(Carried on from part 3)
Gorak Shep to Gokyo
This was a three day journey,. By now I new the mental focus that was required, but I was completely exhausted. The route crossed through Cho La Pass at 5330 metres, an icey pass and across the Ngozumpa Glacier. Now I always thought, naively, that glaciers were white, icy expanses leading into pretty blue pools of water. No, the reality of these glaciers is that they resemble a massive open quarry. There is ice, but it is under tons of dirt and rock. Frequent landslides show how literally these beasts of nature are ripping into the mountains. Crossing the 1.5 km of dirt is probably the closest thing to being on the moon or crossing a giant cat litter tray. It is a nightmare to get in and arduous to climb out off.
Ngozumpa Glacier
Reaching Gokyo was such a relief. in fact it was heavenly. Like some, balmy, Germanic lake resort without the naked sunbathers.
I chose a day of R and R, lying out by the lake as opposed to another climb for another amazing view. Ok, how could I miss another amazing view, but by this point I had seen enough jaw dropping amazing views for one trip, lets face it there is only a certain number you can handle.
Gokyo to Lukla 3 days. The first point that I came across trees I knew I was somewhere I belonged. Trees know where is good to live. Lichen and moss type plants are the crazy species of the plant world, they are bonkers. And where there are trees, there is firewood. It is the basic human need to burn things, and wood was born to burn.
Warmth, electricity and being able to wash after 13 days are such basic necessities that make life so much more pleasant. I was pleased to get on a flight back to Katmandu and to the insanity of the city and sit down and eat a meal that I could taste.
Smart arse
If you ever think of doing Everest basecamp trip, I do actually recommend it. It is an experience where you will truly understand what you accept as normal in life. You will really get to know your body and what you are capable of. I loved it. And what is more you can justifiable where a T-shirt that states “Everest……..because it is there.”
If you meet Pemba Noru Sherper, he has my boots.
This blog is dedicated to the 12 German tourists that died in the plane crash at Lukla, the 6 climbers that died on Everest, and to the mountaineers that are still waiting for their window to summit Everest. I respect you all.
Motorcycle diaries soon to come.
6 comments
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October 29, 2008 at 2:14 pm
manoj gurung
colin
wonderful i like this photo even in this age u can do
i have try lots but can keep it up
hope u is doing pratice for mumbai marothen
October 30, 2008 at 7:02 am
colinlaidlaw
Can’t say that I have done much practice for the marathon in Mumbai….I need to buy myself some cheap fake trainers first….I will be there, don’t worry.
November 7, 2008 at 11:13 am
Jez
You’re truely an inspiration…I assume that after giving your boots away you had to walk back cautiously like you do bare footed on a beach covered in small sharp stones..? Perhaps it would make more sense to wait until to got back to town! – Hang on a minute, I’ve got it…your gave the picture away…you walked down the mountain on your hands! (silly me!)
November 11, 2008 at 1:28 am
nick fox
The parallels in our stories never ceases to confound me. Scaling the north west face of KPR (Kidbrooke Park Road), one of the highest peaks in that infamous range, I lost my boots to a chap from Eltham! It’s amazing – you just couldn’t make it up! It was a long time ago, mind. I’ve hung up my crampons for good, now. Leading the last expedition KSP2 (Kidbrooke Station, Platform 2) just about done me in, and I’m happy now to simply yarn with the youngsters over a crack pipe. We lost two of our team on that infamous climb, and although my friends tell me there was nothing I could have done, the memory of them getting on the 8.45 to Dartford still haunts me. I shouldn’t have allowed them to join the team, but their keeness seemed enough in the face of their inexperience. I was wrong, and I can never forget. Writing to their relatives almost killed me. Imagine it – telling someone’s mum that their son was lost in Falconwood … so young, so much to live for. No, it’s all up for me. When the best you can say to anguished relatives between pitiful sobs of “why, why? Why Falconwood?” is “because it was there” leaves you feeling a right twat.
No, me pitons are rusting on a nail in the shed, and the coiled rope that now lies discarded among the bric a brac of momentos that remain in silent testimony to that couragious last attempt will now never again be belayed … I can’t go on … the memory’s too painful, Col.
November 11, 2008 at 11:44 am
colinlaidlaw
Genius
November 11, 2008 at 2:02 pm
Craig
…have been popping in and out and thoroughly enjoying your musings!
Shelley and I will be in Delhi during February (Abir’s wedding, open invite if you can make it?) – Plan to be there for a week and then a week elsewhere, hopefully we can meet up?