Dave the Nomad

Gokyo

Its only when I start to write this I realize I’ve been traveling for exactly six months. The last 7 days have involved hiking from Lukla, Nepal through a lush mountain valley, acclimating in Namche Bazaar nestled by snow capped mountains, staring down 8000 meter peaks, spinning countless prayer wheels along the trail, and hiking through high country past yaks, glaciers, lakes, and the thin air. We awoke a little before 5 am, our goal this morning was the literal high point of the trip, Gokyo Ri.

We gathered in the common area of the lodge, I had donned all of my clothing for the ensuing adventure: 2 shirts, 1 heavy wool sweater, 1 North Face Fleece, 1 shell jacket, 2 pairs of tights, 2 pairs of pants, 2 pairs of wool socks, 2 pairs of gloves, 2 hats, and a scarf.

Guided by headlamps we exited into the outdoors, I tried to guess the temperature outside, based on it being cold enough in the common area to freeze a partially filled cup of water last night… 10 F. The night sky was bejeweled with 5 times as many stars as I have ever seen. After a few moments I turned off my head lamp and walked by starlight. The lake ice and its deep mysterious wanes, cracks, and shuddering, a meld of deep diggery doo and electric drums sounds from a keyboard, was a great soundtrack to the dark trudge we had started.

We quickly crossed a small stream that runs parallel to the glacier and began our real ascent up Gokyo Ri. Slowly, the stars began to fade, as if they were being erased from the sky. A few minutes later Sam stumbled in front of me and sat down from the dizziness. After a few moments, I left Sam and continued as I would normally trudge by to stay warm. Ten minutes later, I was at the front of the group with Ram, and Sam had fallen way behind. Concerned, we signaled with our headlamps and shouting, and after a few brief moments of no response saw a flashlight and heard, “I’m fine, don’t come down….take a picture for me.”

The terrain was surprisingly relentless and steep, whereas yesterday it seemed docile and gentle in perspective. We kept moving up the mountain, and I stayed with Ram until the sky had turned blue and we were well past halfway up. The trail started to clear and the doops and wanes of the whale-song ice had faded as the wind started to pick up. After impatiently being quiet, I asked Ram if this was almost the top, as I could see the glacier behind Gokyo and the mighty Everest billowing clouds against the rising sun. We walked just a bit farther before Ram responded. He stopped, laughed, and pointed to a cairn with quivering flags now in view high above us. By now, we were far ahead and Ram allowed me to go in front of him now that the end was in sight. The trail had become rocky and was marked by dozens of small rock cairns which were at times hard to follow.

I took a quick break to look to my right, Everest had not only come well into view, but finally risen to the occasion as if to assert itself above all others, clearing all doubts. Until now, Everest has been present, but smaller peaks much closer to us have masked its greatness, and made it appear slightly lower due to how far away it actually was from us. Finally, Everest is irrefutable. I looked back down at the old glacier below me crusted on top with boulders and rocks. It reminded me of the lovely brown and grey slushy mixed wonderland of Cleveland winter I have avoided this year. There were small glimmering glimpses of ice proudly reflecting the new day’s sun, but for the most part it was a dull roaring chunk of history.

My final push was not too extreme, but I was ecstatic to make it to the top. It was surreal; it was a string I managed to pull from years of my imagination and place in reality. I let out a shout of accomplishment, I looked back, raised my pole in triumph, and no one was in sight, no sound was made. Silence. Complete Silence. I finally remembered to start breathing again, and in my light-headedness it was as if the wind was waiting for me to make a sound as the chattering of the prayer flags and whistling gusts slowly started up again. I sat huddled from the wind just staring at Everest. That’s it. That’s it! That’s the highest point in the entire world… I was sad Sam couldn’t join us for this view.

I’m not sure what to make of that moment. Hiding from the wind, I reached into my brain trying to gather some beautiful parallel to life or my travels thus far. I don’t feel like it was a turning point in my life, nor that I’ve learned something, nor that I’ve accomplished something extraordinary. At first you might think it has been a waste without such thoughts. I relaxed, I stopped thinking, I stared off into the distance, and just breathed, content with life. Content with not needing more than life.