Thanks John. Blessed boy.

Another beautiful boy who left us far too soon was Amar. He had to return up the mountain to home and back down to Lukla to pick up another group. He was worried that we might be angry about his defection. Not in the least matey mate. Goodbye mountain boy.

Then we were joined by Bisnu, Nir’s youngest brother, who is studying at University in Kathmandu but needed some dosh before term restarted. This was his first portering assignment. The porter is dead. Long live the porter!

We had ended up last night in a decent room in a tea house that made extra money as a rainbow trout farm. The first fish we have seen in the Himalayas. Hundreds of ‘em.

Setting off at a comfortable 8.00am we somehow knew that we would have to pay for it. The sky was clear and the views were lovely.

Whenever the summit of the ridge or pass that you are crossing appears close, then be aware! It’s blooming miles.

‘Blooming’ now is it, you Tory boy? Where have four letters gone?

I can still do it. What about this. Bum!

Three you Cretin.

Ok then. Tiddle!

Oh God! How far have the mighty fallen. Tiddle! Is that the full extent of your anti-establishment linguistic ability?

No, but the next bit is rude.

Well spit it out. We’re all adults here, come on, expose yourself Tory boy!

Cock Cola!

You filthy animal, put your hand out.

The Himalayas were buzzing in the early morning clear sky. Buzz buzz. Which is unusual because they’re normally peaceful and serene. Our route was likely to be up and down And it Was. Thanks David.

The cloud started to accumulate again and the mountain views were beginning to be restricted.

The first peak today was marked by a stupa, and down below on a ledge of the valley was another, bedecked by prayer flags. What a sacred sight.

Just down the valley from this shot was a tea house where we stopped for lunch. Al fresco. Noodle soup. We still haven’t seen meat for a fortnight.

From here we dropped further down the valley to a Swinger, and then started cutting up around the shoulder of a mountain where the cloud added a touch of other worldliness and mythological ambience to the occasion. I am the god of hellfire! Thanks Uncle Arthur.

Only to rise and fall, the final fall for the day, down to Junbeshi. We had slogged again for another 9 hours and were relieved to see a pleasant tea house with a pleasant woman owner, clothes washing facilities under a pipe from a mountain stream and drying facilities around a log burning megastove.

For the last five days my dirty clothes bag was full and my clean clothes bag empty. I had started to sniff out the least dirty clothes but Killer brutally refused to sniff my socks and pants to identify the least offensive. Point blank. Let’s see how he feels when he needs his undies sniffing. Don’t look in my direction matey boy. The only skiddies I’m sniffing this trek are yours truly’s.

The lads helped dry out my gear by holding the clothes in front of the fire for ages. Good lads. It was a beer night around a warm stove, smiling and telling tales of bravery and friendship.

Night night.

Due to the adverse climbing conditions today I didn’t take photos, apart from the leech strike. However I am inserting at random previously unseen material!

We woke, we packed our gear and wandered down to the tea house from the barn that we slept in. It’s ok sharing a room with Killer. He’s considerate and a decent bloke. He doesn’t snore either, not like the old bugger sharing with him.

What happens is that you start high up but want to trek down to a village quite a long way away. Most villages are set high in the hills, so even though you’re heading lower, you have to drop way down, cross the river that’s in your way and then climb up really high to the village. And this happens day after day on this route to Jiri. At least we’re as fit as butchers’ dogs at this stage of proceedings.

It had rained heavily overnight and it was cold. Not the cold that we felt at 18,000 feet but a kind of insidious wet cold that crept into your bones and dismantled your joy for the new day.

After breakfast we set off into the cloud at around 6am.

I couldn’t take any photos; I just wanted to hold on to my walking poles and make sure I didn’t slip over the edge. We had heard that there were significant mud slides and landslides across our path but that we should make it. However the rain resumed soon after we set off, to reduce the odds.

After an hour or so of difficult walking we hit the biggest landslide on a particularly steep and seriously long drop. It had wiped away our path and left areas of deep mud, which had remained on the slope, defying gravity. To cap it all, whilst we were looking at the problem there were a number of decent sized stones falling down across our path from higher up the mountain.

I decided to go first because if the lads went before me I wasn’t sure I’d have the bottle to follow. It was very dodgy, trying to behave normally on a slope that would have done justice to some kind of life-threatening episode of It’s a Knockout. But being sensible and calm helped a lot. Oh yes I was, for most of the time.

We let a couple of dozen people walking in the opposite direction come across the landslip first. It wasn’t safe to cross each other on the slope. I then called out to another big group about to cross towards us that we were only 4 people and would appreciate it if they would wait until we crossed over to them. Setting off I got to halfway over the slope without great difficulty and without being taken out by falling rocks. David was behind me and the two lads behind him. Here there was a choice of climbing up the mud and taking a higher route to safety or dropping down to the level that the people waiting to cross towards us were gathered.

A fat idiot of a German in the waiting group shouted at me ‘Come down this way’, getting more and more worked up when I turned round to Nir to ask what I should do. ‘Come zis vay’ shouted the idiot. ‘Climb higher papa’ said Nir, and I followed his advice. After a few metres of climbing I saw that the idiot had come out onto the slope and was immediately below me. I said to him that he was in danger of me falling on him or dislodging more mud or rocks onto him if he didn’t go back to safety. He said ‘You are endangering me! Vy did you not obey my instructions’.

Fair play to me I didn’t shout anything about orders that must be obeyed or anything mildly controversial like that. But I did lose it with the fat idiot, until Killer, the arbiter of calm and common sense, shouted for us to keep quiet and get on with crossing safely. I did and we all did.

Anyway we had another bout of avalanche crossing and then for the rest of the way down it was just slippery mud. And leeches. The jungle is full of them.

Nir got three in him, David two and me just one. This is a genuine leech strike from today. The dirty cheating dogs slip down into your boots and suck blood from your feet.

After lunch, in a village over the next river and up a bit, we climbed further, dropped again, crossed another river and then started climbing. The rain began to let up but it was still a hell of a climb this late in the afternoon, and it lasted for hours until the light started to fade. We made sure we got out of the jungle before dark – there are tigers and black bears roaming about here after dark!

Another draining day climbing up and down for 10 hours, with mudslides, leeches and tigers waiting to eat us. Good fun innit!

Night night.

A typical Himalayan trek day starts between 5am and 8 am. It ends between 4pm and 6.30pm. It goes up and up but rarely down. It hurts and at high altitude you feel unwell and breathless. Your heart beats fast with every laboured step and you can’t walk more then a few metres without resting. If you’re unlucky you’re one of the 5 per day who needs an emergency helicopter evacuation in the Everest area. Of 30,000 people who complete the Everest Base Camp trek every year up to 15 die.

But now we’re coming down. We’re all ok and things are hunky dory. Aren’t they?

We set off towards Lukla and watched out for the turnoff down towards the river that would take us to Jiri (our endgame after Pikey Peak).

We found it, followed it and we’re glad that we did because Lukla airport was shut, and had been for a few days because the weather wasn’t good there. That meant that a horde of people due to fly in with Lukla tickets would be taking short flights or buses from Kathmandu and walking up the very valley that we are walking down, And competing for normally unused, and certainly scarce, accommodation.

We dropped down further and the clouds, jungle and ancient Buddhist carvings and steps weaved a spell. The weather was worsening but the place has charm, and that held up.

So does Killer. Those gaiters, shades and camo-shorts spell C-L-A-S-S.

The views as we dropped down were amazing.

And then we noticed that the route down the valley had started to climb. Nir had advised of a climb, but this went on and on.

And the drops on the right hand side of the path rose from 500 feet to over a thousand. Don’t trip.

In fact we were climbing back up into the ‘mostly gasping when climbing uphill zone’ and we were in complete cloud.

The climb continued and we came across more people walking up from Salleri/Jiri to Everest, and we began to wonder about accommodation for the night.

When something is up, Nir lags behind and phones folk. He may be behind, out of sight for ages, but then turns up like a rejuvenated Gollum. On this occasion the lag got longer. And so did the climb, up to two hours and no white smoke from Gollum. Whilst the weather got worse.

Then a breakthrough. Nir came scampering up, smiling and relaxed. He had bagged the last room in Paiya and he was, rightfully, pleased with himself. Thank Christ for that; I didn’t fancy sleeping outside in the rain.

We were climbing forever, clocking up a total of 4 hours ascending, and we were knackered. The climb was steep and it suddenly evened out, with a small village appearing out of the cloud. We found our tea house and there were a group of people outside looking forlorn and fatigued. They had come up in the opposite direction and were drained. And sadly without accommodation.

Our room was in an outside barn with an inside room that was not supposed to be let due to the lack of facilities like electricity and running water, but it was adequate for our needs.

As we ate dinner we could see, in the darkness, dozens of people walking down towards the village with their head torches shining. As they arrived they were turned away. I was sorry for them, but an elderly group of Americans from Wisconsin, who had been very depressed outside the tea house when we arrived, were allowed to sleep in a group on the floor of the tea house restaurant. At least they had shelter. It’s harsh up here.

Night night.

Alright, who sniggers at the mention of Phakding.

Me sir.

Phakding hell boy. How can you snigger at something like that? Hold out your hand.

Ouch! Sorry sir, but could I have a can of cock?

You vile little animal. Hold out your hand!

Ouch! Please don’t hurt me anymore sir.

The morning was fine and Kantega, blowing snow off the top, looked magnificent in the early sun.

We set off at a pace down the valley, like the physical superstars that Amar and Nir are, and the shortly to be physical superstars that me and Senor Kilby will be.

This is the luckiest trek ever for breaks in the clouds and magnificent views. In no time we reached the valley floor, crossed the Swinger and were beginning to climb up to the Buddhist monastery at Tengboche. And incredibly on the way, the monastery came to us! It was longer than this but I edited it to be able to upload it. Very impressive and humbling snaking down the valley.

Over the hill behind Tenboche, an hour trapping back down to the river and then three hours trapping back up and over to Namche Bazar again. We had lunch and set off quickly.

Down, down deeper and down. Thanks Francis. Until we reached the high Swinger that we crossed on the way up. And it was still scary.

But me and Killer nailed it!

On the way down we came across the Cambridge United football team crossing a Swinger (Southend have a thing about Cambridge)!

I was getting exhausted and struggling to make the downs as well as the ups. The weather turned to monsoon-like part way down the valley but we kept going. And there were bright points, like this garden.

And this waterfall.

And this ‘orse.

And then we made it to our tea house, showered, ate and had a coupla cans.

Night night.

We gathered for breakfast in the tea house when we made it down from Kala Patthar.

The previous night Nawaraj, the boss of our tour guide company, had rung to advise us that groups were pulling out of Annapurna and Manaslu treks as the weather was turning adversely. We were his only group in the Everest area and he was ringing to advise us of the situation.

We had checked the weather for our route, particularly the high pass Cho La, and it was for more snow in a couple of days for a couple of days. We knew this pass was problematic, with ice and snow issues close to the summit, but this was greater difficulty than could be expected at this time of the year. We don’t have crampons, which are spikes strapped to the bottom of your boots to stop slipping on snow and ice.

We also knew that other people were pulling out. The bloke that bruised his buttocks (always reminds me of Fforest) had run up to us the previous night in a panic. He was following the three high passes route and knew that we were too. He said he had hired a helicopter to take him to Kathmandu to get him out. He said that if we went up we wouldn’t get down. His guide was equally concerning, saying that both Cho La, and the last pass Renjo La, were going to be dangerous.

We decided over breakfast that it would be too risky for a small, non-mountaineering group to try to continue the original route in view of the weather forecast. After discussion we came up with a cracking alternative. To follow in the footsteps of Hillary and Tenzing. To trek from Gorakshep via Pheriche to Pangboche tonight, where we stayed on the way up. Then to continue down past Lukla, through the lower jungle, eventually to climb Pikey Peak at over 13,000 feet, with amazing views of the entire Himalayan high range, and then continue to Jiri, where Nir lives.

This is a brand new and very challenging continuation of our adventure. Bye Everest!

Back down via Lobuche the route looked rough from the perspective of up going down.

And what a classy picture show we had as a farewell to this area.

Down towards the end of the valley leading down from Everest Base Camp, were memorials for many climbers who have died in this range. A moving tribute to their courage and commitment.

We made it down to Thukla for lunch and then struck off southeastwards down the river valley that Everest was melting into. We were setting a good pace and, looking back, we were saying goodbye to the highest of mountains in the range.

Two hours later our river ran into the valley that we followed up from Pangboche to Dingboche, as the weather was turning worse.

This is a domesticated stretch of valley, with the main enterprise being the drying out of Yak turds for sale as firedung. Effective it is too.

And the woods were ever so slightly more autumnal than a week ago.

Finally we arrived back in Pangboche, lurking just over Senor Kilby’s right shoulder. A big decision taken today, and a big challenge ahead of us.

Night night.

It was a very cold night and neither David nor myself could sleep. In the end I think we managed a couple of hours. In addition to the cold we are both struggling with this prolonged exposure to altitude which leaves you breathless in the night. At 4.30 am we had a knock on the door. ‘David, Papa, get ready, we are going to climb Kala Patthar, come look’. I opened the door, followed Nir down the corridor and out into the freezing night. The mountains were clearly visible and the Milky Way hung majestically above us. Behind the tea house Kala Patthar loomed over us at 18,500 feet.

‘Get ready Papa we are going up there’ said Nir pointing to the summit. The spirits had once again parted the clouds for us, and on this occasion had lifted them completely. We had to climb however badly we felt. Many trekkers see only the inside of clouds for the entire trip and we realised how lucky we have been.

It was bitter, to the extent that I put my trousers on!

As we climbed, the light grew around us and the big boys were showing off in the silvery dawn.

If you rest, do it under Everest.

It was very clear to us that this was a never to be repeated opportunity. You feel like you are gifted to see one of the most amazing sights in the world. The problem was that David, particularly, and to a lesser extent myself, were suffering from the altitude. Dav looked ill.

From this angle he looked a bit like Hitler just before he topped himself. Resigned, defeated, withdrawn, unwell, wearing a Southend United hat. Ha – little known fact. Hitler was a Shrimper. He led several charges against Colchester fans before the war. Caught them in a pincer movement with Bert Trotter and his three sons from Leigh on Sea coming in from the North Bank and Hitler, who was originally from Shoeburyness, coming at them from across the pitch. Even then he was a nasty piece of work.

And then………KAPOW! David was revived.

I told him there’d be side effects if he took those local painkillers.

We got up to 18,100 feet and couldn’t climb further. It hurt me, it was completely debilitating for David as he slipped towards altitude sickness and after last night we needed to breakfast and pow wow again. Back down to Gorak Shep.

See you later. X

We had a meeting with Nir last night after we had warmed up, drunk ginger, lemon and honey tea and had a meal. The tea house was ok and we had a toilet and a hand basin in the room, but no water to wash in or work the flush. Another ‘pour a bucket of water down from this tank to flush the bog’.

We were reassured that yesterday was a one-off and that irrespective of the weather the rest of the trek is ok. This morning we set off up the valley from Lobuche towards Gorak Shep, the last village before Everest.

This is a photo of David, a donkey and a yak. Can you identify each one accurately. Ps. The yak isn’t wearing gaiters.

The weather started off ok and the team were in a good mood this morning. The darkness, defeat and defecation of yesterday dissipated in the diaspora.

Diaspora?

Well I couldn’t think of further alliteration that would keep the meaning and the rhythm going so I sacrificed meaning.

How about dissipated in the dawning of a new day?

Okay mate I’ll try it out on my homies. Are you ok with defecation?

Yes. You did it and it was significant to the way the day panned out. Pardon the pun.

Great, thanks, here goes.

The weather started off ok and the team were in a good mood this morning. The darkness, defeat and defecation of yesterday dissipated in the dawning of a new day.

Feels good mate. Thank you.

The route to Gorak Shep is along another side moraine and across a subsidiary glacier. Lots of rocks and boulders to balance on with the regular crashing of landslides and falling ice tumbling into the pools of water created by global warming. But nicer views and sentiments along the way.

Amar on the near horizon.

Killer and Nir Himalayan grooving.

And me I’m just on the street, heading for a different joint. Thanks Bob.

We reached Gorak Shep in time for an early lunch and to dump our stuff before our ramble up to Everest Base Camp.

And continuing upwards the snow set in for the long fall, which in the end we had to brave. Jesus it was cold. And the glacier is a difficult place to be. Don’t slip down these crevasses or you’re not coming out.

Eventually the snow eased and we finally made it to Base Camp. It was hard, due to the weather shifting from cold to frickin freezin, and due to the lack of oxygen. But it did not contain the risk of Kongma La. I’m taking the liberty of failing to provide explanation and only posting photos of one of the most iconic locations in the entire world. And we are in it.

It was a great day and we retired to our tea house in Gorak Shep, which had the most basic hygiene facilities – one unflushable bog per 20 people and no running water. Happy days.

What I said about that Indiana Jones risky bollocks; I was a bit hasty.

Night night.

Today was the first of the three high passes and we expected, at a similar height to Chhukung Ri yesterday, that the conditions crossing Kongma La pass would be similar. We were quickly disabused.

Setting off at 6am with a whiff of sun about, and sufficient gaps in the clouds to spot the peaks, we were confident and prepared.

The path immediately struck uphill. There were fewer groups walking this way, compared to the lower routes to Everest, although we knew that this would be the case. On higher routes cairns lead the way.

The promise of sun didn’t last as the mountain became steeper and our path wound along and up steep sides cut deep by melting ice. Cut deep by melting ice is it? Hark at ee!

The cloud drew in further. And as it started to snow I realised I needed to get covered up!

Nir was leading by costume example.

Before I could get my gear on I started to get awful stomach cramps and my legs and lungs got a bit wobbly. Nipping behind a boulder I evacuated the runs again. Luckily David had his Imodium handy so I dropped two straight away.

Then the climbing got really tough as we hit a three or four hundred foot stone wall, and the path got steeper and steeper. The snow got heavier and then eased and a drop of sun sneaked through. Only to be obliterated by snow again.

David was drawing on his reserves and climbing well but I felt ill and lagged behind. It took hours to scale to the next level, which featured a few small lakes, culminating at a larger lake surrounded by another wall of rock. Nir pointed out the top of the pass and I couldn’t imagine a way up. Horror of horrors there had been considerable snowfall the previous night.

David and Amar led, with Nir following behind me. There was snow and pack ice along the narrow ledge that we followed, without ropes or crampons. One slip and it was game over. David’s video sums it up as I’m appearing up the track behind him.

We eventually dragged ourselves up to the top of the pass, at 18160 feet altitude, with fresh snow and ice, with 50% of the oxygen in the air compared to sea level, with no climbing equipment and completely knackered. A member of another group took this for us. I think you can say that this is relief on our faces. But it was short lived. We had to go down.

On the Lobuche side of the pass the mountainside was steep and covered in boulders. The boulders were in turn covered in snow and the route of the path was obliterated.

The first people up before us had guessed at the path and had packed down a narrow route which had resulted in snow turning to ice again. At times this disappeared and we had to guess where the gap was between boulders covered in snow and where a foot might slip through and twist an ankle. At other times the narrow path was so slippery that it was completely daunting. The drop would be bone breaking.

I couldn’t even reach for my iPad to take photos as we needed to grip our poles hard. These were truly the Boulders of Broken Bones. And they extended ahead of us for hours.

We were buggered. We couldn’t go back down the Lord of the Rings narrow ledge, we couldn’t get a helicopter to pick us up, we had to go on. And at the bottom was a glacier between ourselves and Lobuche which we had to cross.

It took us hours to gingerly tread our path down the mountain. It was exhausting and extremely concerning. There were about four groups snaking down and despite most of us slipping it is a miracle that only one bloke tumbled and damaged himself. A bruised buttock. David slipped onto his wrist and was hurt but uninjured. At last we were down, but then had to climb up the side moraine of rocks, sand and soil, which contained the glacier.

This is the Khumbu Glacier running from the foot of Everest down across our path. It is melting and is covered in large boulders like this, as well as smaller scree. It’s difficult to see the ice and there are many small lakes connected by a subterranean river, which you can hear through the gaps in the Boulders of Death! We had to cross the river from boulder to boulder without slipping.

By the time we arrived in Lobuche we were mentally and physically exhausted. It had taken 9 hours. This was not going to happen again. I felt that I was too old, too unfit and too tired for this kind of Indiana Jones risky bollocks and David was of an equally firm and similar mind. We needed a cards on the table pow wow when we had rehumanised and clarified how we felt.

Night night.

Today was a relatively easy trek up to Chhukung in the morning, climbing up to 15,500 feet. The route is shown towards the bottom of the map.

As we set off there were tantalising glimpses of the mountains surrounding us through the clouds.

We got a good pace going and we’re soon able to look back at Dingboche down below the cloud level.

And with a sad reminder that those who are brave enough to climb the peaks, around which we only trek, frequently pay the ultimate price. God bless lads. And lasses.

We are well into glacier country now and vegetation is becoming sparse.

Chhukung ahead and when we made it to the tea house we left our stuff in the room. After an early lunch, the four of us (the Fellowship of the Trek) set off for Chukhung Ri, the peak on the map marked at 5550 metres.

Sadly we became enveloped in cloud, like being inside a ping pong ball.

It was a steep hard slog with every step forward tearing at your lungs. We were down to 50% of the normal level of oxygen in the air and it hurts. Then the ridge appeared with cairns erected by climbers over the years. We had made it to well over 18,000 feet. The highest place on earth either David or myself had stood. The summit was brooding above us, surrounded by steep slate that was unacceptably slippery in the rain. We accepted our ascent of the ridge as an overriding success.

Flags come out, as did indiscernible tattoos.

Both Uniteds united.

Then an amazing moment of grace and spiritual uplifting occurred. The clouds momentarily parted above us and the massive peaks towering over us shone through. I heard David say, ‘we’re looking at angels.’ It was exactly like that. I burst into tears and he patted me on the back and comforted me. Something beyond the mountains is here.

After a long drag down we made it to the tea house. Uplifted, exhausted and happy.

Night night.

Today was a rest day to assist acclimatisation to the altitude. We’re staying at 14,500 feet and this morning we climbed through rain up to 15,750 feet, well into the snow line.

We had hoped to climb further but the route became covered in snow and further climbing would have been dangerous. We were in cloud for most of the climb up and back and did not take photos. Sorry.

Tomorrow we’re off again, hopefully to reach Chukhung, leave our gear at the tea house and climb 17,400 feet up Chukhung Ri. Chukhung is one of the highest villages in the world.

The weather forecast is adverse for our route.

Good job we are hard as nails!

Night night.