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05.23.16 - Pilgrimage
It was while walking along a two mile stretch between Dingboche and Lobuche that it hit me. You spend a lot of time on the trail thinking about why you purposefully subject yourself to a thousand depravities that make each day a struggle - and make you wish you were home. We are all suffering, yet we plod on, step after step, mile after mile. And today we received our gift.
Mount Everest is known as Sagarmattha to the Nepalese - the Holy Mother. She stands over 29,000 feet tall and draws thousands of people every year - just to get a look at her. Some dare to climb her and many sacrifice themselves in the process. Just this week, two climbers lost their lives after reaching her summit. Over 200 remain frozen on her uppermost slopes - a testament to her cruel indifference to those who come seeking her gifts.
As we walked through the valley towards Lobuche there were a hundred fellow trekkers marching in front of us and behind us. We were all drawn to a single place so remote, the only practical access is by foot. You trek 5-7 hours per day from tea house to tea house to receive your bland but nourishing food, and a nicely padded cot to rest on. A warm trickling shower, in something akin to an outhouse, is a luxury that rejuvenates your spirit and temporarily washes the dust from your body, if not from your lungs. The air thins as you approach Base Camp, and breathing becomes a chore - especially when trying to sleep. The altitude in the Himalayas is nothing to be toyed with.
In Dingboche, at around 14,000 feet above sea level, a Brazilian trekker, Marcel, succumbed to acute mountain sickness. He was incoherent and caughing up blood. A helicopter took him away and we haven't heard anything since. Marcel shared his food with Kimberly and gave her some of his medicines to clam her stomach. Everyone suffers up here.
Sam was hit with a severe flu on day two of the trek and was unable to walk. Compelled to continue the trek, she rented a horse from a local farmer and rode for three days to allow her body to recover. Yesterday she was able to climb a small hill near Lobuche and today, she managed to trek 7 hours to Base Camp and back to Gorak Shep. Upon arrival at the tea house, she had nothing left.
The rest of us are suffering in our own ways. Kimberly is fighting a cold and her head hurts. Mark misses his wife Kerri and his kids. Whenever he receives a satellite text from them he proudly reads them aloud to us. Dave misses Kerri's home cooking and has felt the effects of altitude, even though he's one of he strongest hikers in the mountains. Dan hasn't been sleeping well and Ariana has a cough and is cold, we're all cold and weakening. So what are we doing up here?
The thought that hit me while walking through the valley was that we are on a pilgrimage. I don't profess to know everyone's individual reasons for being here, but the image was irrefutable. Thousands of people marching toward the mountain known as the Holy Mother to get a glimpse of her majesty, and fill something missing in their lives. Following are some of the thoughts that went through my mind as I marched on.
Sagarmattha didn't take my suffering away - she didn't take anyone's suffering away - if anything, she added to it. We still have 6 grueling days of trekking to get back to Lukla. But we don't leave empty handed. She gave us spectacular views you can only earn. She gave us confidence and new friendships that will not end with this trip. She made us appreciate everything we have ever taken for granted. And most importantly, she taught me some important lessons. She reminded me that beauty is not derived through vanity. Success is not defined via gluttony. Pride has nothing to do with self respect. Sloth consumes valuable time., and most importantly, she taught me a little bit about the meaning and value of suffering. I'm ready to get home. Somehow my problems I left behind don't seem so bad anymore.