“Whatever happens tomorrow morning,” I told my friend as we set our alarms for 4.30am, “under no circumstances let me go back to sleep!”
The following morning was a big one—in my eyes the most important morning of our trek to Everest Base Camp (EBC). We’d already reached the base camp itself that afternoon, but the following morning we would climb Kala Patthar. Base Camp, as the name suggests, sits at the bottom of Mount Everest so the trek to EBC doesn’t actually involve summiting any mountains. Moreover, from EBC you can only see the tiniest glimpse of Everest’s summit.
However, from Kala Patthar’s summit, which sits at a towering 5545m above sea level, Everest and the surrounding mountain range are visible in all their glory. While the aim of hiking to EBC is obviously to reach the base camp, summiting Kala Patthar is often considered the highlight of the trek.
The hike to the viewpoint at Kala Patthar’s peak is notoriously brutal. Many people rate it as the hardest section of the EBC trek though technically it’s not actually part of it. At supper in the teahouse at Gorak Shep, we huddled round the central stove for warmth and I chatted to a few people who had summited Kala Patthar that afternoon.
“It was the hardest two hours of my life,” one worn-out trekker told us cheerfully.
“I’m pretty sure I nearly suffered a cardiac arrest about 80 times on the way up,” another confirmed.
This news was not comforting, especially considering the difference in conditions. Our plan to hike to the summit to catch sunrise over Everest was in some ways more ambitious. On the one hand, these hikers had trekked from Lobuche to both EBC and Kala Patthar in the same day, which must have been exhausting. We, on the other hand, would be climbing Kala Patthar after a night’s sleep. Hypothetically, this would mean we would be better rested. In reality, night is often when the effects of altitude sickness are felt the most, so we may be even more exhausted after a restless night at 5100m above sea level.
I was certain that, though I’d yet experienced no real symptoms of altitude sickness, the morning we were to summit Kala Patthar would be the morning they materialised. I’d decided that reaching Kala Patthar was going to be the highlight of my trek. I would be so frustrated if after hiking all this way I was unable to climb the last 450m.
To make the morning easier, I slept in my clothes for the next day that night. All I had to do was roll out of my sleeping bag and put my coats on.
Strangely enough, when my alarm went off the next morning, I was wide awake within seconds and took very little persuasion to get out of bed. I think excitement and adrenaline played a big factor in urging me to leave the cosiness of my sleeping bag. I hadn’t been up at sunrise at all during the trek, so what better time to witness it than from one of the world’s best viewpoints?
My spirits were high as we tied our bootlaces in the teahouse’s cold and deserted dining room. Not only had I got out of bed with minimal snoozing (always an achievement), but also I hadn’t displayed any symptoms of altitude sickness. To make matters even better, my friends who had been suffering felt well enough to do the hike with us.
We left the teahouse under cover of darkness, accompanied by a young Korean guy whose group had decided against surfacing at this hour.
Due to the winter weather and early nights, I hadn’t yet spent any time outside at night in the Himalayas. It seemed too good to be true when I pushed my way out the teahouse’s swinging door and was greeted by a dark sky full of unrecognisable constellations. With zero light pollution and silence from the village, I stood gazing awed at the stars above. Even if I didn’t make it to Kala Patthar’s summit, the stars alone were worth waking up in the sub-zero hours before dawn.
From our teahouse in Gorak Shep we crossed the flat expanse of an ancient and dried up lakebed. We were sheltered from any wind by the surrounding mountain range, which framed the starry sky as we walked.
Before too long the mountain ridge loomed ahead of us and we began the steep ascent. Luckily, there was barely any wind even as we climbed, so the temperature hovered between -20 and -25°C and we were able to stay warm (ish!) as we hiked.
The stars faded quickly as the night drew to a close and I became accustomed to keeping my eyes down. I was glad I wasn’t making this trek alone, and that our porter, Kami, had agreed to accompany us. I couldn’t at all make out a path up the ridge. My headlamp needed new batteries and was very ineffectual, so I was straining to use the light from my friends’ torches. Only the faint shadow of my companions’ footprints in the illuminated snow assured me I was still treading the right path.
In silence we trudged in single file, wearily trekking what seemed like an endless series of hairpin bends. Fortunately, the pace Kami set was just a little bit slower than the speed I would have gone if alone, so I was able to hike without struggling too much. While my friends and I stuck to “the pack survives” mentality, our new Korean friend dashed off ahead until the light from his headlamp became no more than a flickering pinprick.
Gradually it began to get light and after about an hour I could see the path beneath my feet. The outlines of a few pointed summits became clear against the sky as it turned from navy to white.
Kala Patthar means “black rock” in Hindi and Nepali, and it soon became obvious why. Of all the peaks that surrounded us, Kala Patthar was almost directly above us, a mass of dark boulders constituting a summit.
The final push was harder: now the sun was rising I could clearly see how steep the path was and how far we had to go. In the distance I could make out our Korean pal, speedily clambering up entirely the wrong ridge. As we scrambled over boulders to reach the little summit, I felt strangely like I should make the most of the climb. In telling myself that this was the last bit of climbing I had to do, I somehow managed to persuade myself to enjoy the breathlessness and exhaustion.
The vertical gap between the summit and us closed and finally I pulled myself onto the ridge.
The summit consisted of a lot of rocks piled into a peak, with a sheer cliff to the side. I was reluctant to climb to the highest point because of how sketchy the rocks were, so instead I sank onto a boulder adorned with prayer flags. As our Korean buddy scrabbled boldly over the crumbling peak, I turned away to admire sunrise over Mount Everest.
I have to admit that at first it seemed a little anticlimactic.
Other than how dark she appeared next to her neighbours, the highest mountain in the world didn’t appear any more imposing from this viewpoint.
Because of the sun’s orientation, the sunrise didn’t quite catch Everest’s peak. Distant Ama Dablam and her surroundings were tinged with rosy light. In contrast, a constant billow of snow blew off Everest’s peak, making it seem as though the tip of the dark mountain was smoking. The sun illuminating Everest and her ominous and omnipresent “smoke” in pink and gold would perhaps have been more impressive.
Yet as I balanced on my boulder, I realised that reaching Kala Patthar was about more than just the view.
At 5545m, this was probably the highest on land I would ever go in my life. Even if one day I did decide to climb higher (maybe Kilimanjaro?), this was the culmination of my EBC trek. I couldn’t quite believe that we’d made it successfully. Now I had reached the top of Kala Patthar, all I had to do was descend to where it was warm and there was little chance of breathlessness and headaches. Kala Patthar was a tangible indication of my effort and accomplishment.
With these thoughts in mind, suddenly Mount Everest was awe-inspiring and spectacular. Khumbu Glacier and EBC itself stretched out beneath us, looking easily conquerable at a measly 5380m above sea level. Everest looked well within reach from this height, even at this angle dwarfed slightly by its neighbouring mountain range. It was hard to believe that Everest’s summit was still over 3000m away. Gazing at it from the top of Kala Patthar, I felt invincible and as if I could march to the summit right that second. (I swiftly remembered how likely I was to die if I did, though the image lingered on wistfully in my mind.)
Though the sunrise probably wasn’t as beautiful as sunset would have been, on a practical level I’m glad we chose sunrise. I think the climb would have been harder at sunset, because it would have been very clear how long and steep our path was. Moreover, other than our Korean buddy, no one else in Gorak Shep had awakened early enough to catch the sunrise. We were lucky to have Kala Patthar to ourselves, the view of Everest unimpaired by other trekkers.
I quickly cooled from the exertion of trekking all that way, and was glad I’d brought my thick gloves and all three coats. The boulders we sat on were icy cold beneath us in the -20°C weather. The steadily rising sun did little for the temperature and eventually we reluctantly began our descent to Gorak Shep.
I waved goodbye to the Korean guy, who had now stripped down to his underwear and was yelling at the top of his voice, arms stretched wide above his head. Don’t worry; he definitely made it down in one piece. We ran into him again as we ate breakfast in Gorak Shep at a comfortable 5100m—remember when that seemed high?
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2 Comments
Nanda · 08/02/2020 at 6:58 AM
Fantastic narration!
Daisy · 08/02/2020 at 5:55 PM
Thanks Nanda! I’m glad you enjoyed it!