How a rank amateur can reach Everest Base Camp
Tears, queues and a lack of oxygen: novice mountaineer Lucy Aspden learns what it’s like to push yourself to the limit in the Himalayas
Nothing can prepare you for the feeling that comes from standing in the shadow of the world’s tallest mountain. No amount of research, conversation or daydreaming. You must simply gaze at its hauntingly magnificent profile for yourself – and doing so is easier than you might think.
On this very day in 1953, Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay became the first to reach the 8,849m (29,032ft) summit of Everest – in terrain that was then the preserve of mountaineers and seriously wealthy amateurs. These days, anyone with a healthy dose of training and determination can trek in the surrounding region, with the chance to experience the spellbinding majesty of Chomolungma, “Goddess Mother of the World”, and even set foot in Everest Base Camp.
Since I’d booked a place for my partner Dan and I to join an 18-day expedition to the Himalayas, trekking to Base Camp (which lies at 5,364m) and attempting to summit Lobuche East (6,119m), I had often wondered how I would react to seeing the planet’s tallest peak for real. When the moment came, I held back tears, surprisingly overcome by emotion as I gazed upward, in a star-struck daze. I felt relieved, in awe, and blessed in equal measure. It was the accumulation of three years of preparation (including two postponements because of Covid), 40 miles of walking through the world’s most famous mountain range, and persistent doubts that we’d make it at all.
Our journey had begun in bustling Kathmandu. The capital of Nepal is a whirlwind of mopeds, fraying infrastructure and knock-off outdoor gear. Perched at an altitude of 1,400m, the city sits higher than any point in the British Isles, and serves as a gateway to the Himalayas, with rickety propeller planes making the 25-minute journey to the notoriously dicey Tenzing-Hillary Airport in Lukla.
We were in capable hands. Our tour operator, Tenzing Treks, is run by Jamling Tenzing Norgay, the son of the world’s most famous Sherpa, and on meeting him for the first time we were told to rip up our preconceived itineraries – and from that moment on, we were at the mercy of nature. This was illustrated almost immediately when the presence of thick clouds saw our flight to Lukla cancelled. Instead, we found ourselves strapped into a helicopter, bound for the village of Phakding, at 2,610m, where we touched down to the sight of prayer flags fluttering in the wind.
The next day we were out on the trail by 8am, Jamling leading at a steady but speedy pace, hands behind his back to support his pack. Comfortably able to keep up with our group of four other trekkers, we were immediately glad for the weekends spent pounding our local Lake District footpaths in preparation.
Also joining us as our guides were three local Sherpas: Pasang, Chhiring and Jangbu. The trio soon formed the backbone of our expedition, both their individuality (Pasang’s powerful laugh,
Chhiring’s unprompted care, and Jangbu’s quiet patience) and professionalism shining through. We passed local children on their way to school, a traffic jam of donkeys and blossoming trees, before entering the gates of Sagarmatha National Park.
All day we were blessed with clear views of the Himalayas – mountains so tall you must strain your neck before you can see sky. The route was punctuated by ancient architecture in the form of handpainted stone archways, giant cliffs inscribed with well-wishers’ messages, and prayer wheels which trekkers must spin in a clockwise direction to ensure safe passage. We crossed vertigo-inducing suspension bridges, which provided crossing routes over the milky-coloured Dudh Koshi River. The most famous of these, named after Sir Edmund Hilary, stretches 140m across the valley 125m below, and heralds a steep ascent to the region’s main town, Namche Bazaar (at 3,440m) – in the shadow of the sacred Kumbu Ila mountain.
On our arrival, after a steady two-hour climb, the group’s energy was palpable.
Strapped to a helicopter, we touched down to the sight of prayer flags fluttering in the wind
Electric blankets, chocolate cake, a cinema and hot showers were just some of the luxuries that kept our spirits high – such comforts would only dwindle in the days that followed.
Our journey beyond Namche followed a dusty trail lined with pine trees and rhododendron bushes, past a memorial to Jamling’s father, through small settlements, and up to the Tengboche monastery – the spiritual centre of the Khumbu region and home to around 40 practising monks. We continued to the villages of Debouche and Dingboche, before being greeted by the welcoming smile of Mingma at the Snow Lion Lodge, where we spent a much-needed acclimatisation day, having surpassed 4,000m for the first time in our lives.
When trekking in the Himalayas you are constantly aware that, aside from the weather, the success of your experience lies in both your mental and physical resilience. Acute mountain sickness (AMS) can strike anyone unexpectedly, so it is vital to give your body time to adapt. AMS tablets offer further assistance, while Jamling closely monitored our blood oxygen levels. A healthy reading – above 80 – provided a much-welcomed confidence boost as we entered the second half of our journey.
We pressed on, often leaving the snaking lines of other trekkers in our wake. On the approach to the village of Lobuche, we crossed the Thukla Pass, home to a memorial to all those who
was in awe’: Lucy at Everest Base Camp have lost their lives on Everest. It’s a sobering place – a reminder of the brutal consequences of mankind’s desire to conquer the planet’s extremes.
A bitterly cold night in the village on the cusp of 5,000m, with snow falling outside the window, was our final preparation for our push on to Base Camp. Passing through Gorak Shep, the last permanent settlement in the valley, we walked over an uneven trail of boulders until our goal came into view. Mesmerised by the vista – and increasingly short of breath – I scrambled my way towards the finish line.
A giant rock, spray-painted with “Everest Base Camp 5,364m” signals your arrival. It’s a slightly crass entry post, made all the worse by the hour-long queue to stand on top of it in celebration.
Base Camp beyond, where we were able to venture with Jamling as our guide, was also a hive of activity.
During the trekking season, up to 2,000 climbers, Sherpas and their support staff call the site home. You can see yaks feasting on leftovers, hear the drone of helicopters, and congratulate Sherpas returning heroically from the Khumbu Icefall, the first (and last) major challenge on the path to the summit. Arguably, it is a high-altitude tourist trap, the beating heart of the ever-growing operation to reach the highest point on the planet – complete with disco tents.
But it’s still top of the bucket list for any fan of the mountains and as I proved, beyond the aching legs, sunburned ears and dwindling body weight, it is possible to get there, no matter how limited your experience.
With Base Camp behind us, there was just one more, even taller challenge to conquer. Located south-west of Everest, Lobuche East stands at 6,119m. Adding a sense of true adventure to the itinerary, Tenzing Treks offers the chance to reach the peak to group members looking for an extra challenge. As our time on the trail had passed with few signs of altitude sickness, I’d become increasingly confident in my ability to reach Base Camp, but the prospect of climbing another 750m was daunting, to say the least.
We were asleep in our tents by 6.30pm, dressed ready in our thermals for the climb to begin six hours later. I slept remarkably well – and it was a good thing too. The subsequent 12 hours were the most terrifying, exhausting and thrilling of my life.
I recall very little of the actual climb – so lasered was my focus on putting one foot in front of the other. There was a moment when my crampons slipped while ascending the first icy vertical rock face and, hanging from a harness, I smashed sideways into the cliff. There were many occasions, too, where all I could do was rest my leaden legs. One highlight was the prayers – sung by Jamling and Pasang in low, soothing tones as we ascended the moonlit slopes.
At 7.20am, sitting on top of Lobuche East, huddled together with Everest’s summit in full view, I cried overwhelming tears of relief. “Great job,” said Jamling as the morning sun beamed down. Once composed, I replied: “Now, how do we get down?”
It was another simple answer: “Safety first, one step at a time.”
And that, quite simply, no matter what your experience, is how it is done in the Himalayas.
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