little more. he, at some point, even mentioned that sleeping at altitudes above 5000 metres was counterproductive - i could not have agreed more. 

    his decision to really step on the gas several days ahead of our summit could not have been accidental. in fact, it is my belief he knew precisely what he was doing, from going faster to Everest Base Camp, to really flooring it towards Kalapataar. 

    i am fairly far from the status of an acclimatisation expert. but i believe Sera’s approach to be one of the most effective.

the last stretch to the top seemed to dilate and dilate - possibly the only time in my life when i’ve experienced this. by the time we reached whatever bits and bobs had been abandoned on Kalapathar, i was very poorly fed with oxygen and could barely feel my toes and fingers. i didn’t even bother to pull my camera out. 

Kala Patthar; i was barely hanging on. iPhone 13 Pro

  • i had never witnessed one firsthand.

    when all that ice came rolling off one of the ranges flanking Everest, a deep, frightening rumble washed over the entire valley.

    avalanches are dangerous. no question about it. but it takes seeing one for yourself to gage the violence of such a phenomenon.

on the way down, i was assailed by a splitting headache and bouts of general weakness - i had probably pushed it a little too hard. down at Gorakshep, apple porridge and Tibetan bread did little to alleviate my suffering. so i simply rolled with it for the next 13 kilometres to Dingboche. from there, it would be off to Chukung, to truly begin the last leg of our journey to Island Peak.

close to Chukung; Ama Dablam in the background. film, Fomapan, ISO400.

Chukung had all the signs of a temporary settlement: fences built out of stacked rocks, shabbily put together structures, and a very low standard of comfort overall. not that one should rightfully expect any sort of comfort under such circumstances - you’re still getting a lot for such a place.

representative of the climate in Chukung. Nikon D750

that being said, i did not find the mess hall of our lodge too dissimilar to all those we had previously used. as i sat around and eavesdropped, i could not help but notice a pattern - the higher the altitude, the more remote the settlement, the stranger the trekkers. one would hear stories of crossing over from Tibet, running ultra marathons through the Alps, or first hand encounters with grizzlies in Alaska. above all, two Japanese trekkers could be heard politely discussing dinner, made out of what could only be described as culinary mishaps. i admired their resolve and openness. 

  • i met Christian in Dingboche Resort.

    the days before, Sera had told me his “brother” would be joining us at some point during our hike, but it never quite was clear to me whether the two actually were of the same blood. they were, however, from the same Sherpa village and there was no question about their bond. Sera’s “brother” was Christian’s guide.

    i loved both of them from the second we met.

our rooms (read: cells) were a different matter altogether. best described as the “Chukung gulag”, the entirety of the “sleeping” section of the lodge was built out of ultra-light materials exclusively - aluminium and a strange, hollow composite, giving any room the appearance of a shipping container. the toilets did not have running water, but the jug-actioned flushing mechanism would have still been serviceable, had it not frozen over. the sink was serviced by a barrel with a faucet wrapped in what clearly had been the sleeve of a hoodie - basically, the Ariana Grande. on account of the thinness of the walls, Christian jokingly claimed he had monitored every visit to the bathrooms, easily making out the consistency, duration, and necessary diet adjustments.

the toilets did not have running water, but the jug-actioned flushing mechanism would have still been serviceable, had it not frozen over. the sink was serviced by a barrel with a faucet wrapped in what clearly had been the sleeve of a hoodie - basically, the Ariana Grande.

sifting through the notes taken around the time we’d gotten to Chukung, i found the following sentence:

“For my sanity and overall wellbeing, I simply must crack on with climbing that peak.”

on the way to Chukung, Island Peak in the distance. Film, Fomapan, ISO 400.

day 10 - deeper into it: Base Camp (5,160m) or the time when you finally give up on formalities

i am going to provide an honest recollection of the events leading up to what de facto was the end of my journey. no promises on accuracy - bear in mind the notes this entire piece is based on would have been made in the field. 

leaving the Chukung “gulag” had been a blessing and a curse, in equal measure. a frigid, yet unquestionably beautiful morning greeted our heavy footsteps. as we walked past the familiar sight of a yak herd, i could feel my German friend’s humour waning in his voice. he was starting to feel the altitude and not even the sight of his “comfort” animal, the nak, failed to elicit the kind of reaction we had grown accustomed to.

at this point, i had a very good understanding of my surroundings. ahead of us, behind a number of formations, lie the peak we had eagerly hiked towards. the vagaries of high altitude terrain had become increasingly obvious - volcanic rock of the darkest black lie scattered among serrated blocks of ice, while the moraine of nearby Imja Glacier (and the many rivulets flowing from its underbelly) almost seemed to move in tandem with us. in truth, it did, but its glacial pace made it unobservable for those living in our timeline. it felt and looked alien, though i am sure part of it had to with our bodies’ struggle against the environment. 

unknown peak; shot southwards. film, Fomapan, ISO 400.

as we crossed the ever-enlarging expanse of gravel and ice which separated us from the Base Camp, i did my best to frame a decent shot of the tented settlement ahead. as i kept raising the camera to my eyes, i felt as if the land was toying with me, changing perspective in ways my oxygen deprived mind struggled to comprehend. it made little sense and i kept doing the exact same thing, over and over again, until i found we had actually reached the tattered tents of the Base Camp.

as i kept raising the camera to my eyes, i felt as if the land was toying with me, changing perspective in ways my oxygen deprived mind struggled to comprehend. it made little sense and i kept doing the exact same thing, over and over again […]

the Base Camp. film, Fomapan, ISO 100.

still dazed, i walked around for a while and attempted to document the settlement appropriately, but could simply not follow through on any occasion. i’d always drift away, with some detail or another irresistibly sending my mind off course. must have been an interesting sight: a man with a camera, pacing the area, probably talking to himself. 

it wasn’t long before i gave up and retreated to the mess hall, in the company of Christian. with the sun beaming down on it, the tent had become pleasantly warm. as is usually the case, i began shivering frantically as soon as i sat down. i took some time to get my bearings, hoping the tremor would taper off.

the Base Camp microverse. Nikon D750

a garlic-rich meal later, myself and Christian underwent climbing training. he was markedly better at it than i was, skilfully swapping carabiners and abseiling almost effortlessly. i was grateful i had him on my team and felt positively about the task at hand. i did not do too badly on the ropes either, but i knew i’d have to put my sluggish brain to work more than i truly wanted to.

we spent the rest of our waking time discussing the same topics repeatedly. our decision to hit the sack around 5:30PM had been a much anticipated one - a mixture of excitement and nervousness, coupled with the discomfort of simply being there, made the passing of time sluggish, unpalatable. i recall very little of that night, but i could not have gotten too much sleep.

rigorous gear inspection. iPhone 13 Pro

day 11 - Island Peak (6,165m)

the alarm went off, but i was already awake. had i gotten any sleep at all? i assumed so - several hours could not have gone by that quickly. i layered up and laced my boots. i then dragged my feet up to the mess tent - i assumed breakfast was not going to be anything to write home about. catastrophically, i was right: soft, slippery noodles, floating around in garlic broth, accompanied by a boiled egg and several pre-packaged sweet foods. 

i possessed little energy to get any music playing. the mere thought of loosening up my hood appeared devastatingly tiresome. we eventually circled around the mountain and i soon realised the Base Camp was split between several smaller encampments, some populated with a small number of hikers and their guides. needless to say, the dark of night and the circumstances had not done my spatial awareness any favours. in other words, i had a very vague understanding of where i was. still, i trusted Sera and followed along, realising the entire group had fallen silent. 

around the one hour mark, i started feeling my layering had been all wrong - my windbreaker shell, instead of further insulating me, served to compress my invaluable down jacket, thus diminishing its thermal capacities. equally, the impenetrable layer kept all the moisture inside. i observed my increasingly wet and frozen chest draw in breaths of cold air and, to my horror, what had initially been uncomfortable breathing became something akin to sucking in icy needles. i opened the layer’s many exhaust zippers, but it hardly helped at all. only when a visibly annoyed Sera took my outer layer off did i begin feeling warmer. the situation improved further as we cracked on.

i observed my increasingly wet and frozen chest draw in breaths of cold air and, to my horror, what had initially been uncomfortable breathing became something akin to sucking in icy needles. […] only when a visibly annoyed Sera took my outer layer off did i begin feeling warmer. the situation improved further as we cracked on.

right around Crampon Point, myself and Christian started feeling the altitude. ever so slightly rocking back and forth, he’d say “I feel drunk”. but this wouldn’t stop him from climbing the glacier. in fact, even in the face of adversity, his determination shone through. in contrast, i was doing relatively fine, but i must have done alarmingly poorly in terms of retaining oxygen. the severity of the situation only dawned on me as i found myself considering a nap. my brain had effectively begun telling me to just lie down for five minutes, get a wink of sleep, right there, on the frozen slopes. but it too was around Crampon Point when i believe we both realised the magnitude of the challenge which had been laid before us. to our delight, our guides fastened crampons to our boots and tied us together using the “green line”. as we started on the lip of the glacier, our pace was about to change.

every tug and pull of the green line was a collective experience. any thrust, vibration or God forbid, fall meant all those tethered would shoulder the burden. this made the four of us exceptionally responsible, yet i still found little use for the ice axe Sera handed me. it was too short for comfort and the ice was simply too hard to pierce.

walking on crampons proved challenging too. i would dig every step deep into the ice, which often shattered like glass. but on some occasions, the crampons simply failed to penetrate. this would bend my ankles sideways, dangerously close to spraining. 

there is something magical about walking through the darkness like that. in the cold of night, at an altitude which hardly leaves oxygen for the proper functioning of your brain, and tethered to a rope bright enough to shine in the darkness, it is as close to experiencing a dream as i’ve ever gotten. not much was said at this stage of the trip. we simply walked in tandem, bottomless crevasse on the right, a thousand metre fall on the left, and nothing but black above. and of course, the dimly visible glacier under our feet.

when it finally came about, i blessed the crack of dawn. finally, some spatial awareness! i could tell there was a clearly beaten trail among the many ice formations, footprints solidified for posterity. it all led up to a grand ice wall.

when i could finally switch off my headlamp, we had reached the wall - the final stretch to the top. years upon years of climbing ropes littered the narrow opening between two sheets of ice. a guide’s mission, as such, consisted of picking out the most viable ropes, preventing ours from tangling or, at times, setting up new ones.

years upon years of climbing ropes littered the narrow opening between two sheets of ice. a guide’s mission, as such, consisted of picking out the most viable ropes, preventing ours from tangling or, at times, setting up new ones.

Sera on the ropes, with a view over Imja Lake. iPhone 13 Pro

fixed line climbing is not the most challenging task by any stretch of the imagination, especially when done on a relatively beaten path. yet, i found very little strength in my arms to hoist myself up the line. even with an excellently ergonomic belaying device, the layering-induced lack of mobility served to shorten my already battered stamina. to add to the difficulty, i had lost feeling completely in most of my toes and fingers. the former were in a particularly bad position - the two pairs of ultra-warm socks i had on severely limited the mobility and hence, the blood flow. getting my fingers to work again proved fairly easy - wiggle them around, use both hands to climb the rope. reviving my toes, however, translated to a surprising expense of energy. i wasn’t feeling a damned thing, which meant i had to trust my brain to send the appropriate signals to my extremities. it took a bit of perseverance, but eventually, i begun feeling an electric-like tingling and feeling started returning to my toes.

  • my fingers turned out fine.

    my toes, however…

    back down at Base Camp, i took my boots off and anxiously peeled layers of socks off too, thinking all the flesh underneath had turned purple. in truth, i still did not feel a thing with the ends of my toes. to my delight, things were looking pink, albeit a little pale. i thanked the Heavens and carried on as normal.

    months later, i still can’t feel all that much, but the situation appears to be improving. slowly.

a long and narrow, but walkable stretch of ice preceded the top. i savoured every step of it. at that point, i felt very little fatigue. the rays of the sun, compounded with a spectacularly alien view, had dashed away any semblance of tiredness. 

Islan Peak tip. ice, prayer flags, little else. frozen Nikon D750

several frozen prayer flags marked the peak. i waited for Christian to make it up too. we all embraced and briefly documented our little victory. i stepped aside and walked to a tiny plateau a couple of metres under the peak, then prostrated, marking my third successful ascent.

from right to left: Sera, Christian, and his guide. frozen Nikon D750

*** 

making our way back to base camp was an arduous journey. we started piecing together the distance we had covered over seven hours the night before. i see little reason to recount the remainder of the journey - we waddled our way back to our tents. the alien beauties surrounding us - Imja Lake and its glaciers, the dark rocks or the intensely bright peak itself - retained very little value for our exhausted minds. having reached the base camp, we were slightly disoriented: was it morning, was it noon? this mattered little. in the warmth of our sun-cooked tents, all we did was collapse. 

days 12 through 14 - a descent into sanity

a detailed account of whatever transpired over the following days is not necessary, i claim. in all honesty, my notes are not helpful either: several hastily written lines, exposing the cliches of walking back from a strenuous summit. 

retracing my footsteps, i really could have used one of these. film. Fomapan ISO100

a key takeaway here would be to ease into your regular dietary habits after a vegetarian hike. finding myself back in Namche Bazaar, i was as bold as to ask for yak “steak”, which, sadly, turned out to be a terrible decision. as i never got the chance to investigate in any great detail, it was never clear to me whether the failure of my gallbladder was on account of the meat having gone off or simply being too heavy. nevertheless, the night after that fateful dinner felt odd - i could tell things were not quite right when i was woken up by bouts of nausea. i did not think too much of it, being a person of light sleep. yet the next morning, things still weren’t quite right. i followed my porter all the way to Lukla, pushing myself to my absolute limits - he was remarkably fast, whereas i was remarkably nauseous. i’d assume a correlation of exhaustion, poor food, and to top it all off, rum in the evening proved too much for me and i spent the following day doing nothing but throwing up. i shall never forget the cold, empty dining hall of the lodge, where i spent the day trying to hold down some salted water and eventually, a bit of food. 

equally important could be to avoid trekking the exact same route on the way back, should the circumstances allow. it would have indeed been quite difficult to do so on the Island Peak route - the way through Chukung may just be the only way to access our final destination. nonetheless, as the map would suggest, one could continue westwards once back on the Everest Base Camp trail, following along the Three Passes Trek.

regardless, this particularly torturous stretch of time ended with me staring at the wooden ceiling of my room in Lukla, with nothing but salt, water, and Coke in my stomach. i had overcome adversity, by and large, and was ready to carry on to Kathmandu.

day 15 - the true beginning of winter

i was finally showing signs of recovery. it had not been too rough of a night - sleep had come and in spite of my overall weakness, i knew i had the fuel i needed to carry on. i was looking forward to being back to Kathmandu - a hot shower, without limited water availability, sounded mighty fine. but the weather begged to differ: stronger winds and a heavily overcast sky had descended on Lukla. 

it was the sort of scenario i’d been fearful of, but i kept brushing aside the realisation i’d be stuck in Lukla.

Sera eventually showed up and broke the news: the control tower had decreed no further flights would happen, unless the weather got better. he then left, leaving me stew in hopelessness and dread. i sat on a plastic chair on the lawn just outside the Himalayan Lodge, looking out for Mr. Brian and his bubbly caretaker.

  • as what could have been a family-run business, the Himalayan Lodge in Lukla did not have much staff left on site at the end of the season. however, among those still around to keep things in check over the winter were a girl and her fuzzy, white dog, Mr. Brian. she would walk around and do various chores. upon seeing the dog, typically right outside the main entrance, she’d excitedly call out to Mr. Brian, who in turn would display a peculiar mix of excitement and fear.

by 09:45, the weather had actually gotten better. air traffic had once again started up. Sera was nowhere to be found, but i knew he’d make an unexpected comeback and save the day.

with a struggling gallbladder, every smell is amplified to unfathomable levels. the excessive amounts of garlic the Nepalese sometimes put in their food (fuelled by a misguided belief that garlic is some sort of magical cure-all, including altitude sickness), the smell of urine and mothballs all bathrooms appear to have, the faint aroma of roasted “spinach” - it all adds up to a noxious cocktail. all of these have turned Lukla into a less than positive memory of mine and i will probably forever associate the little mountain village with the state of my health at the time. 

***

aboard my Summit Air flight to Kathmandu, i watched the hills roll below. holding on to a white paper bag, i focused on breathing and keeping the nausea at bay. but when the flight turned, i could see it had started snowing over the EBC trail. on my last day in Sagarmatha, winter arrived. 

epilogue

monkey in Kathmandu, mocking me for my shell-shocked expression. Nikon D750

there is no hiding of the fact that in the aftermath of my Island Peak ascent, many aspects of my life fell apart. faced with at least another year of almost nothing but work and training, i felt somewhat desperate. equally, resuming the processes i had temporarily paused proved very challenging. though i was happy to have, in my mind, joined the ranks of more or less serious mountaineers, i realised things would only get much more difficult moving forward. 

as i finish writing this in March, 2024, i am keenly aware not too much has happened since. with absolution in mind and an apology to myself for wasting so many weeks of my time, i think it’s finally time to publish this piece.

Nepal has gotten very close to my heart and certainly, it has become known territory to me, to some extent. i’d be inclined to go again due to a clear set of expectations, in and of itself a marker of “getting comfortable”. i wish to work with Sera again. in earnest, i would do almost anything it takes to have a go at Ama Dablam, but over no more than a couple of weeks. but it’s likely time to hit the brakes on this for now. i will be back, just not for the coming year. instead, i chose to look westwards from Kathmandu.

Ladakh, here i come.

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