Entries from Expedition Dispatches
Greetings from Everest Basecamp! I still have to pinch myself to make sure I'm really here. To come here and climb has been a longtime dream for me, but it's only been the last four or five years that I thought it would be possible. I never really imagined I'd be doing so as a part of this amazing team.
For me personally, this couldn't be a better opportunity. I get to pester Ed Viesturs with pretty much any question I want about climbing in the Himalaya, and learn how to guide these peaks from Dave Hahn. I can't really see me ever having access to this kind of brain trust again in my guiding career. To add that in with climbing in gear that we have all helped develop from the ground up makes this truly a once-in-a-lifetime trip.
It was just over a year ago that I was doing a normal guiding rotation at RMI. For me, that has meant starting in May on Rainier, then heading to Alaska to work on Denali then back to Rainier until August, then I head over to Africa to guide on Kilimanjaro. When my boss Peter Whittaker invited me to be a part of this team, I had no idea what it would lead to, yet here I am at Everest Base Camp getting ready to head into the Western Cwm.
This is our third day in base camp and I'm still trying to judge the scale of the mountains here. I'm used to the feeling of getting my bearings in an unfamiliar mountain range. It's one of the best parts of climbing somewhere new. With no trees or buildings or anything familiar to give you reference, you can get vertigo trying to approximate distances or elevations. Typically, the novice will underestimate distances drastically. I've spent enough time in the mountains though to have a healthy respect for this trickery.
The difference here is that there is no grander scale. When I first saw Everest from Namche Bazaar, I couldn't believe how big it was or how far away we still were. Now that we're closer and the satellite peaks of the Everest massif block the summit from view, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't even more intimidated.
But if there's one thing I've learned over the years from all of my mentors and climbing partners, it's how to tackle big objectives. In a sense, this one is no different... wait, what am I saying?! It is different. It's the biggest mountain in the world. Step by step, that's how we'll do it. With a healthy respect for the mountain.
In a few days, we'll head into the icefall for our first real physical test of the trip. I'm really psyched to put the boots on and get the crampons and ice axe out. My job on this trip is really just getting started. I can't wait to get going.
We looked like a totally different crew at breakfast this morning. Part of that was because it was still slightly dark when we had breakfast today... we were up early for Icefall training. But when the light happened to hit a face here and there, it showed freshly shaved mugs and clean, fluffy hair. We neatened up yesterday afternoon, testing the shower.
When I first began coming to Everest, in 1991, we wouldn't have dreamed of such an extravagance. Or perhaps back then, we simply thought seventy days of grubbiness was required to properly test a summit wannabe. We all wanted to be Everest "hardmen" in the classic mold. Or maybe with some classic mold. Nowadays, of course, it is clear that we can't possibly measure up to the legends of the Everest game by accumulating filth. Cleanliness is in. And besides, it just doesn't seem all that difficult anymore to set aside one propane tank for an on-demand heater connected to a barrel full of water attached to a tiny electric pump, which all results in a hot stream of water coming out of a showerhead near the top of a tent built for such a purpose.
Our clean team walked out of camp this morning at 6 AM. Ten minutes later, we'd stepped into crampons and were trudging up and over ice rolls and ridges, bound for the start of the climbing route. Our Sherpa team had beaten us to it, having rolled out of camp at 4:30 AM. Seven of them fired up the newly established Icefall route to establish our Camp I at around 19,900 ft. Two more, Tschering and Mingma, went to CI but then continued on all the way up the Western Cwm, claiming some prime real estate up there at 21,300 ft for our Advanced Basecamp (aka ABC, aka CII, aka "Tschering and Mingma kicked butt"). The rest of us contented ourselves with a good stretch of the legs, climbing 90 minutes out of camp to reach the first ladders and fixed ropes, which we practiced on for a bit before returning. It was a good reminder for all that we are new to these altitudes and that it is cold out on the glacier before the sun hits. But nearly everybody came down jazzed and excited to get after the rest of the Khumbu Icefall in the coming days. The Icefall is an intimidating place, but it is also quite beautiful in the early morning light.
Resting up this afternoon, we watched as a number of teams pulled into basecamp. Within a few days, the gang will all be here, but for today we were happy to see the Alpine Ascents team pull in with a bunch of guides we've all worked alongside of for years. IMG got here before us, and they are just a stone's throw away with a bunch more of our friends. Russell Brice came through camp yesterday and reported that his big HimEx team is doing well in their slightly separate basecamp twenty minutes down the trail. There have been a few sightings of the Benegas brothers, Willie and Damian and it will be fun to connect up with them again for some milk tea. Henry Todd is rumored to be on the approach. The season is on and all the usual suspects are gathering.
The clouds blew in the right direction today. In fact, everything lined up just right in most ways today. It was an auspicious day... so judged by our Sherpa team after a careful reading of the Tibetan calendar. Auspicious enough that our Puja ceremony was held today. Doubly Auspicious because it was Easter Sunday. Thrice Auspicious because it was the nicest day we've had in a week.
Peter Whittaker revealed that he'd stayed up last night with a few of the Sherpa team in the kitchen to decorate Easter eggs. Not so surprisingly, the Sherpas had not gone through that particular ritual before and Peter said they fully got into the task, coloring boiled eggs and attaching bright stickers. They were excited at the convergence of Easter, the planned Puja and a Sunday to boot. Peter kept all of this to himself and arose at 5 AM to hop down the bunny trail to his partners' tents and quietly salt the area with Easter eggs. He said he was surprised to run into another rabbit out there secretly doing the same thing. Linden Mallory had his own egg planting plans for the morning and was busily hiding colored plastic eggs with prizes within.
After breakfast and before the Puja began, the team (those who had not been bunnies) chased around searching for eggs. Jeff Martin and Linden made things interesting by mentioning that two of the eggs held special prizes. Ed Viesturs quickly tracked down the one that granted its discoverer the free drink of his choice from Gorak Shep. It took Seth Waterfall a bit longer to hone in on the bright blue egg that held the $20 cash prize.
And then it was Puja time. The Puja is a ceremony quite important to our Sherpa team, and thus to us as well. In it, we ask the blessing of the mountain gods before setting foot on this sacred -and dangerous- mountain. A lama came up from Pangboche in order to read the correct prayers and chants. Our Sherpa team had worked throughout the morning to prepare a stone chorten as a sort of alter for the ceremony. Incense and juniper were lit as a way of sending fragrant smoke upward in offering. Partway through the three hour observance, a prayer mast was erected and flags unfurled in all directions. Our First Ascent team sat drinking tea and taking pictures of the colorful scene... but also contemplating the seriousness of an undertaking that requires so much blessing. The latter stages of the Puja involve a good deal of celebrating and toasting and tossing of rice. Finally, everybody grabs a big handful of Tsampa (barley flour) and tosses half of it in the air while saving half to smear on the faces of ones climbing partners. As you'd expect, this gets out of hand... and into hair, cameras, eyes, ears and everything as one and all laugh, shake hands and fist bump.
Our Sherpa team then invited us to join them in linking arms for a last half hour of carefree dancing and singing. We sang along and nobody seemed to mind that we didn't know either the words or the dance steps.
The word is that the last 200 meters or so of the route to Camp I are giving the Icefall Doctors a special challenge. We are hoping each day now to hear that they've forged some sort of passage. Tomorrow we resume our training at the foot of the Icefall. We'll be rested, blessed and ready.
The clouds were blowing the wrong way today. From East to West is somewhat uncommon during the normal pre-monsoon climbing season. But oh well, it was an enjoyable day in any case. The morning chill didn't last long at all, it was nearly t-shirt weather by the time we'd finished breakfast and the several inches of snow which had fallen in recent days began to melt fast.
Tents are going up all around us now as more and more teams show up on the scene. Our nearest neighbors are Korean and Danish. The Koreans have a neat tradition of conducting group calisthenics each morning just before the sun hits the camp. Today I felt quite lazy and antisocial, sipping my morning coffee and listening to the BBC in a big down coat while watching the Koreans bond and stretch. Our First Ascent team did a little bonding and stretching today as well, but at a much more civilized hour. At ten in the morning we all marched for 10 minutes over to a little obstacle course of ladders and ice towers for some practice at rigging up and staying safe. We've got our sights set on the Khumbu Icefall now as the next big goal - the Icefall Doctors are close to having the route complete as far as Camp I and it won't be long before we are moving along and up through their maze of ladders and ropes. But we'll ease into that. The route through the Khumbu is unlike any other climbing route in the world. Great technical climbers and glacier travel experts from elsewhere will not have seen anything like this before. And such is the case within our team. Practice in walking ladders with crampons and protecting ourselves by properly clipping into fixed ropes is a good thing. When one gets to a real passage through the Icefall, one must be fast and efficient at all of this, so today we repeatedly crossed a ladder just a few feet off the ground. And then we tilted it up and crossed at forty-five degrees. Finally we tried a little vertical stretch with the ladder, all the time enabling to protect ourselves against a fall (or a collapse of the ladder) by smartly attaching ourselves to safety lines. As expected, it was a blast to finally be walking on snow with an axe in hand. Everybody seemed a little excited to kick crampon points into ice or to pull on a rope or two. It felt like climbing.
After lunch, Erica and I suited up again for an afternoon glacier tour. Just for an hour, since we didn't want to overdo the exercise at this still new altitude, we tramped around on the glacier away from tents and people (and well below the icefall). We stomped up and down little walls and explored corridors within the folds of the glacier. I took Erica to a few of the places I'd marked in my GPS over the years where I'd found oddball souvenirs like busted wooden ice-axes and oxygen bottles marking the basecamps used for the original attempts on this side of Mount Everest. I was startled by the changes in the glacial surface over the course of just one year. My first trip to this side of the mountain was in the year 2000 and over the past nine years I'd gotten familiar with a number of landmarks... boulders, ice ridges and towers that stayed more or less the same, streams of water on and within the ice that tended to form up each season and follow roughly the same course, that sort of thing. But this time, Erica saw me shaking my head a lot and turning my GPS this way and that (which doesn't actually help much with a GPS, by the way) because everything seemed radically different. Large, flat, frozen ponds sit where ice ridges had thrust up sixty and seventy feet previously. New stream courses seem to be everywhere and the formerly orderly flank of the medial moraine we all camped on for years is unrecognizable. I can only assume that a massive volume of ice has disappeared from the glacier due to melt in the past year.
Erica and I came back into camp. She headed for the afternoon round of "Dirty Clubs" a mysterious card game that Gerry Moffatt inflicted on the team during the trek. No money changes hands, but the daily losers have to perform all manner of humiliating public stunts. I made the rounds, admiring the organizational work that basecamp managers Jeff Martin and Linden Mallory have been accomplishing while we played on the glacier. The Eddie Bauer, First Ascent/Rainier Mountaineering Inc. Basecamp is shaping up. The word is that the hot shower may be operational by tomorrow.
Now there is still enough time for a quick nap before dinner... except the light is just getting good and small avalanches keep crashing down off of the West Shoulder, Lho La and Nuptse, forcing me to keep scrambling out of my tent to watch. So much to do...
We survived the first night without a roof over our heads. Quite comfortably, by all accounts. There were no dogs barking in the night, no heavy boots clunking down wooden hallways to latrines, none of the endless coughing fits coming through the thin walls of trekking houses. Instead, we had easy breezes, the quiet rustle of comfy down sleeping bags and moonlight coming through our tent ceilings. Oh yeah, and occasionally the violent thunder of avalanches... but that didn't truly bother us. We know we've picked a safe place for basecamp far enough from the vertical walls of this enclosed valley.
The day has been spent sorting gear, talking over plans, napping, reading, eating and getting to know our Sherpa teammates. We've got great strength and experience in our Sherpa team, and we'll depend mightily on them during this trip. I'm not aware of any team attempting the mountain this season that won't be reliant on Sherpa help. Some may claim to be going with minimal support, but they will still be heavily dependent on the Sherpas who fix the route through the Khumbu Icefall, to say nothing of the route above. This is not to say that, of the many talented non-Nepalese climbers assembled here at the foot of the hill, none would be capable of climbing the mountain without Sherpa aid, but the simple fact is that such climbs are not attempted in this day and age on this route on this mountain.
There is often confusion among those not versed in Himalayan climbing as to who Sherpas are and what their various jobs may be. I'm often unnerved back home to hear people say, while hiking or working hard, that they'd sure like to have a Sherpa along to carry their pack or to do their digging. Such comments are usually made in jest and are probably for my benefit when folks know that I have spent time in Nepal and Tibet. Nevertheless, they tend to sell the real Sherpa people short.
Referring to someone as "Sherpa" is to say that they are from a tribe of mountain people in a specific region of Nepal. It is not a job designation. It doesn't simply mean "porter" and it definitely doesn't mean "servant." Early on, when the pioneering Himalayan expeditions were discovering the amazing work ethic common to the Sherpa culture, these men were trained as high-altitude load carriers. But almost from the start, there were plenty of individuals -notably Tenzing Norgay who excelled at the art of climbing, who eagerly grasped its strategies, and who exhibited just as much ambition to reach summits as any Westerner.
By this 2009 Everest season, one cannot correctly make more than a few broad generalizations about who the Sherpas are on this mountain. Many may still be farmers the rest of the year... many may still fulfill the simple yet essential role of high-altitude porter... but then there will also be a fair number of excellent mountain climbers with superior strength and skill on rock and ice who are being counted on to guide individuals and lead expeditions. Some will struggle with English, but will then surprise the heck out of you when they turn out to speak French, Korean and Japanese just fine. Some will never have been out of these valleys, but increasingly others will turn out to have traveled the world; to be putting their kids through college in Canada, India or the U.S., to be web-savvy, literate and politically astute.
Away from the Himalaya, the assertion is often made (by people who, I feel sure, mean to honor this group of climbers) that Sherpas are universally strong and across-the-board gifted with a physiology that makes high-altitude climbing a snap. True, many Sherpas have less trouble acclimatizing than those who visit these mountains from elsewhere, but it probably does Sherpas more honor to recognize their limitations than any perceived inherent advantages. They don't live on Mount Everest. The highest commonly inhabited villages are usually only around 12,000 ft to 14,000 ft in elevation. They don't have three lungs and two hearts... or any other crazy adaptation that makes climbing easy. The really humbling thing for me is to realize that my Sherpa partners are working just as hard as I am when we are clawing our way up some slope in difficult conditions with heavy packs. That climbing is difficult for them -not easy- and that they go out to do it anyway, day after day without whining, indeed while smiling and laughing. It isn't just what we see on the mountain either. For a bunch of days we walked through rough farmland where every single rock was neatly in place, where fields were endlessly being tended to, where houses were simple but always in good repair. The work ethic was obvious, uncommon and admirable.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not implying that the First Ascent team will be on holiday here. When the Sherpas we're partnering with cook and carry water and hack out tent platforms from the Lhotse Face and fix rope and get hard work done in dangerous conditions, sometimes we'll be right alongside them. And sometimes they'll be doing it while we rest or get other jobs done. And obviously the Sherpas won't be doing it for free. Money is a huge motivator in this part of the world, and expedition work turns out to produce some of the best opportunities in all of Nepal. But money doesn't adequately explain the smiles and the warmth and the friendship that our Sherpa partners will share with us on this trip. We'll try to be worthy of that friendship.
Here's a little look behind the scenes at how these dispatches are shot, edited and transmitted.
Coming into the teahouse dining room this morning under low, cloudy skies with a trace of new snow on the ground, it was obvious that we were each ready to be finished with trekking. Enough of the team was battling sniffles or tummy troubles that we were all getting borderline paranoid about sharing germs with so many others in these common spaces. We were ready to make it to our own basecamp and our own dining tent... we were anxious to meet our Sherpa climbing team and get started on a big climbing project.
But for all of our restlessness, Gorak Shep hadn't been that bad a place for our team. A number of us hiked up Kalapathar yesterday evening in order to catch the sunset. In contrast to the ample daytime traffic for this sought-after destination, by 5 PM there was only a handful of folk left on the hill and these were hurrying down while we strolled up. The afternoon had been cloudy with periodic snow showers, but the higher we got, the more the clouds fell away from Everest and Nuptse and Pumori. We took picture after picture as the light changed and then trotted down in the dark when it had all been expended.
We joined the flow of traffic around 8:30 this morning for what we knew would be a relatively short and easy climb into basecamp. The low cloud seemed to muffle sound and it was almost a relief to have our field of vision minimized so that we could concentrate on walking instead of gawking at the great peaks. Our path was, at first, along the rock and dirt of the lateral moraine and then finally we dropped down onto the glacial surface itself for the last half hour into camp. We passed plenty of fully dedicated trekkers, bent over and gasping for breath and I was reminded of how much importance is placed, by so many, in simply getting to Everest Basecamp, with no thought whatsoever of climbing the mountains above. I felt a little sympathy over the diminished views for these folks, but then the clouds began to break and lift as we reached the first tents. By the time we marched into our own camp, we could see plenty, including the rough and intimidating Khumbu Icefall stretching up toward the Western Cwm.
We could also see that our Sherpa team had been hard at work in preparing our camp. We greeted them, as well as Ed Viesturs, Jeff Martin and Linden Mallory who'd come ahead yesterday to help get things in order. We wrestled with duffle bags for a time and moved into neat and new First Ascent tents. I made a quick exploration of a few of the surrounding camps to say hello to old friends but then I hurried back to my own camp for a lunch with my team. We strategized a bit and laid out a few of the normal ground rules that make living so closely for so long, not only possible but enjoyable. Then we gathered outside with the entire team, including basecamp personnel and climbing Sherpas and then each person introduced themselves and said a few words. Some of us chuckled to hear the casual delivery the older veteran climbers gave to their extensive resumes. It is funny to realize that we are in a place where someone might just forget to mention that time they climbed K2 or Ama Dablam or Kangchenjunga. Peter Whittaker reminded one and all that our top priority on this trip would be safety- for which he got plenty of agreeing and understanding nods in return.
Then it got cloudy and a bit snowy again as most took the opportunity for a quick nap. I enjoyed scattering my junk in my own tent and plopping down in the middle of it all, drifting off to the thunder of avalanches as the glaciers around BC pushed one railroad-car-sized chunk after another over great drop-offs. We are in the midst of a crazy tapestry of tents and boulders. At any given time, one can hear cooks chopping veggies, shovels scraping gravel, rocks being moved from place to place, a few tinny FM radios playing Nepali music and an occasional live voice breaking into song. As peculiar as it may sound, this already feels like home and I have to make myself remember that I was anywhere else for the past ten months.
No sooner had I proclaimed a "season of no snow" than it got busy snowing. About three or four inches our first night at Lobuche and then another two inches yesterday afternoon. Both days were sunny to start and then gave way to big dark cumulus clouds with thunder and lightning to finish. The snow hasn't made the walking any more difficult for those of us with ski poles, boots and gaiters. The ultra-bright new snow surface, combined with intense high-altitude sunshine, can be hard on uncovered skin or eyeballs, but all of us are taking great care in those departments.
New snow down in these parts doesn't necessarily mean that the upper reaches of the big peaks are getting it, but one can hope. There isn't much question in my mind that the normal Nepalese route to the top of Mount Everest is easier and safer with ample snow cover. Particularly if it will be a busy and "crowded" season as this one shows every sign of being, then it will be best to have the loose rock covered with snow and frozen firmly in place. We can worry about such things more in a month or so. For now though, I won't mind if it snows each afternoon.
These last days on the trail have been extremely busy and congested, not quite like Interstate 5 through Seattle, but busy as heck with foot traffic nonetheless. Much of the Khumbu Valley is focused -in these weeks- on the Everest business, and as we come within a day or two of the mountain, all of that "traffic" becomes concentrated on a single segment of trail. Our expedition is one of perhaps thirty trying to move tons of gear by porter and yak-train to the head of the valley right now. Additionally, numerous and large trekking groups along with Everest climbing teams are all on the same trail and in the same few teahouses now. That isn't all a bad thing. Last night, the dining room of our Lobuche teahouse felt something like a school reunion for me, what with Scottish David Hamilton -the leader of the Adventure Consultants team- showing up. I'd last seen him in December in Antarctica. Ang Dorje, who has been living with his family in Eastern Washington and building wind turbine towers since I last saw him on Everest, was in the room. So was Austrian Walter Laserer, who was skiing around the upper reaches of Alaska's Kahiltna Glacier when I bumped into him in July. There was Lobsang, who'd led a trek I was on in the year 2000. Passang, who'd led the Hillary Step and been key to my tagging the top in October of 2006, was over standing by the stove.
Yesterday, I accompanied Ed Dohring on a round-trip hike from Lobuche to Basecamp. His GPS calculated that we moved over 11 miles in the process, and we did it in pretty good time, considering that we stopped nearly every 200 feet for me to say hi to another friend or acquaintance from the mountains. It can be a lot of fun, but at times it can be overwhelming to meet casually and between yak horns and tails for a moment with a climber or Sherpa that I've shared life-shaping expeditions with. Ed Dohring is now on his way home, as was planned all along. We finished his trip with that exploration of Basecamp, which is already quite impressive with tents popping up in every direction. While there, we sat outside eating plates of rice (our Sherpa team already has things up and running and ready for the team's arrival tomorrow) and gazing up at the jumble of the Khumbu Icefall. We could see the Icefall Doctors pushing the route of ladders and rope in the upper "popcorn" section, perhaps a third of the way through the Icefall. We dropped back down to Lobuche in the swirling snows and rejoined the team for a last night together. Ed and Erica said goodbye to each other this morning, as he left for Namche and we left for Gorak Shep.
A gorak is a big black bird that lives up high, a lot like a raven. Gorak Shep then translates to "dead raven," which doesn't truly do the place justice. Or maybe it does. Not much of a "town" up here in this large, sandy, dusty flat spot on the lateral moraines of the Khumbu. The place is important to trekkers, as it is the jumping off point for the short hike up Kalapathar. KP -at around 18,500 ft- is the lowest part of a ridge which merges into steep and sharp Pumori, and when one finishes hiking all of that ridge that can be hiked without specialized tools, one can get a big and famous view of Everest, Lhotse and Nuptse. Or... one can go to an internet cafe... at 17,000 feet and 25 rupees per minute... the web is in the Shep.
Our team is spending a final night on the trek. Tomorrow we'll go into Everest Basecamp and begin focusing more on the climb.
Woke this morning to four inches of new snow. It was full on snowing when we went to bed last night and Viesturs and I, like expectant little kids, peered out the window to see how much had fallen. Lobuche had turned into a winter wonderland overnight. Nonetheless, at 16,200' the sun is quite powerful, and by late morning the temperatures were balmy, with some of the porters staging snowball fights!
After breakfast, we received a bit of disheartening news that 22 of our expedition loads are still in Katmandu. We were under the assumption that just four were there and that the rest were on their way to Base Camp. After a morning powwow, we decided to send Linden Mallory (Base Camp manager) up to Base to get a physical count of bags and inventory what was there. Our agenda does not have us occupying Base Camp for two more days, but we must have adequate gear and equipment to make our move up. We should be OK but we'll know more tomorrow.
The team is firing on all cylinders. It is an honor to be a part of such an accomplished group of climbers. We have a wealth of mountain experience and knowledge starting with Viesturs and Hahn, with 16 Everest summits between them. Our climbing team will function the same way we do on Rainier when we are stacked heavy with experienced guides. Though there is an expedition leader and climbing leaders, all team members share in the decision-making process. Our production team rocks as well, as Gerry Moffatt and Jake Norton have both stood on top of the "Big E." This is a talented team, deep on experience.
Now, with a little luck our Katmandu bags will find their way up the Khumbu to Base Camp and we can put our team's mountain experience to work.
Uh-oh, it is beginning to snow again outside...
We are in a routine... hitting our stride and finding a groove. It felt perfectly normal to wake up at 14,000 ft., pack the bags, guzzle the hot drinks, look each other in the eye for signs of a rough night due to tummy or altitude trouble, fight over who-ordered-what, eat breakfast and hit the trail in the midst of gargantuan mountains and outrageous vistas.
The trek to Lobuche began as an easy stroll up the broad valley that Pheriche sits in. Tawoche and Cholatse seemed to grow bigger and steeper, forming an impenetrable wall to our left. Pocalde and its many rock summits formed a corresponding barrier on our right. We merged into the flow of yak and trekker traffic for a time until the route steepened and narrowed. At that point, we began to pass numerous teams and individuals stopping to catch their breath. Rather than giving in to the temptation to pause every few steps, I urged Erica to treat the hills we were climbing as prep for the Khumbu Icefall. We certainly won't have the option there to pause in dangerous places just because our legs and lungs get tired. Erica has climbed a few good mountains and she understood the challenge I was putting to her. It was time for us to distinguish ourselves from trekkers and walkers and hikers, and to operate more like mountain climbers. Mountain climbers who actually would not have too many more practice stretches before things get serious above basecamp.
The rest of our own team was on about the same game plan. We gathered to check on one another at Thukla... or Dhukla, as you may prefer. In fact, the sign there says "Thukla+Dhukla." At any rate, there are just two teahouses at Dhukla and we sat outside one, sipping hot lemon drinks and chatting with some of the folks we've shared the trail with for several days. There are gigantic hills of rough rock piled near Dhukla, which are actually the terminal moraine of the Khumbu Glacier. After our break, as we climbed up a long and steady hill to 16,000 ft., we were finding our way to the lateral moraines of the Khumbu... the glacier that will essentially be our home for the next seven weeks. We came out onto level ground at Thok La, a pass of some significance and reverence for climbers. There are dozens of stone monuments, or chortens, at Thok La for dead climbing partners... fathers... brothers... sons, teammates and friends. Some of the chortens are elaborate, with engraved and polished brass. Others have chiseled stone tablets eroded and difficult to read after decades in the wind and driven snow. Some are for famous Western climbers, some are for anonymous Sherpas. It always seems appropriate to pause at Thok La in order to walk among the chortens and to appreciate the dangers we will subject ourselves to. And for some of us, it is an important chance to remember friends who didn't make it home.
Thok La is also a natural boundary between the inhabited valleys below and the vast and marginally hospitable world of rock and ice above. It took our team no more than an hour to cover the easy ground into Lobuche from the pass. The trail followed a stream which, I explained to those around me, would normally be a sizable frozen flow at this time of year. I was struck by how little water was in the stream. There was virtually no ice and no snow on the hills forming the moraine. Just as many Sherpas had already explained, the winter was strangely devoid of precipitation and we were seeing confirmation of that. We'd lost our view of several of the familiar peaks of the past week, but we'd gained unimpeded vistas of new and important ones. Pumori, Lingtren and Khumbutse, which tower over Everest Basecamp, only two short days' walk away. And Changtse, Everest's north peak, was visible over in Tibet. The Lobuche Peaks (East and West) crowd the immediate view to the west now and Nuptse's crazy spiderweb wall of dikes fills the east.
We are in yet another comfy teahouse, the "Eco Lodge," unpacking a few bags and getting settled for two nights and some more of that good old-fashioned acclimatization. The afternoon clouds have come over and it seems a good time for a nap.
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