At the so-called world’s deadliest airport, exhausted trekkers are peeking out of the window nervously, waiting for their plane to land. I stared at my boarding pass and let my emotions flood in, pondering over how the past three weeks in the Himalayas changed me.
I know the difficulty of my expedition can’t remotely compare to those of other mountaineers, but it was one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences for me. The exhaustion, pain, panic, anxiety, and self-doubt accompanied me every moment throughout the trail, but the laughter, appreciation, and fulfillment stayed with me longer.
My words are too limited and plain to describe this journey, but I tried to write it down anyways.
Part I: Anticipation
Part II: Excitement
Part III: Struggle
Part IV: Summit
Part V: Adaptation
Part VI: Reflection
I traveled to the Himalayas to find myself, but I ended up lost in the wild, literally and figuratively, physically and emotionally. But they say that you have to lose yourself first to find yourself, so hopefully, I was off to the right start.
Part I: Anticipation
Shanghai – Kathmandu
Altitude: Sea level – 1400m
“Due to airport congestion, our plane won’t be landing for another hour or so.” Said our caption. “We apologize for the delay.”
As my plane circled above Kathmandu, I looked out of the window to catch a glimpse of the Himalaya’s peaks revealed from the cloud and wondered which one I would be climbing.
Kathmandu is chaotic and messy. My eyes were overwhelmed by the aftermath of the 2015 earthquake; my mouth was attacked by the dust in the air and my ears were bombarded by the noisy streets. I wasn’t annoyed by this sensory overload, instead, I felt so alive.
I checked into Hotel Marshyangdi and dumped my two backpacks on the floor. My shoulders were already sour from carrying them for barely 15 minutes, how am I going to climb 6120 m with these giants? But I was too excited to worry about it, I logged on to Facebook and sent a message to our group.
“My flight was delayed but I am finally here! Anyone up for a drink?”
The Team
There were four of us on this team. Amongst them all, I had only met Mal. He was my mountaineering guide in Antarctica. Although it was a short and easy trip, the clarity of objective and profound trust of mountaineering stayed with me ever since. So when I prepared to quit my job, I contacted Mal for mountaineering courses. And here I was – despite my zero experience in long-distance trekking, high altitude, or climbing – getting ready to submit a 6120m peak. I had known nothing about my other two team members Amanda and Erika except their Facebook profiles. They all looked very outdoorsy and sportive, I prayed I wouldn’t fall too far behind.
We would be spending the next three weeks in the lonely mountains, eating, trekking, climbing, and sleeping together every single day, away from civilization and everything I was familiar with. I was a bit concerned about whether we would get along, and secretly wished there would be more hot guys to keep me distracted. I didn’t know then how much we would bond, and I wouldn’t want to do this trip with anyone else.
When the team finally united, Mal went through gear checking one by one. Except for my brand new sleeping bag and trekking boots which I was still trying to get used to, everything else didn’t really pass his inspection. I ended up with a huge shopping list and followed Mal to Thamel. The first thing on my list was a duffel bag. Mal advised me to take the biggest size. This monster was huge, enough to hide a body. I was really relieved that I could leave it with the yaks in the mountains.
“Can I help you find anything?” The girl in the store asked as I investigated every tracking shirt on the shelf.
“Do you.. umm… by any chance, have different styles or colors?”
“No, sorry that’s all we have, this dark grey would look good on you.” She took down the shirt and handed it to me.
No, it wouldn’t. This looks like something my dad would wear twenty years ago.
“Functionality, remember?” Mal saw me staring at this shirt for probably way too long.
Stripping away all my fashion sense might just be the start of a mental shift, preparing for this adventure. I felt I was getting away from a world I tried hard to fit in but never really belonged. But where do I really belong? I will have plenty of time to figure it out in the mountains.
Part II: Excitement
Lukla – Phakding – Monjo- Namche
2696m – 4000m
Our plane to Lukla was tiny and stuffed. I crammed inside and held my backpack on my lap. There was no door between passenger seats and the cockpit, we could see the pilots maneuvering their big toy up to the sky.
As we flew through the clouds, I felt I could touch those massive, soft, and fluffy cotton candies floating outside. The mountains slowly revealed themselves, and I realized our plane was so close that it could almost touch the summits. There was also the smell of gas in our cabin. But I was too thrilled to be afraid, thinking this was the best flight ever.
As the plane landed on one of the shortest runways in the world, I was immediately taken in by the stunning view of the Himalayas. As we waited in the Tara lodge for our luggage, I closed my eyes, feeling the sunshine on my skin, smelling the freshness of the cold air, and enjoying the sound of the silence.
We are finally here! This marks the official beginning.
Everything was new to me, long suspension bridge, emerald mountains, singing streams, serene stupas, and hard-working yaks passing by. Mal said we were now the “fresh meat” on the trail, clean and energetic, not yet destroyed by the Himalayas. My heart was beating frantically as I ascended, not sure if it was from the altitude and my excitement.
On the way, we met a Sherpa struggling with a twisted ankle. Although he kept saying “no problem”, Mal insisted on checking his condition. His bruised and swollen ankle looked like an overripe peach. Amanda helped him wipe his foot and Mal wrapped his ankle with a bandage. Later on, Mal told us the Sherpa would most likely keep going, so he could still get paid. The Sherpas in Nepal have strenuous tasks and work incredibly hard, they were paid little and sometimes not respected or treated well. I realized how privileged we were even in this tough environment.
We arrived at Namche just before the storm. Although we had only walked about 15km, it was the longest trail I had been on. I was really relieved when we finally reached our campsite on top, undisturbed by the crowds in town. I crawled into the tent and started counting the lightning and thunder, they were my new lullaby.
As the sun shined through our tents in the morning, I climbed out and realized our tents were covered in snow. I hadn’t felt this serenity since Antarctica.
We were getting closer and closer to the mountains now, peaks of the Himalayas started to reveal from the clouds, looking so close but also unreal.
And there was Mount Everest, standing there humbly behind her peers, I could almost feel the chill on her summit from here. She looked not as impressive as the other peaks, but she held so many dreams and took too many lives.
On the way, we met some of Mal’s friends who were preparing to summit Everest. They were also leading a film crew to capture footage during the climb. Then they continued talking about all sorts of adventures around the world, including wintering in Antarctica.
“Paul Oakenfold was going to DJ at Everest Basecamp.” Says the tall one with a contagious smile.
I wondered if we would make it there on time, it must be an incredible experience to join the highest dance party in the world.
When we got back to our campsite, we found out with thrill that there was paid shower in the tea house. It had been three days since my last shower in Kathmandu and my body was screaming for it. I stripped off my clothes, closed my eyes, and let the hot water running through every part of my body, washing off layers of sweat and dust on my skin. The blisters on my hands stung but I couldn’t care less, shower never felt so good.
From now on we would only have buckets of hot water for a long time.
Part III: Struggle
Phortse- Dingboche – Chhukung
3800m – 5550m
I woke up shivering in my sleeping bag, listening to the wind attacking my tent. I kept my eyes closed, imaging my soft bed and fluffy pillow, the silk robe flowing on my skin, the lavender aroma from my incented candle, and the glass of Saint-Émilion Grand Cru next to my bed. Now my body was covered in bug bites and blisters, my head felt squeezed by two invisible giant hands, breathing became such an effort that it was draining my energy reserve. And worst of all, I had to get up and pee in a hole in the freezing darkness outside.
I had walked more than 10 hours during the day, climbing rocky steep hills, walking in the dusty wind, and fighting the altitude and exhaustion. The view was stunning, but by now my excitement had worn out and I began to feel the height more and more every hour. I was reaching my limit and questioned how much further I could keep going.
Seriously, why am I doing this to myself?
The porters are so much stronger, packing up our gears and food supply. I picked up one of the lightest baskets and put the strap on my head. The immediate pressure on my neck almost dragged me to perform a backflip. I leaned over to spread the weight on my back and tumbled three steps before dropping it on the floor. Their strength and often skinny body don’t match, this is their life.
In Dingboche we did some mountaineering technique training, preparing for the summit day. Watching Mal’s demonstration, I clumsily put on my harness, with the carabiners hanging around my waist. As we practice on the rocks, I was forming an intricate relationship with the rope. Once I was attached to it, I was relying on the rope too much and ended up swinging around and bumping into the rocks.
Regardless of all the gears to keep me safe, I am still on my own, I need to trust my hands and legs to push me forward.
“You stopped breathing last night for about 30-40 seconds!”
Erika said when we climbed out of the sleeping bag in the morning.
“Then you gasped like…” she inhaled deeply like a rescued drowning victim taking her first breath on land.
Mal had told us about this, it was a normal acclimation process, my body was trying to get used to the lack of oxygen. But it was still a strange feeling and creepy experience for Erika, as if I was possessed by some demon in the mountains, trying to scare us away.
Chhukung Ri was over 5000m. the oxygen deprivation made my steps heavier and heavier. My heart was pounding frantically together with my head. I tried to save as much energy as I could, swinging and dragging my legs, zigzagging and shifting more weight to my walking stick, but none of them seemed to work.
Fuck the soul-searching journey! Fuck challenging myself! Get me back to my comfort zone!!
I cursed over and over again in my head as we walk up. I felt I already given everything and clearly overestimated myself.
How am I going to make it to Island Peak?
But right now, there’s simply no way back. I didn’t want to admit my weakness so going forward was the only way. Somehow I made it to the top. I sat on the edge listening to the wind howling, humbled by the panoramic views of Himalayan. I was proud of how far I had come and worried about how much further I still had to go.
I picked up a rock on the way down and put it on top of the rock-stacked stupa.
It’s supposed to bring us good luck.
Part IV: Summit
Island Peak
6120m
Hello gorgeous, I will be on top of you in 2 days!
I stare at Island Peak from far, imagining us standing on the summit. The mountain got its name as it looks like an island in a sea of ice when viewed from Dingboche.
Mal took us to our own Basecamp surrounded by some of the most stunning peaks in Himalayas. There were no one else on this secret ground, no more Nepalese babus running around, no more tea houses to host the trekkers, no more cute backpackers to hanging out with. Just a few lonely tents and the mountains overseeing our adventure.
The next day we carried all our gears to the high camp. My backpack was suddenly three times heavier, dragging me down to the ground and away from my destination. I was drained and every cell of my body screamed STOP. I started thinking about books like Endurance, Into the Thin Air, and Wild; it went to my boxing matches; it went to the reasons that brought me here the first place. I thought I had walked forever, but when I looked up, the high camp was still a dot, galaxy away.
“Do you want me to take your backpack, Fiona?” Says Dawa. Mal had already taken Amanda’s.
“No it’s okay, thank you.” I said. As exhausted as I was, I wanted to do this by myself.
When we finally arrived, the wind was so strong that our kitchen tent was almost blown away. I snuggled in our tents, waiting for my package food to cook by itself, and thought about the next 12 hours.
Can I make it?
I had no sleep the entire night, wasn’t sure if it was the altitude sickness, cold, wind, or excitement. At 2 am, I struggled to put on all my gears and forced down some cereal before heading up.
There was a long rocky way before the crampon point, and climbing in mountaineering boots made it even harder to walk. I followed Pampa in pitcher dark, with no vision of where we were heading towards. I was impatient, anxious, and kept looking up even though I could see nothing. Finally, I couldn’t help asking Dawa how much longer until we would reach the crampon point.
“Fiona, you have 12 hours ahead of you that’s how far. Stop thinking of where you are. One step at a time and you will get there.”
Says Mal.
See I had always been impatient in my life, anxious to go to the top…
One step at a time, one step at a time, one step at a time…
The first sunray finally appeared at the horizon, adding a pink layer to the sky. But I was too tired and cold to stop and appreciate this view.
When we finally reached the crampon point, the wind had become even stronger. My body was shivering and I could no longer feel my fingers. I searched my backpack and found a Sneaker which was already frozen and hardened. I took a big bite and put it back in my backpack.
We crossed the ridges, jumped over crevasses, and climbed ladders in the white frozen land. When we could finally see the summit, I was drained.
“Do you still want to try going to the top?” Mal asked
“Yes” I said firmly, the thought of coming so far and giving up here was unbearable. This was the last stretch, I thought, as wrong as I was as we needed to save energy to descend, I was determined to give all I had plus what I didn’t have.
As I almost crawled up, I saw Mal and Erika waiting at the bottom of the cliff looking up. After observing the condition of ice, wind, fixed ropes, and traffic, Mal decided to turn us all back. On one hand, I was relieved I didn’t have to keep going, on the other I was disappointed. After all, I had been imagining the moment standing on top of Island Peak. Now it was right there in front of me, and I had to turn away. I know for climbers, turning back is often more difficult than continuing in a dangerous situation. Now I seemed to understand better those frozen bodies on Everest.
On the way back I could barely walk and started wabbling. if I wasn’t short roped with Pampa, I probably would have fallen into the crevasses or off the cliff.
I kneed on the snow trying to catch up with my breath.
It would be so nice if I could just sit here for a little. Could I?
“Fiona I need you to move please, you might be standing on a crevasse.”
Mal woke me up from my delusion and I slowly continued tumbling down.
When we got back to the high camp, I couldn’t bring myself to lunch and crashed in the tent with my gears on. We had to pack up everything and walk back to the basecamp in about 40 minutes. My head was spinning, I felt I was having a bad fever. I trembled in the back of the team like a zombie. The weight of my backpack pulled me deeper into the ground. Every step was taking the last strength in me.
I sat down to find the other half of my frozen sneaker, hoping it would give me some energy. As I stood back up, everyone had disappeared. I looked around, there were just vast rocky lands stretched far into the horizon. I climbed on top of the tallest rock and looked around.
Nothing.
I kept walking forward, hoping I could eventually catch up until I reached the crossroad. I remember Dawa mentioned that we were going to turn left at some point, is it here?
“Namaste!”
A Nepalese man stopped and asked if I needed any help.
“Umm… Yes actually I am a bit lost, I am looking for our tents…”
Then I realized I had no clue of where I was going. I had no address, no map, no phone service, and no buildings to remember of. For the entire time, I was following Dawa. All I had was pictures on my phone of our tents.
“Do you know where this is?” I showed it to him
He looked at it for a while, “I think it’s this way, who is your guide?”
“Dawa, Dawa, and Pampa.”
“Yes, I know them, I remember they were camping that way.” He pointed to the trail to the left leading up.
I was debating, maybe I should wait here, maybe they would come back looking for me. But I didn’t want to stay in the wild alone any longer. I was cold, exhausted, and thirsty, I just wanted to get back to our tents. I thought if I keep walking, I would eventually get there.
So I followed his direction.
On the way I passed a few tents, I showed them my picture and they all pointed in the same direction. Some asked me to go into their tents for a tea and I politely declined. I walked, walked and walked, still nothing. No Dawa, no tents, not even a sign of life. I felt this could be an endless path, and worst of all the wrong one. Now my only hope was to go back to the point I got lost, waiting to be found if I could still find where it was.
It was about two hours since I got lost and the sun was gone. As I walk back, the sky was getting darker, my anxiety and fear replaced the pain the exhaustion. I started to think about my supplies in my backpack. I had my sleeping bag and mattresses so I could probably survive the night. Then in the morning I could go back to those tents and asked for the shortest way to descend, then I could call Mal when I have a signal. I thought about the Taiwanese couple trapped in the mountains for seven weeks, I don’t want to be the next one on the news.
Suddenly I saw two head torches blinking from far away, then I heard something, I heard my name! Not sure if I was hallucinating, I hold my breath and listened again.
Yes, they were indeed calling me!
I ran towards the light as fast I could and jumped into Dawa’s arms.
“Fiona! I am so glad I found you! Are you ok? Your hands are freezing!” Dawa puts my hands in his jacket under his arms. I could feel those fingers again.
Mani took my backpack and went back to get some hot drinks. As we walked slowly in the dark, Dawa blinked his head-torch to two other lights not too far away. When they approached us, it was Mal and Erika. Mani came back with some hot drinks, and we drank them under the full moon. Later I learned that the entire crew was out looking for me, some of the kitchen boys even went down to Chukhung. Mal was thinking about calling for a helicopter search. I felt horrible for causing such troubles, but also safe and touched surrounded by them.
It really started to feel like a family
Part V: Adaptation
Dingboche – Lobuje – Goreshep – Kala Patthar – Everest Basecamp
4410m – 5643m
Although the hardest part was over, there was still a long way ahead. Luckily my body was getting more used to the altitude, my mood was also lightened. Walking through the valleys, I was almost overwhelmed by the vast space. For the first time on this trip, I wanted to run.
“Dawa, do you want to play hide and seek?” I yelled, sticking my tongue out to make a face.
Everyone burst into laughter. “Now she is back.”
We had our picnic lunch on top of the mountains. This was the first time we sat on the ground and ate outside, with the Himalayas peaks as the backdrop. I took a bite of the chapatti, enjoying the peacefulness while overlooking the crowds struggling as they go up. I realized we were still high up about 4400m, but my body had magically adjusted to this new height.
We reached Lobuje fairly early in the afternoon, setting up our tents in the middle of the vast treeless plains, watching dogs chasing after each other and the helicopters landing then taking off.
I suddenly remembered Paul Oakenfold’s dance party is supposed to be today, and there was no way we could make it. So when you miss a party, you create your own.
I put my iPhone in a tea up and turn up the volume, making our own little party tent. Dawa told us that tomorrow was the Nepalese new year, another excuse to celebrate. Now we were just missing some liqueur.
I hadn’t touched any alcohol for about two weeks and never missed it until now. The altitude already gave me a headache worse than any handover. But now… now I could have one. Mani seems to read my mind, he showed up with a bottle of Khukri Rum and some popcorn. I poured the drink into my tea up and took a small sip, it went directly to my head.
A few teacups of Khukri later, Mal joined our party. We exchanged our stories, shared our passion and concerns, love and fear. I somehow felt more comfortable telling them things I didn’t want to share with my close friends and family, it was incredible how the mountains would bring people closer in such a short period of time.
The next day we walked along the marina wall to Goreshep. It would be our base for Khalapattar and Everest Basecamp. It was a long hilly path, when I thought I finally conquered one, the next was already waiting for me around the corner. A typical Nepali Flat: A little bit up, a little bit down.
In the afternoon most of us wanted to relax in the tent and relax, but I decided to go to Kala Pattar. I didn’t want to waste the opportunity to admire Mount Everest from a closer angle and the taste of being on the summit. After Island Peak, this felt a lot easier, but I still had to take many rests along the way and jump over the huge rocks to go to the top. It was freezing windy and foggy on the summit, the view was compromised, but I felt almost invincible.
In the evening there was a new year party hosted by the Gurkhas, who were attempting to summit Everest for the second time. They had been unfortunately trapped in camp 1 during the earthquake two years ago, forced to end that attempt. Now they were back to give it another try. When the Gurkhas talked about getting stuck waiting to either get rescued or die, it felt they were telling someone else’s story.
Seems like fear is not in their bone.
“Kaphar hunnu bhanda marnu ramro” is Gurkhas’ motto, It means “it is better to die than to live like a coward.”
It didn’t take long before Erika and I started drinking Khukri from the bottle, that was when Mal implied we should go back to our tents. The party went on.
It was snowing overnight, the next morning, I reluctantly climbed out of my tent at 5:30 am. My water bottle was frozen and there was a layer of snow on my beanie. We needed to get to Everest Basecamp. As excited as I was, my fatigue was more severe than ever after Kala Pattar and the rum at the party.
This is the last hard day! I told myself
About 3 hours later, I was sitting right under the notorious icefalls.
What is your magic that conjures so many to risk their lives? What’s it like to head towards the top of the world and at the same time knowing you may never come back? Will I, at any point in my life, give it a try?
“Hi!” A trekker walked close and sat on the chair next to me.
“Hi! Beautiful isn’t it?” I smiled back.
I was immediately drowned in by his stories as we started talking. Matt is a director, author, and inspirational speaker. This time he was going to capture footage up to camp 2 for a theatre project for the Edinburg Film festival. Hearing him talking about his experience and projects made my heart pump, and it wasn’t because of the altitude this time.
I met so many incredible people during this trip. I loved their stories and envied their lives. Like the Himalayas mountains, they made me feel small and insignificant, but at the time showed me opportunities, perspectives, and hope that one day, I could also have a life that inspires others.
When we said goodbye to Matt, I realized that this was the last destination on our itinerary, we wouldn’t be climbing any further.
Part VI: Reflection
Pheriche – Penboche – Namche – Lukla
4371m – 2969m
Pheriche, what a poetic name – a perished town that could only be discovered after the ordeal. And the snow turned it into a fairy tale land.
As we descend, memories of the trip started to come back.
This is where we helped that Sherpa with his twisted ankle, I hope he is okay now; this is where I peed the first time in the bush; this is where we talked to Mal’s hot friend…
I had begged for the struggle to end, but now I wish I could stay here longer. I started to get anxious about what was coming.
When we arrived at Penboche, we decided to check into a tea house instead of camping. The room had its own bathroom with a shower, what a luxury! As I stripped off my clothes layer by layer, I nervously looked myself in the mirror for the first time in twenty days: my face was unevenly tanned; my skin was dry and started coming off; my hair was messy and tangled; my body was covered in bug bites, bruises and scratches; four of my fingerer nails were cracked, and both of my big toes were blackened from hitting the stones on the way down.
The Himalayas made sure to leave some marks on me.
“Why did you take me on this trip? I mean, you knew I had no experience at all. I could end up a disaster. ”
Sipping my first Margarita in three weeks at Namche, I asked Mal a question I wanted to ask since the beginning.
“It’s humbling when someone is inspired by what you do and want to try out themselves.”
He says, holding up his margarita glass.
“So when you told me you were quitting your job after Antarctica, I wanted you to be part of this. You know, fuck the society, that’s what it’s all about.”
“Cheers to… fucking the society.”
After three margaritas, we grabbed some food in our tent and went back to the bar. I ordered a “Sex on the Himalayas”, thinking anyone has the energy to do that must be superheroes.
We reached Tara lodge at Lukla at last, the same spot where this adventure began. Today was our last night with the sherpas. They had been taking care of us in every possible way. When I was exhausted, shattered, and cranky, they remained so positive and cheerful, despite the strenuous work, horrible weather, and the gigantic baskets on top of their heads.
We had a big feast, Mani even made a cake. We were always amazed by his creativity with the limited ingredients on the trail. We danced around the stove to some Nepalese music, learning some of the strangest steps and drinking Kukri rum punch from a kettle. We laughed until our stomachs hurt and tear coming out.
Happiness could be so simple. It’s up to us.
If I had known what was coming, I wasn’t sure if I would still have the courage to do this. But sometimes being a little naive and ignorant can bring us incredible things.
The struggles were blessings in disguise.
“Mal, how much of your joy comes from the summit, and how much comes from the journey?”
“During the climb, 90% is making it to the summit, but in retrospective, 90% is about the journey.”
Us the ambitious overachiever are often afraid that enjoying the journey would slow us down. And when we reach one goal, we immediately turned to another. But now I want to enjoy this phase of my life, I want to take one step at a time.
“It was my life – like all lives, mysterious and irrevocable and sacred. So very close, so very present, so very belonging to me. How wild it was, to let it be.”
— Cheryl Strayed, WILD
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