This is not the conventional altitude sickness. I haven't lost my appetite, got a thumping headache, disintry or suffer from shortness of breath after 10 steps. This is a feeling of missing all of these symptoms, just to be in the great heights of the Himalayas again. That feeling that none of my pictures from my time in the Kumbu or indeed Sikhm really can medicate me.
The thing about travel is it gets under your skin so much it really can leave you with a permanent impediment. The wanderlust of being in the valley of the great mountains 60 years on since the first summit by my heroes Sir Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay is consuming me at the moment. Today is my first anniversary since I made it to Everest Base Camp, and if today is anything to go by I will be making a return!
I will never forget the difficulty of the Kumbu. With nothing more than 5 months travelling South East Asia as training and the first night providing me with a bout of the runs, I was not best prepared. From years of tramping at home in New Zealand I was taught by my Dad to walk at your own pace, walk as a team and support each other. With my personal Sherpa Ganji I was in good company, along with Australian Dr Dustin and New Yorker Elan. I had bleeding noses regularly, walked slower than many men twice my age and had no appetite what so ever, that I was bribed into eating most evenings. But I would do it all over again just to be amongst the Mountains that envelope you and the valleys dip deeper than you ever thought it was possible to fall.
The days in the Kumbu really have given me some valuable lessons for getting through the toughest times in the past year. One moment gets me more than any. Walking up the hill to the airstrip overlooking Namache Bazaar on my first aclimitisation day, might have been my biggest test yet. I thought with every ten steps that I should just turn around and fly back to Kathmandu, cos damn it was hard! Then as it levelled off and horses were grazing on the airstrip and we dared to cross with no planes in earshot, it seemed a little more managable. We carried on up the hill to the Khunde were I wanted to visit the Hillary Clinic built with the help of the NZ Lions. As I put one foot in front of the other we came across a mother and her daughter under 2years old. The Mother carried a water bottle on her back and the little girl tottered along beside her Mum holding her hand. In a surprising moment I offered to carry the girl to Khunde. We walked for about 20 minutes and as I went to set her down at the Town Entrance Prayer Wheels, she closed her big eyes and pretended to be asleep. She loved this sweet ride. So guilted by cuteness I carried her on for a while longer.
What you wont realise is that this little girl has to walk everywhere. She has never known the wheels of a push chair, let alone a car, bus, doesn't have a clue what a boat would be for, but does not the difference between a helicopter and a small passenger plane. Her mother has to visit the Khunde (some distance from home) for clean water, school and for a volunteer western Doctor. And when I think of those blinking eyes I remember just how different my life is to hers. We make the best of our situation and the people of the mountains inspire me as much as the mad climbers.
So today I am going to put up some prayer flags in Stepney for my Kumbu valley friends, sherpas and climbers. And I'm going to run a little harder with all that intoxicating oxygen here at sealevel....and plant the seeds of my return.
The thing about travel is it gets under your skin so much it really can leave you with a permanent impediment. The wanderlust of being in the valley of the great mountains 60 years on since the first summit by my heroes Sir Edmund Hillary and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay is consuming me at the moment. Today is my first anniversary since I made it to Everest Base Camp, and if today is anything to go by I will be making a return!
I will never forget the difficulty of the Kumbu. With nothing more than 5 months travelling South East Asia as training and the first night providing me with a bout of the runs, I was not best prepared. From years of tramping at home in New Zealand I was taught by my Dad to walk at your own pace, walk as a team and support each other. With my personal Sherpa Ganji I was in good company, along with Australian Dr Dustin and New Yorker Elan. I had bleeding noses regularly, walked slower than many men twice my age and had no appetite what so ever, that I was bribed into eating most evenings. But I would do it all over again just to be amongst the Mountains that envelope you and the valleys dip deeper than you ever thought it was possible to fall.
The days in the Kumbu really have given me some valuable lessons for getting through the toughest times in the past year. One moment gets me more than any. Walking up the hill to the airstrip overlooking Namache Bazaar on my first aclimitisation day, might have been my biggest test yet. I thought with every ten steps that I should just turn around and fly back to Kathmandu, cos damn it was hard! Then as it levelled off and horses were grazing on the airstrip and we dared to cross with no planes in earshot, it seemed a little more managable. We carried on up the hill to the Khunde were I wanted to visit the Hillary Clinic built with the help of the NZ Lions. As I put one foot in front of the other we came across a mother and her daughter under 2years old. The Mother carried a water bottle on her back and the little girl tottered along beside her Mum holding her hand. In a surprising moment I offered to carry the girl to Khunde. We walked for about 20 minutes and as I went to set her down at the Town Entrance Prayer Wheels, she closed her big eyes and pretended to be asleep. She loved this sweet ride. So guilted by cuteness I carried her on for a while longer.
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| Photo Credits to Dustin De Jonge |
So today I am going to put up some prayer flags in Stepney for my Kumbu valley friends, sherpas and climbers. And I'm going to run a little harder with all that intoxicating oxygen here at sealevel....and plant the seeds of my return.
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