China, Tibet (An eventful day on the way to Mt. Everest)

November 4, 2010

Awake early in the morning, before sunrise, I watched the impressive spectacle of the crescent moon giving way to the sun.

After a quick breakfast, the group finally moved on towards Tashi Lhunpo Monastery,…

…home to one of the largest seated Buddhas in the world, in the monastery building above (taking a photo inside would have cost a bargain 150 €…).

We got to watch the monks at their prayer breakfast and marvel at the countless Buddhas in room after room.

Along the monastery’s hillside ran a prayer wheel path several hundred meters long,…

…which the faithful were making good use of.

It’s all very interesting, but after all the impressions of the last few days, we were slowly starting to suffer from a serious case of monastery overload. Buddhism in Tibet really comes in a highly concentrated dose – especially at the speed we were traveling. Which made us all the more excited about Mt. Everest, coming up next.

Our guide got us the permit we needed to enter the Mt. Everest region.

A fine piece of paper with all sorts of official hoopla.

On we went along the roads towards the Himalayas…

…up to the Gyatso La Pass, the gateway to the Mt. Everest Biosphere Reserve. Stand still, smile for the camera, enjoy the view a little, breathe slowly and that’s it. At an incredible altitude of 5248 meters, you can’t expect much more.

A few kilometers further on, Mt. Everest appeared on the distant horizon (in the middle of the photo, the white „hill“ on the left).

Shortly after this stop, Tibetan children appeared out of nowhere, offering their wares – small petrified fossils. Our guide told us that because they’re so small, these children crawl into caves, even at the risk of their lives, to get at the fossils. Looking at their worn little hands, that’s definitely believable. The child on the left also has their digging tool hanging around their neck – a spoon. The watch on the other child’s wrist was probably a gift from another tourist. I wonder what happens to the watch when the battery runs out – can you eat it? To thank them for the photo, I gave them both a little money for themselves or their families, plus a few sweets as a treat.

One more quick photo with our tour guide Dorjee (left) and our speed-crazy driver (right) before we…

…kept on getting closer to Mt. Everest (that’s it in the middle of the picture).

This isn’t a photo montage. I really did jump onto the Himalayas here – and my right foot even landed right on Mt. Everest. ;)

We drove through small villages (that’s the main street)…

…and stocked up on snacks and drinks at the local shop. Best not to look at the expiry dates here – you’re lucky to get anything at all.

It’s almost a miracle that we made it this far, and further still. For the sake of readability, I left a few things out. I already told you about the police incident at the start. As it turned out later, our driver and tour guide apparently weren’t all that keen on making the trip out here. The whole chaotic business started the evening before in the town of Shigatse. Over dinner, the tour guide and driver told us how bitterly cold it is at Mt. Everest Base Camp. Currently –20 to –30°C. The road there is a nearly impassable, bumpy track. But the worst part, they said, was that we’d be completely alone up there. There was nothing there except a tiny hut. Nothing to eat, nothing to drink, let alone anything to keep you warm, or beds. We’d have to sleep on chairs. To drive the point home, our driver pushed a few restaurant chairs together, lay down on them and acted out a freezing person, chattering teeth and all, while Dorjee nodded along supportively. Impressed, we (Michael, Ingrid and I) looked at each other. Personally, I couldn’t have cared less. I was definitely going to the highest mountain in the world, uncomfortable or not. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing – you can put up with a little discomfort. Luckily, Michael felt much the same way, and Ingrid joined us too. Somewhat resigned, Dorjee and our driver ended their impressive performance. The next morning, our tour guide Dorjee told us that getting the permit to enter the Mt. Everest region would be difficult. Politely but firmly, I pointed out that we hadn’t paid a pile of money to swap Mt. Everest for more monasteries. An hour later, we had the permit. For the rest of the drive, they kept trying to convince us how awful it was at Mt. Everest Base Camp right now. Slowly it dawned on us what their game was, and we started telling fairy tales of our own. We were frost-resistant and loved the deadly cold – the danger – that was the only reason we were here. We wanted to test our own limits. The colder it was and the less comfort, the better. At that, wide-eyed, Dorjee and our driver finally gave up on their horror stories.

We enjoyed the rest of the drive to the last village before Base Camp, where we stopped for a meal. Once again our two Tibetan companions tried to talk us out of it, insisting at length that it wasn’t a good idea to go up there today. It was already too late for that. We’d have to spend the night here in this village. The trouble was, if we didn’t make it up to Base Camp today, we could forget about it altogether. Tomorrow we’d need the whole day to drive to the Nepalese border, since we had to leave Tibet the day after – there would definitely be no time left for Mt. Everest then. Of course Dorjee knew this. Happy to oblige, if slightly irritated by the constant attempts to keep us away from the mountain, I explained it to him once more. He went quiet. Michael, Ingrid and I enjoyed our food, shaking our heads. Then the bombshell dropped. Ten minutes later Dorjee came back into the restaurant and said that we couldn’t get entrance tickets (yes, you need a separate one for that too) for Base Camp anymore. Stunned and wide-eyed, I followed him outside, where he showed me the locked ticket office. Open until 4 pm – it was 4:30 pm. I watched a dream drift away before my eyes. All that hassle just to be allowed into Tibet, the really steep costs (over 700 € in total for the stay in Tibet) and all the kilometers covered in a thin-aired, rather hostile environment – only to not make it to the highest mountain on earth in the end? A once-in-a-lifetime story. For a few seconds I was genuinely speechless. My thoughts were racing: we’d had to book a tour just to get a Tibet permit in the first place. The highlight of that tour was Mt. Everest Base Camp. The tour guide and driver constantly trying to talk us out of going. The tour had been planned, after all. Why hadn’t the tickets been organized in advance, or the ticket office’s opening hours taken into account? Am I now supposed to miss out because of other people’s incompetence, or is this a deliberate scam to cut costs? I felt a distinct change come over me. My breathing got deeper, my blood pressure rose, and my facial muscles went rapidly from relaxed to the exact opposite. (All that was missing was for me to turn green.) Slowly I turned towards Dorjee and fixed him with a stony stare. My patience and friendliness had definitely run out. Here was someone deliberately trying to ruin my tour. Without blinking, I bored into him with my eyes and asked, without a trace of friendliness in my voice, whether he was serious. He tried to laugh it off – it wasn’t really all that bad, we could still go tomorrow (which, as we know, wasn’t true). Without a word and without moving a muscle, I let him finish. When he realized I was no longer in the mood for jokes and probably looked a lot less friendly, he fell silent. I asked him the same question again, this time in a surprisingly deeper voice: was he really serious? Out came the apologies: there was nothing he could do about it, he was ever so sorry, an unfortunate chain of coincidences, etc. I felt the veins on my forehead swelling and my heartbeat pounding in my eyes. Inwardly, I thanked my years of karate training. … Not for fighting, as some of you might be thinking right now. ;) No, karate is primarily about discipline and self-control. So while my outward body language certainly looked extremely unfriendly – and that’s exactly how I felt – inside I was completely in control. I studied his gestures, his facial expressions, every change in his body, his voice, his entire behavior. Is he lying to me?

His hand movements got more nervous, he talked faster, little beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, he tried to keep his eyes under control, but he was too restless. His eyes kept darting upwards – a clear sign. Still staring right through him, I said in an urgent voice: „You and I both know that we go to the base camp - today!“ He tried to reply, but I turned around without a word and walked off down the street.

Calm, calm, stay calm. I calmed my body down and quickly got my blood pressure out of the red zone. There’s a solution for everything. Apparently this was a ploy by the driver and tour guide to save money. No Base Camp – which was relatively expensive to visit – obviously meant fewer expenses for the tour guide, and therefore money saved for him. A refund would of course also be out of the question because of „unfortunate coincidences“, which would mean a tidy extra profit for the tour guide and driver. That was my theory. Whether it’s true or not, I don’t know. All I know is that I want to go to Mt. Everest – now more than ever!

I kept walking down the street for quite a while and eventually headed back to the restaurant. Our jeep was gone. … Curious, I went inside. Michael and Ingrid were still sitting at the table. Michael told me that Dorjee had come back pretty rattled, had a loud, gesture-filled discussion with the driver, spent a while on the phone, and then the two of them had sped off in the jeep without saying much. What was going to happen? Some incredibly suspenseful moments followed.

Ten minutes later our two storytellers came back. The driver less happy and silent, tour guide Dorjee full of energy. Apparently the required entrance tickets could be organized after all, and we could set off now. I gave Dorjee a friendly but firm pat on the shoulder. Why not just do that in the first place?

First we drove to the army checkpoint set up at the start of the three-hour bumpy track to Mt. Everest. Inside, the officers told us that an American had recently died of altitude sickness at Base Camp, and asked whether we really wanted to go up there this late in the day. The driver’s face lit up and he started up again about how it would be better to stay here. There’s no help up there if anything happens. Far too dangerous. I glanced over at Dorjee and he understood my look. He said a few words in Chinese to the driver, who then went quiet and headed to the jeep without a word. The track up to Mt. Everest really was bumpy, but nowhere near as bad as our two Munchausens had tried to make us believe.

After about two hours of driving, another surprise: our jeep stalled and wouldn’t start again… The driver and guide were getting nervous. Interesting: in the middle of Mt. Everest’s ice-cold no man’s land, at about 5000 meters, just before dusk, knowing that no other car would come by at this hour – and here we were with a breakdown. That really was a special moment. Secretly I wondered whether fate really wanted me to make it to Mt. Everest. We’ll see… All together, we gave the car a push … and … it started again. YES! Just one more hour to go! Surely we can manage that!

And sure enough, at dusk, after getting through the bumpy track and just before nightfall, we finally saw the highest mountain in the world, Mt. Everest, in all its glory.

To our surprise, we discovered that, contrary to what our storytellers had claimed, there wasn’t just a lone hut here, but a monastery and a guesthouse. The Rongbuk Monastery, battered by history, is the highest religious building and also ranks among the highest inhabited settlements anywhere. The guesthouse opposite even has rooms with proper beds and a heated common room where you can order food and drinks. What a pair of miserable windbags our Tibet guides were…

Since neither of them had planned to take us to Mt. Everest, naturally no rooms had been booked in advance. There were only two „luxury rooms“ left, each of which would cost extra. When our tour guide asked whether we’d cover these costs, I just gave him a you-must-be-crazy look and told him that was his problem. After a lot of back and forth, he finally managed to get us a place to sleep in the neighboring monastery. Great! Michael, Ingrid and I were thrilled. Spending the night in a monastery at the highest mountain on earth – what an experience. Our driver and Dorjee couldn’t understand our enthusiasm at all. Both were pretty sulky that what was presumably their plan had backfired.

We grabbed our luggage and climbed the heavily iced-up steps…

…to what we thought would be our monastery lodgings.

Exhausted but very happy to have made it here after all, we (in the picture: Ingrid and Michael) enjoyed a hot noodle soup in the guesthouse and chatted with a few other tourists – we were definitely not alone up here… Among other things, we found out that this wasn’t the actual Base Camp yet – despite what our tour guide Dorjee had assured us – but that it was another ten minutes‘ drive. Interesting, given that our driver and Dorjee wanted to set off straight for the Nepalese border first thing in the morning. Probably with the intention of reaching the border in time to send us across and save on further overnight costs. Well, they were welcome to try. We were here now and would take as much time as we needed to see everything.

Later Dorjee came over and said he’d managed to get us the „luxury rooms“ after all: rooms with two beds and thick blankets, but no electricity, heating, toilet or washbasin – just somewhere to sleep. Surprised at our lack of enthusiasm, he helped us move our luggage into the new rooms. We’d have been perfectly happy with a night in the monastery, too. Michael and Ingrid had a double room, and so did I. I was still annoyed about the attempts to con us, but I thought one step further: where were our driver and Dorjee actually going to sleep? Our driver had been driving all day – and the road up here was really no picnic. I offered him the second bed in my room. Surprised, he declined at first, but then happily accepted. For the first time since all that pointless drama, there was finally a smile on his face again. Why all the lies in the first place? Life could be so simple with a bit of honesty. Oh well, hopefully they’d learned by now not to try to rip us off anymore. Though I have to say that, apart from the Mt. Everest business (and maybe the speedy driving), the two of them were otherwise really excellent.

At the guesthouse we also met Thijs, a Dutchman (left in the picture), with whom we later went on a night hike. Above the sound of the wind, we heard a faint ringing in the distance. Curious, we set off to find where it was coming from…

…and eventually found a water-powered prayer wheel with a little bell attached. The bell surely wouldn’t ring for much longer, because without the sun, the night brought an icy cold with it. After our night walk we went to our rooms shortly after midnight. In my room, our driver was already snoring at the top of his lungs. Oh well, as long as it meant he’d be fit the next day. I stuck in my earplugs and buried myself under the incredibly thick blankets. In this room, the word „luxury“ probably correlates directly with the thickness of the blankets.

I suddenly shot awake, as if stung by a tarantula, when I heard loud knocking and Chinese shouting. I immediately switched on my headlamp to see what was going on. My driver was talking at me in Chinese, holding his nose with one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. I gave him a pack of tissues; he took two, wiped a little blood from his nose, made some truly unspeakable (!) noises and spat into the corner several times. Two seconds later he was snoring again as if nothing had happened. What on earth was that…?

In the darkness I tried to get back to sleep – but I couldn’t. My pulse had been high all day, and I’d put it down to everything that had happened. But even now, lying in bed, my pulse was over 120. On top of that, breathing wasn’t as easy as usual. Was this down to the enormous altitude? Despite the dry air, I had a thin film of sweat on my forehead. Unsettled by the driver’s and guide’s horror stories and the news of the recent death from altitude sickness, I got up and went outside. It was 12:45 am and by now below –15°C, with incredibly dry air. Luckily, I wasn’t cold. Dressed as I was, that would have been hard anyway: one pair of normal socks, two pairs of thick winter socks, sturdy hiking boots, underpants, long merino thermal underpants, two pairs of normal pants, a long-sleeved merino thermal undershirt, two T-shirts, two fleece sweaters, a normal jacket, a thick down jacket, a hat, a homemade scarf, thick gloves. So there I stood, almost motionless, at one of the highest points on earth…

…staring up at the breathtaking starry sky (which, of course, doesn’t really show up in the photo). My pulse was still high, breathing was still noticeably hard work, and all in all I felt decidedly suboptimal. Did I have altitude sickness? I’d turned down preventive medication against altitude sickness, thinking a few days of acclimatization would be enough. Lots of questions popped into my head. Had I overdone it this time, insisting on coming here no matter what? Had I been too reckless? Had I now reached my personal limit? I asked myself many more deeply philosophical questions and looked back on my past. I thought about the intense last three years and the time before my PhD defence. Would I do some things differently? What will tomorrow bring? What is the goal of my journey? Am I happy? – Almost automatically, a smile appeared on my lips. That last question I could answer without hesitation: Yes!
At home I have the best family and the best friends. I’ve finished my university education with the best possible result. My prospects for the future couldn’t be better. And now here I was at Mt. Everest, completely free, with a breathtaking view of the starry sky. I felt a deep sense of calm and contentment rising inside me.

Suddenly I heard noises. A glance at my watch told me I’d already spent over three hours under the starry sky, lost in thought. It was a Dane who couldn’t really sleep anymore. We chatted a bit about altitude sickness. He was suffering badly from it himself and had a terrible headache despite medication. On top of that, he needed a hit from his oxygen canister every few hours to keep the symptoms in check. Wow, I thought, here’s someone who’s really reached his limits. Compared to that, my symptoms – if they even were symptoms – are harmless. He said a high pulse was completely normal at these extreme altitudes. Even experienced mountaineers automatically had a higher pulse at altitudes like this, despite acclimatization. Even happier now that I was obviously fine, I went back to my room and the snoring driver shortly after 4 am to try to get a few more hours of sleep – what a day…

Further links:

1. Tashi Lhunpo Monastery – home to China’s most valuable tomb
2. Gyatso La – an incredibly high mountain pass at over 5200 m
3. The Mt. Everest (Qomolangma) Biosphere Reserve on the UNESCO website
4. Himalayas – the famous high mountain range in Asia
5. Shigatse – Tibet’s second-largest city
6. Munchausen’s tall tales
7. Mt. Everest – the highest mountain in the world
8. Rongbuk Monastery – the highest religious building in the world