Directionally Accurate

A blog about whatever piques my curiosity… my thoughts might not be exactly correct, but they're likely "directionally accurate"

On Top of the World

Turns out it’s not that easy to visit the tallest mountain on earth.

Sagarmatha AKA Mt. Everest (but you should call it Sagarmatha or Chomolungma – the Tibetan name) stands at just over 29,000 feet and grows taller every year. That’s twice as tall as Mt Whitney the tallest mountain in the lower 48 and 9,000 feet taller than Denali. It’s pretty close to the altitude that planes fly at. It’s big.

It’s also hard to visit and actually pretty hard to see in Nepal for such a massive peak. It’s not a Rainier situation where you can see it from miles and miles away on a clear day.

I just finished trekking to Everest Base Camp and laying eyes on the great Sagarmatha which means “head in the sky” in Nepali. A simple but accurate name. It was an incredible experience and something that I highly recommend. I also had some of my worst travel days in my life during the process.

When I envisioned the trek I was worried about elevation, altitude sickness, and the treacherous flight into Lukla airport, rightly or wrongly often dubbed ‘The Most Dangerous Airport in the World.’ An interesting destination choice for someone with a mild(?) fear of flying. Turns out I should have been worried about Nepali roads and clouds.

In comparison to the challenge of getting to and from Lukla and the start/end of the trek the trek itself and the thin air endured was a relative walk in the park. There were challenging hikes above 5,000 meters / 16,000 feet but just getting to my own two feet was the biggest hurdle for me.

After a warm up trek on the much shorter Mardi Himal trek (also beautiful and recommended) I relaxed in Kathmandu for a few nights which mostly consisted of lying in a hotel bed to avoid the chaos and constant appeal for buying something in Kathmandu and one night out enjoying the local live music bars.

As I wrote about in a prior post when it came time to get to the start of the trek I was informed we’d be taking a helicopter to Lukla. What? I had been trying to pump myself up for the prop plane flight into Lukla for months. This was a change of plans.

I stewed over the change for a day. I’ve never been in a helicopter. Isn’t that even more dangerous? I’m not ready for this. Plus I have to shell out more money? Am I about to pay for additional terror? Nope, turns out I’ll get that for free.

After a day of changing how I reassure my brain all will be OK the clouds out the ole kibosh on the bird and now it’s time to drive to the start. It was 2.5 days of hell for me. Some will picture something far worse than what actually happened but I could not fathom a scarier or worse drive than those 2.5 days until actually living them.

Nepal sadly experienced yet another natural disaster in September with record rainfall leading to landslides and flooding that claimed more than 200 lives and destroyed many homes, which is obviously is so much more devastating than what for me at the end of the day was a travel hiccup. I want to be very clear on that. If this trip taught me anything it’s perspective.

During peak season flights to Lukla run through Ramechhap airport about 50 miles east of Kathmandu. There is only one international airport in Nepal and so air traffic needs to be saved for those flights rather than the Lukla shuttles. A large section of the road to Ramechhap was destroyed by the flooding and landslides which turned what is normally a 3-4 hour drive into a 12 hour ordeal on the first day of our journey to the start of the trek.

That drive included multiple standstills where we waited for an hour to move through one way dirt roads made in the dry riverbed, winding mountain roads, excavators building rock roads for us to traverse, and my knees crammed into my chin in the third row of the SUV for the 17 hr trip past Ramechhap to Phaplu since flights were out of the question with 1,000 people already stranded and ahead of us in the queue if/when flights resumed from R-Chap.

There wasn’t a seatbelt in sight either. Sorry, Mom. Believe me, I really didn’t like that while living through it.

This was not what I signed up for and I wasn’t briefed on any of it. The decision was merely, sorry no flights, we drive.

It was a bit of a “burned the ship” situation once we got into the car and started the drive but I seriously thought about pulling the plug and calling the trip without seeing so much as a pebble on Sagarmatha.

We finally arrived in Phaplu around 3am after the SUV in front of us witnessed two drunk guys on a moped drive off the mountain road and helped them up the slope and to their homes. They were definitely injured but will be OK. Nepalis really are built different and have a unique definition of dangerous.

Night one consisted of about 3 hours of sleep where all I dreamed about were steep mountain dirt roads and it was time for more fun. The rest of the drive can’t be worse, right? Wrong.

We left the relative comfort of a large SUV and hopped into smaller “Jeeps.” If you ever see “Jeep Road” described in Nepal you better buckle up, except again, you probably can’t. After making a big stink about one of the Jeeps with completely bald front tires, one of which was bulging like a broken soccer ball and refusing to get into one of the vehicles whose foot rest came clean off the bottom of the Jeep from corroded rust when a fellow trekker tried to get in I found what was deemed the best option to hop into. By this point everyone I was with knew I was the most scared and most not chill with what was going on. Diva gets first choice…

Most of the next day was actually better to me than day one. The roads were far worse, but the rollover and drop-off situation felt better for most of the roads, which don’t show up on Google Maps I learned when I said don’t the roads end in Phaplu? Yes and no.

While most of the day was better the brief moments that were not were far worse. The ride was bumpier, muddier, and it felt more like kayaking through dirt and mud than actually driving. It must be noted that these drivers drive these roads every day of their lives and know how to maneuver a Jeep, but it’s a wild experience. 5 hours later we made it to the river and got out on our feet with dozens of others. Given the flight situation these roads were getting a lot more traffic than usual.

We weren’t able to get another Jeep for the last leg of the journey so we hiked a couple hours to our next teahouse for the night. Within about 10 minutes of walking I started to feel better. Smiling, joking, happy to be out of a car and in control of my destiny. Weird how quickly that happened. I just had one more leg until I could say goodbye to the Jeeps for good.

Of course, the final leg was the worst. And why wouldn’t it be? We still had to go further up the mountain. We still had to go on roads that had even less traffic than the glorious path we’ve traveled so far. Plenty of the drive was fine. Incredibly bumpy, not comfortable, but fine. There were 3-4 very not chill sections where the driver had to pick a route, again more akin to whitewater rafting than driving, through deep tracks of mud with precarious cliff drop offs and one culminating moment where while flooring the gas pedal over mud and rock the Jeep started slipping backwards down the hill with a cliff on our side. Briefly. Maybe 2 seconds and a few feet, but enough to get my stomach and everything else below the belt shot up into my body. But, we made it.

Eventually, I got out of the car, sat down on a rock and pondered my life decisions and what I was doing out here. Time to start the trek to base camp!

It took a bit longer to get back to myself once the walk started. For a few miles we walked along even worse Jeep roads and saw one or two Jeeps that didn’t believe in the ‘end of the road’ designation. It wasn’t the most picturesque start to the trek. When I was finally starting to feel better we rounded a corner and saw people scampering up the side of a rockslide and a couple uniformed officers.

“Bomb blast,” my guide said.

It didn’t register at first, “bomb blast?” The first thing I thought was Mr. Bombastic, then I saw the uniformed officers had strings in their hands and they weren’t playing cats cradle. They were fuses.

Right as I was crawling up the rockslide I looked to my right. Five feet from my face one of the soldiers was opening a cardboard box.

What you got in there? Candy? Beer?

Nope orange sausages with KTM Dynamite written on them. So they’re blowing this up like now now? “Yes, we go,” my guide said behind me. With a little more pep in my crawl I got past the rockslide which apparently was too dangerous for the general public but not for me… another fun surprise and I wasn’t at the official start of the trek yet.

My first time seeing an Amazon Prime shipment of TNT.

About 10 minutes after we walked through I heard the explosion from the dynamite detonation so we must have been some of the last ones through before the ole bomb blast.

At that point I stopped my guide. How many more sections are like that? Because I’m not going through any pre-detonation zones. Again, thoughts of what am I doing and should I pull the plug? Flooded my mind. Thankfully… none.

The rest of the day was long but mostly uneventful, eventually we got to our teahouse for the night after passing a few suspension bridges that normally would have stopped me in my tracks. Traumatized from 2.5 days of terrible car travel they were a relative breeze. I treated myself to a couple beers and went to bed early wondering what the F the rest of this trek would throw my way. It’s going to take a lot to make me think this whole ordeal was worth it.

The next two weeks were nothing short of spectacular. The hiking in the Himalayas is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. The sheer size of the mountains is a sight to behold. The mountains and valleys are so vast and form an amphitheater around basically every village along the trek. It’s a walk inside a painting the whole way. I took the most beautiful photos of my life, it was hard not to, and yet they still don’t do the view justice. Every night I dreamed of the mountains and I hope that doesn’t stop.

I loved everything about the trekking experience. After training for months without a J-O-B getting in the way of hiking in the mountains and my time in Peru helping with the altitude the hiking itself was not too difficult. It wasn’t easy, but most days I woke up early and finished by lunch in time to enjoy a hardy serving of vegetable dal bhat.

Many times while hiking I simply whispered to myself “holy sheet” while gazing up at any one of the Himalayan peaks. Yes, Everest is the tallest, but looking around any one of the peaks is spectacular enough to just sit down and look at in pure awe. My two favorite peaks and some of the most mountainy mountains are Ama Dablam and Pomori Peak. Entire days were spent walking up valleys alongside mountains taller than I’d ever seen in my life. For the final stretch even the villages were higher than anywhere I’d step foot.

Every step of the trek felt like I was in my place in a strange way. More than the rest of this journey I’m on that by following my intuition I was meant to be there in the Himalayas. Something drew me there and I’m so happy I followed it. It is an incredible feeling to have.

At the top of long hikes above 5,000 meters I’d still be dwarfed by impressive snow capped mountains on all sides. Amongst the peaks of the Himalayas it’s easy to see why these mountains have been sacred for thousands of years and viewed as gods and goddesses in Nepal. Whether EBC or somewhere else I hope everyone that’s interest gets to witness the grandeur and beauty of the Himalayas.

Our trek brought us through the forests to Phakding, up to the central hub or Namche Bazaar, past the Everest View hotel to Tengboche where we slept feet away from the Buddhist monastery. Through rhododendron forests up to Dingboche where the elevation starts to set in. Further up the Khumbu valley over Lord of the Rings esque steppe plains above the treeline to Lobuche marked by frigid nights and limited oxygen and finally past Gorak Shep to base camp itself.

The crown jewel of it all is the view after the arduous climb to the rocky top of Kala Patthar where finally after a week of trekking at 18,500 feet Sagarmatha stands tall above the Lhotse and Nuptse peaks that hide the world’s tallest mountain from the casual observer.

The teahouses are cold and basic the higher you go. Showers are few and far between after Namche Bazaar. Don’t even think about eating meat after that point either. Above the treeline warmth comes from burning yak dung soaked in kerosene at many of the teahouses without firewood readily available which adds another dynamic to the difficulty breathing. The higher you go and the more the dinners and nights feel like a dream even when sleep is harder and harder to grasp. Smoky low lighting, dizziness from altitude and exhaustion drive these half awake half asleep evenings where 7pm mountain time feels like midnight.

And I loved it all.

I didn’t think it would be worth it after the challenge to get to the start of the trek but it was. I wouldn’t recommend it to everyone it’s not always comfortable and I’m not sure I’d recommend it to me a few years ago, but I already want to return to Nepal.

The steps down from base camp are less taxing and after acclimatization 10,000 feet feels like sea level but the distances covered are longer and the downhill march is tough on the toes, feet, and knees. The sense of accomplishment having been to base camp and seen the great Himalayan peaks keeps you going. As does the promise of chicken curry, hot showers, and beer in Namche Bazaar. The miles go quicker. You notice things you missed with your head down on the ascent. Breathing is easier and so is sleep.

Before long you’re back in Lukla, or in my case there for the first time, and the trek is over. Almost.

Not to be outdone by my entrance to the trail, getting back to Kathmandu was no easy process either. At least inside my mind. I woke up in Lukla to fog and clouds on my first morning not a good sign for an airport that requires full visibility. All day I sat around waiting for a weather window that never came. I was supposed to be back in Kathmandu. I wanted a hotel room. My choice of momos. To get rid of the beard that was driving me crazy. Maybe a massage. Netflix.

Instead I sat around and waited.

The next day I woke up to similar weather. No planes took off on day two. Some helicopters flew but not nearly enough to shuttle all the people now waiting in Lukla off the mountain. Each day that went by meant more and more trekkers in Lukla adding to the uncertainty and chaos of getting a coveted seat.

The whole time I felt helpless. I didn’t know what I could do to try to get into a helicopter, how the system and queue worked, and increasingly if I’d make my international flight to Australia. In reality I did nothing other than sit around and hope for better weather and a trip off the mountain. That’s enough for me to feel helpless, stressed, and freaked out not knowing what’s going to happen. Oh, and days to ponder how scary the plane or helicopter flight is going to be. My “reward” at the end of all this.

By the third day I was giving up hope on getting to and out of Kathmandu.

Maybe I’ll just skip part of my Australia itinerary?

Maybe I’ll skip it all and just walk back up the mountain? I was happy up there and now I’m in this purgatory I now found myself, waiting to get to my next destination, helpless, my legs no longer able to get me to the next point.

The same thoughts came back as the mountains, valleys, and vistas seemed so long ago… is this worth the stress?

Day three I woke up early to the clearest skies since I’d been in Lukla. At around 6:30am I heard and then saw the first plane land on the short, sloped, terrifying runway at Tenzing-Hillary Lukla airport. Five minutes later another small prop plane, then another, then another.

Still no real plan and total uncertainty of if and when I might get on a plane out of Lukla. No ticket. No timetable. No nothing. After talking to the guides it went from nothing to “Go, go go,” and without another thought grabbed my bags and headed to the airport. I can’t help but think that once I saw clear skies the thing to do would have been to just walk to the airport and hour earlier than I did, but there’s also a lot going on behind the scenes to jockey me into a seat. More I’m sure than I imagine since I didn’t really do anything other than bug my tour company that I really really needed to be in Kathmandu today.

The airport itself was chaos. A man came up and my guide said give him your passport. He immediately left to either make copies for Treadstone Bourne purposes or to secure my seat on a plane. At that point I didn’t even know which airline I’d be flying. Maybe neither did he or my trekking company. There are undoubtedly a lot of strings being pulled behind the scenes even if I don’t see it and get annoyed and what I viewed as inaction. Stress boils up.

The four planes left down to Ramechhap and a lull set in. They basically shuttle the 30 minute flight back and forth between the two airports filled with trekkers starting or ending their journey. There isn’t a surplus of planes just sitting around that everyone can pile into to take advantage of a short weather window. The planes aren’t big either. 20 passengers at most on each bird.

After an hour I saw the Tara Air plane return and jumped up only to realize I was on the third voyage not the second. My chances to get to Kathmandu might be garbanzo beans at that thinking I had a 9 hour car ride in front of me to Ramechhap.

Another hour went by and Tara Lipinsky returned. As we were getting ready to board the flight crew said we’d be going directly to Kathmandu rather than Ramechhap due to visibility. Yes. I’d make it. I’d even have time for a shower and to relax before my night flight. I fist pumped.

“Wait, don’t celebrate yet, not until we’re in the plane or better yet on the ground.” One of other passengers reminded me that things are always a maybe in the mountains of Nepal. He was right. All of two minutes later the decision was reversed and we were going to R-Cheezy after all. That’s it I’m cooked. It will either be a photo finish or I’ll miss the international flight. Oh well, nothing I can do.

We left Ramechhap in a car around 11am so if the drive was anything like the one two weeks ago I’d never make my flight. The way to the start of the trek was the day after the final day of the Dishain holiday in Nepal and the roads were packed. It took us a couple hours just to get out of the city and five to six hours to get through the washed out section of the road where we seemed to be swimming upstream and constantly stopped for an hour or more at each of the one lane dirt road sections of the makeshift road.

The way back to Kathmandu was in the middle of the Tihar holiday which to my luck and surprise meant almost no cars on the road. Landmark after landmark I looked at the clock. We are making good time. Don’t celebrate. Sections that took an hour were taking fifteen minutes without traffic. The roads in the washed out sections had been improved and there were zero traffic standstills. We exited the washed out section I dubbed Act II of the drive at 1pm. We’re gonna make it. Don’t celebrate.

Still the further we went the same easy riding, comparatively wide open roads to the outbound journey. We rolled into Kathmandu a little after 3pm. Not only was I going to make it but I could have lunch, a beer, get rid of this heinous neck beard, and not have to rush to the airport at all. My luck had turned. There was never anything to worry about.

There was of course plenty to worry about. It was a very real possibility that I would miss my expensive flight when I woke up this morning and for all the three nights I was stranded in Lukla, but there was very little I could do about it other than sit around and worry. Which of course does absolutely nothing to help the situation and everything to ruin my day and cause unnecessary stress.

So yes, the whole travel debacle getting to and from Lukla is just one big painful lesson for a brain like mine. The outbound journey was all about perspective and uncertainty. A slow burn of a drive where my brain decided to imagine all the terrible things that could lie in front of me. A helicopter that would kill me, but turned out to be what I was begging for versus the much longer car ride. Something terrible around every bend of the road. What’s the very worst thing that could happen in this situation.

A whole lot of perspective on fear and driving that makes me laugh at the roads I was scared of during my roadtrip. On the plus side the outbound journey and the stress it caused made me so much more appreciative of not being in a car and finally on my own two feet starting the hike. The views, the food, the mountain air might not have been as sweet had I started the trek after an uneventful ride in a helicopter. Although I’m sure I would have found a way to freak out during that process if only for 30 minutes versus 30 hours.

Plus, it’s the tallest friggen mountain on earth. It’s not supposed to be easy to get there. If it was it’d be Disney World.

For my return journey since I wasn’t able to influence much, I basically had two options. Sit there and do nothing and try to enjoy myself or sit there and do nothing and worry myself into an ulcer. I oscillated between the two but certainly spent more time in the worry circle. Now, to cut myself some slack, I was alone which means I’m alone with my thoughts, I’ve never dealt with that level of travel uncertainty, and there was a lot riding on getting to Kathmandu.

I came to the realization last night that I wasn’t going about this situation I had no control over in the right way as I lay in bed. I was alone in bed very early while listening to the sounds of music and partying for the Diwali/Tihar festival. Since I had no control over the situation I could just as easily have been partying it up enjoying a once in a lifetime opportunity to celebrate with locals in Nepal as lie in bed helpless.

OK maybe not just as easily, but conceptually I could have. I wish I could tell you I hopped out of bed, drank some Nepali rum, and cut a rug with the locals, but at least I knew I should and could have regardless of the situation. I was pretty tired. I just hiked for two weeks straight at high altitude and I was alone and I’m awkward. I can only hope the lesson sticks for next time to try to compartmentalize what I can and can’t control and when I can’t to worry just a little bit less and try to enjoy myself a little bit more.

And I made my flight. I was always going to make my flight. And even if I wasn’t why wouldn’t I think that I would until proven otherwise rather than the other way around?

So was it all worth it?

Of course. Every second. Thank you Nepal.

Namaste,

Everest Base Camp Trek

October 2024