27th March

1630hrs, Lobuche

Walk-time: 6hrs

Ascent: 4280m (Pheriche) – 4910m (Lobuche)

I am wiped. Legs are burning, my head feels like I’ve not slept in two days. Today has been, by far, the most difficult day of all. However I can’t help but feel very proud that it is today that I finally feel the altitude – I may not feel like the air is thin, but my legs and head do!

Today also saw our second casevac as Sammy was diagnosed with HAPE – so things are still fairly Lukla for this group. Now down to fifteen, there was a lot of tearful faces this morning as we left Sammy with Sarita and carried on with the day. Danny has ploughed on with us, and I respect him for that – I’d be tempted to have gone down with Zoe if it had been me.

The walk, if it was at sea level, would have been a brisk stroll. Well into the 4,000m band, it was draining on all levels. Having walked every day for a week and battering through twice the recommended ascent in 6hrs, I found every step a struggle today. Exhaustion set in early as we made our first hard ascent around 1100hrs, ascending out of the Pheriche Valley. By the time I’d hit 4,600m the altitude effects kicked in; a cotton-wool head, a bit dizzy and needing to stop a little more often for a breather. A rest would do me good, but before long I’d feel it again as we ascended further.

Fairly certain the rock wouldn't be spinning, I decided to lean on it for support

After lunch the struggle intensified and every step up that steep incline became a battle, both mental and physical. More than once there was the urge to just drop and lie there for a while before stumbling off the mountain. Yet each time I refused to yield and took another grudging step and ploughed on.

The environment didn’t help – from Pheriche to Lobuche it’s all glacial moraine, shades of dull grey and brown with only the white of snow to break the monotony. It was as if a hundred people were asked to draw the blandest, most uninviting landscape they could imagine and blended them altogether before sucking out any colour it may have possessed. With fog, a consistent light snowfall and a cold breeze to complete the set, the walk felt almost lunar. All these factors only managed to depress the soul further, with only the thought of a warm bed (well, bed with warm sleeping bag) to spur me on.

Nearly at Lobuche

As I write this I turn to see brilliant sunlight burning away the cloud cover, and majestically yet another beautiful peak emerges. Alistair says it’s Nuptse.

Today was very emotional as well. Yesterday we’d had eleven hours sleep, and all elven hours had been about Amanda. Lord I miss her dearly, and today it really hammered home as I slaved up those slopes. As well as imagining her waiting at the end with a mug of tea and a warm bed, for some reason Amanda’s rendition of ‘Little Donkey’ kept running through my mind, bringing me close to tears every time.

It has been an emotional roller-coaster the last ten days. Jeff said altitude can cause emotional changes. But I think it’s as much just missing her as anything else.

But today’s exertions have left me emotionally drained. Walking through the memorial to those who died on Everest – a quiet graveyard over 4,700m up – I could only sit and catch my breath rather than spare a thought or read even one plaque. I hope on the way down we stop again so I can pay a respect or two.

I enjoyed yesterday’s talk at the HRA and I hope to look into maybe working there one day. Although the Pheriche centre mainly looks for doctors the two I spoke to didn’t preclude the option of nurses and paramedics at some of their centres. It would be an eleven-week tour all told, and it would be many years away, but I would enjoy a short tour here one year.

Sammy is in Kathmandu having an ECG now, so some good news there. While we joke she and Baz will be tearing up the town tonight, in seriousness it is a relief to hear she’s made it down and better still she and Baz can keep each other company. And I can’t help but admire Danny for keeping smiling and laughing. So many amazing people on this trek.

Ama Dablam gives us her blessings

2100hrs

I am heartbroken.

Jeff presented us with three options for tomorrow.

i) Up at 3am for an 18hr day to Base Camp and back. Proper high-altitude, full-on trek.

ii) Gorak Shep, and a bit of Kala Patthar.

iii) Rest at Lobuche.

Suresh told me today that I was “strong and stubborn.” Jeff said that I “was one of the strongest walkers in the group from the start.” People have said they were amazed in some cases at how far and fast I could walk.

So my announcement that I will not go for Base Camp has surprised many – and I think Jeff was among them. But today took mental and physical reserves, and with a 3 on the Lake-Louise score and three 10hr-day descents back-to-back to go, I think it would be stupid and irresponsible of me to attempt Base Camp.

If this was Day One, and I was at sea level, I’d be there in a heartbeat. But after 42hrs walking and 2,000m in only seven days I don’t think my body – or my mind – can make it. I wish it could, I wish I could make this amazing, crazy, ultimate adventure. But no. If Dad was here I know he’d stand by my choice and respect me for it, because everything he’d ever taught me has shown this last week and continues to show now. And if Amanda was here – and right now I wish she was – she’d call me “brave” and give me the hug I so sorely need right now. Because I sorely want to cry.

Sue said she was surprised I said “no,” and I think she isn’t alone. I don’t think I’ll regret this decision because I am still very young and I’ve already decided I’ll return another day, do it safely and properly. But I still can’t help but feel…sad.

This decision has hurt. The big, bold, adventurous side of me tells me this’ll be easy, that it’s well within my capabilities – and its right. But I am not 100%. I am not ready this time. So tonight, I’ll say no. Maybe at 7am when I wake up I’ll feel fine and I’ll kick myself for my decision. If I do, I’ll reread this entry to remind me why I stayed home. As Jeff said, I can take away the fact that I am a strong, capable walker. Next time, I’ll get there.

-Chris

Lobuche