Arduous trek to Mount Everest Base Camp in Nepal proves the experience of a lifetime

Ama Dablam’s peak comes into view as the group climbs above the forests Picture: Shirley Sheppard. Source: Supplied

AS A devotee of motorised transport and comfy couches, the notion of a 135km return trek to the base of the highest mountain in the world seemed like an idea teetering on the edge of insanity.

But – given my sanity has been questioned many times – the chance to follow in the footsteps of Sir Edmund Hillary to Mt Everest in Nepal made this ordeal an offer too good to refuse.
Before a step was taken though, there was the small matter of training – to at least give myself a fighting chance of coming home alive – and finding a tour company that caters for overweight, unfit blokes.
The enormousness of the task was rammed home when checking the altitudes I would trek. My target, Mt Everest Base Camp, sits at 5364m. Planes need to be pressurised when they fly above 3800m.
There was no mention of the oxygen masks in the brochures my tour company, World Expeditions, distributed.
But what the heck. Nearly 3000 hardy souls each month pound the Khumbu region trails to the base of Everest during the peak hiking season. If they can do it, so can I.
All treks in Nepal start at Kathmandu, the capital of the country .

Mt Everest comes into view on the trek between Lobuche and Gorak Shep. Picture: Shirley Sheppard Source: Supplied

Two days before we were to hit the road – or in this case, board the Tara Airlines de Havilland Twin Otter for the half-hour flight to Lukla Airport – 14 intrepid souls gathered at the Radisson Hotel.
It was here we first met our tour leader Prasant, who outlined the dos and don’ts that would be our by-laws for the next 18 days.
Yaks have right of way and can be cantankerous. Hug the mountain side of the tracks when they approach. Don’t be wary of the dozen or so wire suspension bridges we will cross.
But when he explained the possibility of altitude sickness and its seriousness, it was obvious this was not just a trek to Mt Everest, but a journey outside my comfort zone.

On the trail from Lukla to Everest Base Camp. Picture: Shirley Sheppard Source: Supplied

Prasant also touched on the beauty of the Nepalese flats we would be trekking. Its irony was completely lost on me in the comfort of the hotel lobby.
He also told us of the vagaries of the weather and its immediate impact on our trek. Just to enforce that point, all flights to Lukla that day had been cancelled and any likelihood of making our starting point was an hourly proposition.
We were given red travel bags and our weight limits: 10kg in the red bags (the supplied sleeping bag and down feather jacket alone weighed 7kg) that the porters would carry, and 5kg in our day packs. Any excess baggage would be stored at the hotel for our return.
The weight limit was airline policy. Each bag is weighed separately at the airport to police the regulations. A total of 15kg baggage and as much as I could stuff in pockets still meant a lot of my gear was left behind.
The day of our flight we were all extremely nervous, as no flights had made it to Lukla in the previous 48 hours. We were scheduled to fly 6am.
When the bus ferried us on to the runway to meet our waiting plane we all cheered in excitement.
The trek had begun.

The World Expeditions group celebrates reaching Base Camp. Picture: Shirley Sheppard. Source: Supplied

Before we knew it the plane was coming in to land on a short runway at the edge of a cliff. The surrounding landscape made it obvious why this is rated one of the most dangerous airports in the world, as there is absolutely no room for error.
At Lukla, 2800m, we met our porters and other guides who would become our saviours and best friends for the next 16 days.
World Expeditions meticulously plans each trek to cater for the extra fit and not-so-fit. Each day’s walk is aimed at helping acclimatise our bodies and ensure we get to our target – and back again.
The meals are filling and healthy. Even the obligatory popcorn that was served at every meal was well received.
The guides did everything for us, served all meals, washed all the plates, carried all our bags and prepared each camp site for our arrival. Each day we put our big bags at the front of the tent and the porters carried two bags each to our next site where everything was laid out neatly.
The first day was an easy two-hour walk, mostly downhill to the tiny village of Ghat, 2530m, beside the roaring Dudh Kosi River and our first tent camp site. Here we were introduced to some new terms: washy, washy; tea, tea; and walky walky.
We were woken each morning about 6.30 to a cup of hot, black tea followed by a bowl of warmish water for bathing.

Memorial cairns to climbers who died in their bids to conquer the region’s peaks. Picture: Shirley Sheppard. Source: Supplied

Day two’s short walk to Monjo, 2850m, included plenty of descents to the river and wire suspension bridge crossings before steep climbs. I was starting to understand why Prasant grinned when he mentioned the Nepalese flats.
We also passed our first Mani walls, prayer wheels and blue, white, red, green and yellow prayer flags that became our constant companions in this Buddhist land.
The blue symbolises the sky and space, white the air and wind, red is fire, green is water and yellow the earth.
It became our ritual to spin the wheels and pray for good weather and a safe trip. At this stage, none of us had seen a mountain due to low cloud.
In the wet weather, walking was tricky. Our eyes were always glued to the path, as the often steep, uneven, rocky and slippery tracks were littered in cow or yak dung. Soon we realised it was easier to forget about cleanliness and walk through the sodden dung piles rather than try to avoid them.
The little farms and hamlets we passed were a delight, with their terraced fields separated by stone walls covered with colourful ferns and moss.
At the lower altitudes the lush fields were full of cabbages, peas, potatoes and corn with flowers adding the splashes of colour that seemed in harmony with the prayer flags that flapped in the winds.

Trekkers cross one of the many suspension bridges. Picture: Shirley Sheppard Source: Supplied

The third day was our first real tester: The climb to Namche Bazaar, 3440m, the Sherpa capital of Nepal and the Sargarmatha National Park.
We started out at 7.30am, following the river until the highest twin suspension bridges in the area – at least 200m above the junction of the Dudh and Bhote rivers.
Once over the top bridge, the track became incredibly steep and narrow with rocky, uneven and muddy surfaces. To add to the danger we had a vertical drop to our left that reminded us of the value of hugging the hillside, especially when encountering the many yak caravans that passed by.
The 700m climb took more than three hours.
It was humbling to be overtaken by Sherpas lugging massive loads, some of which were in excess of 100kg.
Namche is a delightful village nestled in a horseshoe-shaped valley. Its tea houses and shops open directly on to the paved trails that weave around the valley walls.
Our “rest” day at Namche included a six-hour trek to the twin villages of Khunde, 3850m, which is famous for the hospital built by Sir Ed Hillary and Khumjong, where a statue of the great man stands guard at the gate of the school he also helped build.
After Namche the clouds cleared and for the first time we realised the size of the mountains that dwarfed us from all angles.
It also gave us our first view of the iconic peak of Ama Dablam, 6856m and Lhotse, the fourth-highest mountain in the world at 8516m.

A stone hut in the mountains above Dingboche. Picture: Shirley Sheppard Source: Supplied

Each day’s trek seemed to start with a nasty uphill climb before the famed Nepalese flats became part of its tortuous charm.
To put these “Nepal flats undulations” into perspective, the altitude difference between our starting point at Lukla and Base Camp was “just” 2564m. But we climbed nearly 9000m during our round trip.
As we ascended past 4000m, the thinner oxygen levels almost surreptitiously forced our pace to slow, giving us more time to smell the flowers, take in the magnificent views and stop and chat to the many people we passed.
Slowly, slowly had become our mantra.
After Namche, our group had split into two distinct groups, the speedy jack rabbits and the slower “Ray team”, named after one of our group whose trek was cut short by illness.
Our tour leader, Prasant, always stayed with the slowest of walkers and his knowledge of the region gave us some valuable insight.
By day seven, we had trekked above the tree line and the rhododendron forests. Our visit was in autumn and the forest colours were magnificent hues of red and green.
In spring the flowers are bright red and, according to a Kiwi guide we met, produce a memorable sight.
Most of the trekkers are polite, always willing to stop for a chat and follow track etiquette where sherpas, wildlife and climbers ascending have right of way. But there are a few who demand the narrow tracks for themselves: One group literally shoulder-charged one of our group off the track on to glacier rocks. Luckily no one was hurt.

Gorak Shep, the last stop before Base Camp. Picture: Shirley Sheppard Source: Supplied

There is almost a complete lack of noise apart from the distant roar of the glacial rivers far below.
Occasionally there is the distinctive noise of helicopters ferrying wealthy tourists to Mt Everest for a few snapshots or, less happily, evacuating fellow trekkers who had succumbed to altitude sickness.
Now clear of trees, the mountains offered “gee whiz” sights in all directions. Travelling around Europe, the joke was “ABC” (another bloody castle/church). Here it’s ABM, but they are all worth stopping and taking a snap of.
We pass herds of yaks grazing the mountain pastures with their bells chiming in the distance, and little hamlets of well-kept pastures.

Sherpas carry huge loads over extreme terrain at high altitude. Picture: Shirley Sheppard Source: Supplied

It is interesting to see locals drying yak dung that is used as heating fuel. World Expeditions only uses yak dung to warm the dining rooms of its permanent camp sites.
Any potential smells were always overpowered by the kerosene used to start the fires.
The difference in temperature is now more noticeable. The clear sunny days are still T-shirt weather, but the morning and afternoon winds have a definite bite. Once the sun goes down, it IS cold.
At Dingboche, 4530m, we had our introduction to the oxygen rescue chamber, which rammed home the danger we were about to face.
Again, the rest day was anything but, with another shortish but very steep walk to help us acclimatise.
Day eight was getting to the business end of the trek with a relatively steady climb to overnight in Lobuche, 4940m, with the highlight being a ring of memorials to the climbers who died on or around Everest. It was a very moving experience to stop and rest around the many stone cairns.
The next day took us Gorak Shep, 5164m, and then to Base Camp with the Khumbu Glacial moraine to our right.
The path from Gorak Shep was extremely hard going, not only because of the altitude but the glacial rocks we had to clamber over.

A yak caravan on a mountain path. Picture: Shirley Sheppard. Source: Supplied

The views were exceptional, the glaciers unbelievable and the numerous avalanches that thunder down from the surrounding peaks captivating.
The final assault to Base Camp was tough, but being able to sit at the rocks beneath the Everest prayer flags was for me a remarkable achievement. That you can barely see the great mountain was irrelevant.
It was humbling to be able to reflect on the surrounds that prove such a magnet to the adventurous. The treacherous upper reaches of the Khumbu Glacier with its deep crevasses was only a stone’s throw away.
And while many hardier souls try to reach the summit of the great mountain, just getting to Base Camp was an achievement that will stay with me for a lifetime.
The return trek to Lukla was a test of our character. The notion of hiring a chopper to fly us back was discussed many times.
In an almost sadistic way, we enjoyed watching the pain etched on the faces of trekkers struggling with the thin air and steep climbs on their ascent. We knew their pain and what awaits them over the coming few days.
At Tengboche, I had my first shower in 11 days. As far as I was concerned at 350 rupees it was the best value in the world.
Once back at Lukla it was time for celebration. A group of us spent the afternoon in Starbucks, enjoying whatever variety of coffee we desired and finished by building our little “Everest” and surrounding mountains with blue Everest brand beer cans.
It was a symbolic ceremony to mark the end of an arduous journey, but also a celebration of what we had achieved, and enjoying the experience of a lifetime.
The writer was a guest of World Expeditions and was outfitted by Icebreaker. http://www.couriermail.com.au