lost mountain wave

April 30 the mountain wave

Ram serves breakfast, there is the scalding hot shower in the shower tent standing on cold stones, then a solitary walk to the meadows, then to advanced base camp, then back to the meadows to meet Mark. Black stones and yellow sands surrounded by huge, ever changing peaks, immersed in clouds, this is where I meet that old cloud walker Jay, who taught me to love the walk. On the crest of the mountain wave, on the endless shore, I walk with the ghosts, drawing diagrams in the sand, the names of those who have gone before, the names of those who are yet to be, the walk is for us to be together again, to remember the dream.
It has turned colder, I wear three layers to bed, consisting of my sleeping bag and two liners. In spite of Nima’s plan, I don’t want to return to base camp for the rest time, I want to stay on the mountain. So once again, good bye everyone, I go walking through the Himalayan sands, looking for Buddha’s pure land, under the mountain waves and over the mountain boulders looking for a city, everything on my back and although the winds blow I am walking through the clouds and am tight like a dish, like a snail slow, but carry my home with me.

Naks coming down

that is the shower

April 29 deboche to base camp

I just have to face it, I live in a tent, my water comes from the nearby stream, barely strained, hopefully boiled. The houses in the villages are made of stone, cut by hand, no concrete. In Pangbuche I buy shoelaces, and make a mandala of the old laces, on the floor of the last cafe where we first saw the path up the mountain.
Back to base camp. Is this progress? But what is progress weighed in the scales of what is truly important? So we had a long planning meeting with Nima to work out the new nine day plan to the summit. It is taking a long time to climb this mountain. But Mark is feeling much better, we are going to go slowly and make sure he is feeling strong. He is still amazingly positive and enthusiastic, but he has been talking quite a bit about a vacation in the Bahamas

tent life

Ram serves lunch

shoe lace mandala

April 28 Buddha speaks in stones

I don't climb on Sundays except for emergency. So today after lunch I walk down to the tiny village of Debouche to check on how Mark is doing, maybe stay down there and luxuriate in the rich oxygen
Sunday afternoon 3 hour walk to Deboche to find Mark, who is happily ensconced in trekker society, eating in a heated room, with people, girls even, musicians, facebook just down the trail at the Rivendell lodge, not even taking the diamox. Dude, snap out of it, we got to get on the mountain, camp one, is waiting, team island rock, we will hire a porter to carry your pack...
I am writing this inside my sleeping bag in an unheated tiny plywood walled room in Deboche and it feels like pure luxury. mark is feeling much better so we are going to walk back to base camp regaining 3,000 feet. Then there is the mountain. In the lodge in Deboche I was very excited to see bottled water, I am not sure what i have been drinking for the past week, and people, there were people!

momo, some call dumplngs

garlic soup and eggs

Buddha speaks in stone

April 27 camp one

Walking up heartbreak ridge in the Himalayas. Walking alone except for a few finches, high in the clouds passing the stone circle, listening to Philip Glass, now I sit alone in my yellow tent at the high meadows as the sun goes down.
The first crazy long walk from the meadows to camp one (18,900) and back, dropping off a tent, among other things. Now I am walking again on the high ridge below advanced base camp, it is like a huge ocean shore with sand and rounded black rocks and small plants that look like creatures in tidal pools. I think now i will be soloing the route and am working out the logistics of this in my mind, so much simpler that way. Occasionally I feel by my side, he loved this type of terrain. I pass Freddy and Ueli Steck on their way down from the summit. I wait for a couple hours at ABC for Sima who drops Agee things off down in a hurry. I loaded my pack and headed for camp 1. I crossed a huge boulder field, like going to Pentapitch except for three hours, then the slabs below camp 1, Glad I had approach shoes on, then found a nice flat place, laid out the tent. Camp 1! 17,600 feet, the mountain occasionally appeared through the mists and clouds, much closer now. But I had to get back to the meadows before dark, Which I did only barely but a beautiful walk back across the bottom of the ocean. Chris was in a camp with bowl of mung bean noodles