Down Going Down

November 1,

After somehow organizing the chaos of that tent, and finding our other equipment, and hardly eating anything, I could barely function. Carrying huge packs we made it down to camp 1.  I told Tanner and Urken to go ahead, I was going to go slow, I knew the way.  Below the tents, heading toward the fixed rappel lines, I stumbled, off balance with the huge pack, fell over and almost started to roll down the slabs.  I really don’t know how I stopped myself.   I like being alone in this part of the Himalaya, taking pictures, thinking about making paintings. I took my time walking along the floor of the Cambrian ocean,  finally getting to base camp around 5. How good was it to get in my fleece liner, inside my sleeping bag, on top of a pad at base camp after spending two difficult nights at camp 2.

Amazingly, in the early morning hours, I was thinking about the climb, amazing that I could even think about climbing that mountain, but I was thinking, why didn’t we climb slower (actually, we were climbing pretty slow), and enjoy the process more, and take a longer look at the views?  I thought, what we should have done is skipped camp 2 altogether and stayed at camp 3, dividing the climb over two days.  

In some ways the climb was  troubling. I did not anticipate  how commercial the enterprise had become, and so far removed from the joys of climbing, it has become a process of setting up fixed lines and getting clients as far up as possible.  In the spring there are maybe 6 or 8 people trying to climb the mountain, but in the fall, there must be hundreds, many of whom do not really belong on such a big mountain, and who lack climbing experience, but have brand new clothes and boots.  From now on I want to climb more lonely mountains.

If you make it to the summit, there might be a cake waiting for you at base camp. 

 Unfortunately, we found out later that one of the Koreans we passed on the way down had died at camp 3. When I arrived in Namche, on November 2, I thought I was coming upon a funeral process, but it was a group of people carrying a young man who was moaning in agony up the steps, being trailed by a girl carrying an oxygen tank.  The helicopter pilot I talked with at Tengbouche said he is very busy rescuing people, mostly trekkers, who do not recognize the dangers of altitude sickness until it is too late.