Base Camp Hilton

Exhausted, weak, dehydrated (and still sunburnt!!) I stumbled down the final section of the Moraine Superhighway. A hazy yellow-gold mirage appeared before me amidst the dull grey scree and moraine. I rubbed my eyes with my snot covered Patagonia mittens. Base Camp. Could it be? Was it a mirage? The spring in my step caused me to stumble face first into the scree, narrowly avoiding a pile of rancid yak dung. It had been a long 21km walk down from ABC and my body was still recovering from yesterday’s ascent /descent of the North Col.

Hobbling with the aid of my trekking pole, I stumbled to my golden haven. My tent. My palace. My home. With my knees placed securely on my ‘Welcome Mat’, I unzipped the fly to the two-man tent (for one) and was immediately greeted by a warm, clean glow of loveliness. Thanks to the Dollarama-Shopping Extravaganza in Zheng Mu several weeks ago, my tent was a breath of fresh air. Martha Stewart eat your heart out…

To the far right of my tent is a small single mattress with my sleeping bag, the comforter and duvet cover purchased in Zheng Mu (bargain and serious style points!!!). The duvet cover is (still) white, lime green, aquamarine blue and turquoise striped. A huge rice filled lime-green ‘accent pillow’ (a mans worst nightmare) rests stylishly on the head of the ‘bed’. Next to the bed is the stool also purchased in Zheng Mu. Covered by a lilac handkerchief, it serves as my bedside table upon which rests a collection of books, cough candies, vitamin C tablets and my iPod.

Directly behind my bed is the conservatory, accessed via a zippered ‘bay window’, which offers one of the most incredible views in the world (no, neither Jason nor Ben’s tents!!) Looking out of the ‘window’ you can’t help but not sit mesmerised by Everest, standing solitary and grand with its snow white cap and plume of spindrift against the clear blue sky. It’s no wonder that the mountain is still considered sacred.

On the floor of my tent, a slick silver strip down the centre, is a roll-mat purchased in Kathmandu. I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to have the dull blue boring side up rather than the flashy metallic silver side but I figured that the tent color scheme could handle it.

To the far right of my tent (about 2 feet from my bed) is my giant red closet… better known as my ‘kit bag’, filled with all the fashion essentials needed for the Base Camp cat walk. Plus batteries, a box of Kraft Dinner, my Maximuscle energy gels, and protein bars. At first glance one would think that the kit bag / closet would clash disastrously with the lime-green accents found throughout the tent however the color scheme works remarkably well and the red adds some ‘pizazz’ to the entire ‘tent’ suite.

The ‘piece de resistance’ in the tent is the light-and-airy feel achieved through the creation on the ceiling. I’ve taken 4 prayer scarves received from various llamas and guest house owners along the journey and have hung them from the centre of the tent out to its corners, like the inside of a circus marquee. Delicate, cream-colored giant white sashes contrasting against the golden ceiling of the tent and also doubling as a useful ‘hammock’ to cameras, sunglasses and head torches, easily accessed while laying in bed.

To ensure that the oasis stays smelling fresh and clean I regularly roll my ‘Issy Miake’ industrial sized deodorant stick along the canvas walls so that the tent is filled with the fresh and clean smell of spring (rather than stinky trekking boots and clothes that haven’t been washed in over a month) as soon as the sun hits the tent in the morning. It’s nearly as good as waking up to the smell of fresh coffee…. Or fresh bread…. (but not quite).

I can’t complain about the neighbours either. Dubbed the ‘Chelsea of Base Camp’ my tent real estate will only sky rocket in value with considerate neighbours such as Jason and Ben who have since come to me for interior-design advice and to exchange recipes… (ok, perhaps that is a slight exaggeration). Either way, my golden oasis of warmth in the heart of Everest Base Camp is definitely my home away from home and I can’t imagine anywhere I’d rather be.

It almost sounds civilised. If only we could do something about this mountain climbing malarkey….

North Col Day

Armed with my ‘Big Girl Boots” trekking poles, several layers of down, and the most positive attitude that I could muster up under the freezing cold windy conditions, I began my 1 hour ‘slog’ to “Crampon Corner” and then onto the headwall of Everest North Col. It was precisely 8am and whilst I felt I was moving well I was definitely missing my Starbucks vanilla latte and read of the morning papers to help get me in ‘the zone’.

I’d spent a rather restless night worrying about the ascent. To say that I was nervous was an understatement. I’d been in this position before -- I’d already climbed the North Col - twice last year… - but still I needed to take the time to put that sense of the ‘unknown’ and ‘uncontrollable’ into perspective. A climber was tragically killed in a serac collapse last year on what was a seemingly ‘routine’ day out on Everest. His tragic death was a stark reminder never to underestimate the power of Mother Nature and the sheer risk and unpredictability involved in high altitude mountaineering (or any mountaineering for that matter!). If you’re unwilling to accept or face that element of risk or unpredictability you’re climbing the wrong mountain.

Bohlle, the Camp Manager kindly assigned a Sherpa, Norbu, to accompany me up the North Col. This made me feel significantly better knowing that I was not going to head up on my own. Norbu and I left ABC up the moraine to Crampon Corner. Crampon Corner is a ‘landmark’ on the NE Ridge route where climbers ‘gear up’ and ‘gear down’ picking up or dropping off their harnesses, crampons etc. enroute to the ‘headwall’ or the start of the North Col.

Sitting at Crampon Corner geared up and baking in the blazing sunshine (Yes I was wearing SPF 50 and not a cm of skin was showing!!!) I sucked on a frozen chocolate “Maximuscle’ energy bar and weighed my options. This was made easier by the fact that I really didn’t have many options to weigh. It was a simple case of get the hell up the Col, get the hell down and get the hell back to ABC so that this 7000m milestone could be checked off the list.

I looked up at the headwall of the Col. It’s 400m blue-ice face glistened menacingly in the sunlight as ice crystals bounced off its surface. A steady stream of people could be seen making their way up and down the wall. I clipped onto the white rope and thought, “Let’s get this done and over with’ and pushed the jumar upwards as I felt my crampons bite into the thick blue ice and snow. For the next 20 minutes, although it seemed like an eternity, I managed to find a rhythm of: three small steps, an arms length slide of the jumar up and then a three second rest.

Step right, two, three, four; Step left, two, three, four. Rest, two three, four… (Admittedly I was quite liberal on the three second breaths which regularly stretched anywhere from five to ten seconds in duration.)

Every ten metres or so there was an anchor where I would clip into a new rope and tie off the old one to continue onto a new section of the climb. Norbu stayed with me for the ascent, quietly encouraging me and also acting as support during some particularly tricky sections where the traffic flow on the up and down ropes seem to resemble a New York city traffic jam. Looking back, I don’t remember much of the 3-hour ascent apart from focusing steadily on the various ‘landmarks’ that had been flagged in conversation by the team which had gone up before me - the first crevasse, the second crevasse, the ice serac that collapsed last year… Each of these frozen landmarks passed but I didn’t even have the energy to feel a sense of achievement.

When we reached the final ladder crossing a 4-foot wide crevasse marking the top of the North Col I felt an absolute sense of relief and achievement. I looked up at Norbu who sat next to my splayed body eating his packed lunch and whistling a tune as if he had just climbed Primrose Hill / Ridgetown Hill. It felt fantastic to reach the top - 7000m mark, a point that I’d struggled to reach a year ago. With the sun beating down on our heads Norbu and I shared a ‘Bounty Bar’ to celebrate our successes before beginning our descent.

A fundamental difference between cycling and climbing is that with cycling you always have the thrill of a downhill to look forward to after a gruelling uphill. The wind in your hair, the feeling of sheer weightlessness… Unfortunately this is not the case with high-altitude climbing where going down is often more treacherous than going up. Every time I watched as the rope slid through my abseil device as I slid down the sheer ice face, carefully moving from one section to the next I could feel my lungs aching for breath and my feet longing for the stability of solid ground. When my feet finally hit solid ground and I could unclip from the fixed lines, I was incredibly relieved and managed a high-five with Norbu..

The descent took 1.5 hours and as I looked up at Everest in its 3 o’clock shadow I had a newfound respect for the mountain. Needless to say, sleep came relatively easily that night..!

Top Picture: North Col. Bottom Picture: North Col Headwall.

An Hour of Irresponsibility

I’m hesitant to write this blog entry because it epitomises the definition of stupidity and I am truly embarrassed to include this incident however will do so in the hope that others may learn from my utterly stupid mistake (cue Mom shaking her head already)….

Advanced Base Camp

ABC sits on a rocky base of loose moraine just a few kilometres south of the Rombok glacier in a valley at about 6200m. At this altitude, it is the highest base camp in the world - roughly 300m higher than the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania, the highest point on the African continent. At this altitude even taking 5 consecutive steps is a struggle so, although during those first glorious moments when ABC is first spotted it seems, at first sight, tantilizingly close, it is still about an hour of tricky moraine-navigation away. The highlight however is that a comfortable camp and a warm sleeping bag is at the end of it.

The Adventure Peaks camp is one of the first of the small village that is ‘Advanced Base Camp'. This means that it’s well protected from the howling freezing cold wind that sounds like a steam engine rushing off the glacier and down the valley.

There are two long blue mess tents that form the main ‘hub’ of ABC social activities and camp life. Whilst we don’t bask in the lap of luxury as we do at Base Camp, the tents are well heated with a soft ‘foam-like’ insulated floor, have a long communal table seating 15-people with plastic garden chairs in each. The tents are lit by several energy efficient light bulbs which storm into operation as soon as the temperamental generators are switched into action - usually when the sun goes down and the temperatures plummet to unbearable levels.

Our bright yellow two-man tents are scattered haphazardly from about 5 - 15 metres of the mess tents separated by some treacherous terrain. A quick trip from the mess tent to the sleeping tents easily leaves one breathless. There are 2-people per sleeping tent (a definite bonus from the warmth-perspective) and mattresses are supplied for extra comfort and to ensure a restful, blissful, 6200m nights sleep.

We have one bright green marquee-like toilet tent in the centre of camp. Reaching the toilet tent is an acclimatisation process in itself as both are on a small knoll of lose moraine. Planning to use the tent requires foresight (never go without toilet paper!) and a strong sense of balance to ensure that gravity doesn’t conspire against you and, most importantly, never look down, never breathe in, always bring toilet paper and never rely on the zipper to protect your sense of modesty.

Top Picture: Everest and Advanced Base Camp Position. Bottom Picture: Advanced Base Camp Layout.

The Moraine Superhighway

It felt good to be back on what I’d dubbed as “The Moraine Superhighway”, under the blazing sun and in the shadow of Mount Everest. Acclimatised to 6000m, kit bags packed and yaks loaded we were ready to go.

Our timing wasn’t quite impeccable as we set out from Base Camp at exactly the same time as a colourful train of about 40 heavily laden yaks carrying up fully stuffed kit bags, burlap bags bursting at the seams, tonnes of food, gallons of water, gas, generators, tents mattresses up to Advanced Base Camp (ABC). A colourful 21 kilometre congo line up to 6400m. The yaks are truly magnificent creatures - docile, strong and steady with their thick coats, giant horns and sure-footed steps along even the most challenging rocky terrain. The yak trains of 6-8 yaks per 'group’ are managed by 1 or 2 local Tibetan men with their dark hair tied up in braids, sporting oily old North Face jackets and the most basic of footwear - even to the point of flip flops. The Tibetans who follow the yaks’ steady pace and ensure they stay on the loosely defined path. Should they veer off the path they are whistled and shouted at causing the yaks to duly oblige.

I spent about 1.5 hours trailing behind the yaks hypnotised by their steady steps and the rhythmic sounds of ‘clanging’ of the giant bells around their trunk like necks. The weather was perfect and the scenery stunning.

The 21km trail from BC to ABC winds its way around beautiful turquoise glacial lakes, ice seracs that have stood frozen in time for thousands of years and along narrow rocky ridges that offer a stupendous view of the valley and Mount Everest itself. The moraine superhighway follows a trail carved out of the glacial valley. While the path is clear to follow it is made up of loose flat rock or ‘scree’ that shifts annoyingly and unsteadily underfoot. The valley is lined on either side by towering brown rocky cliffs that send down rock falls on a regular basis. Giant ice seracs are also found lining the trail as the altitude increases. If it wasn’t for the altitude, associated shortness of breath and overpowering stench of yak dung, the loose rocky scree with risk of 20 tonne bounders falling on your head in rock-fall it would really be an absolutely stunning walk...

About 9kms into the route to ABC is ’IC’ or ‘Interim Camp’. This camp is used as a ‘resting stop’ on the journey up to ABC if the 21km walk can’t be made in a day. Facilities at IC are pretty basic - a tent and basic facilities for the local cuisine - dahl baht - or rice with lentil soup and a sort of spicy vegetable ragu. Delicious. In spite of its very basic facilities, I like Interim Camp and am not sure if hiking from BC to ABC in one day would do me (or my sanity!) any favours.

The team is doing well -everyone is in good spirits and raring to go. Stomach bugs have cleared leaving the next physical challenge to be altitude. It felt great to get out and get going. With the first few steps I found my rhythm and up the moraine super highway I go.

Picture: Route up to ABC.

CBC.ca | The Bridge | We check in with Mt. Everest adventurer...Heather Geluk . She's now at the Base camp and the weather isn't good.

CBC.ca | The Bridge | We check in with Mt. Everest adventurer...Heather Geluk . She's now at the Base camp and the weather isn't good.

Challenge 7- Sacred Pilgrimage of Adventure

In this Challenge, students learn about the religious traditions of those living around Mount Everest, in particular the Puja Ceremony and the Tibetan Buddhist Monastery of Rongbuk, which was once the largest monastic centre in the region. For the Buddhist, Rongbuk is a sacred threshold to Mt. Everest and is set against one of the most dramatic views in the world. The Rongbuk Monastery was founded in 1902 in an area of meditation huts that had been in use by nuns and hermits for over 400 years.

Central to the Buddhist religion and forming an integral part of any Nepalese or Tibetan expedition is the ‘Puja Ceremony’, during which the Sherpas pay homage to the mountain deity. The ceremony is the starting point for all Everest expeditions. A local Llama (not to be confused with the animal!) travels from the Rongbuk monastery to conduct the ceremony, reading from a book of sacred prayers while sitting in front of a stone altar covered with offerings of cookies, chocolate bars, popcorn, rice and beer. During this ceremony all climbers and equipment are blessed before beginning the ascent of the mountain. Marking the end of the formal ceremony, ‘tsampa’ (a roasted barley flour) is thrown into the air and rubbed on the faces of fellow team-mates and everyone is given a silk scarf as a symbol of being blessed.

Fieldwork on behalf of students of Ridgetown District High School, Sevenoaks School and Future Hope School:

I knew something was up when Sonam, a quiet and humble Sherpa had an unmistakable glint of mischief in his eyes. The tiny Llama, dressed in a burgundy "Helly Hansen" branded jacket over a wine coloured 'robe' with grease stains along the hems began to chant louder in what appeared to be the climax of the puja as his yellowed fingers followed the Cyrillic liturgy on the prayer book in front of his knees. He sat cross legged in front of the stone "stupa" (a sort of stone alter) which was covered from top to bottom in offerings flour, cakes, precious oils, cut up Bounty bars, Mars bars, Snickers bars… as well as an assortment of beverages including Everest’s finest whiskey as a sacrifice to Chomolunga.

The Llama’s intonation increased to an even higher, louder decibel as he threw his arms in the air releasing handfuls of tsampa flour as clouds of yellow dust high into the sky. The Sherpas, fully prepared for the move, eagerly followed his lead. An arc of grey 'dust' flew through the air and for one brief moment seemed suspended in time - a halo of flour superimposed over the omnipresent plume of spindrift coming off Everest’s peak.

The Sherpas laughed at our surprise as the flour fell back down to earth and enveloped us in a giant cloud of dust-flour. It took about one milli-second for us to follow the Sherpas’ lead as we too thrust our handfuls of flour into the air - or rather, tactfully launched the handfuls of flour at a nearest possible victim. Screams of adrenaline could be heard around the camp as we chased each other around the stupa with the ultimate aim of covering the potential victim with the 'flour wipe' of good luck and good fortune.

There were about 45 of us who participated - the entire expedition team from all ranks and all walks of life - who participated in the puja. The ceremony lasted about 1.5 hours in total and ended formally with the flour throwing and informally with an afternoon of gorging ourselves on chocolate, beer and shots of whiskey as the snow began to fall. It was an extremely enjoyable and fun-filled yet richly symbolic morning. The end of the puja ceremony symbolised that we were officially allowed to begin our ascent of Everest and that the appropriate prayers, blessings and sacrifices had been made.

The whole expedition now seems even more 'real'. The 1.5 metre stone monument stands as a prime focal point in the middle of our 'tent city' giving the skyline a truly authentic look as 5-streams of prayer flags in the colors of red, green white, blue and yellow radiate from its core to various points in the Camp.

Before the Llama left to join the Sherpas for a last 'hurrah' and some of Everest finest brew in the Sherpa tent, we each received an individual blessing from the Llama, bending humbly on our knees as he placed a blessed silk scarf around our necks as well as a thin piece of red cord to be worn throughout the duration of the expedition. These symbols serve to protect us and lead us to a safe return after our individual summit attempts.

It felt "humbling" to be a part of something which is so clearly an integral part of the Sherpa tradition and Sherpa beliefs. There is a certain indescribable 'power' surrounding Everest that certainly puts into context the significance of such a ceremony. As I look out at the panorama from my tent - the stupa with its realms of multi-colored prayer flags flapping in the breeze against the clear blue sky and in the shadow of 'The Mother Goddess' herself, I can not help but feel part of her spell, her magic, her power.