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Greetings and Hello (Hola) from Chile everyone!

The gang is all here, everyone has safely arrived and it’s great to have the team back together again.

Today was technically a down or rest day for us after all the long fights, but this team isn’t known for sitting around much. So after a nice breakfast and plenty of coffee and catching up, the group headed out to take in a few sights and make the most of our time here.

First up was an impromptu visit to a local natural Museum, filled with countless skeletons of what seemed like every mammal and bird from Chile.
It was remarkable and the highlight was a massive whale skeleton.

Up next we visited a ship museum with replicas of the Nao Victoria (Magellan’s ship), the HMS Beagle (Darwin’s) and the James Caird (Shackleton’s life raft) that he sailed to South Georgia island on.

It was a beautiful day and the crew throughly enjoyed spending time together once again. We’ve just wrapped up a wonderful dinner and celebrated a team members birthday!

RMI Guide Casey Grom and the 8 amigos!

Friday, February 6, 2026

Rest days at base camp have a funny way of being both quiet and full. Today was about taking care of the little things before we head higher — the kind of things that feel oddly important when you’re about to trade comfort for commitment.

There were showers. Likely the last real ones for a while. Sun hoodies were washed — the one that will be worn for the next nine days. Morale improved accordingly.

Some of us still worked (yes, even on the side of a mountain… thank you, Starlink). We all took a slow walk out into the surrounding landscape, which looks less like Argentina and more like Mars. Red rock, wide silence, and that sense that you’re very far from anywhere else.

We were reminded that taking steps is easy, standing still is hard. Base camp life does that to you.

As the evening settled in, it was the usual mix: friends, a little wine, a lot of laughter, and a growing mental shift toward what comes next. We’re getting ready to climb.

Tomorrow, we head up.

RMI Guide Jess Wedel

P.S. Erika - we are loving the song suggestions! Today we kept it chill and the song of the day was “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger. Felt appropriate.
 

After a windy but restful night, we woke to grand views and the realization that we were truly doing the thing. We were on the trip we had imagined for so long. A delicious breakfast and a strong cup of coffee later, we were ready to hit the trail.

Today began with another traverse along the Paine River, winding through the trees while doing our best to avoid the ever-present branches aimed directly at our eyes, courtesy of that bastard walking just ahead. Eventually, an uphill stretch appeared to wake up the lungs and legs. We welcomed it, even if no one was quite ready to admit that out loud. That’s part of why we do this. Yes, the views are incredible, but earning them through effort makes them that much sweeter.

That climb marks one of the best moments of the day. Somewhere along the way, we cross an invisible threshold, leaving behind the savannah-like terrain and stepping into the Patagonia we all pictured. Sharp peaks rise above us, glaciers cascade down their flanks, and lakes glow with that unmistakable milky blue. The scene is made even better by the outstanding weather we’ve been lucky enough to enjoy so far.

Tonight, we rest at Dickson, my personal favorite camp of the trip. It sits beside a glacial lake fed by the meltwater of the Dickson Glacier. With a bit of luck tomorrow morning, everyone will get to see the glacier in its full grandeur as we walk along the lakeshore after breakfast. It should be quite the treat.

RMI Guide Dominic Cifelli

At the beginning of the trip Anna asked what climb I loved most and why. Immediately I said, the people I am with. This trip was no different. Our team contained inspiring people. Whynde - humble, incredible listener,and supportive, Jesse - cool, calm, and thoughtful, Hannah - our social butterfly, always has good questions, and introspective, Anna - good energy, moral booster, and full of life, Maria - full of knowledge, kindness, and encouragement, Carlos and Allan - our logistics specialists, we couldn’t have done it without you, and lastly our lead guide Ben - el jefe, our fearless leader, keeping our team in good spirits, and making sure each of us were heard. I am grateful to spend this experience with each of you. Until next time, climb on!

RMI Climber Ethan Pickett

This morning I tried to hype the team up. Lobuche and Gorekshep are tough — extraordinarily cold, high altitude, the same food on repeat, frozen toilets. You start to miss home a little more than usual.

The team collectively rated my hype talk. 3/10, room for improvement. But they understood the assignment. We stayed positive, we acknowledged the suffering, and we remembered that we’re all in this together.

So we put on our boots, pulled our buffs up, and got walking. No feeling is final — just because today we feel the weight of it all a little more doesn’t mean tomorrow won’t bring something different. Everest Base Camp is right there. That’s how it goes out here.

To Gorekshep we walked, pulling over every few minutes for the hundreds of yaks returning from EBC. The Khumbu Glacier stretched out to our right, and above it, Nuptse — hanging seracs everywhere you look, black and white rock swirled together like a painting. And then, far in the distance: tiny yellow tents dotting a cold, grey landscape. Base camp.

The clouds rolled in (predictably), and after lunch we decided to skip the hike up to Kala Patthar. Better to stay dry, stay warm, and save all we have for the bigger goals ahead.

This afternoon we’re buried in every layer of down we brought. Cards are shuffling next to me as I write this. Tonight: Word Salad — acting out words and matching them, at 17,000 feet, with brains running on less oxygen than they’re used to. It’s going to be beautifully chaotic.

We cannot wait to reach base camp tomorrow. Two nights there, some ice and glacier training on the Khumbu — it’s always a highlight.

Fair warning: there’s a good chance we’ll lose wifi and cell service for the two nights at base camp. If the dispatches go quiet, don’t worry — and if you haven’t heard from your person, that’s why. We’re good.

Here’s to keeping the dream alive and embracing the suck — a motto that’s earning its keep out here.

RMI Guide Jess Wedel and the team

Today was a shorter day. We woke to the sun painting the sky pink and the wind once again turning our hair into something resembling Gene Wilder on a bad day. The views made up for it, though, and the same wind did us a favor by keeping the mosquitoes away everywhere except inside our tents. These damn things know where we sleep. 

Before hitting the trail we headed down to the beach to get another look at the glacier we had been gawking at the day before. A few splash zone experiences from the waves and a few group pics later, we were on our way. A steady climb brought us to a vantage point with two competing views: the Dickson Glacier behind us and the valley ahead that leads to tomorrow’s crux, John Garner Pass.

Tomorrow we will be up dark and early for our final day before transitioning from the O portion to the W portion of the trek. For now, we eat some cake and drink some wine to celebrate yet another birthday!! Happy Birthday, Catherine!! Wish us luck.

RMI Guide Dominic Cifelli 

PC: Dominic Cifelli

Some days on the trail just go right. Today was one of those days.

We left Namche this morning under blue skies which felt like such a plot twist from yesterday’s weather. Fresh snow coated everything — the mani stones, the prayer flags, the rhododendron forests — and the whole valley looked like someone had hit reset. It was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful days I’ve had in the Khumbu.

The trail wound up through snow-loaded trees, where every branch is bowed just a little too low and you’re basically walking through a tunnel of white. We stopped for tea but mostly just to stare up at all the great peaks.

At one point the sun pushed through a thin veil of clouds and threw a perfect halo around itself above the holy mountain, Thamserku.

We descended to the river and then began a big climb after lunch to Tengboche — one of the most sacred and ancient monasteries in the Khumbu. We were lucky enough to receive a blessing inside. White katas draped around our necks and sundis from a lama. It’s a hard thing to describe, standing in that space with this group, on this journey. Let’s just say nobody was in a hurry to leave.

Tonight we’re sleeping at a tea house called Rivendell, which feels on point for where we are in this adventure.

The Khumbu keeps delivering.

—  RMI Guide Jess Wedel and the team

Tashi Delek!

The ordering of everyday life has officially been left behind. We’re in our new routine now, wake up, pack duffels, breakfast, dance break, hit the trail.

Nobody blinked when apple pie appeared on the breakfast table alongside eggs in various configurations. Mostly because last night we realized how good it was and decided why not also have it for breakfast. This is just how life works now. We are different people here — pie for breakfast kind of people.

We woke to clear skies and fresh snow on the ground. A few more inches had fallen overnight. It’s the rhythm of this trip: crisp, exquisite mornings that feel like a gift, then clouds and snow rolling in by afternoon. We’ll take it.

Today’s stretch through Pangboche to Pheriche is many people’s favorite of the whole trek, and it’s easy to see why. Ama Dablam dominated the skyline for most of the day, impossibly photogenic from every angle. Higher up, the jet stream tore visibly off the summits of Everest and Lhotse — a reminder that those peaks operate in a different atmosphere entirely.

We’re sleeping at 14,000 feet tonight, and the mountains still tower above us. The scale simply does not compute.

We also shared the trail with yaks today. Train after train of them, loaded with gear bound for Base Camp, completely unbothered by us and entirely uninterested in moving over. They are majestic and slightly chaotic and have the most curious and intimidating eyes. Love them.

We’re all cozied up for two nights in Pheriche. The snow has predictably arrived and we’re currently in a cloud where we can’t see 3 feet in front of us. But it’s not a problem because the stove is on in the dining room and we’re about to play approximately one million rounds of “22,” our favorite card game at the moment. Dinner and sleep await.

—  RMI Guide Jess Wedel and the team

Rain? What the heck is this? Yesterday was supposed to be our rainy day, yet we woke to a beautiful sunrise followed by, somehow, more rain. Begrudgingly, we pulled on rain jackets, pack covers, and zipped every zipper we had. Right on cue, the rain stopped and the sun came out. Of course it did.

The hike from Paine Grande is incredible. As the trail unfolds, you start catching glimpses into the French Valley, where massive cliffs rise straight out of the landscape and hanging glaciers loom quietly above. Every so often, the view pulls your attention the other way, toward the unreal light blue water of the lake below. It feels almost distracting in the best possible way, a constant reminder of just how special this place is and how fortunate we have been with the weather.

We continued up the French Valley to the first lookout, lingering as icefalls calved off the glaciers with deep, echoing crashes. Condors drifted overhead, six of them by our count, likely drawn in by our collective aroma more than the scenery. It is hard to imagine a better place to sit, eat a sandwich, and take it all in.

From there, we descended and followed the shoreline of Lago Nordenskjöld, an extremely Chilean sounding lake, until reaching our final camp of the journey at Cuernos. A lakeside refugio with unforgettable views and even better company.

This trip has officially been the best weather I have ever had. We are lucky, no doubt about it, and tomorrow we are looking forward to real beds in Puerto Natales.

RMI Guide Dominic Cifelli 

Hello from Pangboche.

I’m writing this from a tea house window watching snow fall on the valley below, which feels like the appropriate punctuation to a trip that has given us weather in every form except usually the one we actually wanted.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, the mountains gave us a gift.

Summit day was the most sun we’ve seen this entire trip. No wind. Perfect snow conditions — more coverage on the upper mountain than our Sherpa guide team has seen in years, which turned the typical steep, slabby rock into a beautiful snow climb. We got extraordinarily lucky, and we knew it.

We left high camp just after 3:00 a.m., headlamps on, the dark enormous around us. Seven and a half hours later, the team stood on the summit of Lobuche.

What happened in between is harder to put into words.

Hard things are hard. I know — profound. A quote we’ve joked about but actually hits. There’s something that happens on a mountain at altitude, in the dark, with steep terrain above you and your legs already tired, where that simple truth becomes the whole truth. The technical sections near the top demanded everything. Every step deliberate, every breath rationed. And I’ll be honest: I did not stop talking. Probably to a degree that could be classified as unhinged. “You’ve got this.” “Dig deep.” “Keep moving.” “You’ve got this.” If any of my team is reading this — I’m only slightly sorry.

What I watched in return was something I don’t take for granted, no matter how many times I get to see it. People tapping into strength they didn’t know they had. Facing real fear — of heights, of the unknown, of their own limits — and stepping forward anyway. Tears behind glasses. Shaking legs that kept moving. At one point I looked up through the thin air and saw a climber moving through steep, challenging terrain with a power and grace that stopped me. Elegant and strong in exactly the moment it was hardest to be either.

That’s what this mountain asks for. That’s what this team gave.

By summit, every one of us was running on fumes — the kind of tired that lives in your bones and doesn’t apologize. The Khumbu cough we’d somehow dodged the entire trip? Consider it found. Turns out all it needed was one very long, very hard day at altitude to make its entrance. Worth it. Completely worth it.

We returned to high camp, celebrated, and slept the deep sleep of people who had earned it.

Today we descended to Pangboche, where it is snowing (of course it is) and where I am sitting warm and still and deeply grateful.

To the families reading this: your people were extraordinary. They showed up, they dug deep, and they stood on top of a very big mountain in the Himalayas. More heart and courage on this team than I’ve seen in a long time.

Everyone is safe, everyone is proud, and everyone is very ready for a hot shower.

And we’re very, very glad to be sleeping below 14,000ft for the first time in 8 days.

RMI Guide Jess Wedel and the Lobuche team