Himayalan Slopes and Learning Curves

By Gareth Preece

The plan was simple. There were just the two of us. Both of us had climbed in Europe and trekked in the Himalaya before. We had done a lot of research, made contact with an in-country agent, bought and acquired new shiny kit, dug out old kit and shoved it all in bags. Once we had arrived in Kathmandu all we had to do was get to Lukla, bimble up Mera Peak, down the remote Hingu Valley, over the high, and relatively difficult, pass that leads down to Chukkung, the Amphu Lapste and on up to Island Peak. We could be back down in Namche within a month and home in time for Christmas. Light and fast, light and fast.

We bounced down in Kathmandu around midday, and found and checked into a hotel. We then had a mooch around Thamel, 'orientating' ourselves, usually several times, and never once in the right direction. We spent some time investigating the options for our expedition. We had particular requirements, in that we only needed Porters for part of the way. We were doing this light and fast, we did not want to be hindered by a full cook team and porter entourage.

After much discussion, with a variety of agencies, it became clear that a ‘small’ team was going to consist of 7-10 porters, 2 kitchen boys, a cook, a guide and a Sirdar. The cost of this took the original plan out of our budget instantly. We looked around. We had been in Nepal for 12 hours and our plans had changed dramatically already. We spotted a poster advertising expeditions going to Lobouche East (6,119m) and Island peak (6,189m). We signed up. Each peak would take 6 days, and we would meet the expedition out there, giving us chance to acclimatise prior to the summit attempts.

That night we organised our kit to try to get it somewhere close to the 20kg allowance for the flight into the mountains. The following day we flew out to Lukla (2,800m) and after fending off the over eager porter-guides, we headed to Phakding (2,652m), where we stayed the night. The following day we set off for Namche Bazaar (3,445m). We were anything but light and fast. We were carrying 22kg each and feeling the effects of altitude. We made it to Namche and rapidly realised that there was no way we were ever going to be ‘light’, or ‘fast’.

We spent a couple of days acclimatising in Namche, and searching for a Porter. We were never going to be fast, but with a Porter, we might actually make it further than Namche. Dowa, our porter, carried an equal load, each of us carrying 15-17kg.
We made our way up to Gokyo, where we spent a further day acclimatising by watching the ducks, eating cake and trekking up to the Fifth Lake, where we had our first view of Everest. From Gokyo we crossed the Ngozumpa Glacier and on to the Cho La (5,420m), where we got our first sight of Lobouche East, “there had better be an easier side” was the general feeling.

The Cho La consists of a steep and sustained scramble over loose rock and ice sheets, before staggering out onto the glacier, and into the sunshine. It was spectacular, both the view, and the feeling as at this point, this was the highest I had ever climbed. We dropped down into Dzongla, where stayed for a few days until we met the expedition.

We had signed up to what was described as a ‘climbing course’ and so the first couple of days involved some training. Several other members of the expedition had never climbed a mountain before, and so to ensure that they knew their axe from their elbow we headed back up to the Cho La and spent a day climbing the head wall of the glacier.

From Dzongla we went up to Lobouche Base Camp, just 30 minutes from the snow line, at 5,200m. We relaxed during the afternoon, preparing ourselves for an early start. We set off at 2am, snaking our way up the snow and ice by moonlight. By the time we reached the Col the sun was coming up, and lit up the clouds with a dark orange glow, casting shadows of the mountains onto them.

About an hour above the Col the ground steepened and we clipped on to fixed ropes. I had been struggling with fatigue at the Col, but now the sun was up and I was on the ropes, I found a new reserve of energy. I made good progress; concentrating hard each time I swapped ropes, tugging them twice to inform the next climber that the rope was free.

We gathered on the summit for photos, looking out over the Kumbu Glacier; Kala Pattar looking like a muddy lump far below us. After around 40 minutes we started to make our way down from my first 6,000m peak. We moved well on the way down, roped up over the exposed sections, enjoying the sunshine, with a sense of smug satisfaction. We arrived back at base camp at 2pm. 12 hours after setting off.

We spent that afternoon relaxing, eating and sleeping, and headed out from the Base Camp the following day, with all the expedition members going their own ways. Nick and I made for Dingbouche (4,300m) for a rest day, and to wash some clothes. We arrived at the lodge and sat outside in the warm sunshine, drinking hot lemon.

There is a feeling of smugness and satisfaction you get from having been out and done something. I feel this way walking into a pub after a day on the hill in the Lakes, knowing that I have earnt the pint I am about to have. The feeling here was so much greater.

We spent the following day washing very smelly clothes, chasing Yaks away from the lodge and retrieving our socks from the jaws of a small Tibetan puppy.

Heading back up to altitude after our rest was easier this time. We made our way up to Chukkung (4,700m), where we would meet our guide again. This time we were the only two on the summit attempt, and we did not need to do the training days. That day we walked up Chukkung Ri (5,546m) and camped by a small lodge that night, eating mo mos, potato pancakes and drinking black tea.

In the morning we got up and made our way to Island Peak Base Camp (5,100m). The trail followed a glacier and then lead into a vast flat valley, where the wind gently whipped the sand into your eyes and up your nose. We crossed some boulders and set up the tents at the foot of the mountain.

Island Peak stands clear of the surrounding mountains, with the Lhotse Massif, and it’s clear and impressive rock strata, towering above. It is truly an Island of rock, and I was apprehensive, but excited, to be given the opportunity to attempt to climb it.

The wind was evidently picking up into the evening, and by 1am, when we got up to head for the summit the combination of the altitude and cold slowed the preparation to a crawl. Following a bowl of muesli, with hot powdered milk, and black tea, we set off up the loose rocky slopes at 2am, passing High Camp an hour later. In the distance we could see torch light. After three hours of walking we caught up with a trio of lost Italian climbers, and we found some common ground in the French language and explained the route to them.

I felt dreadful. I had a pain in my stomach, was breathless and very slow. I could only walk short distances before having to stop and rest. After what seemed like a few days, we reached the snow line. As we sat to put our crampons on, and take our axes off our sacks the Italians appeared from behind the rocks.

We roped up and set off in a single line, leaving the Italians behind. We crossed a narrow ridge and headed for safer ground. We stopped, and I allowed the muesli, which had clearly not wanted to be in my stomach to escape onto the snow. I felt instantly better.

We carried on across the snow, with the sun rising and lighting up the ground and the mountains around us. We reached the steep snow slope that lead up to the summit ridge in daylight. I opted to go first, and ascended the fixed rope to the ridge. Reaching the ridge, the full force of the wind hit me. Having warmed up on the climb, the small areas of skin on my face that were exposed cooled rapidly as I waited for Nick to follow.

We both sat on the ridge waiting for the ropes to be fixed for the climb to the summit. Nick decided he would not continue, so I took his jummar and followed the fixed line, as it snaked over the ridge and up to the summit.

Walking along the ridge, the wind would gust with such force that it would nearly blow me off my crampons. I staggered to each new section of rope, climbing, with great joy, when in the lee of the wind, and gritting my teeth and plodding on when I was feeling it’s full force.

I could see Nick curled up, sheltering from the wind, on the ridge below, looking out across the Himalaya as I climbed. And then I ran out of rope, the ground flattened and Tenzing’s grin was all I could see. I unclipped from the rope, he took my gloved hand and we walked to the summit together. We hugged and congratulated each other, prayer flags fluttering at our feet as we looked across the sea of mountains from this island.

We were back at Base Camp within 10 hours, and spent the night relaxed in satisfied slumber. The Porters and guide, however, had a less than comfortable night’s sleep, with the cook tent blowing over three times in the 60mph winds.

We practically ran down to Dingbouche, in the warmer, thicker air. We stayed one night there and had the most revolting meal of Spam Pizzas. The following morning we hired another porter and began the walk back to Lukla, through the forests to Namche Bazaar and on. 4 days later we were sitting in Lukla, waiting for aeroplanes to take us back to Kathmandu, dinking our first beer for over a month.

Climbing mountains has a magic that cannot be explained, but Himalayan climbing is something else. The magnitude of the landscape cannot be comprehended until you see it, and the realisation of the logistics involved in climbing relatively straightforward peaks humbles even the most adventurous climber. I came to understand that, when it came to climbing Himalaya, I would never be ‘light’ or ‘fast’.

Written by Gareth Preece, all text and images copyright Gareth Preece.
Gareth is the owner of Rock Steady outdoor learning centre