Mordor Vibes (Everest - Part 9)

Today marks the first night I add gloves to my normal oompa loompa sleeping getup. 0 Fahrenheit (-18C) really is a horrible number.

It starts with an unceremoniously early wake up call at 3am to climb up to the viewpoint to see Everest.

Honestly, I'm not a fan of sunrise hikes given that I'm not fully awake for another few hours. It's dark, it's cold, I'm sleepy, I don't want to go. I would not feel left out if I got there a couple hours after the sun is up.

But I get out of bed, get hot water into my thermos ($7 per LITER at this elevation), and start trudging uphill with my bleary headlamp. I'm hoarding my remaining set of spare batteries.

The weather cooperated and I got my best look at Everest (the black triangle).

What I least expected by this point is my absolute obsession with not being cold - the same way someone on a long time becomes obsessed with food.

Every movement is a calculation of how it'll affect my warmth. Any change of clothes requires a pep talk and coordinated effort at just the right time. Drinking hot beverages is a trade off that leads to the inevitable pee break, which means exposing your privates to the cold.

Feeling too cold -> trying to warm up -> feeling too hot -> start sweating -> inevitably cold (and now wet). Clothes don't dry here - they just freeze. Getting your hands warm is an entirely separate endeavor from your body. Don't even get me started on feet - I could be sweating bullets and my toes remain frigid. For moral support, I've been deluding myself that the temperature on my watch is in Celsius and not Fahrenheit.

I spent this entire morning thinking about which fingers and toes were cold, what body parts were dangerously warm, and how to regulate between the two. You stop you freeze, you continue too long you sweat, which then follows with freezing again.

The viewpoint was worth the struggle, as it was glorious to see the surrounding mountains, before the clouds rolled in.

But this is just the first part of today - now I will come down, eat a second breakfast, pack, and head to the start of the next high pass.

The second part was a pleasant walk to Dzongla that was mostly truly flat - a thin trail carved into the side of the mountain that saved me from an unnecessary up and down and cut some miles off the path.

You can see Thukla from the distance and the ant-like line of people going up to EBC where I came from. I hope they aren't disappointed like I was - but then again not having seen the other sides of this park, maybe they won't be.

The morning was gloriously clear, but now clouds are congregating, making it a bit of wispy and watercolor-like mood for the mountains. Great lightning for photos. The mountains never end - there's always another one in the distance, like a golden ratio spiral.

Turning the corner reveals more mountains, and more clouds in the distance.

The vibe is a bit like Frodo on the way to Mordor - I'm walking along a flat trail on a gentle-ish hill, but to my side these black giants are towering over me, and there are more to my front. There aren't any trees and bird song isn't very common.

The fog gets thicker, so the Mordor vibes get stronger. It's kind of cool, a change from the clear skies I've been having.

I see where I'm supposed to cross Chola pass tomorrow - it looks menacing, high up in the sky, surrounded by snow and prefaced with a glacier. But that's a tomorrow problem.

The Mordor vibe gets even more ominous. Snow flurries start. I see where I'm supposed to end up, which is still another hour away walking. Snow flurries get thicker, and eventually you can't even see there are mountains around you. I can barely see 10 feet ahead.

What a fantastic coincidence that this is the ONE day I left my full length burqa-like poncho in the porter bag. I guess it was my lucky charm, as so far I only had to contend with sunburn risk and brilliantly blue skies. Now the snow and wind are biting me in the face and my puffer is starting to feel like a wet cat.

I make it to the lodge just as the snow ends. The skies start clearing up, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Too soon.

A few hours later a true snowstorm comes in and blankets everything in snow. I have no idea if we are snowed in tomorrow - or if my microspikes will be sufficient if its a forced march. Traversing over a glacier, The Cho La Pass is the toughest one even in the best of weather.

12 strangers, stuck in a tiny lodge, with only the dining room having heat, hours away from help, while a snowstorm rages outside - isn't this the perfect setup for a murder mystery?

True to stereotype, a trio of Russians from the motherland offered everyone shots of tequila, which one of them carried in an old green Sprite bottle. A doctor apparently said that 50g of hard liquor a day is good for acclimation. They were the only ones who believed that.