The climb to Pang La pass and descent to the Rongbuk valley camp on July 4th was by far the most arduous day of the expedition. The 76 kilometre ride involved negotiating 46 switchbacks over a rocky and terribly corrugated dirt road to the 5,150 metre pass before dropping a thousand metres via the same hellish road.
It's impossible to exaggerate the misery of that road. While rocks and pot-holes could be avoided the cursed corrugations were everywhere and they took a toll on bodies and bikes. Two thirds of the way into the ascent the strain on my motor caused it to overheat and I rode in the van to the top of the pass. After a packed lunch, I chose to ride the descent with the others, which proved to be even more draining than the climb.
If our presence at high altitude had had us joking about our proximity to the Gods over the preceding few days, the ride down to the Rongbuk valley felt like a decent into Hades itself. The absence of suspension on our trikes ensured that every bump was experienced as a thumping through our spines, while our bodies were rattled about in our seats. We spent eight hours on that road and by the time we limped finally into camp that night, my rack had been destroyed and my batteries were exhausted. It was raining, i had diarrhoea, and if it had been feasible, I'd have thrown in the towel.
Neil and Catriona spent the night passing blood, Neil's situation serious enough to keep him off the road the following day. The next day's ride was another 33 Kms along the same road and when my motor again failed me after only 4 Kms, it was with a great deal of relief that I got into the van. Cat completed the ride.
Several of the guys arrived at camp with bleeding backsides, and Sam, who had been vomiting half the night but still rode, was struggling for composure. With the ride up to Base Camp scheduled for the following day, it was a fairly somber company that crawled into their bags that evening.
Everest chose to show itself briefly and unexpectedly while dusk was falling, and those of us not incapacitated grabbed cameras. Cat was unwell and missed the event, while I stole a glimpse through the rear flap of our tent from my position on the toilet. Frankly, I couldn't have cared two fucks about that view. Amy, as ever, was in good spirits.
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| From camp - Everest peeps out |
I woke in the foulest of moods. This was the climax of the expedition; I was still suffering from the shits and my trike was held together with duct tape and old inner tubes. The hub motor was shot and I couldn't believe it would get me up those last eight Kms. It didn't.
At one of the check points I was having a piss when several Chinese tourists began filming me. Not a big deal as I'd spent the last three weeks pissing and shitting on the sides of roads, in fields and in markets, usually to an inquisitive audience. When I promised to shove one gentleman's iPhone "up your fucking arse", I'm not sure he understood my words but the intent was communicated adequately enough. I wasn't enjoying myself.
After satisfying the Chinese authorities that we weren't likely to make a stand for the "Free Tibet" crusade or to set ourselves on fire (our Tibetan guide was risking imprisonment by having a store of petrol for our generators), and after narrowly avoiding expulsion from the mountain by an outburst from Mike, we rode through the barrier for the last eight Kms of the main goal...Everest Base Camp.
I know I'm making this all sound very dramatic but that's how it was for us. Cat especially had the expectations of many supporters on her shoulders (approx. $600,000 has been raised to date) and we all had our own personal reasons for being there. We had been consumed for months by the project and the last three weeks removed from normality had exaggerated the importance of the day no doubt.
For the first three Kms I received a reasonable degree of assistance from my hub. Then it ground to a halt and I was without power again, only this time at 5,000 metres on that shitty bloody road, at my lowest physical ebb. I was immersed in my struggle to move up that hill, struggling for breath from the exertion and the height, and trying unsuccessfully to keep my mouth and throat wet enough, and I was only vaguely aware of having company. The bulk of the team had disappeared around a switchback and there was no one in sight.
Well, I'm afraid my heroics were over for the day. I looked for and found the towel I'd contemplated the previous night and stopped, less than 3 Kms from Base Camp. When I did get moving again it was because Nicki and Sanjeev had dismounted and with a hand on my seat posts and a hand on their own bikes, were pushing me onward. And when they were exhausted and in tears from their efforts and my mouth was too dry to form a suction around my drinking tube and my thoughts had turned ungenerously toward the pack ahead, the cavalry arrived.
Not the support crew - they had been shepherded into a bus by the authorities and transported to the top - but Mike and Sam and Scott and Stu and Jack. And while I was regretting the direction my thoughts had been taking me, Stu organised a relay and they took turns shoving me up the road 40 metres at a time. And when we caught up with Cat and Neil and the others, who were waiting for me 500 metres from the top, someone thought to tie me to Neil's trike with the cord of the pink dressing gown that Mike was wearing. So it was, that I arrived less than triumphantly, at Everest Base Camp. And I don't mind saying that I'm having some trouble recounting it all.
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| Pink! |
After the pictures and the hand shakes and the hugs we quickly enough left for camp. I had thought to collect two stones from Base Camp, one for myself as a memento and a much larger one, I forget what for. When I stopped Scott, who was pushing me and gasping for breath, as I was about to loose my grip on the large stone (OK, rock), he looked down and said "You must be fucking kidding. I'll shove that up your...". I still have the smaller memento.
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| Everest Base Camp - Tibet |
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