Allison A Janssen

Tag: EBC

  • Day 10: Soaring on life at Everest Base Camp

    Day 10: Soaring on life at Everest Base Camp

    The day that we had been working towards had finally arrived. Excitement filled the air. A 7 am wake up call, a quick breakfast of oats and …who the hell cares… “We are about to trek to our final UPWARD destination- Everest Base Camp! With a deep inhalation of brisk Himilayan air, we set foot outside the tea house at Gorak Shep. Even the smallest of noises are crushingly clear at 16,942 feet. Shrills of chisels against rock, think tink tink, as 15 men build new rock dwellings at a painstaking rate, tink tink tink. The sips and slurps of tea drinkers. The crunch of our feet over rock and snow, the slide of small pebbles as we push them behind. The whistle of the wind over the dreamy peaks that surround the desolate roof of Gorak Shep. The sounds of Everest are a beautiful symphony. And when you add such music behind a sense of impending accomplishment, your whole body beams with light. Atleast, that is how it was for me as we set off for the last ascent.

    From what we have heard, most people who trek to EBC experience crowded trails and muddled views. For us, the moment we arrived to base camp was anything but crowded. Anything but muddled. We were honestly THE ONLY PEOPLE THERE. The time we spent in silence and in awe is unforgettable. We felt proud. We felt as one. One with each other and every atom of our incredible universe. Thinking of all the trails we had traveled, all the blisters and pains the trails gave, the scent of pine and glacier water, all the kind souls we had met and the stunning beauty of mother nature that encompassed us. It was truly hypnagogic. As we stared into the eyes of Everest, trying to grab a hold of the beauty of this moment, placing it in our memory, we heard her roar. The end to Everest’s private symphony.  Luckily it was only a warning roar. As Everest raised her voice and sent an avalanche down, we stood in caution, suddenly becoming even more aware that with beauty sometimes lies danger, for large boulders the size of small cars and SUVs lied behind us. Fortunate for us, Everest’s movements were only strong enough to spew snow. So, no boulders came our way. But, moving quietly, we could feel the deepening of surface cracks over the glacier we were standing on. I felt quite timid to be honest. Questioning which way to move: forward on into Base Camp or retracting a bit to look over Base Camp. An impossible decision, which Rob made for us. Forward of course. Despite the danger that lurked with every footstep. And then a second avalanche came down. Now, we not only heard, but listened to Mother Nature’s message. Once we were in a safe zone again, I realized I had not been breathing for a while down there. But now, we were all three safe, and for that, I felt grateful. Grateful for safety in the moment, for the incredible life I have lived thus far, the man I love standing next to me, for kind souls in the world such as our guide Rakesh and our porter Saroj, for my family, for my friends, for the earth which provides us life and for the universe- which reminds us that we are all ONE.

    Before heading back to Gorak Shep, we took the picture you see above. We made it. All, 17,598 ft. Life is a beautiful adventure.

  • Day 9: Lobuche to Gorak Shep

    Day 9: Lobuche to Gorak Shep

    Out of all the tea houses we stayed in, I hate to say it, but I think the one in Lobuche was my least favorite. The set-up was just odd. There were about 8 or so rooms on one cement hall, interconnected by a cemented bathroom to another cement hall with its own 8 rooms. It was all pink dark cement. Odd. To add, everything was wet and dingy. It was off-season, we get it. Anyways, when 6:30 wake up call came, I was ready to throw on my clothes and hit the trail. Before doing the grudge work of getting out of my sleeping bag, and packing everything up, I took a peek out the window of our small room. I could see that the clouds wanted to take a gander at what the ground felt like. Heavy rain swells lied within them, and it was almost certain to me that our morning hike would be a wet one. Rob took a look as well. In agreement, we slid on an external rain tight layer that we bought for under 30 Euros in Kathmandu. Apparently Northface. In a jiffy, we were headed to the breakfast table for, who would have guessed it, porridge and oats. Sustenance is sustenance eh?

    Roughly around 7:30, we walked out into the wet cloth of outside and headed for Gorak Shep. The air was really wet a thick, yet a deep inhale still filled my entirety with fresh mountain air. So entirely invigorating. Within the first 100 meters, we saw a helicopter landing pad made of green grass and yellow flowers and painted rocks which made the H with the circle around it. Being that my Gramma is a helicopter pilot, I automatically thought, how cool would it be for her to fly here right now and see us climbing this trail! Everest, I am sure, is out of the question. My next thought was, I am glad we have not had to fly a helicopter this trip. A helicopter flight would have meant a life threatening situation and at least $5,000. So, yes, glad no helicopters joined our adventure.

    Gorak Shep lies at 5184m. It was about a 3 hour walk from our tea house in Lobuche. For some reason, I had envisioned that the last stretch to the last tea house would be tough. But, it could quite possibly have been the easiest day, both physically and mentally. The streak from Lobuche to Gorak Shep is just a steady, constant incline. No major changes. Just steadiness. The trail climbs over rivers, valleys and makeshift bridges, but all with rather easy forward footing. Once the rain came, my initial reaction was a bit of dread, but after a couple of minutes and the realization that my rain gear worked, I was so happy it was raining! With strong legs, steady breath and a light heart, we treaded on! Life felt real, gritty and beautiful. And as we mounted the village of Gorak Shep, just a short three hours after departure, a beautiful white horse stood under the day’s last view of Everest. All I could do was smile with my heart.

  • Day 5: Namche to Tengbouche

    Day 5: Namche to Tengbouche

    Perching at a height of 3,867 metres is the incredibly small villiage of Tengbouche (Thyangboche). Tengbouche holds great importance to trekkers, Buddhists and the people of the Himalayas, for it is not only a good place to rest your head, but also is the home to the largest gompa in the Khumbu region, the Tengbouche Monastery. Thinking back, I believe the Tengbouche Monastery is even mentioned in Peter Matthiessen’s 1978 book, The Snow Lepoard. Which, by the way trekkers, is a great book to read in preparation for your trekking adventures in Nepal. It helps you to begin thinking in “butterfly detail”, noticing every light flicker in the forest, the crunch of the rocks under your feet, the sturdy nature of the mountain- it simply helps you to conciously awaken your senses.

    In any event, Tengbouche is about a 5-6 hour hike from Namche. As soon as we left the villiage of Namche, roughly around 8 am, we began a rolling descent/ascent scheme. Rob and I kept saying, it seems so counter intuitive that we just hiked an pretty intense upward climb to get to Namche, only to descend the same distance a day later. But, we were too elated to be back on the trail to whine. After around an hour or so, we found ourselves much closer to the Dudh Kosi river. Then, at some point, Rakesh said that we would now begin the ascent to Tengbouche. He said it would take around 2 hours or so. Give or take. And so we began an endless amount of switch backs.

    I took only about 12 pounds with me in my pack. Mostly carrying water, snacks, extra socks, a small shovel, jackets, lighters, medicines and eco-friendly toilet paper. (Another thing trekkers, if you need to use the restroom, which you will, because you need to stay hydrated during your trek, the most environmentally sustainable way to use the restroom is to find a spot in the woods, dig a little hole, use the restroom, cover your tracks and then burn your toilet paper. True statement.) BUT 12 pounds on these switchbacks was not easy, I won’t lie about it. My shoulders were achy from the weight and my lower back was ill-thrilled from the hunching I was doing. I did bring Tiger Balm from India with me, which saved me during times like these. Just enough relief to get through it. After a seemingly infinte number of switchbacks, we walked through the gates to Tengbouche. Funny enough, after feeling the aches in my shoulders, it was ironic to see a man carrying up a full trunk of a tree on his shoulders, Nepali style, balanced by a head band and rope. I immediantly forgot about my shoulders. P1060443

    Wouldn’t you?

    After standing astounded, with my jaw wide open, Rakesh moved us onward towards our tea house for the night. Mostly all of them were actually closed, but one remained open for the few trekkers who would be on the trails during “off-season”. We were warmly welcomed with the smell of paint (they were also doing some remodeling) and a pot of tea. They asked us if we would like cold bucket shower… and we declined. Wipees would do with the cold temperatures outside. After getting a bit more settled in and ordering what we would like for dinner in the evening, Rob and I went to explore the Tengbouche Monastery. I had been really looking forward to seeing it in full swing, imagining the bells chiming, incense flowing, the harmony of the chanting monks and the sounds of dongs ringing loudly. But, to our disappointment, the monks had left to hold a gathering in a neighboring village and were not present; only a single monk and his two dogs were left to keep the Monastery afloat. Lucky for us, we were allowed inside to take a look around and read the stories on the walls. Escaping a bit into the simplicity of Monastic life. It was absolutly beautiful. Regardless of how empty it was, I could feel the life within the walls, the prayers and truths revealing themselves as I grazed the painted stories with my hands.

    After around thirty minutes inside, we were led out by the guarding monk, and returned back to the tea house for an evening of Dal Bhat, cards and tea.

    Life in the Himalayas is both simple and compounded. Once I released myself from the hectic nature of my mind’s creation, I found peace, and through this peace, my mind found that in the simple things, life is its most full. Like taking in a full breath of air, noticing how it tastes, smells, feels, reenergizes my body; imagining the rush of blood through my veins and the expansion created by the sip of oxygen. And the most wonderous part was to then open my eyes and see the panoramic views of the Himalayas, including the well-known peaks of Lhotse, Ama Dablam, Thamserku, Tawache, Nuptse and Everest.

    I am extremely thankful to be alive.

  • Breathing for the second time: Lukla to Phakding

    Breathing for the second time: Lukla to Phakding

    If my first breath was a second after my birth, then my second true breath would have to be the moment we started walking towards our destination- Everest Base Camp. Day one, of eleven days of walking, wiggling my toes, groping trees, asking for Puni Pani, widening my eyes, smelling crisp evergreens, feeling small rocks slide beneath my feet, hearing – literally hearing the wind blow in twisting streams past my ears, and climbing to the steady pat of my heart had begun. I felt so completely alive. Conscious. Aware. Thrilled. And so eager. I could feel my heart smiling. After setting our bags on our backs, Rakesh and our lovely porter Saroj from Good Karma Trekking, led us through the “busy” streets of Lukla towards our next destination: Phakding. From Lukla to Phakding is only about a 3 hour walk; an easy “climb”. But, it seriously might as well have been 24 hours, in so far as in 3 hours, I experienced a days worth of imagery, beauty, enchantings. Within the first five hours, from flight to foot, the EBC trekker is already witnessing waterfalls, donkeys on trails, cows on trails, the refreshing effulgent Dudh Kosi River whipping rapidly through the Himalayan Valleys, and entrancing lower valley life. It is a bit funny, because there is a visible difference between lower valley folk and those in Kathmandu. It is almost tangible. Nothing better or anything, just different. You see this difference in the warmth of their smiles. The lack of city worry. But, beware trekkers: do not let your competitiveness think that you can walk faster than a small Nepali girl carrying fifty pounds of luggage. She might be chatting with her friend behind her, playing music from her small phone, wearing flip-flops and carrying a hell of a lot more weight than you, but, my friend, she is faster. Her feet know these steps like the back of her hand. Wherever she is going, she will most likely get there before you do. Funny enough, she doesn’t notice it. She is just being herself, within herself, completely bare of your path, your plans and your intentions. She will give you a shy smile and be on her way, most likely wishing you a small “go well” in her head. Don’t try to keep up with her, watch her, watch her go forward in lightness and imagine the home she is waiting to find. You may even see her again, for the trails of the Himalayas are forever intertwining with one another, letting some go and pushing others forward, yet always allowing any soul to sit still.