“I love that mountain; it’s so beautiful. It’s definitely my favourite,” I said. The air seemed to be extra clear today and the glistening white, double-peaked mountain towered over us as we hiked the barely defined gravel trail.
“That one,” Dendee said, “is Ama Dablam. It means Mother’s Necklace.”
“I think it’s weird that there is sand up here. How come there’s sand? That’s weird, right?” Bree asked, bending over to get a handful of the fine powder.
“I’m still trying to figure out why there are no trees,” Steph said.
“Because we’re so high up,” I told her.
“Yeah, I know that much, but why does being so high make such a difference?” she asked. “Why don’t they grow?”
“The environmental conditions are just too harsh for them to live. It’s either too cold, or there’s not enough moisture – that kind of thing.” Ammon did his best to explain.
“Then how come we can live up here?”
“Once we go only a few thousand feet higher we wouldn’t be able to tolerate the cold or lack of oxygen either. Some people are already using oxygen masks at this elevation.” I knew Stephanie could appreciate that, as she was having the hardest time mentally and physically. Bree was there to motivate and help her, though, whenever she most needed an extra boost. She hummed the theme song from the movie Rocky and used Mom’s ski pole-like hiking stick to help pull her up the hills.
“C’mon Steph, you can do it. One, two, three, four. C’mon, we can do it! Left, right, left, right, let’s go.” Bree was shouting her cadence, hoisting her best friend up the trail with the hiking stick. I often joined the march and hung onto the straps of Steph’s daypack. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot…
“No wonder Steph’s having such a hard time with you hanging on to her like that, Savannah,” Mom said. Bree turned to look and said, “What? I thought Steph had died and I was dragging her. Whatever, I can do it. Hang on, you two. I’ll get us there.”
“I can’t do this. I’m way too tired. I just can’t…” Steph began again.
“I know you can,” Bree said, “And you don’t really have a choice anyway. We can’t just leave you here.”
“No I can’t,” Stephanie moaned and fell face down once again, splayed out like a starfish on a large, smooth boulder. Recognizing the now familiar routine, Dendee and D.L. took a seat on a rock to wait patiently for her to recover. They’d seen just about everything over the years they’d been guiding people up the mountains.
We all decided it was time to take another break. I took out a Snickers bar and quickly scanned our surroundings. The landscape jutted up into even more mountainous terrain with pebbly streams and brooks flowing down from the snow-capped mountains. The route ahead led down the side of the mountain to a small wooden bridge, then all the way back up the other side.
That was discouraging. I wished one of those long suspension bridges had been built directly across to save our muscles. Downhill hiking was a lot harder on them, and mine were especially wobbly from the strain of going down all those switchbacks the day before.
Despite having taken an extra day off to adjust, Steph was really having a rough time. She often complained of headache and nausea, so we took breaks more often to let her rest and catch her breath, and I was happy not to be the weakest link for a change. Her slower pace allowed us all extra time to rest as we waited for her to recover.
“I sure hope you can make it, Steph,” Mom said to the half-passed-out girl. “Just take it easy and you should be okay. But let us know if you start feeling really ill. We don’t want you to push yourself too hard.” Of all of us, Mom had been the most considerate, giving Steph verbal support and lending her her walking stick for nearly the entire trek. Despite her friend’s struggles, Bree often couldn’t restrain her competitive nature and raced to the front of the line to hike with Ammon and Dendee. It was Mom who usually sat with Steph to keep her company and who constantly checked on her. It was nice to see them put aside their differences and to see Mom accepting Steph, despite her infamously negative opinion of her.
“We’ll be lucky if we don’t have to carry her dead body back down the mountain,” Ammon said, poking her in the side where she lay at our feet. We’d heard a few stories from trekkers on their way down who’d had to turn back because of their altitude sickness before they could make it to the top. I knew this trek would have killed me if I’d done it on my first days on the road. That is why I both sympathized and felt proud of Steph, who’d landed less than a week earlier in Nepal. Heck, she was still dealing with jet lag. Watching her struggle made me realize how strong I’d become, and I sometimes saw my former self reflected in her struggles.
“I can definitely feel the altitude today in my lungs,” I said. “It feels so weird, as if someone is squeezing my chest. But I’m really glad my legs and body aren’t too stiff. I felt a whole lot worse climbing those endless stairs up the mountain on Emei Shan.”
“Yeah. This is nowhere near as difficult as those two days were,” Mom said.
“Do you think that’s because that hike was actually harder or because we’re more fit now?” I asked.
“I think it’s a combination of both, but these trails have a lot more variety and gradual ascents. Emei Shan was strenuous and steep, and there weren’t many places to stop and take breaks,” Mom said.
“True. Man, I thought I’d never survive that one. I’m so much stronger now than I was. But I do have these huge sores at the bottom of my heels. I can’t seem to avoid getting them.”
“What do you expect when you wear flip-flops all the time?” Steph said as she feebly lifted her head up off the ground.
“Well, Bree –or should I say, little miss mountain goat herself – seems to be immune to the altitude,” Ammon said, watching her run around in circles while the rest of us were still huffing and puffing away. “I don’t know how she survives off that instant mushroom soup she eats all the time. That stuff is just powder mixed with water.” The higher we got the more limited the menus had become in the lodges so Bree had decided to stick to that one soup, while the rest of us chose dal bhat soup, pasta with yak cheese, or momos, which were juicy, bite-sized dumplings with a steamed bun stuffed with vegetables and served with chili sauce.
“There’s absolutely no protein or vitamins in powdered soup. Not only that, but it’s chock full of downright unhealthy crap.” Ammon liked to complain about Bree’s meal choices, but he couldn’t really be too critical, considering how well she was handling the challenges we were all struggling with. But our spirits were high. A few trekkers had passed us on their way down after reaching the top, a rarity at this stage of the hike. It felt great to hear them say that the trek was well worth it – just the encouragement we needed to keep going.
“See, Steph? Hang in there. I know it’ll be amazing up there,” Mom said.
Before we set off again, I added a pebble to one of the rock cairns that was stacked next to the trail. Passing hikers and locals built them to serve as landmarks and to ensure safe passage.
“I think the whole thing is ninety-five percent mental attitude, four percent lung capacity, and one percent muscle,” Ammon said, preparing himself for the next push as we headed for the decrepit, wooden bridge with no handrails at the bottom of a long hill.
“I just think to myself, ‘Okay, another seventy-five steps’. Then I take a break and do another seventy-five steps,” Mom said.
“Mom, that’s like counting sheep. What are you trying to do, make us fall asleep?” Bree said, rolling her eyes. “Savannah, just imagine that Grady is up there. He’s waiting around the corner for you. All you have to do is get to the top of this hill.” She and Ammon were right – it had a lot to do with mental attitude. My mind took over and my body made its way uphill with a new surge of energy. It was as if my heavy wooden legs were now floating two inches above the trail.
“But you have to get there in five minutes, or he’s going to
die,” Bree said, adding to the fantasy.
“What?” I stopped abruptly. “Now you’re pushing it, Bree. I’m not superwoman. Plus, that’s just morbid.”
“Okay, okay. Try this one, then. He’s waiting for you at the top with a plate of sushi and a mocha frappuchino with extra whipped cream.”
“Oooooh, that’ll do it…” I melted at the mere idea.
We were all relieved to reach Gorak Shep, the small cluster of lodges at the highest point on the Everest Base Camp trek before the final stretch to our summit. Everest Base Camp itself is not a viewpoint, and as there were no mountaineer groups preparing to attempt the climb to the very top of Mount Everest, there would be little to see there. We planned to hike two hundred and sixty-three metres (862 ft) higher than the base camp to reach Kala Patthar where we could get a clearer view of the stone giant. Gorak Shep was situated in a lifeless gravel pit filled with boulders. Beyond this point, there were no shops, no villages, not even a single lodge. This was it.
“I’m not sure if it counts or not, but we’ve got a new room-rate record. It only costs thirty-three cents for a double room here, and I’m not joking,” Ammon said. As we climbed, so did the prices of everything except the rooms. We never paid more than a dollar fifty for a bed, but the place where you stay is also the place where you are required to eat. If you didn’t eat at the lodge the cost of the bed increased – a lot. Ammon usually checked the menu prices rather than the cost of beds when choosing a place.
“Good thing we have the water purifiers with us, since the drink prices go up even faster than the food does. Did you see that Coca Cola costs five bucks here and a litre of water is over three dollars? That’s compared to fifty cents for a Coke and sixteen cents for a litre of water in Kathmandu. It’s pretty brutal. Meals have ranged from two to six dollars because we haven’t been indulging in fancy dinners,” Ammon said, giving us our regular rundown of the accounts. “So, we still managed to keep our daily expenses to about ten dollars a day each, including the cost of paying the Sherpas. Really, this part of our trip is quite cheap.”
“It’s amazing that we can take such an incredible dream journey for such a small price. It makes you wonder why everyone doesn’t do it,” Mom said.
“There have been quite a few groups out here on organized tours, staying in the same places we do with their own guides and stuff, but they were paying anywhere from twice as much as we did to some rather ridiculous amounts. Steph, you’ve probably only spent, what, less than a couple hundred bucks in these first couple of weeks? That’s not bad to hike to Everest!”
“I know! I probably would have spent three times as much without you, Ammon. At this rate, I’ll be able to keep travelling for months and months.”
“Organizing it as you go is easy. And at an incredible five hundred rupees (US$16) per day for both of our Sherpas, I think we all agree that hiring them was perhaps the best spent money of our entire trip.” We all nodded agreement and smiled across the room to where they were ordering their meal. Both D.L. and Dendee returned genuinely happy smiles.
You Raise Me Up
40
Beep-Beep-Beep. Bree’s wristwatch alarm buzzed next to me. The instant I woke, I realized that it was so cold, our room creaked in protest. I grabbed her wrist to turn the alarm off and read the green digital screen: 4:15 a.m. Grumbling, I pulled my head back underneath the covers, but it was too late. Bree was complaining about Steph’s insistent shoving, but Steph only responded with a plaintive, “Oh, not yet, Bree. Please? It’s so cold. Where is the flashlight? Can you go find it?” Bree drowsily rolled out of bed and, shivering, fumbled around for the flashlight. She leapt back into the bed as soon as she’d located it.
The mere thought of unbundling myself from the warm sanctuary of woollen blankets was gut-wrenching. That night, Steph, Bree, and I had slept tangled together in one bed, but having Stephanie with us made everything a game and less of a challenge. Instead of crying over our hardships, we often broke into tears of laughter. Her company and sisterly energy kept us giggling and kept our minds off the gruelling walks ahead. Squirming around trying to stay warm beneath the covers, we wiggled into our socks and every other article of clothing we’d brought on this journey. Even the slightest lifting of the musty blankets let in the prickly, icy air that nipped at our skin.
“Oh brrr, oh brrr. Keep those blankets down,” we all cried at once. Despite having brought all our clothes into bed with us so they would be warm in the morning, the chill still got to us.
“I’ve got two pairs of socks on and four shirts,” Bree said.
“I’m wearing at least that, plus thermal underwear and two pairs of pants,” I said as I shuffled into my second pair and laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Can you imagine? I can’t remember the last time I wore long johns!”
As I struggled to find my boots, which were waiting for me next to the bed, Bree said, “I was smart and slept in mine.” My boots were now just blocks of ice, and it was the first time I’d planned to wear them on the trek instead of my flip-flops. I dressed in thick thermal socks with an extra pair of normal socks over top of them. It was pretty squishy in there.
We’d been anticipating this day for months, and eight long days of trekking had finally brought us here. Once dressed, we peeled ourselves from the big bed and made our way to the communal area. With each breath and step down the frozen hallway, the wooden lodge groaned like cracking ice. Thankfully, the thick, earthy fire was already smoking in the main area.
“I hate it when the water used for flushing freezes over,” I said coming back from the outhouse before we took off on our final challenge. “Imagine what would happen if you had to do number two in the morning or in the middle of the night.”
“That’s when you head for the bushes,” Ammon said.
“What bushes?” I asked
“Oh, you know what I mean.”
I should have expected the water in the big blue container standing next to the outdoor squatty toilet to freeze with temperatures dropping to minus ten to minus fifteen degrees Celsius at night. Most times we used the flushing scoop to break the layer of ice, but today it was frozen solid.
Our big packs stayed behind in the lodge, but our Sherpas were awake and ready to guide us through the pitch black to the top. I couldn’t smell much through my frozen nostril hairs, but I was sure it would’ve been fresh if I could have. We took off through the misted mountains on foot, holding our flashlights as securely as we could in our icy grips.
“It’s the most bizarre thing to breathe in and out and yet still feel completely suffocated,” Ammon said.
“Altitude sure is a weird thing, especially over the five-thousand metre mark (17,000 ft),” I heard Mom say from behind me in the darkness.
“I just wonder what’s out here.” I was only able to see the stones laid out directly in front of me with the light of my small flashlight.
We walked in the pitch black with nothing but our thoughts to keep us company. The Himalayas’ apparent flawlessness never ceased to impress me as I gazed up at the trillion little night lights twinkling in the wide open sky. Holding onto a frozen Snickers bar, I blindly half unwrapped it. I did my best to eat it, knowing I needed the energy. I took a bite of the nutty chocolate bar, literally timing the rhythm of my bites between my laboured puffs. Before I managed two chews, I already desperately needed more air. Evidently, eating on the go was not an option at this altitude either.
A bit of pre-dawn light started to cast a faint blue glow, tinting our faces. Shadows shrank beneath the colossal peaks as the light revealed the mountains surrounding us. Wisps of snow blew down onto our path, thin and dry like white dust. It was minus fifteen degrees Celsius, and the higher we climbed, the more frost there was on the ground and on our clothes.
Signalling for silence, Dendee pointed in the direction of a distant echo and said, “Avalanche.” He didn’t seem to be too alarmed, so I assumed it must happen often. This was, after all, one of
the most intense mountain ranges in the world. Despite stiff bodies and the other physical discomforts of the early morning, the excitement within our group was almost palpable. This was by far the coldest day, but it was also the last. Our silent trek was only punctuated occasionally by Stephanie’s cries of ‘I can’t do this – Oh man – It’s killing me – I honestly don’t think I can do it’, and our quiet reassurances, ‘Yes you can – Just one last uphill day and it’ll be over’.
Every step brought us closer to the finish line. I gasped on the emptiness of the air, anxious to reach the top. My legs were becoming ever more weighted down and my lungs felt crushed as I battled my exhausted thoughts. We had to stop every five minutes just to breathe, and I felt almost completely suffocated, but we knew the clock was ticking and counting down the minutes to sunrise.
Can I do this? I can’t do this. Can I?– I have to!
“Can you believe that?” Mom said, as we took yet another breather.
“Wha-at?” I said, literally taking two puffs of air and turning it into a two-syllable word.
“Well, she just leaves us behind. After all the times I’ve waited for her, she just took off,” Mom said, slightly flabbergasted as we watched Steph gain new strength from some hidden reserve to bolt up the path after Bree and Ammon.
“Hey, yeah. That’s really something, eh?” I stared up the steep hill as the rest of them scrabbled to the top.
“Maybe she wasn’t that sick and tired after all,” Mom said as she set off again.
I considered quitting a hundred times along the way, but this was a one-shot deal. If we wanted to see the sun rise over Everest, we had to hustle our butts and not lose sight of our goal. It had all come down to this moment. There were no guarantees the weather would cooperate or that we’d be in time. It largely depended on our own willpower, and we’d come too far not to succeed. The last fifteen-minute stretch was intensely steep, and it was covered in shifting rock slate. Even then, when we were so close, my mind was full of doubts, but I knew it was within reach and that I would not turn back. Constantly freeing my feet from the loose rocks and slowly scrambling over uneven boulders, I questioned whether I could push my body that far. Like a horror movie where the door at the end of the hallway expands endlessly, I began to doubt the end would ever come.
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