Ascent Into Hell- Mount Everest by Fergus White

Author:Fergus White [White, Fergus]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781973422716
Published: 2017-11-03T04:00:00+00:00

May 1

Trek from Base Camp down to Pheriche

This is the end of the glacier living for a while. We came here, busted ourselves for a month, and climbed higher than any mountain outside the Himalayas. We’ve put preseason and the main season behind us.

It feels counterintuitive to squander a day’s energy trekking away from Everest. But if a fraction of what Hugo says is true, then several days down the valley with oxygen and food will reward me. A sleep in a warm, comfortable bed will do no harm either. My throat rasps, my nose often bleeds, and I’ve shed kilos. I need to regroup.

“We’ll head off in half an hour.” Greg stands up from the breakfast table.

“Excellent. What about the others?”

“Hugo’s already gone. I think Charlene and Khalid are about to leave.”

“What about Angel?”

“It’ll be a while before he’s ready. He’ll follow us down.”

“Cool.”

We’ve packed light; we won’t need the bulky sleeping bags. Normally for a week’s holiday, I’d bring several changes of clothes. But for a week in the valley, the odd t-shirt and under items are more than adequate, added to the gear we’re wearing. I don’t think Pheriche will have bouncers at the nightclubs. I pull on a windproof top and skinny gloves to protect me from the cool morning.

“It’s good to be out of those mountaineering boots. These feel like slippers.” I point to my hiking boots.

“This’s a lot easier than our last walk over this.” Greg strides over a rock. “And it’s not as tough as when we first came here either.”

Within an hour we’ve climbed off the glacier and trek onwards to Gorak Shep. Another thirty minutes sees us the far side of the village. Rocks underfoot make the going tough. The altimeter puts us at much the same altitude as Base Camp.

“This’ll be further than Hugo suggested,” Greg says.

“I’m still waiting for all this oxygen he promised.”

At the two hour mark we reach the first big drop of the day. The trail plunges a hundred metres through rocks in just a few minutes. This leads us into the short valley that heads to Lobuche. Grassy shrub covers both sides of the trail. We’ve broken below the 5,000 metre mark. For the first time in weeks, I walk on hard clay rather than rocks, snow, and ice. The ground is in our favour and our stride widens. The extra oxygen hits me and works its ways around my brain and muscles. No longer having to watch our every step, the chatter increases. Gone is the crouched, slogging gait of high altitude mountaineers. We seem ten years younger than this morning. The laughter flows. A small, bubbling glacial stream joins us. We leap across it as it criss-crosses the track. It reminds me of the Irish hills on a spring day. This is how it’s supposed to be.

We trek into Lobuche. The village bustles with the construction of a large hostel. I don’t remember these building works from our hike up here. The world may be in recession, but it’s boom time for the two dozen workers around us.

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