Smithy's not going to Island Peak Base Camp. She had a terrible terrible night with non-stop coughing and has decided not to go any higher. I can't stay with her this time. I have to go and try to climb the mountain. Smithy's got the option of staying in Dingboche until we come back (in about 3 days time) or to slowly make her way down to Namche Bazaar. Pasang leaves a porter with her - temporarily promoted to Sherpa. We all say our goodbyes and as we exit the lodge grounds, I begin to cry. Warning to Viewers - Do Not Try This At Home! You have no idea how hard it is to trudge up an ice-encrusted laneway, trying to breathe and cry simultaneously at altitude. Tears blur your vision, snot blocks your nose and you have to keep stopping to pant and gasp to get enough air into your lungs. So I had to stop crying and instead, snivelled my way to our lunchstop at Chukkhung. My legs felt leaden, my right thigh actually hurt, my head was aching - bloody bloody period I muttered to myself. But why does my leg hurt so much? Then I remembered the "little" slip I'd taken yesterday on our way to Dingboche. There's a steep downhill section just after the Sherpa memorial ground above Dughla, and my left foot had shot out from under me on some loose gravel. No harm done, I'd thought at the time, brushing the dust off me. But I've pulled the quad in my right thigh and right now every uphill step is killing me. The walk into Base Camp from Chukkhung is quite tough - we gain 1000m in altitude from Dingboche - and I find myself having to take lots of rests to ease the pain in my leg. Finally, Base Camp appears. I add a big white stone to a cairn for Smithy and hobble over the tent that I'll now be sharing with Cathy the Canadian, sit down on a rock and burst into tears. Partly because of sheer exhaustion, partly because of my period mucking up my hormones, but largely because I'm here without Smithy. I spent most of the afternoon quietly weeping into my big fleece jacket whilst sitting in the dining tent. By dinner-time, I've made up my mind. I can barely eat the Sherpa stew that's been made especially for me (everyone else has a meat dish) cos I'm crying too much. I tell Pasang I've gone as far as I can and that I don't want to go to High Camp tomorrow. He understands. We talked for ages on the walk in, so he knows the shape I'm in at the moment. I'll stay at Base Camp and wait until everyone returns from summitting Island Peak.
Next morning, we all have a lesson on climbing on a fixed rope, practising clipping on and off around anchor points, then camp is struck - just my tent, the dining tent and four tents for the porters are left - hugs and handshakes around the group and then they're gone. I'm on my own with Bebe the cook and 12 porters for company. It's sunny but very windy so most of the day is spent in the dining tent reading Himalaya, which I'd borrowed from Anthony who'd borrowed it from Danny, listening to my MP3 player, and drinking coffee. Later in the afternoon, the campsite was visited by a small group of beautiful grey and brown striped birds that look like grouse. I later learn they are Tibetan snow chickens. They cluck and squeak around me as I toss biscuit crumbs for them. Further up the mountain the rest of the group is fantasizing about roasting them!
I'm not expecting the group back at Base Camp until about 2pm the next day, so am flabbergasted when I see Hamish ducking into the dining tent at 8am. I hurry in after him to find out what's going on and the others arrive one by one as we're talking. The summit bid was aborted. The strong wind I was experiencing all night was a hurricane up at High Camp and they spent the whole night holding onto their tents! Wake up time was to be at 2.30am, but Pasang put it off till 3.30, then again to 4.30. Finally, at 5.30am, he called the summit attempt off. The wind was too strong (it was blowing 100kph) and it was far too dangerous. So here they all were back at Base Camp! Lunch is served up at 9am (Lunch? I haven't had breakfast yet!) and I'm sent off to pack up my tent. Come back to find a spoonful of baked beans and some Tibetan bread is all that is left for me. Damn! Before I know it, it's 10am and everyone is off back down the valley. They're all going at a cracking pace and I have to go like the clappers to keep up with them. The wind is howling in our faces. At one point, the terrain is really flat and sandy - just like a beach - and a huge gust of wind came around the hillside and blew a huge cloud of dust at us all. Visibility nil! Coughing and spluttering and all glittering from mica in the dust coating us, we stumble our way towards Chukkhung and then Dingboche, which we arrive at in a record 3 hours!
Smithy's not here. She's on her way to Namche after leaving here yesterday and staying at Tengboche Monastery last night.
Everyone has either a shower or bowl of hot water and we're soon restored to something resembling cleanliness. We were so dusty, it was even crunching between our teeth! Tomorrow, we'll trek down to Namche. We have an extra day up our sleeves again and everyone is dreaming about spending it in Namche Bazaar.
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