We thoroughly enjoyed our time in Namche Bazaar. We stayed at a nice hotel (nice by our standards at the time, $2.70/night by another standard) which had an amazing shower that pumped legitimately hot water. That shower was magical. It felt even better nine days later when we arrived back in Namche, but at the time it was still pretty good.
I cleaned the wounds on my hand and legs and put on some anti-bacterial solution. On our first night in Namche, as we all sat around a table getting drunk on Everest Lager (it doesn't take too many at 3500m), I joked that I was lucky I didn't fall in yak shit, because that might have complicated my injuries. The next morning, freed from the beer and altitude-induced haze, I began thinking "maybe I did fall in yak shit. Who knows?" I put on some Neosporin and took an antibiotic. Couldn't hurt, right?
We met a few Danish girls and were going to head out with them (a nice trade for the American girls we'd been carrying--literally carrying--along) but we ended up being lazy and staying in Namche an extra day while they headed out a day before us.
We all went out and grabbed some extra gear. I bought an extra set of thermals and a pair of gloves. Yes, I ventured into the Himalayas without gloves. Stupid. But that's not the point right now. I bought a pair.
We also stocked up on a few candy bars and granola bars, the kind of trekking fuel we'd need to climb to 5500 meters.
We awoke early on the day of our departure and went about the unnecessarily complex matter of figuring out the bill at our hotel. Eran, our resident negotiator/bill collector started getting frustrated that nobody was ready. We were all (especially Colin) just being really lazy that morning and sluggish to get moving.
We added a new member to the crew, another guy named Dan who we came to call Griggsy. Griggsy was a tall, skinny, bearded Englishman with a light cockney accent who had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. Never complaining, always enthusiastic, he was a fun and welcome addition to the group.
Since Eran was fuming and Griggsy was ready to go, the two of them set off for our next destination, Tangboche.
We were in no rush, particularly because the hikes above Namche were considerably shorter in time than what we were used to. However, rather than push on, it was important to limit our hikes to only a few hours a day, to compensate for the altitude.
Climbing in the Himalayas is very different from most other locations in the world. There is no escape from the altitude. If you develop symptoms of AMS, HAPE, or HACE (Acute Mountain Sickness, High-Altitude Pulmonary Edema, High-Altitude Cerebral Edema), it's not as simple as 'descend.' It takes several hours or sometimes days to descend 1000m in altitude. So it was very necessary for us to monitor our health and limit our climbing.
*Fun fact: Viagra, Cialis, and other boner medications mitigate symptoms of Pulmonary Edema. Modern medicine does not yet know why.
After Namche, we kind of went off-book. What I mean is that we had been using the Lonely Planet Trekking Guide up until Namche, but afterwards we made our own schedule. We were definitely better acclimatized and in vastly better shape than 99% of the people on the hill (save for those people there to actually climb things like Everest, Lhotse, Nuptse, Ama Dablam, and Lobuche Peak) so we made our own schedule. The book called for a 16-day schedule, we completed the full trek and summit of Kala Pattar in only 10. This may seem to run contrary to what I said in the preceding paragraph, but we were all very attuned to what our bodies were trying to tell us and in excellent shape (no that's not naivete, it's the truth of the situation).
So we took a few hours that morning to enjoy a final snack from our favorite bakery, packed our bags, and set off for Tengboche.
Day 9: Namche Bazaar to Tengboche
4 hours, 350 meter descent, 750m ascent
By the time we left, a thick layer of clouds had rolled in. We followed a meandering path that wrapped around the valley for about an hour, until it dropped to a steep downhill. Right about then, it began to pour. We dropped our packs and scrambled to get into our rain gear, but by the time I had my jacket on and the rain cover over my pack (the priorities), my pants had become soaked. I still put on my rain pants but it made for a very unpleasant climb to Tengboche.
We descended all the way to Phunke Tenga, the settlement at the valley floor where we'd begin our ascent to Tengboche. We wandered into a teahouse because it was running a dung-powered stove and we wanted to enjoy the warmth and try to dry off a bit before ascending. We got some tea, some soup, and a cheese sandwich. We polished off our water and dropped a few iodine tablets into our refilled Nalgene bottles. I had stopped carrying two liters of water and instead had resorted to only carrying one. It saved me a kilogram that I didn't have to carry and we had adopted a new hiking policy for speed and proper water consumption. We stopped every 30 minutes for a water break and drank 250mL. That's a liter of water per hour, and within an hour we invariably were able to find a water source to refill. Since iodine tabs take 30 minutes to sterilize water anyway, it didn't make sense for me to carry two liters anymore.
We crossed the river at the bottom of the valley and began our ascent. It was an extremely tiring climb, as our destination was over 3800m (12,467ft). The rain lifted and was replaced with a dense fog that made the climb all the more miserable. We were sweating bullets inside our rain gear, and the humidity outside made it worse. We eventually stopped and took off our rain jackets, but for the sake of time and so I wouldn't fall behind Dan, Wim, and Colin, I decided to leave my rain pants on. Not the most comfortable thing in the world.
I can't seem to remember exactly how long it took us to ascend to Tengboche, but once we did we dropped our packs and changed clothes to let some of the gear dry next to the dung-powered stove in the guesthouse we were staying in that night. The sky was a dull grey, and we walked across town (less than a 1 minute walk) to a giant sign that read, 'BAKERY.' We already missed our Namche hangout, but this bakery wasn't nearly as good. We enjoyed a warm tea and rested.
A few minutes later, Eran walked in. He sat down and informed us that the clouds were breaking and we should probably step outside and check out the view. I walked outside and was astounded and pissed off all at once. Astounded because the view was incredible and pissed off because we spent a miserable hour to two hours climbing in a dense and humid fog when all the while we could have enjoyed fantastic scenery instead. Colin ran back to the room and grabbed the camera and the 180mm lens and we started shooting.
We managed to catch our first glimpse of Everest as it poked through the clouds down the trail. It was only for a second, and it was again obscured from view. I'd post the photo we took of it but it looks like shit. It was meaningful to us because we could finally see the target, but it's a terrible photo.
That night we met a few members of a Swedish climbing expedition to Lobuche Peak. They were very friendly and very helpful, as was their climbing Sirdar, Ang Dawa. They often gave us advice on AMS symptoms, acclimatization techniques, and routes and places to stay, much like Ngima Sherpa had done for us in our first 7 days.
After dinner we went upstairs and hit the sack. That night, I awoke to Colin moaning and in obvious pain. He began vomiting and got terrible shits. He asked for antibiotics, but I refused to give them to him until we were sure he wouldn't vomit them up. We had a very limited supply. I gave him some ibuprofen instead and he waited out the nausea. After a few hours, he and I both fell asleep again.
We awoke the next morning and Colin felt a lot better, but certainly not 100%. When the leader of the Swedish expedition heard that Colin was ill, he suggested that Colin stay an extra day in Tengboche in case he was experiencing symptoms of AMS.
Several of us offered to stay behind with him, including myself. I almost felt an obligation to stay behind because he had done the same for me, and because Colin would be the first guy to drop everything to help out any of the other team members if they were sick. Colin refused to let the group fall behind, and explained to me that I absolutely shouldn't stay back because it was a completely different situation than the one I had been in. I needed to climb to Dingboche to better acclimatize, and the group would be putting itself in jeopardy of AMS if we all altered our schedule.
Wim offered to stay behind and Colin reluctantly accepted his offer. Wim hiked that day with us--without his pack--to an altitude of about 4200 meters (13,779ft), before turning back and hiking back to Tengboche. Many climbers use the technique of 'climb high, sleep low' to aid in their acclimatization. Although there is no medical evidence to suggest that it does anything, many climbers swear by this technique. At the time, I didn't really buy it either. After Lobuche, I was a believer.
Day 10: Tengboche to Dingboche
3-4.5 Hours, 70m descent, 580m ascent
As we exited the guesthouse, we looked up to see our first view of Everest. It had been obscured the day before, but we could finally see it. We were thrilled.
The trail to Dingboche begins with a short descent to the river in the valley before you cross a small steel bridge (replacing the sketchy old wood/rope bridge below it) and make a long, slow ascent of 580 meters (1,902 feet).
After the bridge, the trail slowly wound its way uphill to Pangboche, where we stopped for lunch because we saw a shop that said, "Bakery." There seems to be a pattern here. Some of the guys got some pastries and other goodies but I was feeling the need for a carb binge so I ordered some macaroni. It turned out to be the best macaroni in all of Nepal. Macaroni is a very common dish served in the guesthouses, and it's usually stuff that would make Chef Boyardee cringe. Not the Pangboche Bakery, absolutely not. Little chunks of tomato, onion, basil (fuckin basil?!) made it the best thing I ate over the course of the whole trek. The following day, Colin and Wim would stop and order it on their way to Dingboche, and everyone stopped and ordered it on our way back to Kathmandu after Everest.
After lunch, we headed onwards and upwards to Pheriche Pass, where the trail splits. It was about 1pm, and Wim turned around to head back to Tengboche. Someone asked me a question about our current altitude, and I said that I didn't know but that we had to be nearing the tree line--the altitude at which trees are no longer able to grow. We looked around and saw no trees. We looked at the mountain adjacent to us and saw the trees stop a few hundred feet below us.
"I guess we already passed it," someone said.
At the Pass, the trail splits between two towns, Pheriche (for which the pass is named), and Dingboche. Pheriche sits in a valley just south of the Khumbu Glacier, the monster that splits Everest from Nuptse, passes Everest Base Camp, and cuts a swath through the entire valley. Dingboche sits nestled in its own valley, right at the base of Ama Dablam, 130 meters higher than Pheriche. Because of its higher altitude (better for acclimatizaton, as long as we weren't crossing our bodily threshold within that 130m span), we opted to stay in Dingboche.
We climbed again through a haze of fog when all of a sudden it began to snow. Down valley, it was raining. We realized it was a whole new ball game from then on. The wind whipped towards Dingboche and up the valley, pushing the puffy cumulus clouds along with it. They passed right by us, at eye level.
Upon our arrival, we walked inside to warm up, dropped off our packs, and got some tea. A man named Ngima Sherpa was running the lodge (not to be confused with the Ngima Sherpa we met a week prior, and who was no longer on our trail), and he was very kind and hospitable. He had a rough cough, which he called the 'Khumbu cough.' The 'Khumbu cough' is a cough developing from the dryness and altitude at 4,000 meters. The lungs prefer a bit more humidity. It's a truly inhospitable environment that looks more and more alien as we ascended.
I began to get a headache (one of the first symptoms of AMS), but continued to hydrate and it went away.
Day 11: Acclimatization Day, Dingboche
4,410 meters, 14,468 feet
We tried to sleep in a little bit, but by now our bodies were so used to falling asleep at sundown and waking up at sunrise that we all were up before 7am.
After talking with Ang Dawa and the Swedish Expedition, we decided to climb the mountain behind Dingboche that stood at 5100m (16,732ft) as an acclimatization foray. 'Climb high, sleep low.'
I decided to join, but my headache had returned and seemed to be getting worse. I climbed up a good 100 meters or so, but decided to stop there. I had a good view and didn't feel like exerting myself with a headache brewing.
I cleaned the wounds on my hand and legs and put on some anti-bacterial solution. On our first night in Namche, as we all sat around a table getting drunk on Everest Lager (it doesn't take too many at 3500m), I joked that I was lucky I didn't fall in yak shit, because that might have complicated my injuries. The next morning, freed from the beer and altitude-induced haze, I began thinking "maybe I did fall in yak shit. Who knows?" I put on some Neosporin and took an antibiotic. Couldn't hurt, right?
We met a few Danish girls and were going to head out with them (a nice trade for the American girls we'd been carrying--literally carrying--along) but we ended up being lazy and staying in Namche an extra day while they headed out a day before us.
We all went out and grabbed some extra gear. I bought an extra set of thermals and a pair of gloves. Yes, I ventured into the Himalayas without gloves. Stupid. But that's not the point right now. I bought a pair.
We also stocked up on a few candy bars and granola bars, the kind of trekking fuel we'd need to climb to 5500 meters.
We awoke early on the day of our departure and went about the unnecessarily complex matter of figuring out the bill at our hotel. Eran, our resident negotiator/bill collector started getting frustrated that nobody was ready. We were all (especially Colin) just being really lazy that morning and sluggish to get moving.
We added a new member to the crew, another guy named Dan who we came to call Griggsy. Griggsy was a tall, skinny, bearded Englishman with a light cockney accent who had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. Never complaining, always enthusiastic, he was a fun and welcome addition to the group.
Since Eran was fuming and Griggsy was ready to go, the two of them set off for our next destination, Tangboche.
We were in no rush, particularly because the hikes above Namche were considerably shorter in time than what we were used to. However, rather than push on, it was important to limit our hikes to only a few hours a day, to compensate for the altitude.
Climbing in the Himalayas is very different from most other locations in the world. There is no escape from the altitude. If you develop symptoms of AMS, HAPE, or HACE (Acute Mountain Sickness, High-Altitude Pulmonary Edema, High-Altitude Cerebral Edema), it's not as simple as 'descend.' It takes several hours or sometimes days to descend 1000m in altitude. So it was very necessary for us to monitor our health and limit our climbing.
*Fun fact: Viagra, Cialis, and other boner medications mitigate symptoms of Pulmonary Edema. Modern medicine does not yet know why.
After Namche, we kind of went off-book. What I mean is that we had been using the Lonely Planet Trekking Guide up until Namche, but afterwards we made our own schedule. We were definitely better acclimatized and in vastly better shape than 99% of the people on the hill (save for those people there to actually climb things like Everest, Lhotse, Nuptse, Ama Dablam, and Lobuche Peak) so we made our own schedule. The book called for a 16-day schedule, we completed the full trek and summit of Kala Pattar in only 10. This may seem to run contrary to what I said in the preceding paragraph, but we were all very attuned to what our bodies were trying to tell us and in excellent shape (no that's not naivete, it's the truth of the situation).
So we took a few hours that morning to enjoy a final snack from our favorite bakery, packed our bags, and set off for Tengboche.
Day 9: Namche Bazaar to Tengboche
4 hours, 350 meter descent, 750m ascent
By the time we left, a thick layer of clouds had rolled in. We followed a meandering path that wrapped around the valley for about an hour, until it dropped to a steep downhill. Right about then, it began to pour. We dropped our packs and scrambled to get into our rain gear, but by the time I had my jacket on and the rain cover over my pack (the priorities), my pants had become soaked. I still put on my rain pants but it made for a very unpleasant climb to Tengboche.
We descended all the way to Phunke Tenga, the settlement at the valley floor where we'd begin our ascent to Tengboche. We wandered into a teahouse because it was running a dung-powered stove and we wanted to enjoy the warmth and try to dry off a bit before ascending. We got some tea, some soup, and a cheese sandwich. We polished off our water and dropped a few iodine tablets into our refilled Nalgene bottles. I had stopped carrying two liters of water and instead had resorted to only carrying one. It saved me a kilogram that I didn't have to carry and we had adopted a new hiking policy for speed and proper water consumption. We stopped every 30 minutes for a water break and drank 250mL. That's a liter of water per hour, and within an hour we invariably were able to find a water source to refill. Since iodine tabs take 30 minutes to sterilize water anyway, it didn't make sense for me to carry two liters anymore.
We crossed the river at the bottom of the valley and began our ascent. It was an extremely tiring climb, as our destination was over 3800m (12,467ft). The rain lifted and was replaced with a dense fog that made the climb all the more miserable. We were sweating bullets inside our rain gear, and the humidity outside made it worse. We eventually stopped and took off our rain jackets, but for the sake of time and so I wouldn't fall behind Dan, Wim, and Colin, I decided to leave my rain pants on. Not the most comfortable thing in the world.
I can't seem to remember exactly how long it took us to ascend to Tengboche, but once we did we dropped our packs and changed clothes to let some of the gear dry next to the dung-powered stove in the guesthouse we were staying in that night. The sky was a dull grey, and we walked across town (less than a 1 minute walk) to a giant sign that read, 'BAKERY.' We already missed our Namche hangout, but this bakery wasn't nearly as good. We enjoyed a warm tea and rested.
A few minutes later, Eran walked in. He sat down and informed us that the clouds were breaking and we should probably step outside and check out the view. I walked outside and was astounded and pissed off all at once. Astounded because the view was incredible and pissed off because we spent a miserable hour to two hours climbing in a dense and humid fog when all the while we could have enjoyed fantastic scenery instead. Colin ran back to the room and grabbed the camera and the 180mm lens and we started shooting.
 |
| Photo Credit: Colin Fairbank |
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| Ama Dablam, our favorite mountain, poking out through the clouds. Photo Credit: Colin Fairbank |
That night we met a few members of a Swedish climbing expedition to Lobuche Peak. They were very friendly and very helpful, as was their climbing Sirdar, Ang Dawa. They often gave us advice on AMS symptoms, acclimatization techniques, and routes and places to stay, much like Ngima Sherpa had done for us in our first 7 days.
After dinner we went upstairs and hit the sack. That night, I awoke to Colin moaning and in obvious pain. He began vomiting and got terrible shits. He asked for antibiotics, but I refused to give them to him until we were sure he wouldn't vomit them up. We had a very limited supply. I gave him some ibuprofen instead and he waited out the nausea. After a few hours, he and I both fell asleep again.
We awoke the next morning and Colin felt a lot better, but certainly not 100%. When the leader of the Swedish expedition heard that Colin was ill, he suggested that Colin stay an extra day in Tengboche in case he was experiencing symptoms of AMS.
Several of us offered to stay behind with him, including myself. I almost felt an obligation to stay behind because he had done the same for me, and because Colin would be the first guy to drop everything to help out any of the other team members if they were sick. Colin refused to let the group fall behind, and explained to me that I absolutely shouldn't stay back because it was a completely different situation than the one I had been in. I needed to climb to Dingboche to better acclimatize, and the group would be putting itself in jeopardy of AMS if we all altered our schedule.
Wim offered to stay behind and Colin reluctantly accepted his offer. Wim hiked that day with us--without his pack--to an altitude of about 4200 meters (13,779ft), before turning back and hiking back to Tengboche. Many climbers use the technique of 'climb high, sleep low' to aid in their acclimatization. Although there is no medical evidence to suggest that it does anything, many climbers swear by this technique. At the time, I didn't really buy it either. After Lobuche, I was a believer.
Day 10: Tengboche to Dingboche
3-4.5 Hours, 70m descent, 580m ascent
As we exited the guesthouse, we looked up to see our first view of Everest. It had been obscured the day before, but we could finally see it. We were thrilled.
 |
| Lhotse peak is on the right, Everest is on the left. It's the one with the cloud blowing over the top of it. It only looks smaller because it's farther away. |
 |
| Photo Credit: Wim Gielis |
 |
| From left to right, Griggsy, Eran, Me, and Dan at lunch at the Pangboche Bakery. Photo Credit: Wim Gielis |
"I guess we already passed it," someone said.
At the Pass, the trail splits between two towns, Pheriche (for which the pass is named), and Dingboche. Pheriche sits in a valley just south of the Khumbu Glacier, the monster that splits Everest from Nuptse, passes Everest Base Camp, and cuts a swath through the entire valley. Dingboche sits nestled in its own valley, right at the base of Ama Dablam, 130 meters higher than Pheriche. Because of its higher altitude (better for acclimatizaton, as long as we weren't crossing our bodily threshold within that 130m span), we opted to stay in Dingboche.
We climbed again through a haze of fog when all of a sudden it began to snow. Down valley, it was raining. We realized it was a whole new ball game from then on. The wind whipped towards Dingboche and up the valley, pushing the puffy cumulus clouds along with it. They passed right by us, at eye level.
Upon our arrival, we walked inside to warm up, dropped off our packs, and got some tea. A man named Ngima Sherpa was running the lodge (not to be confused with the Ngima Sherpa we met a week prior, and who was no longer on our trail), and he was very kind and hospitable. He had a rough cough, which he called the 'Khumbu cough.' The 'Khumbu cough' is a cough developing from the dryness and altitude at 4,000 meters. The lungs prefer a bit more humidity. It's a truly inhospitable environment that looks more and more alien as we ascended.
I began to get a headache (one of the first symptoms of AMS), but continued to hydrate and it went away.
Day 11: Acclimatization Day, Dingboche
4,410 meters, 14,468 feet
We tried to sleep in a little bit, but by now our bodies were so used to falling asleep at sundown and waking up at sunrise that we all were up before 7am.
After talking with Ang Dawa and the Swedish Expedition, we decided to climb the mountain behind Dingboche that stood at 5100m (16,732ft) as an acclimatization foray. 'Climb high, sleep low.'
I decided to join, but my headache had returned and seemed to be getting worse. I climbed up a good 100 meters or so, but decided to stop there. I had a good view and didn't feel like exerting myself with a headache brewing.
 |
| Sitting and enjoying the view. Ama Dablam is the mountain on the right, just out of view. Photo Credit: Dan Baum |
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