Climbing up Kala Patthar
Dateline: April 4th, 2010
Yesterday might have been tough, but it was nothing compared to today. Today has to go down as one of the most mentally- and physically-taxing days of my life.
Things certainly weren't made any easier by the mere three hours of kip I had last night. I was in bed by 2030, but spent most of the night staring at the ceiling. Those periods of staring were punctuated by what amounted to no more than dream-laden naps. My room was the noisiest I've stayed in thus far, being located next to the toilet and the stairs but, given the scarcity of oxygen and low air pressure, noise was the least of my problems. I was already wide awake when my alarm went off at 0430.
I wasn't alone in my trouble sleeping. This is a common complaint from trekkers at altitudes above 5,000m, and seeing some of the deadened expressions around the lodge this morning just pressed the point home. Santosh had come down with a moderate AMS headache last night and chose to stay at the lodge and rest, forgoing the climb to the summit of Kala Patthar. At 0445, it was just Arun and I, trudging across the Helipad towards the start of the trail up the mountain, as we followed the snake line of about fifteen headlamp clad trekkers ahead of us.
I also suffered through mild headaches during the night – and still had some throbbing this morning – but I wasn't going to miss my opportunity to attempt to scale the four-hundred vertical metres separating me and the top of Kala Patthar. Kala Patthar means 'Black Rock' in Nepali, and is also known as the Rocky Mountain to locals. A large mound of distinct, dark stones, jutting up from the bowl shaped valley next to Gorak Shep, the 5,545m peak isn't particularly prominent and looks like a mere hill, especially when surrounded by 7,000m and 8,000m giants. But the summit is a major draw because it offers up 360° views of the Himalaya – including that excellent, unobstructed view of Mount Everest.
It was close to pitch dark when we started climbing. The waxing moon wasn't giving off much light, and there was only a hint of blue twilight over the eastern Himalaya. The first section of the ascent – covering fifty vertical metres – is quite steep. A combination of the altitude and some muscle soreness from yesterday's rock scrambling made things very slow going for me. I spent the next twenty minutes or so leap-frogging with a German couple. We were all stopping every ten metres or so for rest.
The middle section was a hundred-and-fifty vertical metres of gentler-sloped switchbacks. It was an easier and slightly quicker climb, mainly because I now only had to stop for rest every fifty metres or so. It was still tough going. Not helping matters was the fact that I was quite possibly the coldest I've ever felt in my life.
That I felt cold was due to overconfidence. The experience I've had winter camping and winter sports in Canada actually worked against me. It was -10°C when I was getting dressed in the lodge this morning. I dressed the way I would have if I was going running or snow-shoeing or cross-country skiing in the same temperatures at home. In fact, I dressed a warmer since I also put my fleece on. In Canada, I would have started off cold, but the physical activity would quickly produce enough body heat to keep me warm. That was my major mistake: I think I expected the same in the Himalaya. But back in Toronto, I live just 100m above sea level. Up here at 5,000m-plus, there just isn't enough oxygen for me to move fast enough to work up any heat of which to speak.
Since I also had no benefit of direct sunlight – which actually has an incredible heating affect due to the thinner atmosphere – I was freezing my nuts off. Okay, that's nowhere near true. They were never in danger of falling off. As any male knows, cold tends to cause those parts to become more tightly attached to the body. Well, more like tightly attached inside the body. This morning, I think my testicles retracted to somewhere up around my lungs.
My fingers were getting incredibly stiff and numb, and I'd lost the feeling in my toes shortly after we climbed up from the Helipad. I was seriously worried about the possibility of frostbite. But I kept climbing anyway, making every effort to wiggle those extremities and keep the circulation going. The anticipation of the views, and the sight of the other trekkers around me, spurred me on.
The last section to the summit was the toughest of all. We were over 5,400m in altitude and while there was a trail of sorts, most of the progress upwards was made by scrambling over large rocks and boulders. And it was just getting colder. My camera battery charge was showing critical even though I'd started the morning with a half-charge – something that usually lasts me well over five hundred exposures. The cold was sapping the battery and, of course, I'd left my spare down at the lodge.
Celebrating on the Summit
(Which would have looked much more bloody impressive if the 7,161m peak of Pumori wasn't right behind me.)
At 0645, I finally reached the summit of Kala Patthar, the twentieth person to do so this morning. I don't want to make it sound as if being #20 on April 5th, 2010 is any great achievement. Dozens, if not hundreds, of trekkers climb Kala Patthar just about every day during the trekking seasons. I'm just pointing out that the summit was already crowded with nineteen other people when I got there.
5.5 Kilometres into the Air
(The calibration on my altimeter was off -- we were only at 5,545m)
I spent about a half-hour on the summit, chatting with other trekkers and taking pictures with what remained of my battery charge. The views were stunning. We could see the entire southern face of Mount Everest; framed by Khumbutse, the pass at Lho La and Nuptse. As we were two-hundred vertical metres above Everest Base Camp, we had good head-on looks at the Khumbu Icefall and the Western Cwm. To the north, Pumori was bathed in golden morning light. My SLR camera battery died just as the sun started to peek over Everest's South Face. That was my cue to start heading down.
Trekking - Day 9
The descent back to Gorak Shep was a lot faster than the ascent. Arun and I covered the distance back to the lodge in just over thirty minutes. We practically ran down the mountain. On the boulders and rocks near the summit, moving quickly was just about the only chance of maintaining balance. We were back in the village by 0745, but the pace put a huge strain on my body. My toes were already stubbed all to Hell from the trek to Base Camp yesterday and banging them on rocks on the way down Kala Patthar – which I hardly noticed since I could barely feel my toes in the cold – did not help matters. My right knee also started feeling wonky, no doubt in protest of the sharp descent.
As we came trekking back across the Helipad, we were greeted by Santosh, who as walking out towards us. He was rested and his AMS symptoms had dissipated. He was feeling fine. I wish I could have said the same. I still had a minor headache, and when I got up to my room to pack up my gear, I found I was moving incredibly slowly. Almost every joint in my body felt like it was creaking.
Descending Back to Gorak Shep
I rested whilst having breakfast. I was already feeling exhausted and we still had to trek out to Dzonghla. Dzonghla is to be our launching point for the climb across the Cho La – the high mountain pass separating the Khumbu and Gokyo valleys. Once I felt up to it, we were on our way back to Lobuche.
The two-hour descent to Lobuche was agony. The sun was up, the temperature was rising, and I no longer felt in danger of losing my extremities. The problem was that I was now warm enough to feel those same extremities. My feet were killing me. Every time the front of my boot struck something – which meant every few minutes given the rocks strewn all over the trail – sharp pains went shooting through the big toe on my left foot, or the second toe (the piggy that stayed at home) on my right foot. Not coincidentally, these were the two toes I'd injured while trekking in the Colca Canyon over four months ago. While the bruising beneath each nail bed had repaired itself soon after leaving Peru, both toes were still black when I'd arrived in Nepal.
Going downhill was murder. My rate of descent towards Lobuche was about as slow as my return from the summit of Kala Patthar had been quick. I was moving like a snail primarily because I was trying to avoid inadvertently kicking anything. But because I was trying to protect my feet, my gait was altered enough that extra strain was being placed on my knees, hips and leg muscles – areas that were now taking damage as I tried to compensate for my balance issues whilst going down the mountain.
When we finally reached Lobuche around 1030, I collapsed into a chair out in front in front of the Kala Patthar Lodge. Even standing was starting to put unneeded pressure on my feet. I suppose I could have called it a day there and stayed for the night, but I knew I needed to at least attempt to make it out to Dzonghla if I was to have any chance of climbing over the Cho La.
My reasoning was thus: I'd already decided that, given my current state, climbing the difficult mountain pass tomorrow was not going to happen. I have enough wiggle room in my trekking itinerary to allow for an extra day on this side of the pass – the trekking pace for the Gokyo Valley section is extremely conservative and allows for overnight stops that are unnecessary. But if I was going to take an extra day to help rest my body, it really had to be a full rest day. If I stayed in Lobuche tonight, and then spent even a shortened day trekking out to Dzonghla tomorrow, the toe would have no chance to heal. I would be right back to kicking rocks in less than twenty-four hours. Getting to Dzonghla would afford me the longest possible time to do nothing by sit with my feet up before I had to start trekking again.
But I decided to prolong the rest in Lobuche a touch by ordering lunch, even though I wasn't overly hungry. Even with this stalling tactic, we had to be back on the road by 1115. As with the climb up to Gorak Shep the previous day, a major worry was that the limited accommodation at Dzonghla would get filled up if we didn't get a move on.
On the Precipice
If I wasn't nervous enough over my physical condition, the nature of the trail out of Lobuche scared the crap out of me. While the path was relatively level, winding its way along the valley wall opposite the ridge we'd climbed two days ago, it was barely thirty centimetres across. And we were on a precipice, with nothing to stop a fall down to the bottom of the valley floor, more than five hundred vertical metres below. I would have found the going sketchy even if I'd been in peak physical shape. But now that the pain in my feet was making my footing unsure, I took each step with a deliberation probably not seen since I was a baby learning how to walk.
Since the published altitude for our destination was about a hundred vertical metres below Lobuche, I was hoping for a relatively gentle hike. Mostly, I was hoping for no long, steep downhill sections; that type of terrain is what puts the most pressure on my injured toes. Unfortunately, trails in the mountains rarely work that way. Towards the end of the day, we had to descend sharply – about four-hundred vertical metres into a valley to ford a river – before climbing back up to Dzonghla.
What should have taken us a maximum of two hours ended up as three hours of tourture. Santosh was aware of my struggles and, about an hour from Dzonghla, relieved me of my backpack, despite my protestations that the weight had little to do with the problem. That wasn't just masochism talking. I felt guilty of giving up my pack and I truly believed that walking lighter would provide little relief. I was carrying next to nothing when coming down off of Kala Patthar – once the sun came out and warmed everything up – and my feet had felt just as bad then.
Once I reached the lodge at Dzonghla, I freed my feet from my boots at the first possible instant. The big left toe is the major problem. Any pressure on the toe is agony. And it's hard to tell how much damage is going on since the blackened nail from Peru is still covering the nail bed. Getting into Dzonghla at 1500 today will give me thirty-eight or thirty-nine hours before I have to start trekking again. I hope that's enough. Because getting carried down to Lukla – whether by yak, mule or helicopter – because of a bad toenail is almost as bad as getting rescued for ignoring AMS.
I soothed my aching body and fragile confidence by consuming half of my remaining stores of chocolate this evening. I'd completely forgotten that it was Easter Sunday until a fellow trekker wished me "Happy Easter" when I got to the lodge.
Altitude Stats:
Starting Altitude: 5,200m
Ending Altitude: 4,820m
Maximum Altitude: 5,545m
Minimum Altitude: 4,730m
Total Ascent: 1,705m
Total Descent: 2,050m
(For sunrise pictures of Everest from Kala Patthar, see this previous post. And this one.)
Related Entries:
1. Trekking in the Solukhumbu - Day 8: Success! (Everest Base Camp)
2. Trekking in the Solukhumbu - Day 7: Onward to Lobuche
3. Trekking in the Solukhumbu - Day 6: Giving In to the Drugs
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