Interim Camp – Yak Rodeo

I threw down my ‘North Face Blue Kazoo” sleeping bag and gagged. The absolutely overwhelming smell of yak dung and the fresh steam yak ‘welcome gift’ in my vestibule made me seriously question whether splitting the 21km walk up to ABC from BC on the Moraine Superhighway had been a wise move. To be honest, I’m used to at least a mint on my pillow….! Don’t get me wrong – I think yaks are great – big, beautiful, docile creatures without which the journey up to Advanced Base Camp would be significantly more difficult. I just haven’t particularly ‘warmed’ to their potpourri…

I’d arrived at Interim Camp after a speedy (and enjoyable) 10km / 3 hour walk from Base Camp and was immediately treated by Norbu, (the young Tibetan boy who accompanied me on the walk from BC), to some syrupy, sugary tea, and a big toothy smile. Hospitality in spades, but there was a definite language barrier - hence why trying to find a tent space that wasn’t on top of a yak toilet and water that had actually been purified was going to be a real challenge. It was one of those situations that people dub, “character building” or, “make the best of difficult situation”….

I looked on in misery at the setup of the steaming floor of my tent and wondered how long it would take before the currently pleasant temperature would plummet to negative digits and send me diving for the comfort of my sleeping bag. I also wondered which would be worse – carbon monoxide poisoning as a result of the dung chemical-reaction taking place under the tent or altitude sickness… A litre of hand-sanitizer and a bucket of bleach would not even have put a dent in the situation and would have done little to calm my OCD hygiene nerves which had gone into overdrive.

Our campsite was in the ‘centre’ of Interim Camp – a cluster of about 5 tents separated from the yak rodeo by a small white picket fence (it certainly did not conjure up images of the ‘American Dream’!). Other camps were clustered around the rodeo and faced a similar predicament. Without exaggerating, it was (is) one of the most dire and un-hygienic camps I’ve ever been to. Last year it was a comfortable resting point and an excellent way to break up the 21km walk to Advanced Base Camp. It seems that in the past year every Tibetan and his yak had congregated on this mecca of moraine and made it their high altitude home

 

In spite of the overwhelming smell of the camp, the service provided by the cooking boys was excellent. After a ‘knock’ on my tent zipper, two eyes peered through the crack. “Soup?” A bowl was thrust in front of me and a generous plate of popperdoms was laid ceremoniously on the floor of the tent (shudder).

“Danibat”, (thank you) I mustered in my best possible Nepali. Soup was then followed by a delicious plate of dhal bat, the local dish of rice, lentils and some meat. By this stage however, the sun had set and the temperature was dropping steadily. I ate from the comfort of my sleeping bag, managing to eat about 90% and finding the remaining 10% of the rice in my sleeping bag and on the floor of the tent the following morning….

 

I can’t say that it was a 4-star sleep but am pleased to say that in spite of moving between the delirium of altitude-disturbed sleep and carbon monoxide poisoning I managed to survive the night. The icing on the cake however came the following morning as I packed my water bottles. A hijacker- a small, white juicy worm hung suspended in my water bottle like a miniature sea horse…

Last I checked tequila wasn’t part of the acclimatisation process. Shuddering, I dumped my water, thanked god for hydration gels and fled the camp in a giant whiff of yak poo… 

Picture: Interim Camp and .....Yaks.