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A small brown bird with wise eyes hops across the windowsill,
stopping to wonder why I sit here looking at her, then, indifferent to
the reasons, taking flight as I remain, as if in some parallel universe,
inside the foggy windows. Another. This one black with a bold, orange
beak and missing most of the feathers on his head and neck. Ill, I fear;
clearly a "he" as the first was a "she."
10:20 on plane Well fed, well conversed, 4 cans of Diet Pepsi in bag.
Marvelously varied buffet at the Amari: sushi, waffles, miso soup, pancakes,
Thai noodles, Corn Pops, papaya, canned fruit, coffee with a kick. Sweet
to be in Nola's company once again (we climbed Elbrus together).
Peter Livingston, Dede's business partner, is pleasant, bright,
seems forthright, familiarly east coast. Jordan still has a delightful
goofiness about him that is so very appealing and belies what I know to
be his great business success. Mike seems to be the humorous one of the
group and has traveled with Skip and Elizabeth a good bit. Russ owns the
Chapter One book store in Victor where Skip lives, a genuinely delightful
man. Tom is Tom: quiet, earnest, pleasant, often by himself. A wonderfully
diverse and, at least so far, compatible-feeling group.
I watch myself talking a good deal, offering information
where it isn't asked. I set a new standard for myself: I am a woman
who listens well. Ask questions more often than answering them. Be more
interested than interesting. Focus out rather than in. A shift. I am different
than I have ever been on a trip. I want to experience that difference
and come from who I am today rather than who I was 2 years ago or 5 or
8 years ago. Come from the new sense of inner strength rather than needing
the physical strength or the having more experience in Nepal. Just be
who I am today. In the present.
12:20 Nepal time Everest to the right. Clear, classic. So
much feeling. My victory, my disappointment, Rob, Doug, Lobsang, Jan and
Sarah, Helen, tears. Full heart. Welcoming Nola to the Himal. Welcome
home, Margo. There is indeed a part of my soul that is home in the Himal
in a way it is nowhere else.
Day 1 Lukla , on trek
11 am Lukla The familiar fuschia-colored, permanganate-tinted, hand-sanitizing
water and blue tarp of a trekking lunch. Choppered with my eyes turned
out the window to the terraces and multihued trees.
7:30 pm 10,700 feet Snug in a tent with Nola, well fed by rice curried
potatoes, curried buffalo meat, banana, Bournvita. Stuff everywhere. It
will take a day or two to get into a routine and find what needs to be
out and what doesn't and what goes where.
Up from Lukla in a different direction than ever before.
I've always headed up the Khumbu. Today we went east, toward the
Hinku Valley. It felt a bit weird! Our half hour walk was a bit over 2
and a bit more that 1,500 vertical. Certainly more than we expected and
not a push. Some pretty good up sections, through marvelous thick forest.
Loamy soil, moss, huge rhododendrons, quiet walking, very different from
the Khumbu. Rob showed up for a bit. At the airport in Kathmandu after
the trucks were unloaded, a Sherpa picked up my bag, and when I looked
up, it was Ang Tsering, sirdar (head Sherpa) for the Adventure Consultants
Everest climbs and other trips. What a great treat! Another auspicious
sign for this trip. There have been many of those. Warmed my heart to
land in Lukla and finally be in the mountains. There are 4 teams here
tonight. I am most surprised. Though we'd be pretty much on our
own. I have tired eyes tonight, and writing holds little appeal
Day 2 On trek
3:30 pm Rain falling on the tent roof, like yesterday. It appears the
monsoon has not yet sung its last note. Beautiful clear morning. Cold,
frost on the ground. Surrounded by mountains on 3 sides, some directly
above us, some further away. All snow dusted or covered, jagged-ridged,
with a hanging glacier here and there. An exquisitely powerful surprise
as we arrived in fog and rain yesterday, and it didn't clear til
after dark. Very little sleep last night, maybe 4 hours. Noticed the tent
smelled real musty, and my throat got sore an hour into the night. By
midnight my nose was clogged as well, and today I am runny-nosed and scratchy-throated.
Upper respiratory stuff - again!!! This afternoon nose is running more
than stuffy, throat scratchy rather than sore. I choose to believe it
will move through quickly. I do not need to make this trip any more difficult
or strenuous than it already is. I choose to let go and not be stuck in
my discomfort. The two ways to let go of hard: to let go of the physical
symptoms and to let go of being stuck in them. I can do that. I don't
have to go to, "Oh, God, not again." It is not what I would
choose, and it didn't affect the hike today.
2,300 vertical of definite up, much of it quite steep, most
of it rocky and uneven, mantra harder on that kind of terrain, and still
helpful. Aware of quad muscles talking in a way that might have been quieted
by leg work in a gym, and I did just fine. There is no hurry here. Even
summit day is no more than 2,500 vertical. There is plenty of time. Back
down the same 2,300 as this was an acclimatization day. We will move up
there tomorrow
Peter seemed to struggle today and was exhausted at the
end of the day. Possibly acclimatization as much as anything. He is very
fit for 65, and this is a big trip for anyone. My going today was neither
terrified nor awful. It was just fine. Good training as well as acclimatization.
Turned my ankle twice on the way down. Not badly. Clearly my mind was
elsewhere. A message about being in the present. I hear and heed it. I
am enjoying the trip a great deal. Magical surroundings, good people,
hard physical work. It's a yes.
Still aware of talking about my stuff and things that make
me look good more than I would like to. Focus on being interested rather
than interesting It is an attractive way to be.
I close by honoring both Nola and myself for being strong
enough to do this trip and by rekindling my willingness to release the
respiratory stuff.
Day 3 13,000 feet
1:45 pm Again snug in a tent, cozy in my bag and the thermalounger. It
is snowing outside. The monsoon continues to make itself known. Up at
6 this morning to cover the same ground as yesterday, this time staying
up here, at the foot of the pass. My legs were discouragingly sore and
heavy today, and I was correspondingly slow. Though it again took me about
2 hours, and I certainly stopped more to shoot photos. Thighs tight and
sore. I will stretch and rub them out with Traumeel.
The walk was lovely. More clouds this morning than yesterday
and clear as the sun rose over the mountains. We started walking about
7:50, and I was once again mesmerized by the rhododendrons and numerous
mosses and bushes and boulders. There is an almost tropical feel to the
lower section, then the gloriously backlit, moss-covered rhododendrons.
Great photo material, then above tree line, scrubby grass and lots of
moss-covered rocks. The higher amount of moisture here than in the Khumbu
is evidenced by the flora.
I was much focused on the weakness in my legs and being
slower than everyone else - much more than I would have liked. It only
makes it feel harder. I let go as best I could and got into mantra-energized
Go Mode the last half hour. Slow and steady. I have all the symptoms of
a cold and am beginning to cough. I find it difficult not to be discouraged
and frustrated. I don't feel awful, and I don't feel 100%
I don't need to make this trip any harder than it already is. I
release the need for physical illness and embrace the willingness to simply
be Margo, whole, feminine, strong, sore. It's okay to just be me,
including not being as strong as I'd like. I don't need
an illness as an excuse or to weaken me. I can just be me.
Peter and Tom went back to Lukla this morning. Peter was
completely exhausted yesterday and just felt like he wasn't strong
enough to do the trip. Tom's knee and hip were very sore, and he
just didn't want to wear them down anymore. I suggested they go
up the Khumbu, and we are hoping they'll meet us at the other side
of the Mingbo La.
Tomorrow we head up and over the Zatrawla La (La is a mountain
pass), which we are fondly calling the Za Tra La La. It's just
about 15,000 feet, and we'll stay high from there until we cross
the Mingbo. I look forward to being in the Hinku. Wonderful to be in unknown
territory, even with the number of other trekkers around. At least one
other group all 3 nights, and it appears that will continue. Our campsite
here is rocky and uneven, and the Sherpa had some work to do to create
ten sites for us. They are marvelous! Happy, singling, smiling, even with
giant loads and hard work to do. Tenzing is our cook, with a smile that
lights up his face and the world around him. His wife, Ang Phurba, is
with him and whacked Jordan on the butt this morning. Very cute.
I am feeling better than when I began to write. I'm
grateful for that.
Day 4 13,300 feet
2:15 pm I have moved from real concern when I woke up to a sense of gratitude
and comfort. Slept okay and awoke with a very tight chest and a cough
that was dry but very painful. Near tears a couple of times as we packed
up, had breakfast, and headed up to the pass. Thoughts of, "Oh,
God, not again," again. Moved up the hill breathing rhythmically,
using the mantra from the outset, staying connected with Spirit, continuing
to confirm my willingness to let go of being ill. And I got better I climbed.
Cough still painful and breathing very carefully over both passes. Highest
point was 14,600, and as we descended, I coughed less, and it got much
looser. I am delighted and intending to have it all gone before we go
over the Mera La and head up high. I do not need to be ill!
Moved well, up and across and down. Just slow and steady,
the slowest but Nola, still thinking more than I'd like about being
fit or not fit, strong or not strong. I am not here to prove anything.
The up to the pass was not as steep as the climb yesterday.
I felt stronger than yesterday though knees were sore on the way down.
Rocky and barren up, several inches of snow from yesterday so slippery
in places, asking for focused presence. This side, dropping into the Hinku
Valley, is less rocky, more scrubby grass and mud. Less snow, more wet.
The view from the first pass was exquisite, Rocky, jagged peaks in the
direction from which we had come. Prayer flags at the top, old and worn.
A quiet moment with the 3rd step prayer for me. Sweet. Feeling good. Small
down, traverse, then little up to second pass, then down into the clouds
once again.
I am cozy, content, comfortable, grateful to be here. Yes,
I would prefer it to be sunny. On the other hand, if it were sunny I'd
probably feel obligated to go for a walk, and I'm quite happy in
this yellow dome surrounded by down and pile and stuff sacks and plastic
bags containing all manner of stuff. The "gong" (metal spoon
against metal pot) sounds for tea. Perfect timing.
Day 5 11,100 feet
7:40 pm Our "simple" walk down a couple thousand feet turned
out to be a pretty sharp up out of camp to a series of short, steep ups,
one very slippery with partly melted snow, and downs, some steep, some
not, leading to almost 3,000 vertical down, following the river, starting
above tree line, moving down into a wonderful almost rain forest of rhododendron,
fir, bamboo and other plants I didn't recognize. When I first looked
out this morning, the mist was so thick I could hardly see the tent only
a few feet away from ours. It lifted some and then closed in again so
we walked mostly in a gray mystery, never seeing where the valley floor
lay. Certainly sunshine would have been preferable, and I had a real good
day. Chest tight in the morning and better than yesterday. Felt strong,
moved well, cruised downhill. I love that I love going downhill! Just
plain had a good time.
Walked by myself or with a Sherpa for much of the day. Enjoying
my own company, a song from the 60's Broadway show, Wait A Minim
playing in my head. Camped a couple hundred feet above the river in a
little clearing - Tashi Denpo. The rain began shortly after we arrived
and continued on and off, coming hard the half hour before dinner. Then
partly clearing, the nearly full moon and a few stars visible among the
clouds. The rain has stopped. We all - Sherpa and Westerners alike - pray
for the wet weather to end. It is most unusual for this time of year.
Pray to Lama Koncha - All Gods - for sunny weather. And have a conversation
with my mother about it as well!
This is a fun group, covering many careers and personality
types. Conversations range in topic from investment banking to Louie L'Amour,
most sparked by laugh-out-loud humor. Michael, Jordan, and Nathan are
the comedians, each with their own unique style. Lots of laughter. It's
been a good day in spite of the weather. And sunshine would be lovely!
Day 6 No journal entry
Day 7 Taknak or Tangnang, 13,800 feet
5:40 pm A beautifully clear cold morning. Michael loaned me his sleeping
bag cover, and I took 2 hot water bottles to bed. Couldn't get
warm yesterday afternoon and was real concerned about the night but it
was OK. It's good to be in a tent by myself for a couple nights.
Definitely colder, and nice to spread out. I love Nola dearly, and it
is still lovely to have my own space for a bit. Soup ready.
7:20 Well fed, air thick with pea-soup fog, images of the
next week playing in my head in a crystal-clear, high-altitude-pure invitation.
So different from this morning when I was cold and felt grumpy and almost
wondering what I'm doing here - and not quite. Then we started
walking up to the lake about 1,000 feet above camp. Steep walking on scrubby
grass. And then the sun finally hit and the flowers came alive, and there
was no doubt about why I'm here. My outsides warmed with the sun,
and my insides acknowledged the doubts of the morning and embraced the
song of the chuffs playing on the currents, silhouetted black against
the gray rock and white-and-blue snow and ice of Peak 43 and Kusum Kanggri
and the icefall above the lake. Sonam took my pack for me, almost insisted
on it, and I welcomed the freedom of its absence. Photography easier,
walking freer.
We spent almost an hour by the lake, from varying views,
breathing in the magnificence of God's work around us. Then over
the moraine and on up to the Dig Kharka. The clouds had come in by then
with a slight wind pushing them, and we donned pile on heads, torsos,
hands and headed smartly back to camp. I do enjoy going down more than
going up, knees included. An afternoon of hearts and organizing, tea and
conversation brought us to dinner of rice and dal, potatoes and spinach,
with a very good raisin cake, and discussion of the days to come.
Tonight I am filled with confidence about the climb and
all the days to come. Walking into uncertainty with confidence. The full
moon shines through the fog with a suffused brightness that says, "Yes,
Margo, you can." Jonathan checked in this morning, also agreeing.
I have less tolerance for cold than I used to, and I can deal with whatever
shows up. I want to climb Mera Peak. I know I can. I believe I will.
Day 8 Khare 16,300 feet
What a great day! Sun from the get-go until almost 5 pm. Hooray! A 3 hour
walk, including stops. Same route as yesterday and another hour up and
over a morainey ridge. Just slow and steady. Pretty clear that I didn't
drink enough yesterday and expected to be very slow and wasn't.
Followed a lovely stream for part of the way, running fast and clear and
cold over its rocky bed.
Increasingly incredible views of Mera as we ascended. It's
a huge mountain, and from this side, most impressive. Looks virtually
unclimbable to me. Great shots to use in a slide show! It is the same
mountain we will climb, just from a very different angle. Nice chat with
Nathan on the way up, about beliefs and attitudes and life. He is a bright,
talented kid, carving his way in the world in a nontraditional, uncharted
manner. Having the courage to know that what might seem the "easy"
way, a regular job back in the states, would eat away at his soul. A talented
searcher, commanding attention with his nonconformist, sometimes pretty
out there views and behaviors. I might be put off by his manner under
different circumstances and would, by my own judgmental walls, miss the
opportunity of interacting with a very bright, curious, courageous mind.
Also chatted with Dawa on the way up about mutual acquaintances.
He is married to the daughter of Ang Rita who works at the Himalayan Rescue
Association and worked with the '95 Bob Hoffman Everest expedition
with whom I spent time. Fun to talk about that and find out more about
him. He started as a kitchen boy at age 10 when his father died and he
had to go to work. A nice kid, eager to talk about the people we both
know.
Just a great day. Walked up 100 feet or so above camp after
lunch with everyone. The views of Mera so stupendous. I will have my camera
tomorrow. We go up on the snow to work on technique tomorrow. I'm
looking forward to it. My demons of self-doubt have been quiet this trip,
and I look much forward to the next few days. More excitement than trepidation.
Walking into uncertainty with confidence. I like it. I am grateful. My
head is less stuck in little annoyances and comparisons. We're
a strong group and have a good chance of all summitting. I believe it
will happen. I have a comfortable sense of not needing my guides and inner
family as much, rather inviting and welcoming the additional strength
and guidance they bring me.
Day 10 Mera Base Camp 17,500 feet
After tea. I'm behind. To yesterday first. Another morning of doubt,
teary, just off. Walked up to the ridge above camp before breakfast to
admire the astounding view of Mera with the guys, to be moving and not
just stuck with feelings that weren't based on reality. Then the
guys went down, and I took a few minutes to cry. Oh, God, how am I going
to do this. Kind of sobs that have so often in the past taken me to a
dark place for more than a few minutes. "I don't need to
go there." The mantra for those kinds of times. I can acknowledge
the feelings, honor my inner family, especially the kids without getting
lost in them. It is huge growth.
Left camp with a pack weighing easily 30 pounds with plastic
boots, axe, crampons harness and gear. About an hour plus, a bit to the
snow, most of it quite steep. Just one foot in front of the other, slowly,
letting my breathing guide my speed. Moving well, feeling strong, pleased
and proud. Did some work on the snow - up a fixed line, rappelling down,
just getting used to crampons and an axes again. Fun to be on snow, and
a reminder of what hard work it is. Clouds came in early and Jordan, Russ
and I, who had done the ropes bolted to camp with the others at least
an hour behind. Glad to be down out of the cold. Just felt great!! A marvelous
day harvested form the seed of a teary, "off" morning. A
Venezuelan gal named Marian chatted with the 3 of us for a bit, wondering
if she might join our group. Hers is kind of falling apart and will not
go higher. Interesting, bright gal, and not appropriate that she join
us. At least part of my morning stuff was due to al almost sleepless,
quite cold night. Partly wide awake and partly very cold when the bottles
cooled off. One of those nights when the best I could do was get through
it. And the day turned out wonderfully. It's about showing up and
letting the miracles happen. A perfect demonstration.
Back to today. Took Compoz last night, added some layers
to my sleeping setup and slept great. Got up at 10 to pee and then slept
straight through til 5:40. Marvelous! Just what I needed. Heavy packs
again, me moving much slower. Legs feeling heavy. And still moving, one
foot in front of the other, breathing evenly, mantra-ing, aware of how
much strength I get from my mantra. Today it was love, grace, will. Went
up the snow from where we started yesterday rather than doing the rock
route and upper traverse. Good practice, and Pemba had said the upper
traverse was pretty messy from all the porters. It was OK and very, very
slow for me. Close to tears a couple of times, sent the kids to the beach
as the tears were theirs. Actually felt stronger at the top as the angle
lessened and my walking became more rhythmical. And very aware of how
much I would like a rest day tomorrow. Barring bad weather, which I do
not wish for, we will go up.
I was whole-body-tired and somewhat discouraged when we
arrived here. Concerned I do not have the strength to summit. My head
playing with the thoughts around what the hell is Skip doing pushing us
to the summit without a rest day. Now fed and rested some, I know I'll
be fine. Just slowly, slowly. So incredible what a positive effect taking
care of myself physically has on my emotions and perspective. A reasonably
short day tomorrow, with the biggest push being the grunt from here to
Mera La. Dave thinks no more than 3 hours. I can do that. It doesn't
matter if it takes me 4. And it won't. The cold of the morning
will warm soon enough. We were hot today, and there's no reason
to believe it will be any different tomorrow. Just take one day at a time.
The bang-bang of Ang Phurba's call to dinner. Perfect timing.
Nola and I hugged and cried a little at the miracle of our
being here. She cried at the La with great reason. When her breast cancer
was diagnosed, she didn't know if she would live, much less climb
again. Our miracles of life may be far apart, and they unite us in a sweet
way. This climb is in some ways sweeter for me because it comes from a
physical strength that is averagely trained and a part of my life rather
than being its main focus. My strength is not gone. It is a part of me,
outside and in.
Day 11 Mera High Camp approximately 19,000 feet
We had a leisurely start up to High Camp as the porters had dropped down
1,200 feet to sleep and had to hike back up. The hardest part of the day
was the short steep up back to the Mera La. Then pretty much a trudge.
The weather continues its pattern of cloudy afternoons. About 3 hours
to camp and then lunch al fresco on a rocky point about 50 feet below
the tents, getting chillier as the clouds grew thicker. Concern about
the cold and sleeping far more than the cold and climbing. Early to bed
as we'll be up at 4 am. One more oh-dark-thirty start!
Ran into Wally Berg, a guide I'd known on Everest
on our way up and his way down. I mostly remember him from '95.
He remembers me from '93. I do like being a party of this community
- a climber.
Dinner was a near disaster as we ate in the kitchen tent
and the fumes about did me in. Ate my soup outside, and Tensing opened
a flap behind the stoves so I could be in there. Then they lit a lantern
that wasn't burning completely, and I left, coughing. Coughed hard
for several minutes, used the inhaler and walked around for a bit. The
sky was clearing as it has most evenings, and it was truly lovely. Breathed
slowly, the air into my lungs and the beauty into my soul. I can do the
cold in the morning for as long as it takes, put one foot in front of
the other as many times as I need to. Tomorrow I will climb Mera Peak.
Day 12 Mera Summit, 21, 247 feet and down to Mera Base Camp
4 am Bed tea was closer to 4:30 and 4:50 porridge made a 5 am departure
impossible. Dressed in everything I had - 4 layers top and bottom, feet
cold to start, but not as bad as I had feared. No crampons to start. Snow
was soft, angle low. Beautiful sunrise, partly cloudy, magnificent colors,
heart singing, one foot in front of the other. Couple of moderately steep
sections, 2nd requiring crampons. Couple of parties left much earlier
than us, pretty wasted as they passed us on the way down. Seems the price
of the cold during the bitter night hours between 2 and 5 was high. Skip's
choice to go late proved a good one. They reported 6 hours to the summit,
total.
Skip, Dave, Nathan, Russ at the front with Pemba ahead of
all to fix the rope the final 70 feet to the summit. Then Jordan with
me a bit behind him - maybe 15 minutes, Marc and Peggy using me for pace,
and Nola trailing another 30-45 minutes. Right around 5 hours to the summit
for me. Great celebration on the summit. Peggy, Nola and I hugging each
other, crying tears of joy and gratitude, each of our own deep feelings.
Peggy has 2 sisters with breast cancer, both with very poor prognoses,
and her tears were mixed, fear for her sisters and wanting to give Nola's
victory as proof of life after breast cancer. Nola's tears in celebration
of having her life back. Mine in celebration of life, that I can still
climb a mountain over 21,000 feet high; that I don't have to be
in superhuman shape to do it. That it is still about putting one foot
in front of the other, one more time, in rhythm to breathing and mantra.
I am an averagely unique almost-50-year-old woman, and I climb mountains.
That God and I and the kids and my guides make a wonderful, whole, strong
person. I, Margo Chisholm, ge 49 3/4, am standing on the top of Mera Peak,
21,247 feet high. Thank you, God. Thank you for my life.
Skip and I talk about how different our lives would be if
he had not been the guide on that first trip to Africa. Far less rich,
he responded. So true for me, nice to know it's true for him as
well.
When I reach the bottom of the fixed line, it's still
sunny and the wind is beginning to be a little blustery. By the time Nola
summits, perhaps 45-60 minutes later, it is blowing hard, the sun nearly
gone, and we are getting cold. The temperature is 0. Winds blowing 15
- 20 and gusting higher, the wind chill is -30 to -40. Once Nola summits,
we hardly notice the cold as we celebrate and Nathan sets up a group photo.
On the way down, the weather closes in and by the time we make a brief
stop at at High Camp, we are in the whiteout of a full Himalayan storm.
Dawa has performed a heroic feat in following our early
morning tracks which are now almost completely lost. Off the track the
snow is thigh deep making missteps most inconvenient at best, and dangerous
at worst. snow blows under my Spex and into my glacier glasses, both resulting
in near sightlessness, disguising scratches on the lenses as footsteps.
I struggle to stay close enough to Skip to follow his blur of colors,
succeeding until he and Dawa turn off the main trail to High Camp. I cannot
see where the track turns and experience, fortunately for only a short
time, the fear of being lost in the storm. I can no longer see Skip, and
the people behind me are still out of sight. Almost simultaneously I see
the track and Dave appears behind me. It's OK. I'm not lost
in the storm. I'm OK. I consciously slow my breathing which had
become fast and shallow in my fear.
I was not lost, and we all finished packing as quickly as
we could, downed some tea and helped the Sherpa and porters pack up the
tents in a near total whiteout. Skip led out, and I remember there being
someone between me and him but we can't figure out who that might
have been. At any rate, we descended in a way that reminded me of Denali
except for the weather - fast, very fast. I didn't want to get
behind because I couldn't see and was afraid I'd lose the
trail and lose Skip. Snow was blowing sideways, getting into my glasses
from the left. I was nearly blinded. Then skip stopped, and I and all
the porters also stopped. We were off track, and Skip didn't know
where to go, and there were a good number of crevasses around.
We weren't far above the La but we could see virtually
nothing, and it was too dangerous to guess about direction. The rest caught
up but with no Sherpa as they had stayed to clean up camp. We all just
stood there and waited, understanding the danger of moving forward without
seeing where the holes were. Skip said, "It's 2 pm, 4 hours
until dark. We're all healthy, we've got tents. We'll
wait til we can see." So we waited. For perhaps 20 minutes, and
then the porters got restless and began to hoot and holler a little and
move downhill into an area that was clearly crevassed and dangerous. Skip
called to Tenzing to tell them not to go there. I had visions of a porter
going in a hole and having to do a rescue in these windy, whiteout conditions.
Tenzing got out a climbing rope, and the porters each held it in their
hand and headed down, somehow without disaster.
We followed them and arrived shortly at the La, put on our
crampons and descended the short steep to Base Camp, tired and happy,
with a summit under our belts, a 100% success rate, and a true Himalayan
weather experience. I didn't love it while it was happening, and
it definitely made for a complete experience and a better story!
I ran through a gamut of emotions from fatigue, small doubt,
to elation and gratitude and pride and on to fear and determination nd
finally relief to be down. A full day, to say the least!
Day 13 16,000 feet
7:15 pm We all made it to the summit of Mera Peak on a true Himalayan
day! It's getting too cold to write. I will finish this at some
point. 2 big days coming up, then the relative ease of the Khumbu. I look
forward to that.
(Written on Day 19) Base Camp down to helicopter sign. Rocks,
more rocks, nice camp by lake, clouds in again. I don't remember
much about the day. It feels like a day wedged between Mera Summit and
the long walk through the Hongu.
Day 14 17,500 feet
What a day! 6 hours of walking through this incredible Hongu Valley. Mark
said about 18,000 steps for him, clearly more for my short little legs,
a bit more than 9 1/2 miles. Did most of the mileage before lunch, pretty
easy walking, at least for Nepal. A little up and down but mostly following
the river in its gradual elevation gain. Astounding views everywhere.
Chamlam, Peak 41, Baruntse, Pyramid Peak, south face of Lhotse, Nuptse
wall, the top hidden by clouds, hiding the Mother Goddess (Everest) until
another day.
After lunch was all moraine, some of it very steep and loose,
leading to a high lake and flat moraine dance into camp. Hard going. I
felt quite leg weary and yet was the 3rd one into camp behind Russ and
Michael. Russ commented that he was impressed with how I made it in. I
admit to being hugely pleased! Much more to say, but the dinner gong has
sounded. I was incredibly energized after tea, fed and watered and excited
to be here, under the shadow of the Mingbo La, only a day away from the
Khumbu. It feels like going home to be going there. I will catch up at
some point. It's been a glorious, hard-work day in an astoundingly
magnificent place despite the weather continuing to disappoint. Almost
no sun at all today, temp probably never above 40, light snow now, as
has been so common. Lots of help to lift my weary legs on the moraine
from my friendly spirits: Gary, Rob, Mother, Jonathan. God's will
for me to be here. Weather and all, I am blessed.
(There were no journal entries for Days 15 and 16. The following
are created from my memory many years later. They are as accurate as my
memory allows.)
Day 15
We awoke to lots of snow on the ground and more still falling. Clearly
we were going nowhere. This in itself was not a big deal. However, we
were running low on food and even lower on fuel. It became clear as the
day - and heavy snowfall - wore on, that if we were not able to cross
the Mingbo La into the Khumbu Valley the next day, we would have to retrace
our steps back up the Hongu Valley and over the Mera La to find fuel and
enough to feed our crew and members. This was not only discouraging but
more than a bit daunting. It had been a long haul up here and it would
be even longer going back, with the ever-deepening snow. If the snow continued,
we would not be able to cross the pass for several days. We could survive
with very limited food. To run out of fuel, however, meant no water, and
that was a much more serious issue. We were a bit between a rock and a
hard place. It made for a long day in the tents, with "what ifs"
playing loudly in my head. Even a game of hearts in the dining tent did
little to lift my spirits. As I climbed into my bag that night, I sent
prayers to all the deities and gods and spirit weather manipulators I
could think of for a sunny day tomorrow.
Day 16 Over the Mingbo La, app. 19,200 feet
Well, the wide blanket of prayers did its magic. The snow stopped in the
wee hours, and I climbed out of tent in the early morning to a clear day,
the sky visibly sliding from gray to blue as the sun rose and warmed it.
We would cross the pass.
It was only about 1,500 vertical to the top of the pass.
We figured a couple of hours, with the Sherpa breaking trail in the deep
snow. No big deal. We had been told the back side of the pass was very
steep and that gear and porters would have to be lowered. Underestimating
what a huge undertaking that would be and wanting to lighten our loads
as much as possible, Nola and I decided to pack our headlamps in our duffles
rather than in our packs.
A quick breakfast and up we headed. My legs were very heavy,
and I felt like my energy had already headed back to Kathmandu. My ascent
up toward the pass was very, very slow. I was one of the first out of
camp and was passed by one person after another. After an hour or so I
just plain bonked, hit the wall, didn't know how I was going to
put one foot in front of the other enough times to get to the top of the
La. Head down, bent over my ice axe, I was breathing hard when a fellow
climber (I unfortunately don't remember who) caught me from behind
and asked if I was okay. I explained that I had pretty much bonked, and
he said, "Here, try this," and handed me a couple packets
of Gu, which is pretty much pure glucose and used in exactly these kinds
of circumstances.
I squeezed one packet's worth into my mouth and continued
to lean on my axe, breathing hard. I don't think it was more than
a couple minutes before I began to feel the effects of the Gu. It was
kind of miraculous. Now I know why they give you glucose in the hospital!
Amazing effects. I started up toward the La once more, with renewed energy
and a much more positive attitude, knowing I would get there. It might
not be fast, and I'd get there.
And get there I did. And then we waited. And waited. And
waited. The process of setting up the anchors and ropes to lower the gear
and porters down the very steep back side of the La took longer than I
had imagined. The Sherpa and Skip had gone up before the rest of us, and
I somehow thought it would be pretty well ready to go by the time I finished
my oh-so-slow ascent.
Not so, and we were all grateful for the warm sun as we
waited while gear and porters were lowered. Before the Mera La, many of
the porters had not had sunglasses and only flip-flops for footwear. Now
they all at least had sneakers. But sneakers in this deep, deep snow and
trying to rappel down the far side! Skip and the Sherpa actually had to
almost throw some of the porters - reasonably gently - off the top to
get them going. They were tied into a fixed line and could not fall, and
they didn't really understand that so getting them to lean back
on the lines and take that first step down took some doing.
Despite the fear, there was much lighthearted kidding and
laughter from those who had made their descent, clearly ribbing their
friends as, one by one, they descended. Awkwardly, haltingly, sometimes
even upside down, and all eventually arriving at the bottom of the couple
hundred feet of steepness with great relief.
It was late in the afternoon by the time the whole crossing
was complete, and we still had an icefall to maneuver before arriving
at camp. Nothing serious, just some slow walking and route finding which
was time-consuming and would take several hours. As long as I didn't
have to go uphill, my energy level was fine. I hadn't planned on
running out of daylight.
As the sun began to set, the temperature dropped radically
and although several of us were growing quite cold, we kept going, hoping
that a campsite would materialize sooner rather than later. No such luck.
Darkness fell almost instantaneously as it does in the Himal, and Nola
and I had to admit to Skip that we did not have our headlamps. It was
a rookie error, and I was very embarrassed, as, I believe, was Nola.
We were still in broken and crevassed territory, and the
lack of a headlamp made the going far more challenging. I was able to
follow closely on Skip's heels and manage reasonably well, and
there were times when it was more than bit scary. It was also exquisitely
beautiful. Here we were, above 17,000 feet, surrounded by towering mountains,
their snow glowing in the starlight that is so astoundingly bright at
that altitude. I don't remember there being a moon. Several times
I stopped to look back at the rest of the team, only their headlamps visible,
moving in a snakelike pattern, like fireflies dancing through the incredible
terrain.
It was well after 8 pm when we arrived at camp, exhausted. All who were
able to chipped in to help the crew set up the tents. No dinner tonight.
Just some hot drinks and soup and bed. Just another average day in the
Himal!
Day 17 Pangboche 15,636 feet
6:45 pm Inside a teahouse, with Coleman lantern light and heat from a
central stove and Tenzing's green soup and rice. So much has happened
in the last few days, and there is not enough time tonight. We go only
to Dingboche, and I'll have writing time tomorrow.
Day 18 Dingboche
4:50 pm So. A deep breath. I am in a tent by myself on a terrace in Dingboche.
Jonathan's chorten drew my eye on the way up - or perhaps Tanner's
chorten now. (Derived from ancient burial mounds, a chorten is a spiritual
monument usually containing relics of some kind. Chorten is a Tibetan
word, commonly interchanged with stupa, the Sanskrit version.) I will
visit in the morning. A beautiful walk up. Easy, unhurried, many photos,
deep breaths, memories, spirits, tears, gratitude, smiles, sadness looking
at Everest, gratitude also. Walked much of the way by myself, some with
a couple from Seattle who are headed to Pumori, guided by 2 Poles, one
named Richard Polowski, who's done 8 or 10 of the 14 8,000 meter
peaks. including a winter ascent of Nanga Parbat. Interesting people,
both dry type jobs at home that allow them 5 weeks vacation a year and
year-long sabbaticals every 7. Sweet to share a passion with a partner.
It is still a dream of mine to do trips with a partner.
Lunch at the confluence of the Imja Khola and Dudh Kosi.
New tea houses in every town as the number of climbers and trekkers continues
to rise. 1998 is the Visit Nepal year. According to Pemba Norbu, our sirdar,
it is a good thing. I sometimes think we Westerners make judgments about
a culture changing that are not ours to make. Certainly the deforestation
of this valley is a sad, sad happening, and who are we to say the economic
gains made by the tourist trade do not make up for the loss of the Sherpa
culture. I saw a Sherpani carrying a load in shorts today. It was a shock.
There is no right or wrong here. Tradeoffs whose values and consequences
are far beyond my knowledge or even understanding.
The time in the Pangboche Gompa (a gompa is a monastery)
was sweet. Breathing in the Dharma and listening to Pemba tell the story
of Lama Sange Dorje who flew from Tibet and tried to land at Thyangboche
but slid down and came to rest at Pangboche. There is a rock with his
footprint held sacred in the Gompa. Sweet to watch Sonam prostrate himself
3 times in the Buddhist tradition. Didn't have the strong sense
of Jonathan I've had in similar places in the past, just an awareness.
I continue to believe Jonathan's not being around as much is about
my own growth and decreasing neediness rather than a lack of connection.
Even now, everyone nods yes inside me.
Waves of sadness periodically, about the people I miss in
my life: Jonathan, Rob, Gary, Mother, the Dailys. And equal waves of joy
for simply being in this place I so love. And not making it hard! It's
difficult enough as it is, and it's a relief to not have to make
it more or different for me than for the others. I admit to enjoy the
solitude this evening, despite the cold. I have enormous respect and care
for Nola, for her determination, for her strength in returning to the
mountains so soon after her cancer, and we operate very differently in
the world. I welcome her companionship most of the time, and tonight,
I'm enjoying the solitude.
I am , in a way I don't quite understand, reluctant
to go back to the missing days. We found out today that despite our own
difficulties, we made out better than anyone else. Conflicting stories,
and it seems clear that at least one cookboy has died in attempting to
cross the Amphu Lapsa. Pemba says it was one of the KE expedition staff,
and the leader of the Himalayan Expedition group says it was from a group
crossing from this side, and that the body is in Chukkhung. So much conflicting
information.
What we do know is that 87 people were at the base of the
Amphu on the Hongu side and 30 on this side when the storm hit. The KE
group, Wally Berg's group, and probably Al Burgess' group
all turned back and met with resupply at the Mera La, requested by runners
sent for help. Sounds like they pretty much lived on Power Bars for several
days. The Himalayan Kingdom people were the only ones to cross, as they
had the high altitude food they were going to use on Imja Tse. They set
their ropes the day we crossed the Mingbo and then crossed the pass yesterday.
We saw them at lunch today and learned how fortunate we were and how much
worse everyone else had it. Skip's choice to use the Mingbo rather
than the Amphu was more auspicious than we had surmised, and we were very,
very grateful.
Day 19 Dingboche
6:30 am It is snowing - again. A couple of flakes falling as we left dinner
last night but some stars visible, although dimly through light cloud.
Listened to music as I wrote and didn't notice anything when I
went to sleep. didn't sleep well, kind of stuffy and scratchy throat,
and heard the snow start some time before midnight. Still going at 2 and
5 and now. I have decided, we all have decided, to go down.
2:20 Ama Dablam Gardens, Deboche 12,000 feet Clearly an appropriate choice.
It is still snowing with only a short break in the middle of the day.
So we sit in the warmth of the dining room, energy pretty low, rock and
roll on a CD player, some kind of telephone on the wall - the culture
shock begins. Russ is fighting a chest thing, Skip is under the weather
with some bug or another. That's what was up yesterday, apparently
started when he had a bit of beer in Pangboche the night before last.
I choose not to be dragged down in my own energy. The humor is still evident
which is good.
found out in an offhand way from a man from Boulder that John Denver was
killed in a plane crash. It just left me dumbstruck. He has always felt
such a part of me because of his music, and I feel so for Annie and the
kids (Annie was my therapist during my Aspen years.). So very out of the
blue. As much as anything, I am aware of being alone when I get news of
death. Being alone for so many important things, with no one's
shoulder to cry on, no one to process with, grieve with, celebrate with,
whatever with. It, right now, makes the news bigger than it would be at
home where there would be people to share it with, other people who knew
him, to share the sadness and celebrate his life and the joy he brought
to so many people. To talk about how sad that he was still dealing with
alcohol when he died. Just to share it. The best I seem able to do here
is hope someone will notice my tears or sadness and ask about it. That
is closer to old behavior than I want to go and yet I don't feel
comfortable asking for comfort from anyone here. A dilemma that happens
far more often in my life than I would like. And for now, it's
the best I can do. The most appropriate thing to do is go to my tent.
And so I will.
Day 20 Dingboche - Khumjung
11:30 am Just below Thyangboche Sunny, warm, smiling heart. Thyangboche
was full of emotion for me. Jonathan, Rob, Gary, even John Denver. Gary
from a smiling God face, Rob in the Buddha's eyes saying, "It's
time to let go." Jonathan drawing away. A sense of ending. Sadness.
Aloneness, similar to last night, death presence. Not dark, just sad.
Time to be by myself. Tears. As I started down the hill, though, I felt
more whole with each step, my back straightened, my step lightened, I
walked into the wholeness of Margo. It isn't that my guides are
leaving, it's that my need continues to be less as I grow into
wholeness, and they know that more than I do, so they withdraw which can
feel like abandonment until I am ready to embrace the new wholeness. Today
I embrace it fully, and the sadness and fear are gone.
8:20 pm Khumjung 12,500 feet In an open field next to a
potato field where a woman dug potatoes from 2:30 when we arrived til
dark, backbreaking hard work with unceasing rhythm, small potatoes in
one basket, larger in another. It was cloudy enough to not make it worth
photographing. Goraks all around, one hopping almost into the dining tent
to grab a piece of cracker Skip had thrown. Gathering on the big rocks
above us like "The Birds." 3 little boys, maybe 5 or 6,
playing on the rocks with no Mom shouting, "Be careful,"
finding some discarded paper and making paper airplanes. Writing postcards
and chatting with Nathan in the Everest Bakery.
Lovely walk up from lunch, with Ama Dablam and Thamserku,
Khumbila and Kwangde saluting our passage. I like this town - more of
a town town than only a tourist place despite the new 3-story satellite-dished
Khumjung Hotel. Kunde, Khumjung, Namche, and Thame all have 24-hour electricity
for lights and heat, with most of the wiring underground. Only Thame to
Namche has poles, apparently. We'll see that day after tomorrow.
Pemba says some homes here and in Kunde and Khumjung also have TV's.
It's amazing to me. Inevitable, I suppose, given TV was in Lukla
in '93, and still amazing. The next trip will be to somewhere more
remote. Though I must say that ending early is a soft way to begin reentry.
We are definitely winding down, and I am not unhappy about that. It will
be fun to be in Namche. And who knows what changes have happened since
I was here 2 1/2 years ago.
Day 21 Khumjung - Namche Bazaar 12,300 feet
7 pm 3 weeks out today. In some ways feels like longer and in some not
that long. Snowing again this morning. Unbelievable! The weather continues
to defy anything I have known about October in Nepal. Consistently shitty
with only rare exceptions. We've still had only one totally clear
day - that, thank God, for the Mingbo crossing.
It's just after dinner, and I need to vent. I feel
like a pariah because of my cough. I'm embarrassed by it, feel
judged because of it, most of all wish it would go away. It's easy
to plug into the memories of '92. I am not sick now, though. Just
this almost incessant tickle and rasp and scratch in my throat and trachea.
I am neither making it up nor making it worse than it is. That is truth.
There that's better.
Day 22 Namche Bazaar
11 am Sitting in my thermalounger on our terrace 200 feet above the main
village. We all passed on Thame and are enjoying our first rest-day-by-choice
of the trip. It's sunny with just a hint of breeze, enough to have
a little nip. We walked up to the Everest museum and out behind to watch
Chomolungma tease us from behind the clouds. Heard a woman having a conversation
with another woman about which mountain was which and offered to help.
Mentioned I'd been on Everest and was giving a quick version, and
a woman who was part of the same trekking group asked if I'd written
a book. She was all excited to meet me and had her picture taken with
me. She's 63 and climbed Kili in August. It's such a kick
when that happens! Then others interested, writing down the name of the
book. Fun!
7:30 A great afternoon despite a truly wracking cough as
a result of all the smoke and mustiness and incense. Some shopping in
town, than an hour on the patio of the Thame over tea and Fanta, apple
pie and cinnamon rolls, watching the town pass by. It's the festival
of Darsa, and the hugely increased number of Hindi were celebrating. A
group of youngsters with a bad PA system and an odd accordion-ish box
thing were singing and dancing, making their way around town. Did a bit
in front of P.K.'s drawing quite a crowd, when a Tibetan-driven
strong of 8 yaks sent performers and crowd alike hugging the store walls
and display tables. Quite a scene! They just easily started again once
the yaks had passed. Most amusing.
The whole group visited the home of Kamcha, a Sherpa who
did trips with Skip many years ago. Now 65 and 2 years retired, he's
bright and quick with a remarkable memory, remembering little specifics
about long ago trips that even Skip had forgotten. Delightful man. His
wife, Ang Hapka, quite simply twinkles. She welcomed the 8 of us even
though Kamcha was out doing his daily constitutional with prayer wheel
and beads. He arrived after a half hour or so, I greatly enjoyed listening
to Skip and him reminisce. After another half hour Ang Hapka said something
to him with a look that seemed to say, "Now, Dummy." Kamcha
said she wanted to know if we were interested in Tibetan carpets. Several
of us were eager to see them, and she brought out some beautiful rugs,
one of which I bought which has dragons on a blue background that Ang
Hapka had made, herself, 5 years ago from sheep and yak wool brought over
the Nangpa La from Tibet. A sweet time, to be with a Sherpa couple in
their own home, talking with them not as a part of our crew but rather
as friends.
Momos (yummy meat or vegetable stuffed dumplings) at Pemba
and Nima's tea house, watching the action pass by the door, watched
closely by their 2 1/2-year-old niece. I need to get out of this musty,
smoky air! As much as the comfort of the teahouses has been welcome the
last few nights, the air has greatly exacerbated the cough. Only another
day and a half. Today was a sweet day to have at the end of the trip.
Day 23 Namche - Lukla
9:30 pm No rain! My first walk to Lukla without rain. And on the rainiest
trip of all! Long walk, slow uphill after lunch. Supporting Dawa in making
it through his upset stomach. Just taking in the last day in the valley.
Am drinking an orange soda which tastes divine, feeling a sweet sense
of camaraderie with these 9 individuals with whom I've shared so much.
Peter was waiting for us today. A nice reconnection. My last night in
a tent for a while, and I am enjoying it. And it will be good to be in
a bed.
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