Author: Hugh

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Khumbu

 

Nepal: looking south in the Khumbu Valley.

This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been, trekking up to Everest Base Camp, a little short of Gorak Shep, a small settlement and pretty much the last outpost before Everest. The air up here is thin, at about 4500m you’re surviving on a lot less oxygen and the body has to adjust. For me, the altitude manifested itself in constant low-level headache, nothing unbearable, just a mild throb which I treated by chugging down a couple of aspirin. A lot of this is connected with being dehydrated, the air up here is incredibly dry and with every breath, you’re losing moisture. Also because of the lack of cloud cover and the extreme altitude, you’re being baked literally by the sun, it’s hot up here and sunburn is a real issue.

I was in the company of 14 other trekkers, led by the gregarious Pat Falvey, who has summited Everest twice and failed on two other occasions.

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Into the Khumbu

Nepal: Into the Khumbu.

A couple of hours above Dhukla Pass (4620 m) we step into the Khumbu, above the tree line, above normality as we know it. Stark, beautiful, unforgiving.

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Awi Peak

Nepal: Awi Peak from Dhukla Pass.

For some reason, this picture encapsulates a lot of the emotion of the trip in the Himalayas for me. The picture was taken from a place called Dhukla Pass (4620m, 15,160ft). Just above Dhukla is the place where many of the memorials for fallen climbers are. There are hundreds of corpses on Everest and many more on other mountains in area, just goes to show what a savage place this is and what a risk you’re taking if you go up really high. This place is eerily calm, one gets the sense of being in the presence of gods and spirits.

 

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Prayer Wheel

 

Tengboche Monastery, Nepal.

We attended a puja ceremony for climbers up here at the monastery in Tengboche (3867 m), a rather eerie and special occasion. Not easy to articulate what actually happened, as I was a bit heady from the altitude and was a bit overcome by the weird chanting and blaring of the trumpets. It’s something I’ll never forget and will attempt to articulate in time.

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olc: me oul’ segotia

Not sure why this came into my head, but all of a sudden me oul’ segotia became forefront in the medulla, fortwithly and decided-like. I think I remember my father using it, although he wasn’t a Dubliner by birth or demeanour. The phrase means something close to me oul’ pal, a term of endearment. Sounds O’Casey to me.

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