The Base Camp of Humility

“We come nearest to the great when we are great in humility.” Rabindranth Tagore

The lure of the enthralling mountain peaks and the magnetic mysticism of the legendary Himalayas were the driving forces for each of the five members who had enrolled themselves for the expedition.

It was an expedition out of their comfort zones- a leap into the unknown where dread and thrill were both laid out in the lap of the famous valley. Some were travelling for peace, some seeking a burst of adventure to break away from the boring grid of their lives. Some just wanted to test their own endurance against the mighty peaks.

Irrespective of their aims, they were united in their desire to stand atop at 17,600 ft above sea level. The Everest Base camp welcomed the five brave hearts for their decision to enlist themselves in a journey of sheer surrender, as they scaled the highest peak in the world.

The calling of the high and mighty had brought together a young newly-wed couple – Akshara and Sumit , a 28 year old Shantanu , a 75 year old Japanese mountaineer, Yachiro and a 65 year old Polish woman, Aneta to begin the steep treacherous climb to the mountain legend. All had obviously had prior climbing experience except Riyaz who was out there making a debut, but had spent years in adequate preparation, transcending all the hearsay of horror and fear.

To guide them through the treacherous trail of low oxygen, ice , wind , storms and the biting cold was a Sherpa for whom the mountains bore the warm familiarity of a home. He often laced his instructions with a little wisdom from the mountains

“It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves” was his opening quote with his native accent to embark on a journey whose outcome no one could tell- not even the most experienced climber.

“That is true. Look at me!” Yachiro, a 75 -year old Japanese climber with prior injuries was there yet again to show age his inner fortitude. He had a scar on his right cheek that had etched stories of danger and vulnerability.

Akshara and Sumit still much in love, gazed at him, awestruck wondering if they would ever make it to the summit at that age.  Aneta, the tall Polish woman preferred to stay silent behind a strong smile. The stud in the right ear lobe shone as bright as the blonde waves of her hair. Riyaz standing tall with his athletic body of 6 ft and gentle smile listened to all with hardly any contribution, this being his first climb to the summit. He had made it to the base camp earlier but this was his first dare.

Age and youth, optimism and frailty, dreams and adventure blended in a unique fusion that bore its own emblem of courage and bravado- at least on the outside. But the challenges had barely just begun.

 

Akshara was struck with a bad headache. Sumit requested the Sherpa if they could wait a while before taking off.

It is common knowledge that when thrown amidst threatening environments , alienation often takes a back seat and there is nothing like ‘stranger’ anymore. The five had bonded closely if not through conversations but through trails and obstacles enough to stay united every step of the way.

“It’s ok, we wait.” Yachiro was the first to speak in his broken English.

The rest followed suit and the group settled down in support. While the Sherpa was ready yet again with another piece of wisdom.

“Set your eyes on the peaks and the rest of your body will follow.” He spoke right into Akshara’s eyes as her loving husband Sumit tried to work his magic with pressure points at the temples.

“I see, you are healer eh?” The Sherpa tried to offer encouragement to both as he readied their spirit for the onward climb.

After a couple of hours, Akshara’s head was certainly in a better place and the whole group broke into the loudest applause ever. Somewhere the peak would have heard the sound of their celebration too.

  “Ok, so let’s get ready to go through a bit of discomfort. The Khumbu Icefall.” The Sherpa ushered the climbers into the South Col route with a gentle warning.

 “The Khumbu Icefall is located at the head of the Khumbu Glacier just above Base Camp on the popular South Col route to the top of Everest. As such, to reach Camp I, all climbers attempting this route to the summit must pass through the Khumbu Ice Fall after leaving Base Camp.”

 The group started to move ahead, following the Sherpa who had his own ongoing dialogue with the mountains. He led on with pride as he was going home.

“A known facet about the Khumbu Glacier is that it is moving at a rapid pace and thus crevasses open up to swallow climbers with little warning.”

“Careful, people. Just be alert and move on.” The Sherpa’s alerts were not elaborate but contained cryptic clues for the quintessential climber.

Riyaz was not among them as he was a novice. By profession a photographer (at least that’s what he told the rest), his eyes moved swiftly like a lens, ready to consume and capture the sights and sounds of the most revered part of the world. He had no prior knowledge of the threats lurking on that path.

He had heard that the world’s tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and K2, are associated with great mountaineering feats, a love of nature, and tales of adventure. However, these 8000-meter peaks also hold a dark side for climbers, and there are just as many stories of hardship, defeat, and death on the summits.

All these thoughts came racing into his mind as they explored the tough terrain. The danger lay within and without for all.

“It’s like the first time, every time.” Aneta, the Polish climber had spoken the only sentence  but that meant a whole lot for Shantanu as he prepared his insides for what was to come.

He constantly kept reminding himself of the Sherpa’s words, detailing the risks.

“The real danger are the seracs – huge, house-sized, towering blocks of ice, precariously balanced and ready to tumble over at any time, with no warning what so ever. Any climber caught in the wrong place when a serac decides to give way is out of luck.”

Riyaz swallowed all the information with a good bit of mind-talk to soothe the gut. It was no point getting queasy already. The solar plexus would churn anyways, depending upon the bends and turns, twists and twirls.

“With no time to jump out of the way and nowhere to go, the climber is crushed. Many times the body cannot be recovered.” The sherpa’s every word flooded back into his mind as they took every step forward.

Luckily, they did not encounter any dead body that is often a common sight at the Base camp as the bodies are deposited by the raging glacier.

Given the number of deaths that have occurred on the way to Everest,  and given the sheer impossibility of retrieving the fallen, the majority of bodies are left frozen on the slopes indefinitely, turning the mountains into a ‘high-altitude cemetery’.

‘High-altitude cemetery’ multiplied itself several times in his head, echoing with a sense of impending doom.

Aneta would often sense Riyaz’s uneasiness and pat him on the back with the weight of her huge hand that was sufficient to bring him back to the present. She was almost his second guide, after the Sherpa. One who had travelled all the way from Poland for the 5th time to add a glorious leaf in her biography. It wasn’t an easy trail for her as she had saved up money every year, just to be able to make the grand climb and rub shoulders with the mountain Gods, as she would often say.

A woman of few words but great tenacity, her body moved with strict discipline as if obeying her iron-hard will and the commands of her spirit to ‘do or die’. Death was hardly a deterrent for her as she had factored the end the day she had learnt to climb. Every day lived was a day of bonus, granted so she may climb yet another peak and another. Her love for the adventure surpassed her love to be alive. Anything to be up there. Anything.

Passion is often the adrenalin one is seeking to turn the humdrum of urban existence into a surreal one- fraught with thrill and sensation. Some have it embedded in their DNA, some try and acquire it and a majority live without any semblance of it. Some have a surge of it with advancing age. In fact, there are many stories or westerners who embarked on the deadliest journeys and adventures in their twilight years.

“You have youth on your side. What are you afraid of?” Aneta reminded Riyaz in her English- Polish accent. Riyaz began to admire the woman- 60 years old, living a life , marked by challenges of livelihood , yet with enough zest to undertake an adventure that called out to her spirit. She didn’t mind preparing her whole life for it. It was the opium of her existence.

As they moved on, the Sherpa continued with his koans, that he pulled out of his mind with the dexterity of an orator.

“Great things happen when men and women meet mountains.”  The Sherpa declared as they inched closer to the mighty peaks. They say so many ascents of Himalayan mountains would be impossible without the help and guidance of the Sherpas who view the Himalayas as both the embodiment and the realm of gods.

“This time, there is plenty of snow…” The Sherpa declared, indicating neither a warning nor a happy circumstance. They were left to decipher. The serious climbers knew the significance of that.

Akshara and Sumit looked excited as they already decided to take a go at snowboarding during the descent.

 Riyaz observed all without a comment. He shifted his attention to the surroundings as he  stopped every now and then to capture the sights and sounds of his debut- into the unknown , frozen realm. The snow got deeper and deeper – at one point it was almost waist seep. They slowed down as they moved more muscle and spirit to climb on. As they climbed on higher and higher, the altitude brought its own share of obstacles.

At high altitude, the temperatures far below freezing now began to inflict frostbites. Akshara was the first to be bitten as she began feeling soreness in her left arm. However, stopping was not an alternative. In fact, the test of their endurance had just begun when  reflected light caused snow-blindness. Perhaps worst of all, though, the lack of atmospheric pressure and attendant low oxygen concentration (about 30 percent of that at sea level) began to cause altitude sickness . Riyaz and the others began to notice their hampered speech and mental function and impaired ability in  decision-making.

That was some debut as Riyaz thought to himself. While the rest paid extra care and attention since he was a first-time climber to the Summit, Riyaz put on a brave front. The power of youth can often brave through the worst vicissitudes of life. No wonder, Aneta had reminded him of the arsenal he had on his side. Twilight had not yet set into his life. Riyaz reminded himself of that as he tried to surmount one assault after another.

Being the worst hit by the icy cold weather and the avalanche of obstacles, Riyaz tried to maintain a calm, to avoid any disruption on their way.

A little into the distance, The Sherpa asked them to stop.

“We cannot go ahead. The snow is too deep. We will have to wait a while here.”

The Sherpa pitched a tent quickly with some help from Riyaz. They dived into their tents, out of the wind, and relaxed whilst breathing in some additional oxygen. Flasks of coffee, chocolate bars, change of oxygen cylinder passed around as they needed every breath to brave the next part. Throughout the afternoon they spent time boiling water and eating as much as they could and trying to grab some sleep. The wind continued. It buffeted the tent fabric and even the conversation was punctuated by the sound of the wind.

The test was obviously growing tougher and tougher by the minute. Every icy minute. The route posed sinister warnings sometimes brought by the gusts of wind, sometimes the dipping oxygen. Either ways, death stared in their face every minute. As they waited, they tried to deal with the sickness in their own ways. Yachiro preferred the zen art of mediation. He slipped into his state effortlessly as he vouched for the natural ‘going within’ technique that would enable him to move forward.

“The inside organs need servicing.” He would often say.

Akshara and Sumit, relied on each other’s support to withstand the climate that was their greatest foe. They would often get cosy, hoping that love would save them from any macabre outcome. Aneta, the solitary climber held on to her cross, a large silver one that gleamed as it reflected the sun’s sharp rays. Her ways were silent, as she held her own little commune with a larger force.

“You are an ardent believer I can see…” Riyaz was curious as he probed her religious fabric.

“It’s my lucky cross. Always been with me on every climb.”

“Like a guardian angel?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you have absolute faith that it will see you through.”

“Yes, not a doubt”

Riyaz admired the woman’s unshakeable faith that was not open to doubts and discussions. The cross was not open for debate, least of all opinions of others.

“It’s a very private matter. Politics is for coffee table discussions. Not this.”

Riyaz admired Aneta’s spiritual clarity as he switched the subject as a mark of deep regard for her sentiments.