Arriving to Everest Base Camp (EBC) at Last!
After a five-hour trek of nearly seven miles, we passed through Gorakshep—the closest village to Everest Base Camp (EBC) on the Nepal side—without stopping. Unfortunately, it is known to be dirty and a common place from which to acquire travelers’ GI issues.
As we approached Everest Base Camp, the trail became crowded with trekkers and yaks.
It was easy to distinguish between climbers and trekkers. For the trekkers, EBC is the worthy end goal. For many of them, it was an exertion of their last ounce of effort just to make it that far, while the climbers moved with greater energy and alacrity knowing they were only just beginning.
One of my first impressions was how gigantic and sprawling EBC was. I had no idea of its scale, even after all of the books I have read and documentaries I have watched. I was quite surprised to find that it was basically a bustling small city—more than a full mile across, teeming with activity, nestled neatly under the Khumbu Icefall, with a diverse range of camps representing various groups. Some camps appeared to be specifically tied to a particular country—Russia, India, or China, for instance—giving the feel of neighborhoods, while others were climbers of assorted nationalities connected to a single expedition outfitter.
I researched, interviewed, and ultimately selected Climbing the Seven Summits (CTSS), which is a full-service guiding company and service provider that does everything from A to Z including placing you onto a team if you prefer that approach, coordinating logistics, securing permits, hiring your Sherpa, booking domestic in-country flights including to/from Lukla, and otherwise handling all operational aspects for the expedition.
CTSS is owned and operated by power duo Mike Hamill and Caroline Pemberton, who are terrific. (Mike wrote the literal book on Climbing the Seven Summits.) CTSS did not offer any discount, incentive, or referral benefit to write an endorsement or review, so this opinion is my unprompted, uncompensated, and unbiased assessment of its offerings.
CTSS’s impressive camp was established all the way at the far end, which was a prime location for multiple reasons. First, for water sourcing: we would not be dealing with contaminated melted ice that had traveled through EBC, picking up goodness-knows-what pathogens and/or pollutants along its journey to reaching us. (CTSS boils all of its water, regardless, but—nonetheless—the originating source is cleaner this way.) Second, CTSS’s camp does not have to contend with inadvertent passersby and excessive foot traffic—precisely because it is at the furthest perimeter of EBC. Given the ongoing concerns about disease spreading, this position is a tangible advantage for health optimizing. Third, when it comes time to enter the Khumbu Icefall, we are already right here—smack dab next to it. The only downside I can think of to CTSS being at the outer edge of EBC was feeling as though after finally making it to your destination following more than two weeks of high-altitude trekking, you still have to suffer the indignity of hiking another 45 or more minutes before settling into what is to become your tented home base for the next five or six weeks.
What hits you right away is how enormous, daunting, and spectacular the Khumbu Icefall is. You immediately recognize the famous (infamous?) glacier winding its way down into the storied Khumbu valley and are greeted with a spectacular view of the seracs and tumbling boulders of ice.
The next few days were spent getting situated in our respective tents, unpacking, learning the lay of the land and protocols, meeting fellow climbers, and taking a comprehensive tour of camp.
One of the great traditions at Everest Base Camp is the enchanting Puja that everyone enjoys. Two monks traveled from Pangboche’s monastery to lead the multiple-hours-long ceremony, asking the mountain for permission to climb and for safety as we go. This ritual is particularly serious for the Sherpas, who will not enter the Khumbu Icefall until the full process has been completed.
As you can see, after the blessings, Sherpas walked around applying tsampa flour to the climbers’ faces, in a symbolic representation of growing gray beards in our forthcoming long and happy lives. My old beard is already white enough on its own that I’m not sure whether the mountain would be able to tell that I had any special grains in it! Having completed the formal proceedings, the whole atmosphere turned into a real party, with Sherpas sharing food and heavily-spirited drink with us, following which they began what I would describe as Sherpa line dancing. We were invited to join in the fun, but trying to keep up with the changes in rhythm was harder than you may suspect—I suppose I could blame my failures in that regard on the alcohol.
Video evidence below of these festivities including my buddy Kevin Sánchez (who is actually a decent dancer) in the red hat and blue jacket and me (in the puffy yellow parka with black at the top of it) attempting to blend in and play along.
