Everest Base Camp Trek - Day 8: I finally reach Base Camp! 11:33 PM

To read all posts on my Everest Base Camp trek, click here for the complete series.

Cloudy day. The trek from Lobuche to Everest Base Camp started okay, but would progressively get harder as the day wore on.

Day 8: June 5, 2013

Normally on my birthday, I would wake up to the sound of my phone incessantly beeping, with people greeting me on SMS or on Facebook. Or my younger sisters would be waking me up by leaping onto the bed and yelling out, "Happy Birthday!"

On my 33rd birthday, in Lobuche, I woke up to an eerily quiet morning with the sun's rays entering through the windows of my cold, tiny room. It was a strange feeling. I stayed in bed for a little while longer, absorbing the fact that I was now 33 and that I would be climbing up to Everest Base Camp that same day.  I wanted to reach EBC very, very badly, and it felt like it was the birthday gift that would make me work the hardest to deserve.

Sadly enough, I couldn't get a bath on my birthday (of all days!), so once more I had to resort to my best friend--a huge pack of antibacterial wet wipes. As I dressed, I moved my phone to a spot in the room that had some mobile signal.  And then all the SMS notifications started coming in. They were a mix of birthday greetings and of concerned messages from people asking me if I was still alive.

At breakfast, Madan and Dhan Kumar were there to greet me a happy birthday with amiable smiles and in their typically gentle Nepalese tone of voice--so different from my sisters' grand attempts to wake up the neighbors with their loud birthday greetings.

The plan that day was to trek for two hours from Lobuche to Gorak Shep (elevation: 5,160 meters / 16,929 feet), have lunch, and then trek for 2-3 hours more to Everest Base Camp.  After EBC, we would head back to Gorak Shep and stay there for the night.

For obvious reasons, this was going to be a day I would never forget. The moment we left the basic comforts of our Lobuche teahouse, I was instantly swallowed up by the wilderness. Extremely thin air, cold wind, fog, some rain, rocky trails--you name it, I got it all on my birthday.

This hill looks small but it took more than 1 hour to climb to the top due to the altitude.

The air was getting thinner and thinner and every gasp of breath was precious. Worse, I learned that day from trail guides we encountered on the path that two trekkers had died very recently and never made it to base camp.  One was a 22-year-old female (I never got to know what her nationality was) who reached only as far as Lobuche and had to be rushed down to Pheriche due to severe altitude sickness. But by then, it was way too late for her. The other trekker was a 25-year-old Malaysian man, who also fell ill at Lobuche and died shortly thereafter--a full day before I had arrived there.

I was distraught. Two casualties--and very young people at that--already within this short span of time. I remembered the group of strong Malaysians I was with on the plane to Lukla, and I wondered if the 25-year-old was part of that group and if they had gone up the trail too fast without much acclimatization--leaving one dead and apparently another person in their group critically ill.

Now that I was on my eight trekking day, I was bone-tired and just ready to complete what I had set out to do. I hadn't expected such terrible news on my birthday, but instead of freaking out in a major way, I just turned to my guide and porter and said almost wearily, "I don't want to die on my birthday. Let's just make it to Base Camp safely and without any rush, please."

Of course, I was lucky to have such supportive companions who watched over me constantly. As we negotiated the uphill, windy path to Gorak Shep, I made sure to take it easy. On the slopes of a difficult hill, I ran into the Chinese trekker I met back in Dingboche.  He was beaming as he shook hands with me; he had reached Everest Base Camp yesterday, and said it was beautiful. I was relieved to see a familiar, friendly face in the cold wilderness and was almost reluctant to see him leave as he bade me farewell and wished me luck.

By the time we reached Gorak Shep, I was ready to collapse. In my breathless, exhausted state, I couldn't believe that I needed to trek three more hours to Everest Base Camp and another three on the way back. Lunch at Gorak Shep was vegetable fried rice, and I could only eat one-thirds of my meal. My appetite was completely f*cked up at this point, and I had to practically force-feed myself. I wouldn't have even been surprised anymore if Madan or Dhan Kumar had started shoving the rice into my mouth, because we all knew we had to massively carbo-load for the 3-hour ordeal ahead.

The great Himalayas right before me

The path from Gorak Shep to Everest Base Camp was difficult--and rightfully so. Just like in the books and in the movies, it only made sense that the most challenging part of any journey would be the very last stretch. Those three lonely hours in that barren wasteland were unforgettable. I kept my head slightly down to block off the wind, and I just concentrated on putting one foot ahead of the other. One, two, one, two, one two, I counted numbly in my head. By then, conversation amongst the three of us had whittled down to utter silence, and I was lost in my own thoughts as I shuffled up the path.

I normally walk fast in my country, but here, at more than 5,000 meters above sea level in a climate so foreign to me, I was walking uphill at the pace of a 60-year-old--yet my heart was pounding like I was running 5 minutes per kilometer. I was alarmed at the beating of my heart, and forced myself to breathe regularly even though I felt I couldn't fill up my lungs anymore because of the thin air.  We passed stunningly beautiful glaciers, and every 10 minutes or so, we would hear a booming sound. Rocks were falling from nearby hills and mountains. It was terrifying. On that barren path with the jagged, icy peaks of the Himalayas surrounding us, I had never felt so small and insignificant in my life.

Finally, we came across these massive rock boulders that we had to scramble over, and Madan said we were very near. Well, this trek sure never made anything easy, even in the last eight minutes before reaching base camp.

As I crossed and entered Everest Base Camp territory, Madan and Dhan Kumar were standing there with smiles on their faces. They had been to EBC countless of times--so this particular day meant hardly anything to them--but I knew they were happy for me. I wasn't the type to throw my trekking poles into the air and scream in pure joy that I've made it. I just stood still and enjoyed that moment of triumph quietly. I even patted the general area where my scar is--a small tradition I always carry out every time I accomplish something major physically. Profound relief coursed through my body as I drew yet another ragged breath and said to myself, "Well, that's that. I've finally done it."

I finally reach Everest Base Camp! Elevation: 5,364 meters (17,598 feet) above sea level

Everest Base Camp was desolate and treacherous-looking with no other signs of life. No camping tents, no prayer flags, since the yearly expedition to the summit of Mt. Everest only takes place around May. For the rest of the year, the camp is usually bare. It is a place that is terribly beautiful to behold during the monsoon season: a barren, rocky land with swirling mists, the clouds lying so low, and with no sound save for the wind and our voices. It is quite deadly, with only around 50 percent available oxygen in its atmosphere compared with that of sea level; at the summit of Mt. Everest, oxygen supply level is only at one-thirds.

I had not expected the Khumbu Icefall to be so near, yet there it was--a mass of treacherous, jagged ice right in front of me leading all the way up and disappearing into the clouds where my eyes could not follow. The Khumbu Icefall is the first stretch that any Everest summitter normally encounters, and it is one of the deadliest, most technical aspects of a summit expedition on this south side of Everest (the northern one being on the Tibet side). The path is hardly ever the same, as glaciers move over time--more so when the sun is out and the ice melts inch by inch--thus making the Khumbu Icefall a dangerous, unpredictable path to cross.

After taking in my surroundings, I broke into a huge smile and called out, "Hey, Dhan Kumar, remember your promise?"

Early in the trek (on day 3 in Kyanjuma I think), Dhan Kumar and I had struck a deal. If I made it to Everest Base Camp safe and sound, we would have our picture taken together--that of him carrying me on his back. And so Madan stood there, ready to take the long-awaited photo. I laughed delightedly as Dhan Kumar bent slightly backwards and hauled me effortlessly up onto his back.  We were in a fit of hysterics by then, and it was a miracle my porter had not dropped me. It actually hurt to laugh, given the limited oxygen in the air.

And then it was time for my photo with Madan, whose presence I'm always grateful for. He literally and mentally kept me alive on the trail, with his great guiding skills, his jokes, and his mischievous card-dealing tricks.

It was very windy and abysmally cold, but we still had a great time at Everest Base Camp. With my Sherpa porter Dhan Kumar.

With Madan, my guide and constant companion on the trail to Everest Base Camp 

I had finally achieved what I wanted to do after months of preparation, which was to reach Everest on my birthday. I may not have been the fastest, the strongest or the fittest trekker, but I had done it. And I had the most wonderful companions to thank for, for making the journey less difficult with their friendship and the endless laughs we shared.

If Everest Base Camp were easy, everyone else would have made it there. But it isn't easy at all--as most hard-earned goals are meant to be--and the ones who do make it are not necessarily the ultra athletic type. I've heard real stories of these super trekkers--young and incredibly fit--who had been forced to turn back before reaching Base Camp because their bodies couldn't handle it. High altitude affects everyone in different ways, and I felt proud that I had gone this far physically and mentally, armed with my usual determination (or stubbornness?) and a natural disposition to endure anything thrown my way.

Horribly cliched as it sounds, it is true nevertheless: the whole experience really was not just about the destination but also in the journey getting there. And as I made my way back to Gorak Shep for another 3-hour trek, I knew Everest had given me a lifetime of getting-there memories to keep.

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If you want the same Everest Base Camp trek experience I had, visit Himalayan Planet Adventures and go for the 16-day Everest Base Camp trek package.

Everest Base Camp Trek - Day 7: Dugla Pass and the Trek to Lobuche 11:45 PM

To read all posts on my Everest Base Camp trek, click here for the complete series.

The beautiful paths situated between Dingboche and Lobuche. My guide Madan is the blue figure on the right.

Day 7: June 4, 2013

I decided to start the day right with a bucket shower.

I don't know about other trekkers, but I would not have been able to survive the whole 12 days without a single bath.  I am simply not programmed to give up any precious opportunity to have a shower. During this trek, I've been lucky so far to be staying in teahouses where the common toilets are situated inside, and not in outhouses that would require you to run out into the brutally cold night with headlamps on to answer the call of nature. (This also has a lot to do with how good your trek agency is in reserving teahouse rooms for you, and I feel lucky that Himalayan Planet Adventures always made sure I had a good bed and decent toilet waiting for me at the end of each trekking day.) And I was also able to shower 8 out of the 12 days on the trail, which ain't pretty bad!

A bucket shower, I was to learn, is different from a gas shower--the latter being quite a luxury and practically non-existent this high up on the trail. The bucket shower, while very basic, has its charms.

The amazing bucket shower -- Nepali-style

My bucket shower at the Dingboche teahouse consists of this contraption: a huge water drum on top of the teahouse roof with a hose connecting it to a shower head inside the common bathroom. Someone from the teahouse heats up water from the yak stove, carries the hot water buckets up to the roof, and fills up the water drum. All I need to do is switch on a valve inside the shower room and there you have it--hot water flowing from the water drum and right out of the shower head. It's really and truly a bucket shower! Quite ingenious and worth the price of 500 Nepalese rupees (USD 5-6). The rest of the world--especially in areas with no running water--stand to learn a lot from the Nepalis.  I simply had to tell my UNICEF colleagues in the Water, Sanitation and Hygiene Section back in Manila about the bucket shower.

I breakfasted on milk porridge (otherwise known as oatmeal!) and hot chocolate that day.  For the next few days until I returned to Kathmandu, I could not stomach anything else in the morning except oatmeal and hot chocolate. And I could never, ever finish my breakfast. Madan, ever the watchful guide, had this sort of disapproving look on his face every time I pushed away my bowl of barely eaten milk porridge; he would remind me that I needed energy to keep me going through the trek. What could I do, my appetite has failed me, I'd always say. I could only manage, at best, a few spoonfuls of oatmeal and a small cup of hot chocolate.

I had also gone without coffee for days, which was difficult and mind-blowing for a coffee addict like me.  I had to actually stop drinking coffee around Day 3 because it was contributing to the palpitations I was already feeling high up on the trail. High altitude + coffee is a disaster waiting to happen.

We left Dingboche at 9:00 am, and even with the cold and mist, it was still a pleasant walking experience. The road to Thukla, our lunch stop, involved a green hilly landscape that eased my trek-weary state a little. But even with the easy rolling path, I had to stop walking every 10 minutes or so to catch my breath. The air was getting too thin for comfort.

Five minutes away from Thukla, we had to cross this horribly makeshift bridge of uneven rocks right above the river. Some parts were rocks, a short stretch involved thin rickety planks, and then there was some wire wrapped around the rocks to keep these steady and from eroding. Trip on those wires and you might end up falling into the river.

I wasn't able to take a photo of this bridge because I was, uh, busy keeping my balance and trying not to scream in terror. I've borrowed a photo of this Thukla bridge from another blog just to give you folks an idea of what the bridge looked like. (It really looks scarier in real life, to be honest.). Special thanks to Kwok Yeen Cheah of Outdoors Malaysia, who also writes about his Everest Base Camp experience.

Bridge at Thukla. Photo Credit: Kwok Yeen Cheah, Outdoors Malaysia (2012)

I thought the bridge was going to be the highlight of Day 7, but the Himalayas had more in store for me apparently. After lunch, I went through what I felt was one of the toughest uphills I've ever encountered. It was the same brand of misery I felt on Day 2, and the climb to the top of the hill is something I can't forget.

I was stopping every two minutes during that climb to gasp and breathe in lungfuls of air. It didn't help that my nose was terribly clogged and it hurt to blow my nose all the time. The difficulty of that afternoon's walk had nothing to do with the terrain, which looked like your typical rocky hill with some steep inclines. But the altitude level had gotten so bad that no matter how I tried to fill up my lungs, I realized to my dismay that not much air was flowing in. And I had actually thought that the air back in Dingboche was already thin to begin with.

The cold and the thin air left me numb. I was on auto pilot, dragging my feet up the hill and regulating my breathing as best as I could. It reached the point where I was solely, desperately focusing on breathing in, breathing out while my arms and legs went through the automated motions of working the trekking poles and climbing up the path. Nothing else mattered to me except the sound of my attempts to breathe evenly. I thought about all those hours I spent in the 40-degree heated bikram yoga studio back in Manila, doing all those breathing sessions--and I fervently thanked all my yoga instructors then and there for teaching me how to breathe properly.

Dhan Kumar had gone way ahead and I was to see him later after a few hours. I asked Madan to stay in front of me, as always, because I relied on him to show me the path amidst the fog that was enveloping us on all sides on that hill. Because there was no energy left for talking during that excruciating climb that took more than an hour, I just concentrated on breathing.  When I stopped along the path to take a break and blow my nose, I would allow myself the most banal of thoughts, like if something bad happened to me, I'd probably never find out how Holmes cheated death in his fall in Sherlock's Season 2. I also wondered, fleetingly, how the rest of the world was reacting, now that HBO's Game of Thrones had just aired the Red Wedding episode a few days ago--and if it was as graphic as the scene in the novel.

When I finally made it to the top, Madan was waiting for me by this long rock ledge that was momentarily blocking out most of the wind. I gladly sat down beside him to take in more breaths of air (which was barely there) and take stock of my surroundings.  What I saw sent a little chill to my heart.

At Dugla Pass, a place full of memorials for those who died on Everest

There, on top of that hill, in the swirling mist, was a graveyard of sorts. The place is called Dugla Pass, and it was where many of the memorials are placed in honor of those who summitted Everest and died shortly thereafter. It was depressing to wander about and read the epitaphs--sobering reminders of how deadly and treacherous Mount Everest can be.

One of the many memorials at Dugla Pass

It was only 3:00 pm, yet the fog and dark sky that day made us feel that we needed to hurry along and reach Lobuche as soon as possible. Mercifully enough, the next one and a half hours was spent on a rocky, yet relatively flat expanse of land. Dhan Kumar, always with a boyish smile on his face regardless of the weather and surroundings, came back for us and took my day pack even though I was not having a hard time with it. In fact, anything after that climb up to Dugla Pass felt like a breeze.

As we neared the little town of Lobuche, I was treated to wonderful views of Mounts Nuptse, Kangtega and Thamserku--beautiful and majestic mountains in their own right yet sadly dwarfed by the ever popular Everest.  I said a little prayer of thanks for getting through yet another challenging day.  And no matter how hard a day's trek would be, the sight of the Himalayan mountains always thrilled me to the core.

We arrived in Lobuche (elevation: 4,928 meters / 16,164 feet) at 4:30 pm, with enough time to rest, eat dinner, and prepare for the big day tomorrow--Everest Base Camp on my 33rd birthday.

Yes, this small settlement is the entire area of Lobuche already. Elevation: 4,928 m / 16,164 ft.

My view from my room at the Lobuche teahouse

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If you want the same Everest Base Camp trek experience I had, visit Himalayan Planet Adventures and go for the 16-day Everest Base Camp trek package.