I awoke on EBC morning having slept soundly. I felt calm and relaxed as I began the now familiar routine of packing my bag for the porters. Outside, the cold air held a pungent aroma that seemed part butane and part breakfast. Yak bells rang and birds chirped in flight whilst trekkers geared themselves up for the big day ahead. Many people set off for EBC early wishing to come back to summit Kala Patthar later in the afternoon. We had agreed that EBC was enough for us as a group and that it alone was our focus.
Our four became three early on as Andrew, suffering from an upset stomach, needed time recover. Pawan would walk with him whilst Chris, Paul and myself would head on towards Gorakshep where we would hopefully meet them for lunch. At this point, we weren’t sure how bad Andrew was but we knew he badly wanted to do it and Pawan would provide support and reassurance.
The hike to Gorakshep began with a relatively flat walk along a rocky valley floor. We did not feel the effects of the altitude at this point and our main concern was being correctly attired. We found that we were constantly putting on and taking off layers. In the sun it was very warm and sweating meant drinking more of our precious water. At altitude, you need to drink more water to stave off dehydration which occurs more rapidly than at sea level. I expected to drink around 6 -8 litres throughout the day. Chris in particular, was drinking a lot of water but he soon found himself behind boulders peeing it back out.
Soon we were half scrambling up a rocky hillside before following the rock scattered track on a series of ascents and descents that really sapped the energy. In the lunar looking landscape we ploughed on until we finally reached Gorakshep, still a few hours of trudging away from EBC. To our surprise, Andrew arrived only half an hour later. Although tired, he seemed to have recovered and would rejoin us for the last push to EBC.
The track to Everest Base Camp
Yet more rocky rises and falls greeted us after Gorakshep. A slip or fall would mean helicopter evacuation so we maintained our concentration as we clambered up boulders and hopped across stone steps up onto a ridge which would lead us to our destination. Andrew had once again fallen behind but he was happy with his pace and Pawan kept an eye on both him and us.
Eventually, EBC came into view, behind it the mighty Khumbu glacier, the ice giant field all climbers needed to cross on a daily basis in pursuit of the summit. Our destination was a rocky plateau littered with boulders and craters. A final steep downhill stretch, avoiding one stationary Yak and we were within a few hundred metres of the throngs of trekkers happily amassed. Finally, some adrenaline kicked in and then… we had made it.
Chris immediately changed into his Elvis costume on arrival much to the bemusement of our fellow trekkers. Paul seemed tired yet relieved and I didn’t really know how I felt. It was a buzz, a thrill and somewhat surreal as the reality of where we were sunk in.
I stared out at the glacier and upwards at the slopes Hilary and the other great mountaineers had climbed on their way to the summit. Now I was here I felt the urge to climb higher though I knew that was for another time. I recorded those first minutes on my GoPro and just panned around to capture the grandeur of it all.
Our triumphant group at Everest Base Camp.
Andrew soon joined us at a spot where we took some individual and group photographs after waiting our turn in a queue of trekkers wishing to record their own achievements. We spent about half an hour in EBC mindful of the fact we had to walk back to Gorakshep. With a group hug and sincere thanks to Pawan, who had arrived with Andrew, we set off back to our tearoom, our energy almost spent. But our goal had been achieved and we sat together exhausted yet quietly satisfied. Job done.
The walk back to Lukla was to be a three day hike but in one final twist to our adventure, a worrisome weather forecast meant that we needed to get back to Lukla by the second night so as to catch an early flight the following morning. In other words, we had to do two days of trekking in one day. This also meant walking in the dark. Pawan’s assessment of this was simple, ‘Risky,’he said flatly.
Having achieved our goal, our thoughts turned to home. Paul, was particularly keen to get back, a self-confessed home bird, he found new reserves of energy to drive him on. Chris also seemed revitalised by the challenge of having to do two days in one and whilst Andrew seemed in no rush to head back, he too accepted the challenge in front of us.
The walk down took us through some spectacular valleys.
Already acclimatised, coming down was much easier than going up. We flew past trekkers heading up, following in our footsteps and the footsteps of thousands of others. We didn’t envy them their task and they wouldn’t have envied ours.
We stopped back at Namche where Andrew offered a few trekking tips to a group in a bakery where we stopped for refuelling. Unknown to him one member of the group was 8 times summiter Rob Casserley, a mountaineer of great repute and high altitude medic. We had twenty fascinating minutes in his company as he passed on a few tips for future climbs.
We were soon back on track, pushing hard to get to Phakding before dark. Here we donned head torches and began a three hour final climb towards Lukla. In the dark we could scarcely see the edges of the path nor the protruding rocks that could easily trip us up. I found myself focusing really hard not to fall and craving water and the fruity chews Chris generously shared out in those last few hours.
At all times we spoke of our porters. We had compensated them for their herculean efforts but we were worried we had asked too much of them. We needn’t have, as they arrived in Lukla shortly after we did carrying nearly ten times the weight we did. We passed through the archway which had marked the beginning of our journey some nine days earlier and then on through the streets of Lukla avoiding the feral dogs nipping at our heels.
We reached our final tearoom exhausted seeking our beds. Chris somehow managed a few beers, our porters and Pawan a well deserved Whisky. I had a lukewarm shower and crawled into bed. I read a few pages of my book and sunk into the warmth of my sleeping bag.
After a few hours of chaos in Lukla airport, we were back on our flight and after less than half an hour of flying we were back in Kathmandu. Paul, ever anxious to return home would change his flight to get back a few days early. Chris, Andrew and myself would stay on to experience Diwali in the wonderfully frenetic Kathmandu. We would visit the monkey temple, the markets of Tamil and hold on for dear life as we wound our way through the crowded streets. Yet for all of us, the trip ended at the tearoom in Lukla and the luxury of running water and flushable toilets served only to return us to normality.
We would say thank you and goodbye to Ram who had facilitated our dream. He took us out for a final meal where he spoke about his own dreams of climbing Everest and gave us an insight into his fascinating life. I watched him go thinking I’d see him again. I was glad to be going home, to see loved ones. All adventures should have an end, after all how would the next one begin?
