Achieving Thermal Harmony (Everest - Part 10)

There's some things you bring on a trip that you hope to never use. Travel insurance. Immodium. Ankle brace. Rain poncho. Micro spikes.

And when a snowstorm comes in at the end of April and covers everything with three inches of snow, all of a sudden you're glad for that panic purchase to avoid ice skating on the sidewalk 5 years ago in Norway 5, and even more glad you actually packed it despite the extra weight and volume taking up valuable space.

Woke up to winter wonderland - or winter hellscape, depends on how you feel about walking in snow for 8 hours.

Typical for this area, there's no indoor heat at this budget palace. Seeing a toothbrush steam is a new one for me.

It's so frosty that I tried to eat breakfast (eggs and Tibetan bread) with my gloves on. I failed. Had to sacrifice my right hand for the sake of my stomach. Forget about self-actualization, 90% of my thoughts these days are occupied by physiological needs.

I very much don't want to go this morning. My oxygen and sleep deprived brain is coming up with all sorts of scenarios of getting stuck in a blizzard. My (crazy) guide is dismissing my concerns and saying it'll be fine. Looking out the window I see a group starting out. I figure if I stick relatively close to them, a rescue of 15 is much more likely than a rescue of 1. Plus, I've already used my buffer day and have no desire to pay even a penny more to this guide who I have really grown to dislike.

We pack up and leave the bare bones comfort of hut and start out on crunchy snow. Ominous clouds about but not snowing. Yet.

True to form, a quarter mile in I start tweaking my clothing.

Maintaining homeostasis is like achieving happiness - you get it right just for a mere moment - and then you're back to fiddling with the settings.

And theres a lot of dials to get the perfect amount of ventilation in a day that ranges from 0 to 25 degrees (Fahrenheit).

Ie, it's really damn cold.

Beanie or baseball cap? Gloves on/off, or acccept one hand freezing for cellphone access?

Neck buff - cover ears, cover ears + mouth, or cover ears + mouth + nose? (Which then causes sunglasses to fog, so then sunglasses off or on, which then changes the beanie or baseball cap decision)

Pants - bottom zippers down fully, half, fully up - and then are pants rolled up, and how many rolls? But that's only for the heavy duty fleece pants - maybe change into the lighter ones later - and will those get rolls?

Jackets - the puffer, the fleece or both? Zipped, unzipped, something in between? Hood on or off? Almost forgot about the zipper on the quarter zip underneath, where should that sit?

All to find that one setting where you're not so cold, and you’re not so hot that you start sweating, making you cold AND wet, which is definitely Dante's 9th layer of hell.

Just as you find the ideal combination, a gust of wind comes along, the clouds shift, or the elevation changes and messes up all your calculations.

Back to fiddling.

The path is gradually upward, which is nice for getting used to the snow. It's crunchy and fresh, and feels sturdy in microspikes. I'm feeling less discomforted about venturing out, but I know the worst is yet to come.

Every summit in the Himalayas appears to have at least 3 false summits. Tired of repetitive heartbreaks, I've now learned to just count them and assume there is one more.

On the first false summit I lose the outer jacket. A good sign.

On the second false summit it's snowing again. The jacket that came off now comes back on again. My porter who's been following me this entire time either has infinite patience for all my clothing and picture stops, or just doesn't know enough English to say anything.

By the third false summit I'm wondering why my existential crisis couldn't have manifested into someplace warm with tanned muscled waiters serving tiki drinks while I lay in a hammock being fanned by giant leaves. Hell I'd even accept training for an ironman.

By the fourth summit I see the final pass in sight, with only the glacier between us.

Traversing the glacier is neat, but slow going to not stray from the path into one of the crevasses. Everything being covered in fresh snow, it's not simple to see the path from flag A to flag B. Finally the final climb and I'm on top of the pass. I try to drum up some excitement but the truth is I still wish I was in bed.

Now comes the hard part - getting down.

In good weather, the other side is a notorious sand slide. Now it's an ice slide, with a feeble rope attached to poles that function only as a moral support.

It's snowing harder and now we add wind to the equation. I put on that other item I was hoping to never use - the full length poncho I panic bought in Kathmandu. Coming down to almost my ankles and very flowy, I look like I could be a proper Muslim woman and the fifth wife to a sheikh. I wonder if that kind of lady’s existential crisis just manifests in buying a set of designer purses in Dubai. At least its warm there.

Infinite steps later and a couple times of falling on my butt, which thanks to the 24/7 need to produce my own heat is not as cushiony as it used to be, and we're down.

Now it's a series of up downs and up downs over rocks and dirt. I realize I haven't seen a tree in over a week. Just every type of rock there ever was, and the occasional sparrow.

The snow starts and stops repeatedly and the well trodden path gets soggy. My waterproof shoes are now water retentive. It's going to be a joy to dry these when anything wet you put outside freezes in a few minutes.

After lunch it's the final push to Gokyo Lake. Another 2.5 hours in increasingly bad snow, on that Himalayan flat of up downs across a glacier that really looks more like a cement foundry.

It seems like an eternity that we traverse these piles of rock and sand. So many meaningless ups and downs, with snow blowing into my face like tiny needles, and the occasional glacial puddle that makes things look pretty. For the first time on this entire trek I'm glad for the company of the green backpack 50m in front of me that is my guide. With poor visibility and the very confusing trail, this could have been ugly.

And finally there we are - Gokyo Lake. I'm not sure I believe my eyes because this place doesn't seem from our world.

The snow stops, the clouds clear, and all is at peace again.

Nature had it's cathartic cry and so tomorrow should be a great day.