Blog

Well, I haven’t posted a blog in a while mainly because nothing has changed. As the street vendors (hawkers) say… same same, but different.

The story left off in Railay beach, I can’t say enough about the place. If you’re in the Krabi area of Thailand at all, this is a must! It’s only accessible by boat, which costs about $5 per person to get there which is a small price to pay for the little chunk of gold you will find at the end of this rainbow.

We left Railay and headed to Phi Phi (pee pee) Island. From the quiet, zen-like atmosphere of the secluded beach, right back into tourist chaos. ‘taxi boat, Thai message, tshirt for you sir?’. Rather annoying after spending 3 calming days sprawled on the beach and floating in the 25+ degree salt water of the Indian Ocean (you actually do float, with little to no effort, and 25 is on the low end of the scale).

That being said, it’s another tropical paradise. It’s got shopping areas, beach front BBQs, fire jumping, and discos. A good place to go and party, if that’s what you’re into.

Since a few of the guys we had trekked in Nepal with were going to be on Phi Phi at the same time as us, we decided to coodinate our hotels and meet up. Scott, Tim, and Ken (aka Trailmix) were scuba diving the day we showed up but joined us in the early afternoon by the poolside of the Banyan Hotel. That night we all ventured to the North side of the island for a bite to eat, and to check out the nightlife.

After dinner, we headed down the beach to watch some fire games. Juggling, stick spinning, tightrope… Any event you can do on a beach at night they were doing, with fire! They even had a limbo bar set ablaze with a lineup of people to risk their eyebrows and lashes, all in hope of receiving a free ‘vodka bucket’ (silly tourists). The local, who I would have to believe is the reigning champion, was able to limbo down to about 2feet with his Afro hair-do freely flowing and light a cigarette while passing under the bar. A rather impressive feat considering there is no hospital on the island, and I’m sure their firstaid equipment is a little sub-par.

When the limbo was over, they lit a 6foot ring of fire for anyone and everyone to jump through. I must say, the highlight of the night was jumping through a ring of fire with a group of firefighters (Scott, Tim, and Ken are all active members of the BFD). Somewhat ironic, but good to know I was in good company if something were to happen.

The following day my father and I headed out on another snorkling tour, this time on a power boat, and we visited some cool spots. Monkey beach, where there was 2 families of primates playing on the shore as our entertainment. We also went to Maya Bay, where they filmed ‘The Beach’. All in all, a good way to spend the day.

From Phi Phi we caught a ferry to Phuket where we jumped into a minivan and headed for Patong Beach. The hustle was all around us now. Suits, messages, tuk tuk (golfcart style taxi), copy watch, tshirt… You can’t walk 20feet down any street without being offered something. Eventually you get to a point where you ignore everyone. I’m pretty good at that already, so it wasn’t a far stretch.

We spent some time on the beach, relaxed a little in our AC’d hotel room, and went out for dinner… As I said before, same same but different.

The vacation was soon over and although it is sad, it was about time. The humidity is starting to get to me. Step outside the AC’d room, and your entire body starts to sweat. By this time tomorrow I’ll be back in Canada, and it’s going to feel better then ever!

There are so many things I miss, I don’t even know where to start. My girlfriend, my friends, lacrosse, relaxing at home to some pvr’d shows, hockey games on tv, cool evenings, North American food, real cheese, real milk, mountains (ones I have no intension of climbing), fresh air. I’ve never been away from the home for this long in my life. It may sound silly, but I’m probably going to kiss at ground when I get back to good old sunny New Westminster.

For those of you who have never travelled to a 3rd world country, you don’t know what you’ve got. The usual saying is ‘you don’t know what you’re missing’, but it’s not actually that good over here. What it will reinforce is how much we take for granted back home. The freedom, the choices, the toys, the expendable cash, the whatever whenever we please. Everything is a luxury, and I mean everything. This trip has enriched my life with more then travels and culture, it has given me a wealth my vocabulary can not describe. I am rich. Maybe not in the financial or material sense of the word, but until you’ve been where I’ve been and seen what I’ve seen you won’t understand how truly rich I, and every other Canadian, really is.

4 island snorkling tour, sounds like fun!

Water, a snack, and an authentic Thai lunch for 500Baht($17CAD) seems like a pretty good deal. Sign us up!

We leave Railay beach at around 945am heading to Poda Island. It’s technically a private island, but the beach is public domain. Our guide gives us an hour to lounge around before we head off to the next stop.

40minutes into the lounging, I decide to practice some snorkling with the small gathering of fish beside the boat. That small gathering turns into a large one as soon as our guide hands me a bunch of pineapple skinti feed them. The fish are all around, they nibble the pineapple with a force not expected from a small 2inch fish, it’s a feeding frienzy. What was 30, is now 200. They appear out of no where and are gone in a flash. My fingers, arms, and legs are being tested with small bites from every angle. A very unique experience.

The boat leaves for the 2nd island, Chicken Island, but something isn’t right. The captain, a less than stellar looking local, does not look like he knows what’s going on. He shakes the water intake hose, as if it may be blocked, but that solves nothing. The engine is heating up, we are still going full throttle while he tries to figure this out. The engine stops, we are now adrift. Somewhere between Poda and Chicken Island, great! Not how I want to spend my day, stranded at sea :(

The operator of the boat is clueless. He’s taking bottled water and pooring it down into the overflow spout of the water cooling system, then using his mouth to attempt to push this liquid through the system. Hmmm.

To my father and myself the issue is clear. Some how (we never did figure it out), the fan belt which operates both the alternator and the cooling system had disappeared. It was there on the way to Poda, yet when we left it was gone. Not broken and hanging there, not taken off by accident, just gone!

As we sit there, patiently trying to allow this guy to figure it out, another boat pulls up from the same tour company. Maybe this guy knows how to fix it? Hahaha, ya right. 2 guys who can’t find their own assess with both hands, tinkering with an engine to which they have no clue how to fix because they don’t know what’s wrong. They didn’t even know the bloody fan belt was gone. WTF.

Thankfully, there happened to be a spare fan belt onboard. I have no idea why, but I noticed it when we first got on the boat and I thought to myself ‘that’s rather cautious of them to carry a spare, not the norm around here, so it’s good to see they are prepared’.

After allowing them to waste a solid 10minutes of my day together, along with the 5-10 our driver personally wasted prior to the other boat arriving, I decided to jump into action (with a little encouragement from my father). I hand the guys, neither of which spoke a stitch of english, the fan belt. Our driver looks at it, looks at the engine, and then the guide, and proceeds to bust out in histrical laugher as if he forgot some minor ingredient while making dinner. Everyone on the boat got a little chuckle out of it, myself included. He nods, and pulls out a paint can with tools in it. I think to myself ‘ok, they got it now’. Ooops. You know what they say, when you assume it makes an ASS of U and ME.

After a little banter with my fellow patrons of the cruise, I look back to see that they are about to remove the entire alternator.

For those of you who don’t know what all this looks like, imagine 3 wheels in a triangle. One of them is spun around by the engine, this is used to spin the other 2 (alternator and water pump) by use of the…. You guessed it! The fan belt. The alternators attachment is on a moveable track, for reasons such as this. Loosen one bolt, make the triangle smaller using the track, put the new belt on, slide the track back to it’s original position, tighten and go. It’s that simple.

Common sense isn’t always common. Next thing you know, I got engine grease all over my hands, a wrench in one, and I’m attempting to show them what they need to do. After replacing the 2 bolts they removed, I showed them the bolt they needed to undo, and voilà! 5minutes later we were under way.

Chicken Island was amazing. We never went to shore, but when I jumped in the water for some snorkling there were more fish then on Poda. Tiger fish central. These little guys that range from 1-4inches knew what was up. They all hungout by the boat waiting for a quick and easy snack. I toured around the area for 15minutes. It was like I was in an aquarium. Warm water, coral sea bed with fish in every colour of a rainbow. Little fish, big fish, red fish, blue fish!

Needless to say, it was amazing!!

The rest of the day was blah compared to that. We sat on a beach and had some lunch, toured 2 more islands then landed back on Railay beach. All in all, just another day in the adventures of Keith and Keith.

Honestly, I couldn’t even tell you what day it is. The day of the week, or day of the month mean absolutely nothing to me right now. We have more than a week of nothing, and it feels great.

As we arrived in the Krabi airport we joked about the fact we didn’t even know where we were going. ‘railai beach’ was where we wanted to end up.

The first shuttle bus we saw with the beach on their board we grabbed. 150baht each ($5). 40minutes later we are at the ocean. Looks wonderful!! Elevation, 6ft. I can’t tell you how good it feels to be close to the water again.

We find ourselves a shuttle and wait at a local restaurant. During the wait my father walks over to a travel agent a few minutes away. ‘can we book a hotel in railai through you?’. Her response was shocking, and a dose of reality at the same time. ‘you go, walk around’ she said. She didnt need or want to make a commission and thats not how things work here, a nice change from the hustle of HK, Kathmandu, and Bangkok. 20minutes later our drivers arrives and asks us to follow him. He ventures out into the water and motions to follow. No dock, no escort, pretty much just a boat ride. I venture out into the ocean and towards the boat.

I’ve never been in ocean water that is as warm as a bath tub, until today. As hot as it is here, the water is just as hot. No getting used to it, no building the courage to get in… Like I said, as warm as a bath tub. We jump into the boat and race out of there to our little chunk of paradise.

Railai beach is only reached by boat. Cool eh? Little wooden cabanas fill the shore, and longtail boats scatter the beach. The wind is as warm as a wool sweater on a cold day. There are no chills here, a nice change from the chilly weather at 17,000ft.

We walk into the first resort we see, 4500baht a night ($150). WTF!!! Not our style, and not what we want. Both of us can afford it, that is not the issue. How much local life can you experience when you’re sheltered within a 5star Americanized hotel, in the middle of this gorgeous setting.

As we venture down the beach a little ways, sweat fills our shirts. We come across the Railai Beach Cabins, RBC. Starting at just 1200baht a night, this is what we are after. A multi acre setting with wood cabins sprawlling the place. From 3 floor large houses to 2 room (bathroom and bedroom) huts, we pick ourselves a small water front bungalow for 3 nights, with an option of a 4th.

I’m sitting on our deck, music playing from my iPhone and writting a blog, struggling to find a reason I’m not in the ocean right now… On second thought, I’ll check in later.

I’ll leave you with a picture of my current view. Don’t be jealous, it’s only 3 plane, 1 bus, and a boat ride away. Join me if you like.

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As the adventures of Keith and Keith continue, there is far less downtime for me to write these things.

We left Nepal in a hurry. Thankfully our wonderful travel agent, Robin, was able to change all of our flights to accomedate the change of plans. From Kathmandu to Hong Kong, HK to Bangkok… We left Nepal at 11pm and arrived in Thailand a little after 9am. Hot and humid, I was sweating instantly.

Airport shuttle to the skytrain(yes, they call it skytrain), skytrain to central pier, shuttle boat to the hotel. The check-in went a lot better than in HK, yes sir, no sir, 3 bags full sir.

We enter our suite on the 4th floor facing the river. As we enter the suite we are met with a chilling blast of airconditioning. 2 queen sized beds, a stocked mini bar, a full bathroom and balcony with 2 lounge chairs, and a pool in the court yard… we’re not in the Khumbu anymore Toto.

We relax by the pool and take a dip before preparing ourselves to check out some night life. After a few ours on the town we end up sleeping for 11hours. The mildly chilled dark room, without the need for a 6+ hour hike is a nice change of pace.

The following days are fairly uneventful. We toured a few temples (saw the Emerald Bhudda, the Reclining Bhudda), visited the Wat Arun, and got a real Thai message (no, no happy ending). Went on a canal tour, saw a snake farm, and visited a few night markets (gucci, prada, ‘copy watch sir?’, everything you think they might try and sell, they were selling).

We booked our flight to Krabi and this is where things take a turn for the better. Bangkok and HongKong are dirty cities. Hustlers, garbage, smells that foul the nose. Fun to visit once, but I don’t think I’ll be back for more than a day or two if at all.

My father and I are notorious planners. Confirmations, timeline, and schedules, all part of our regular routine. When we arrived in Krabi, however, we had none of this. We had no ride, no hotel, pretty much nothing. 2 backpacks, and a bag of clothes… This should be interesting i think to myself.

Our destination, Railay (there are multiple ways people spell it) beach. A secluded beach front town only accessible by boat (cool eh?). How and when we get there, we will just have to wing it.

Around 1pm Coach informs us we have a ride to the airport. It will be at up at reception around 5. We lay around the pool for for the afternoon. Swimming, having lunch and packing bags were the only things on the agenda.

Around 515pm a white truck pulls up with some blue script on the left side of the vehicle. Unable to read the writting, I went to the right side, the drivers side, to find it said ‘police’. 5 men in blue fatigues jump out of the truck and start loading our bags into the bed. Coach White tells us we will be getting a police escort to the airport today.

There will be 4 trekkers from our group, and one British ladie, getting a ride. Unfortunately, they will need to put 2 people in the bed of the truck and only 3 of us in the cab. My father is one of those lucky bed-riders.

With 2 cops up front, 3 in the bed, 5 passengers and 8 bags, the truck was filled to the max. What a story this will be, I tell myself.

We left the Park Villa around 530 after filling up the tank with some diesle poored out of a bucket into a first funnel designed for large amounts of liquid, followed by a modified 1L pop bottle. Hmmm. Sketchy, to say the least.

As we travel down winding streets and back alleys, there are almost no motor vehicles on the roads except a few motorcycles. The pedestrian traffic seems to have dwindled as well.

About 10 minutes into our trip we go from a calm, low traffic, smooth ride to pretty much mayhem.

We hang a left onto one of Kathmandus major roads and it’s swamped with people. Hundreds turn to thousands all waving red flags of the old CCCP (I forget the actual name of the flag), it’s nuts. As we approach a large intersection the truck grinds to a halt. The 6 lane roadway (there are no lanes in Nepal, that I’ve seen. No right, or wrong side of the street to drive on, and very few curbs. No lights, and no signs, just a whole bunch of horns honking. Words can not express regular everyday driving. It’s kind of like a rally race in the middle of a packed mall, and I’m not making this up) is filled with people from side to side, and 100+ yards deep. Beep beep beep, the driver starts to raise awareness to the fact a truck will be slowly making it’s way through the crowed.

I feel like a fish in a spawning stream. Clausterphobia is not an option. Get moving to be consumed by the masses. The look in peoples eyes scares me. You can cut the tension with a knife. Each set of eyes has the same questioning squint to them, who are these guys and why are they in that police vehicle? The crowed parts, slowly. I can see it, the light at the end, we’re no more then 30 feet away from the end of the crowed and my body goes flush and starts to sweat. 3 middle aged men with bandanas covering their face, hands concealed behind one another, stare directly into my eyes and start walking towards the truck. My heart stops and there is an apple in my throat, my mind goes blank and the muscles in my face go limp. I’m helpless, at the mercy of the mob.

We exit without incident, thankfully. My palms are sweaty, all the passengers are silent. There is nothing to do but watch. It’s like a movie, a drama at the height of the climax.

We pass the shell of a bus on the side of that road that has been consumed by fire. Set a blaze, poor electrical wiring, mechanical issues, we’ll never know. It feels like I’m in a war-torn country yet it’s the 2nd day of civil disobedience and there has been very little volence.

We pass through 2 more protesting groups before we reach our destination, the Kathmandu International Airport. A clean cut brick face, the building looks fairly updated compared to most in the general area. The inside is a different story. With a public bathroom likely not cleaned in weeks, it reminds me of a greyhound bus stop in Squamish from the mid-80s. Seats for 50, yet 300 people are waiting for their flights, an xray machine that looks like it’s from the 70s, and check-in counters with sleeping attendants behind them, this is not how I wish to remember this beautiful country. The shops have no price tags on anything, as the price fluctuates depending on the size of your wallet or the size of font ‘sucker’ is written in your forehead in. Our group of 4 sits patiently waiting for the Dragon Air booth to open up. Once checked-in, we proceed upstairs to try and find some food.

Sitting in the waiting area before going through the final groping station, I mean security checkpoint (I’ve never been so thoroughly ‘patted’ down in my life), we sit watching a little soccer on tv. The place is dim and grungy. I’ll call this the 50% floor. 50% of the lights are working, 50% of the shops are open, 50% of the employees are actually working. On second thought, it should actually the the 30% floor. Heh.

An attendant informs us our flight will be ready soon and we should proceed through security to the boarding area. The boarding area is like a concentration camp. 300 people in a room made for 200. The rank smell of urine fills the entire place, it’s worse than some of the bathrooms in the Kumbu which I didn’t think was possible in areas with running water.

We pass through the gate and onto the tarmac, finally. The 4 of us have one last laugh at our Nepal adventure, and walk up the stairs to the plane and back into some form of civilization.

17 days after arrival we leave the country of Nepal, what a place. Chapter 2 of my adventure, The Climb, is now complete. I am currently on a flight from HongKong to Bangkok, yet another city/country with some political issues. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

And I thought my articles would be less entertaining after the trek to Everest Base Camp, guess I was wrong.

The adventure continues…

We sit and we wait. Waitting to find out what today will hold for us.

The country of Nepal is in a state of unrest. All of the countries roads are closed, we can get ourselves to the airport in Kathmandu, but when we arrive at the airport near the Chitwan we will have no way to get there.

Coach White holds a meeting at 915am to discuss the plans. ‘We’re staying here for the day’ he says. Tension grows. Will this civil strike be over by tomorrow? If it is, can we still get to the Chitwan? If we do get there, can we get back to Kathmandu in time to catch our flights for the rest of our trip?

Coach tells us he has been trapped in Nepal for 12 days once before, due to a work strike. He suggests getting out of Nepal as soon as possible, it would be easier to spend layover time in any other country than this one, at this time.

We call our travel agent, within an hour she has our flights changed to tonight. We leave Nepal at 11pm. Woohoo! Now… How to get to the airport. Heh.

Since the roads are closed we can’t catch a cab, rent a van, or get on a bus. The guest houses shuttle must sit on their property, unable to travel on the roads. It would be the same as crossing a picket line.

Our plans are currently ‘in the works’. We’re trying to hire porters, individuals who will carry our bags to the airport for us (can’t get this service in Canada), and walk the 7km to the airport by foot ourselves.

As I’ve said before… this isn’t a vacation, it’s an adventure. I’ll update you as soon as I knoww what’s going on, and get some Internet access.

Day 13, the trek is over. As much fun as it was, I’m glad to be out of the mountains.

The walk from Ghat to Lukla started at 5am. The weather is sketchy, so we have to get there early to make sure we have tickets for todays flights. No online booking or check-in here. First come first serve.

We arrive in Lukla a little after 7am in a thick, dense fog which a horn could barely pearce, let alone a pilots vision.

After board the 2nd plane of the 2nd wave of flights to Kathmandu, we begin the travels to the Kathmandu Guest House Park Villa suites. What a nice place.

Wifi, a pool, ice we can allow in our drinks, it’s a pleasent change of scenery. The ride to this venue, not so much.

Today, Saturday, is a day of civil protest for Nepal as a country. Hundreds of thousands of people have descended into the city of Kathmandu to protest against the current government. The plan was to avoid all such events during the drive from the airport to the guest houses. Haha, nice try.

It’s taken over every major artery of the cities vehicular routes. We are stuck, smack dab, in the middle of a civil protest in the capital of a third world country. Oh goodie. Thankfuly the protester are peaceful, at this time, and more than willing to allow a bus full of Canadians to pass directly through the centre of them without issue.

The streets are packed with individuals holding red flags of the CCCP. Ambulances, sirens blaring, can not even get through the thick crowed. It’s a very unique experience.

We arrive at the guest house. A Malibou directly in the middle of a Compton. An oasis in a desert of dust and bricks.

Lifestyles of the rich and famous. I love it. Thanks Coach, you really know what hits the spot after a 14day trek in the Kumbu.

Tomorrow we fly to the Chitwan (another wikipedia for you!), probably not much internet there. Check back in a few days.

Write soon…

Day 11. Wow. Talk about sore and tired. We trekked for 11 hours yesterday, in some of the most gruling conditions.

I write this blog not to scare and not to worry people, but more to raise awareness of the risks of high altitude trekking.

On Day 10 when we returned to Periche, everything was going well for the entire group, except one. Our fellow trekker was weak, couldn’t eat, and was in a considerable amount of discomfort.

Coach White has a device which measures both our pulse, and the oxygen saturation of our bolood. Our sick partner had an extremely low O2 Sat. Coach put him on oxygen at a 1 liter flow for the night while he slept. Sometime during the night the bottle ran dry and the symptoms of AMS (acute mountain sickness) started to appear. By morning he was pale, frail, and looked sick. We needed to get him out of the mountains and to a lower altitude, in a hurry.

Another of our trekking partners had fallen victim to minor AMS symptoms and had to descend back down the hill after we first reached Loboche.

I choose not to blog about that at the time because the last thing I wanted was his family and friends to find out through the Internet, before he has contacted them. All parties suffering any illness will remain anonymous as I do not feel it is appropriate to spread that information over the Internet.

Our first I’ll trekker was orignally taken from Loboche to Periche. He then descended further to Pangboche and started feeling mildly better. Days later, he was still not in 100% shape.

The morning of Day 11, Coach had to make a very difficult decision. To call for an evacuation helicopter at Periche, or to have our most recently ill partner struggle down the mountains to Pangboche to find out if we also needed to evacuate the first trekker to suffer the effects of altitude sickness.

The hike from Periche to Pangboche was scary. AMS makes you think, act, and talk like you’re in another world, for lack of a better term, like you’re drunk.

Walking, drunk, down a path 3 feet wide with a 300ft drop on one side may not bother the person doing it too much because of his condition, but it sure scared the shit out of me. I followed him so closely that if he were to stumble in any direction, I would be able to catch him. The 2 hour walk took more like 3-4 hours.

We arrive in Pangboche to find that both trekkers needed to be evacuated. The call was made, 1hour we’re told. Go outside to the heli pad in 50minutes were the instructions. (the heli pad is a patch of grass about 15yards squares with an H made of rocks in the middle). Not what you would expect in North America, but we’re not in NA now, are we?

We’re outside 15minutes before the expected arrival. It takes the helicopter 2 and a half hours to get there, instead of the original 1 which we were told. Weather, and fueling were the cause of delays. Flying a helicopter at high altitude is no easy task. The thin atmosphere effects the lift and stability of the high powered, jet fueled machine. This is Nepal, not North America. If it wasn’t for the connections Coach had, it might have taken a full day, or more, for the helicopter to have arrived and the condition of our I’ll partners may have deteriorated even further.

Finally we can hear it. It’s like a real life episode of Mash. The sick trekker who I had followed in the morning calls me over to thank me for being there for him in case anything had happened. We joked a bit, I said ‘think of it this way, you got a trek to Everest, and helicopter ride… That’s a 2 for 1’. He laughed, but barely. Not from a lack of humour, but for a lack of energy.

The heli does a loop, it has to land going into the wind. My camera was on video and I have the entire thing on tape, it was pretty cool. He touches down, opens the door, and motions to start loading. The bags are brought over, passengers loaded, the heli lifts off again. Touchdown was a little less than 3 minutes.

As the heli lifts off, he struggles with the lift and trim. Within a minute the heli is sitting properly, perfectly hovering about 10feet above the ground. As quickly as it arrives, it was gone. Within an hour it would be touching down in Kathmandu.

Coach is relieved beyond expression. The only thing he can say, or do, is give me a high-five. A huge weight has been lifted off his mind, as well as everyone else.

Never a dull day in the Kumbu.

If the last few posts don’t make sense, are scattered, or anything is messed up with them… That’s what altitude does to you.

The feeling is indescribable. You become in a trance, a zone with no escape.

I did my best to proof read them before posting, but I’m still not back to my usual self.

I have a few more things to write, and I will get to them eventually, but my mind, body, and soul need to relax.

Stay tuned…

Day 10… Oh my god, what am I doing here. Here is Gorak Shep(16,961ft).

530am we get up, eat a granola bar, and hit the trail. The sun is barely out, let alone over the mountain tops. It’s freezing cold, and when I say freezing… Tooque, gloves, gortex jacket, fleece, long sleeve, short sleeve, an under armour shirt, underwear, longjohns, a pair of wind proof pants, 2 pairs of socks and hiking boots barely keep me from shivering.

We cross a flat sand dune, about 300meters long, and begin our 1400ft accent up Kala Patthar

We reach the first bench (flat part of land), everyone takes a water break. We’ve already passed 2 trekkers suffering from altitude sickness, one looked in terrible shape. The group begins to move again.

Everest is socked in with clouds, are we doing this for nothing? The point of this climb is to get the best possible view of the mountain you can achieve on land.

My father is struggling, I’m afraid he is only continuing for my sake. I check in with him every 5minutes. I am in no better condition.

Step, inhale, exhale, step, repeat. My feet move inches each step, it may sound ridiculous but it’s absolutely true. I can’t catch my breath, no matter what. My legs are burning, there is barely enough oxygen to keep my heart pumping let alone my legs.

We reach another plateau, this must be it I think, not a chance. As we crest the hill I see 2 more just the same. Coach says we are half way there. I ask for a time check, 723am.

As we break for water my father sits below us about 30 feet. Hood up, gloves on, trying to catch his breath. The group looks at me, asking with their eyes if he can continue. I pull my bottle from my pack and head back down.

‘dad, are you ok?’, ‘i don’t know son’. I tell him we don’t have to do this to ourselves. He tells me that even if he can’t make it, he wants me to go. I don’t answer his statement, we came to do this together and I have no plans to leave him behind.

We continue upwards. As we reach the bottom of the final hill, coach tells us ‘we’re about an hour away’. The look on my dads face said it all. Holy shit, what have I gotten myself into. It feels like I’m climbing a mountain with sock in my mouth, and a 50lbs weight in my pack. My nose is dripping, and my hands are too cold to do anything about it.

It’s 745ish, and the clouds are clearing around Mt Everest. Sweet! You can see the tip of the monster peeking through the heavy fog that surrounds the entire valley.

Finally, we reach the final bench if Kala Patthar. We are well above Basecamp. What a great feeling. Unless you’ve been here, or know someone who has, chances are you’ll have no clue about the mountain I am speaking about. You can probably wikipedia it, and I suggest you do.

8 of us decide to summit, which is another 100 yards, with no trail, only rocks the size of small cars. That last 100yards was incredible. Felt like I was in a deep freeze, with someone sitting on my chest. Less then thrilling.

I summited, and have the pictures to prove it! What an awesome feeling, and an awesome view.

Much like Basecamp, getting there was only half the battle. The legs are rubber, the back hurts, I can’t breath properly, and now I’m walking down a steep rocky hill, hmmmmm.

From the top of Kala Patthar we would decend nearly 4000 feet in 8 hours. The terrain and altitude made this an extreme venture. Although the air was getting thicker, our bodies were fatigued from the mornings events.

I would love to tell you more about the trek back to Periche, but I am too tired and it is too painful of a memory to relive at this time.

We made it down, all in one piece, and that’s all that matters. I am so proud of both myself and my father. If getting here was easy, everyone would do it.

The rest of the blogs may seem a little dull compaired to the last few, but I’m sure I’ll find amusing things to write about creatively.