Backpacks and Bra Straps (34 page)

“Mom, that’s like counting sheep. What are you trying to do, make us fall asleep?” Bree said, rolling her eyes. “Savannah, just imagine that Grady is up there. He’s waiting around the corner for you. All you have to do is get to the top of this hill.” She and Ammon were right – it had a lot to do with mental attitude. My mind took over and my body made its way uphill with a new surge of energy. It was as if my heavy wooden legs were now floating two inches above the trail.

“But you have to get there in five minutes, or he’s going to die,” Bree said, adding to the fantasy.

“What?” I stopped abruptly. “Now you’re pushing it, Bree. I’m not superwoman. Plus, that’s just morbid.”

“Okay, okay. Try this one, then. He’s waiting for you at the top with a plate of sushi and a mocha frappuchino with extra whipped cream.”

“Oooooh, that’ll do it…” I melted at the mere idea.

We were all relieved to reach Gorak Shep, the small cluster of lodges at the highest point on the Everest Base Camp trek before the final stretch to our summit. Everest Base Camp itself is not a viewpoint, and as there were no mountaineer groups preparing to attempt the climb to the very top of Mount Everest, there would be little to see there. We planned to hike two hundred and sixty-three metres (862 ft) higher than the base camp to reach Kala Patthar where we could get a clearer view of the stone giant. Gorak Shep was situated in a lifeless gravel pit filled with boulders. Beyond this point, there were no shops, no villages, not even a single lodge. This was it.

“I’m not sure if it counts or not, but we’ve got a new room-rate record. It only costs thirty-three cents for a double room here, and I’m not joking,” Ammon said. As we climbed, so did the prices of everything except the rooms. We never paid more than a dollar fifty for a bed, but the place where you stay is also the place where you are required to eat. If you didn’t eat at the lodge the cost of the bed increased – a lot. Ammon usually checked the menu prices rather than the cost of beds when choosing a place.

“Good thing we have the water purifiers with us, since the drink prices go up even faster than the food does. Did you see that Coca Cola costs five bucks here and a litre of water is over three dollars? That’s compared to fifty cents for a Coke and sixteen cents for a litre of water in Kathmandu. It’s pretty brutal. Meals have ranged from two to six dollars because we haven’t been indulging in fancy dinners,” Ammon said, giving us our regular rundown of the accounts. “So, we still managed to keep our daily expenses to about ten dollars a day each, including the cost of paying the Sherpas. Really, this part of our trip is quite cheap.”

“It’s amazing that we can take such an incredible dream journey for such a small price. It makes you wonder why everyone doesn’t do it,” Mom said.

“There have been quite a few groups out here on organized tours, staying in the same places we do with their own guides and stuff, but they were paying anywhere from twice as much as we did to some rather ridiculous amounts. Steph, you’ve probably only spent, what, less than a couple hundred bucks in these first couple of weeks? That’s not bad to hike to Everest!”

“I know! I probably would have spent three times as much without you, Ammon. At this rate, I’ll be able to keep travelling for months and months.”

“Organizing it as you go is easy. And at an incredible five hundred rupees (US$16) per day for both of our Sherpas, I think we all agree that hiring them was perhaps the best spent money of our entire trip.” We all nodded agreement and smiled across the room to where they were ordering their meal. Both D.L. and Dendee returned genuinely happy smiles.

You Raise Me Up
40

B
eep-Beep-Beep.
Bree’s wristwatch alarm buzzed next to me. The instant I woke, I realized that it was so cold, our room creaked in protest. I grabbed her wrist to turn the alarm off and read the green digital screen: 4:15 a.m. Grumbling, I pulled my head back underneath the covers, but it was too late. Bree was complaining about Steph’s insistent shoving, but Steph only responded with a plaintive, “Oh, not yet, Bree. Please? It’s so cold. Where is the flashlight? Can you go find it?” Bree drowsily rolled out of bed and, shivering, fumbled around for the flashlight. She leapt back into the bed as soon as she’d located it.

The mere thought of unbundling myself from the warm sanctuary of woollen blankets was gut-wrenching. That night, Steph, Bree, and I had slept tangled together in one bed, but having Stephanie with us made everything a game and less of a challenge. Instead of crying over our hardships, we often broke into tears of laughter. Her company and sisterly energy kept us giggling and kept our minds off the gruelling walks ahead. Squirming around trying to stay warm beneath the covers, we wiggled into our socks and every other article of clothing we’d brought on this journey. Even the slightest lifting of the musty blankets let in the prickly, icy air that nipped at our skin.

“Oh brrr, oh brrr. Keep those blankets down,” we all cried at once. Despite having brought all our clothes into bed with us so they would be warm in the morning, the chill still got to us.

“I’ve got two pairs of socks on and four shirts,” Bree said.

“I’m wearing at least that, plus thermal underwear and two pairs of pants,” I said as I shuffled into my second pair and laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Can you imagine? I can’t remember the last time I wore long johns!”

As I struggled to find my boots, which were waiting for me next to the bed, Bree said, “I was smart and slept in mine.” My boots were now just blocks of ice, and it was the first time I’d planned to wear them on the trek instead of my flip-flops. I dressed in thick thermal socks with an extra pair of normal socks over top of them. It was pretty squishy in there.

We’d been anticipating this day for months, and eight long days of trekking had finally brought us here. Once dressed, we peeled ourselves from the big bed and made our way to the communal area. With each breath and step down the frozen hallway, the wooden lodge groaned like cracking ice. Thankfully, the thick, earthy fire was already smoking in the main area.

“I hate it when the water used for flushing freezes over,” I said coming back from the outhouse before we took off on our final challenge. “Imagine what would happen if you had to do number two in the morning or in the middle of the night.”

“That’s when you head for the bushes,” Ammon said.

“What bushes?” I asked

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

I should have expected the water in the big blue container standing next to the outdoor squatty toilet to freeze with temperatures dropping to minus ten to minus fifteen degrees Celsius at night. Most times we used the flushing scoop to break the layer of ice, but today it was frozen solid.

Our big packs stayed behind in the lodge, but our Sherpas were awake and ready to guide us through the pitch black to the top. I couldn’t smell much through my frozen nostril hairs, but I was sure it would’ve been fresh if I could have. We took off through the misted mountains on foot, holding our flashlights as securely as we could in our icy grips.

“It’s the most bizarre thing to breathe in and out and yet still feel completely suffocated,” Ammon said.

“Altitude sure is a weird thing, especially over the five-thousand metre mark (17,000 ft),” I heard Mom say from behind me in the darkness.

“I just wonder what’s out here.” I was only able to see the stones laid out directly in front of me with the light of my small flashlight.

We walked in the pitch black with nothing but our thoughts to keep us company. The Himalayas’ apparent flawlessness never ceased to impress me as I gazed up at the trillion little night lights twinkling in the wide open sky. Holding onto a frozen Snickers bar, I blindly half unwrapped it. I did my best to eat it, knowing I needed the energy. I took a bite of the nutty chocolate bar, literally timing the rhythm of my bites between my laboured puffs. Before I managed two chews, I already desperately needed more air. Evidently, eating on the go was not an option at this altitude either.

A bit of pre-dawn light started to cast a faint blue glow, tinting our faces. Shadows shrank beneath the colossal peaks as the light revealed the mountains surrounding us. Wisps of snow blew down onto our path, thin and dry like white dust. It was minus fifteen degrees Celsius, and the higher we climbed, the more frost there was on the ground and on our clothes.

Signalling for silence, Dendee pointed in the direction of a distant echo and said, “Avalanche.” He didn’t seem to be too alarmed, so I assumed it must happen often. This was, after all, one of the most intense mountain ranges in the world. Despite stiff bodies and the other physical discomforts of the early morning, the excitement within our group was almost palpable. This was by far the coldest day, but it was also the last. Our silent trek was only punctuated occasionally by Stephanie’s cries of ‘I can’t do this – Oh man – It’s killing me – I honestly don’t think I can do it’, and our quiet reassurances, ‘Yes you can – Just one last uphill day and it’ll be over’.

Every step brought us closer to the finish line. I gasped on the emptiness of the air, anxious to reach the top. My legs were becoming ever more weighted down and my lungs felt crushed as I battled my exhausted thoughts. We had to stop every five minutes just to breathe, and I felt almost completely suffocated, but we knew the clock was ticking and counting down the minutes to sunrise.

Can I do this? I can’t do this. Can I?– I have to!

“Can you believe that?” Mom said, as we took yet another breather.

“Wha-at?” I said, literally taking two puffs of air and turning it into a two-syllable word.

“Well, she just leaves us behind. After all the times I’ve waited for her, she just took off,” Mom said, slightly flabbergasted as we watched Steph gain new strength from some hidden reserve to bolt up the path after Bree and Ammon.

“Hey, yeah. That’s really something, eh?” I stared up the steep hill as the rest of them scrabbled to the top.

“Maybe she wasn’t that sick and tired after all,” Mom said as she set off again.

I considered quitting a hundred times along the way, but this was a one-shot deal. If we wanted to see the sun rise over Everest, we had to hustle our butts and not lose sight of our goal. It had all come down to this moment. There were no guarantees the weather would cooperate or that we’d be in time. It largely depended on our own willpower, and we’d come too far not to succeed. The last fifteen-minute stretch was intensely steep, and it was covered in shifting rock slate. Even then, when we were so close, my mind was full of doubts, but I knew it was within reach and that I would not turn back. Constantly freeing my feet from the loose rocks and slowly scrambling over uneven boulders, I questioned whether I could push my body that far. Like a horror movie where the door at the end of the hallway expands endlessly, I began to doubt the end would ever come.

Then, finally, I could see the top and my crew sitting, waiting for me. Triumph streaked their faces and I had to join them as they waved us on. Only steps ahead of Mom, I struggled until we reached the summit. It had taken an hour and a half of intense, upward climbing in the freezing temperatures to get to the top of the narrow, pivotal rock called Kala Patthar.

Not a soul was up there except for my friends and family at the tip of the rock. They were anticipating our arrival, all excited and red-nosed and sniffling icicles. Ammon, Dendee, Dalai Lama, Stephanie, and Bree greeted Mom and me warmly as we all squished up onto the rock’s edge to celebrate our achievement. As we teetered together at the top, frozen prayer flags that had been strung up and were now tangled around the rocks, flapped stiffly in the breeze: a mark of glory.

“Who got here first, or need I ask?” I said.

“I did,” Ammon said. “About twenty minutes ago.”

“But I was second!” Bree said, then she patted Dendee on the back and added, “Did you guys know this is Dendee’s tenth time hiking to Kala Patthar?”

“Wow! That’s amazing, Dendee,” I said, and he smiled sweetly.

Diverting attention away from himself, Dendee pointed toward the mountains in front of us that were only barely lit by the faint, predawn light and said with pride, “That is Sagarmatha. Everest. Highest mountain in entire world. Here it is. For you. For you.”

“Wow, it’s so beautiful,” Steph said. “It’s just humongous!”

“No, that is Nuptse West. So beautiful is that one.” After so many times, even he seemed mesmerized by the stone giants. “And behind is Lhotse, the fourth highest in world.”

“So wait, the darker one in the back there? That is Everest?” I asked, surprised. “So it’s not that one that looks like the tallest?”

“Nope, Everest is little bit behind,” Dendee explained.

“And my camera won’t work up here,” Steph said.

“You gotta warm the batteries,” said our resident genius. “They’re too cold. Mine did that last night.” Ammon had started warming his between his hands before we got there. Busy with the new GPS that Stephanie had brought with her from home, Ammon crawled up to the very peak behind us and held it out.

“Oh, Ammon, be careful!” Mom said, always the mother.

“Okay, so we are,” he took big breaths between every few words, “five thousand, six hundred and forty metres above sea level (18,505 ft).”

“What really gets to me is thinking that we’re standing on top of this little ‘hill’ that’s higher than almost every mountain in North America, and yet we’re still looking up at all these mountains.” White clouds formed around Ammon’s words. We were up on this peak, completely engulfed by towering mountains covered with snow, with glaciers easing down into the valley below where the official Everest Base Camp was situated.

“Okay guys, we made it further than base camp and we just… Oh, it’s so bloody cold…” Stephanie said.

“No kidding.” Despite my two layers of socks and my hefty boots, I had ice cubes where my toes used to be. I was afraid I might actually suffer from frostbite.

“I have a poem for you,” Bree said.

“Do you?” Steph asked, breathing heavily as she moved the camera to capture the view.

“Roses are red…”

“Say hi everybody,” Steph interrupted and pointed the camera at our group huddled together at the top.

“Listen to my poem,” Bree said.

“Okay, okay.”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m never climbing this dang mountain again, how ‘bout you?” Bree giggled childishly before deciding, “Yeah, kinda lame, wasn’t it?!”

“Oh, man. Scootch over before I fall off this thing,” I said.

“Here, just come in closer.” Bree drew me into her and put an arm around me. Our knees were pulled up to our chests for warmth and to conserve space. As we waited in the eerie, predawn light, we heard nothing but the sound of our own raspy, laboured breathing. We were up so high that the mountains and clouds were parallel to us and, like the gods sitting atop Mount Olympus, we could see where the tall mountains poked their noses out from the clouds. The colours hugging the mountains turned from subtle pink and blue to orange, and we were silenced as we felt the sun drawing near.

As the sun glimpsed a beautiful new day in the Himalayas, it sparkled between Mount Everest and Nuptse West. We watched unblinkingly and witnessed the first sunbeam shimmering between the mountain peaks. Mere seconds later the sun’s rays triumphantly burst through like a portal between heaven and earth for the angels. The shadows of the night slipped down the jagged mountains to the ground as if negative spirits were being chased off by the light and a fresh morning arose.

We’d missed out on several amazing views because of fog and other poor weather conditions during earlier parts of our trip, but Mother Nature hand-delivered this spectacular gift and repaid any debt she might have owed us. A perfect three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the Himalayan mountain range was laid out before us.

“It’s absolutely amazing,” Ammon said, shamelessly showing his soft side.

“It’s breathtaking,” I said, still huffing and puffing to get enough oxygen. “Pun intended.”