Overnight low in tent vestibule 24F. Beginning altitude 4785
metres (15700 ft). Ending altitude 3930 metres (12900 ft).
There seems to me to be a sense of denouement in the camp.
Where previously we had many expedition members, filling up two mess tents, we
now have six trekkers, who at breakfast take up only part of one tent. Of the
six trekkers, three don’t much want to be here. Two are the wife and son of one
of the expedition members who will be attempting to summit Everest. Having seen
him off at base camp and now being on their way home, the remaining trek is for
them a chore. If they could wave a wand and be at Kathmandu airport awaiting a
flight home, they would. Another is a doctor who came on the trek with an
interest in expedition medicine as a possible career avenue; she has gotten the
information she needs and now is pretty eager to get back to the comforts of the
Hyatt. I totally get that, but I’m doing my best to keep my mind off of hot Hyatt showers and focus on the
experience of the trek back. That’s what Julia and I wanted; we asked to be
here, right where we are, doing what we are doing.
Everyone is pretty strung out from the exercise and the
altitude. There’s not much banter.
I have spent some time just standing out in the open near my
tent, gazing upon the mountains around me. They remain impressive and
impassive. I have tried to sear the memory of them into my mind. It seems
almost as if seeking some kind of bond, but there is none to be had. This
experience has been so meaningfully incredible to me, but the mountains simply
don’t care, regardless of how much (for whatever nonsensical motivation makes
me anthropomorphize them) I might want them to. I think of the Honey Badger,
and grin just a little bit.
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| Indifferent mountains are indifferent |
After breakfast, we set off from Lobuche Base Camp toward
Pangboche. A short distance from the camp is the top of the large climb we took
to get here, at which are located a number of monuments.
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Julia took this picture. It more or less fits the narrative, but it’s here because I really dig it. |
I spent some time pondering the monuments, and took some
photos. To me, the existence of the monuments seems sort of pitiful. Juxtaposed
against the Himalaya, they seem insignificant and transient.
 |
In memory of our member who climbed the top of Sagarmatha on the 10th of May 1989 but died on the way down. |
Of course, monuments aren't for the dead, they are for the
benefit of those that remain. But given the nature of mountaineering,
that reality seems thrown into sharp relief. Climbing Everest seems to me to be
primarily a test of self; it is of necessity a self-absorbed activity. There is
no ‘selfless’ mountaineering. An alpinist pits him or herself against the
mountain and the environment, and succeeds or fails.
 |
In memory of Erich Eberhard Schaaf, who lived his dream and died on Mt. Everest May 19, 2012. His dream lives on. |
You can Google ‘Erich Eberhard Schaaf’ and obtain more
detail about his effort. His dream may live on, but his frozen body rests down
one of Everest’s slopes on the southern route.
I’m not passing judgment on
the nature of climbing Everest, those who attempt to do so, their motivations,
and certainly not upon their success or failure. It’s the monuments that give
me pause. As I look at them, rather than feeling inspired or awed, or perhaps
even warned, I simply feel a sense of pity for those who built them. How often
do the people who built them come to visit? What statement do they make; are
they a sort of Parthian shot at the mountain(s) that defeated those who are
memorialized? The only constant audience these memorials have are the
dispassionate mountains themselves.
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| If these mountains could speak, I suspect they wouldn't bother |
But on a less somber note, today we would be going downhill!
We would be descending 900 metres. There would be more air in the air. I had
slept better – though not soundly – at Lobuche BC, and hoped for even further
improvement.
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| This trail was a lot more enjoyable going the direction we went today |
The nature of this trek is that there is a lot of uphill and
downhill intermixed. The long downhill stretch at the beginning of our day
today was an exceptionally consistent bit, but for the most part, one goes up
and down in an alternating fashion, gaining or losing altitude on the whole
depending on the direction one is travelling. Midway through our day, we had a
nice flat stretch, though, pulling into Periche before midday. The hike from
Periche to Lobuche BC had taken an entire day on the way up. On the way down it
made for a good place to stop for tea.
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| In the shadow of… Ama Dablam (of course) |
We would be pushing on to Pangboche to spend the night. The
fact that we were losing altitude was offset by the fact that our return
trekking stretches were over a longer distance. Overall, we were just as
tuckered out at the end of the day going back down as we were on the way up.
Here is a picture of the door to our room in Pangboche, or,
more accurately, the (rather thick) hanging over the door. I’m not certain what
the function of the hanging was – perhaps to keep warmer air inside, similar to
a revolving door, when the actual door was opened. However, it does provide a
good example of the ‘eternal knot’ motif which we found displayed frequently,
and which was replicated in the keepsake I got at the Puja the day before.
And now, friends, let me share with you the good news about…
potatoes. I don’t know what the Nepalis do with potatoes to make them so good,
but they totally rock the taters. Totally and completely. One of the climbers,
Tim, was going on about how great the potatoes were in Nepal, and we were –
understandably I think – a bit incredulous at first. But we started paying
attention to the potatoes, in whatever form they showed up in our meals. And
dang if he wasn't spot on. By the end of the trek, we were ordering things off
the menu that had potatoes in them, simply because they had potatoes in them,
just to see what wondrous thing we would get. At Pangboche, I ordered ‘Hashed
browns with cheese’.
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| This may not look like food porn, but it is. |
What showed up sort of looked like a congealed lump of barf,
but, man, it was delicious. I only planned to have a few bites, but couldn't
stop eating it. Potatoes. Go figure.
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| Sunset over Pangboche |
Then we slept. Soundly.