We would arrive at Dingboche on a bright Thursday afternoon after an incredibly scenic yet undulating trek from Tengboche. At around 4400 metres, we felt tired on arrival. The hot showers advertised in our tearoom turned out to be little more than a trickle of cold water. Our rooms had no insulation to speak of and the temperatures were already beginning to plummet.
The tearoom in the Hotel Good Luck at Dingboche was warm, spacious and many trekkers gathered there. By now we recognised many of the groups sharing our journey and the long tables of the tearooms provided a good place to exchange information, share progress reports and just get to know people.
Dingboche coming into view below
That night was the coldest I’d experienced. The inside of the windows were covered in frost and the thermal t shirt and long Johns I’d purchased from Boyes were worth their weight in gold. I cursed my bladder as I still made two trips to the loo despite the cold. When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go.
The following day was an acclimatisation day. We were to climb up a slope to a height of 5083 metres. This would acclimatise us for our next night at Lobuche (4910m) Many of the other climbers were doing the same thing but were turning back at around 4500 metres. Pawan suggested we go for the top telling us that the higher we got the better we’d feel when we came down.
I was all for it, excited to be on an actual mountain. It would also surpass the highest point I’d reached on my Kinabalu expedition of 2007. Chris, Paul and Andrew seemed equally enthusiastic though Paul was feeling somewhat emotional at missing his daughter’s birthday and though he would manage to speak to her it was definitely on his mind. Happily, he would do his daughter proud and really show his mettle on a tough day for us all.
We set off with Pawan leading. It was slow going at first as the path, snaking upwards, became a logjam of trekkers trying to find a suitable pace and walking rhythm. We kept going beyond the prayer flag markers many had chosen to end their ascent. I felt strong and kept up with Pawan, using his rhythm to pace myself. But at around 4800 metres things seemed to get a lot tougher and the last few hundred metres was a real struggle. I seemed a tonne weight and I had visions of crawling up the rocks to the top. Taking short, regular breaks I managed to get there and shattered, I sat staring out at the cloud coming up the valley.
Chris, easily the lightest on his feet, was soon up, though he had experienced a drop in his oxygen levels of nearly a third (down from 90 to late 60s) He’d brought a device which enabled him to measure his O2 levels but wisely stopped doing it as they began to fall. On the way down he’d have a hypo, experiencing a pear like taste in his mouth. A sugar hit brought him back to life though he looked very pale and stated in no uncertain terms how unpleasant it had been.
Paul toughed it out, finding good power in his legs to get him to the top and back down in his usual quietly determined manner. His face was very red, still dodging the sun cream and like the rest of us he was pretty quiet in the tea room afterwards.
Paul having a breather.
Andrew, the last of our party had adopted his own style for getting up the mountain. He walked at a slower pace and used a lot of zig zags and in his words ‘baby steps.’ It worked for him and he made it up in good spirits.
That night we headed for a bakery in Dingboche and met an interesting character named Leif. He was a session guitarist in Wyoming and a free spirit. We set the world to rights over Trump, gun control and other global issues. But I was more interested in his trekking across Montana and his ability to play guitar whilst on acid.
The second night in Dingboche was as Pawan had promised easier than the first. It wasn’t any warmer but sleep came easier and deeper and for that I was grateful.
The following morning we were to walk to Lobuche, our penultimate stop before EBC. The exertions of the previous day had taken a toll on Andrew and he began to fall behind on a relatively flat valley walk, albeit at 4400 metres. Slowing right down he was able to keep going but it was tough going. He seemed emotionally flat as he wandered on through the rocky expanse.
I walked with him trying to encourage him but up there only one person can keep you moving, you. To his credit, he kept on and reached the lunch spot where he forced a chocolate bar down him. From here, he walked with Pawan as I rejoined Chris and Paul. It seems strange to say but walking more slowly than you’re comfortable with, can also have a detrimental effect on you.
Andrew eventually shed his day bag and camera and just walked with poles which undoubtedly helped him.
After a tough climb above Thukla we stopped at the climbers’ memorial. Here I found the tombstone of Scott Fischer, leader of the Mountain Madness team in the ill fated summit bid of 96 and played by Jake Gyllenhaal in the Everest movie released last year. I’d read so much about him I felt like I was standing at the grave of someone I knew.
The memorial to Scott Fischer
We pushed on, gaining height until we reached our destination. Tired as we were Pawan insisted we do a ‘quick’ climb above the height of the village as a kind of mini acclimatisation. Andrew, to our surprise, had pulled himself round and joined us. We climbed onto a ridge above the village and looked on towards EBC. We were within sight of the prize and neither the cold nor the altitude would defeat us. We played some cards with Pawan and ate what we could despite a collective loss of appetite.
One more day. One more day and we’d be there.
