Beyond the clouds
Take the trip of a lifetime with an exhilarating trek to the Everest Base Camp in Nepal. Plus, a guide on how to prepare for the tough journey.
In the heart of the Himalayas, Mount Everest rises like a giant from the core of the Earth. As a symbol of eternal life and proof of Mother Nature’s enormous power, the world’s highest peak is a constant reminder of the incredible world we live in.
As a hiking novice, whose first big attempt was the famous Inca trail leading to Machu Picchu in Peru, I decided to challenge myself and set the bar even higher in May last year. Reaching an altitude of 5,364m seemed like a pretty decent deal to get as close as possible to the foothills of the majestic Everest standing at 8,848m. Little did I know that the 10-day trek amid the lush Himalayan forest would slowly turn into intimidating glaciers hidden in minus 3 degrees Celsius with not much oxygen to breathe. Or just how much control nature had on our existence.
We set out on a beautiful sunny day after a fourhour flight from Dubai to the busy capital of Nepal, Kathmandu. From the moment I presented my passport to the customs officer at Tribhuvan International Airport, I felt that the trip was going to be a memorable one. With my 40-litre orange backpack and a pocket full of hopes I began my exploration into what was an unknown world to me.
At the beginning of the hike, I was still trying to adjust to my new surroundings and equipment. Starting from the village of Lukla, we walked for six to seven hours. Every step I took seemed surreal. But quickly, I stopped being a spectator and became the actor of my own show, fuelled by the clean oxygen generously donated by the giant trees. Even the background noise of the Dudh Kosi River snaking along the way provided some much-needed tranquillity for my ears. I made it my daily symphony.
The more I progressed, the more confident I became. My boots were a lot more comfortable, my bag became lighter — taking some of the layers of clothes off when the sun was burning without mercy. Small, casual conversations with the annoyed-looking yaks was also a part of normality during the trek. It was also normal to see silent monks from the region walking side by side with the 16-year old Sherpas who were carrying enormous gas tanks on their fragile backs.
After we passed Namche Bazaar on the second day, the reality of the hike kicked in. All of a sudden I realised there was no way back, and I needed to activate all my senses in order to stay focused.
The next day, I noticed that the air was becoming thinner, and the dizziness made me weaker. It was like I was between two worlds — it was hard to differentiate between reality
and dream. And as the terrain became rougher and steeper, the nature around me was slowly disappearing. Aggressive clouds were blinding me, and all I could see was my porter carrying my orange backpack with a lot of trash and creased clothes inside. Breathing became a mission as the days wore on.
By the seventh day, I was tired, really tired. The only thought that kept me going was the Everest Base Camp. The last stop in Lotche village, just one day away from my final destination, felt like a never-ending suspense. This was the time when people started doubting if they could go any further. The altitude sickness bowled down a couple of really motivated adventurers.
As I looked through the small, square-shaped window of the wooden teahouse I was in, with a cup of hot masala tea in my cold hands, I braced as if I was protecting myself from something bad about to happen. I put the final words in my journal: “You can do it, Corina, stay strong.”
But the next day’s trip to the Everest Base Camp made me put aside all the fears and doubts I had about myself. I was smiling constantly for no reason, despite the fact that I got trapped in between two huge rocks and fell on my back. I couldn’t afford to spend time thinking about my bleeding hand. I wanted to stay focused.
I was aware of the fact that I had to admire the beauty of Mother Earth, but I was also carefully assessing the danger of each threat. Until, all of a sudden, the curtains were lifted.
I looked up and my eyes filled up with tears: I was there. I had arrived at the Everest Base Camp!
I didn’t know the people around me, they didn’t know me, but we hugged each other so intensely, as if we were sharing the most precious time of our lives. It was an incredible moment of achievement, of self-fulfilment and certainly, happiness.
The way back to civilisation was a piece of cake compared to what I had been through the last eight days. Descent was a lot easier. Easier to walk, easier to think, easier to eat. But everything I did after that was always taking me back to the moment when I stood grandly “almost” on top of the world.
I was, of course, sad to let go of that moment. The moment of greatness being at the foothill of the biggest mountain in the world. But as they say, all good things, sooner or later, come to an end.
So I shook the thoughts out of my head and switched to the other side of the coin. For the first time in my life I think I really understood the meaning of these words of wisdom: “It is not about the destination. It is more about the journey.”
It was like I was between two worlds — it was hard to differentiate between reality and dream.