Land of Great Cathedrals

 Review by Ariadne Gallardo Figueroa

This work recounts the two trips made to Nepal facilitated by KE Aventures Travel, undertaken in autumn 2001 and October 2004; the second alongside Tim Scott, an enthusiastic hiker and personal friend of the writer. Soon we will see a more extensive work titled 'Travels in Time and Space' that the writer Clive Simpson is currently preparing. Four decades of travel and writing must be recounted in it.
                    
With an interesting dedication, I have received the book by the renowned author and writer Clive Simpson: “Ariadne, The mountains of your mind, call”. It is therefore the author's central idea when faced with the immensity of the Himalayas. 

Later, his work highlights from the outset the recognition of his parents who urged him from a young age to recognise the power of travel and their enigmatic way of teaching customs and
landscapes that were not. They are common every day.

The back cover surprises with a beautiful epigraph, it is as if the author decided to place a
ribbon around the work before presenting it to the reader subtly and elegantly. It is the also

British John Ruskin who declares: “And of these great cathedrals of the earth, with doors of rocks, pavements of clouds, choirs of steam and stone, altars of snow and a purple vault crossed by the continuous stars.”

I then realize that it is his cultural background and what he learned from his ancestors who have given that mystical and religious character to the adjective that he has given in his title to the large masses of rock that have not been manufactured by human hands but as part of the geological process where orogenesis allows two huge plates of Earth to rise and remain stable for thousands of years.

Many films and books have been written about the Himalayas, each with a different vision. The most revealing thing about each author is that he shows us his vision through words and we are left meditating on the experience that transmits to each of us.

Clive Simpson, who bears in his name the courageous sign of the great mountain crags, points
out that a group had to return to Spain without achieving the objective due to the difficulties in reaching the summit; then he describes the paraphernalia of all the little coloured flags that are moved by the gusts of wind, pointing out that they are still there, that the achievement is possible and that you just have to know when to climb.

Pages later describe in detail the health problems of a young Scotsman who, despite being 19
years old, is under the influence of mountain sickness that causes so much discomfort in those who suffer from it.

The Nepalese slope of Khumbu rises 5,486 meters above sea level, being in front of it must be
an invaluable experience, Clive mentions it, but does not give much information about its
characteristics, perhaps surprised by its majesty, initially points out that it is a sunny day in
November, the mere idea sticks in the mind of the reader and makes us recognize that that
section will not be crossed during the midday thaw.

Before the immeasurable expression of the landscape, Clive Simpson takes a tour of the travel
experience from London airport to the different landscapes and culinary smells that will bring
you closer to a new and different territory, where curry is served regardless of the time of day.
day or night, in the same way, and if dwelling on too many details describes the aviator's ability to achieve manoeuvres that would seem crazy and reckless to the most sensible person.

Kathmandu at 1,400 meters above sea level becomes for them as visitors the threshold to the
mountainous space of the Himalayas, the author describes the artistic nature of its buildings and I imagine that being there arises within their being a hunch of hope and excitement of the
moment of inhaling the icy breath of the ice colossus.

The dense fog southeast of Dhaka in Bangladesh leaves me thinking about those who accompany him, since I only spell “We” at various times, the privacy of the group seems important or the landscape is more captivating than any human being surrounding their path. Without a doubt, the selective vision of the landscape is one of the amazing moments of the experience.

I discover that there are approximately 20 people in addition to the pilot, Clive describes them as 'Virgins of Everest', the phrase seems surprising, placing confidence in the skill of the Yeti Airlines pilot, all of them unknown to the mountain peaks that receive them indifferently.
On the left side of his window, Clive describes the frozen peaks almost touching the aircraft. It
must be a unique sensation to be in the flight of the metallic bird, recognizing the close touch of the imposing cliffs.

The description is so faithful that I feel the hum of the aero motor in my mind, slowly and calmly travelling through that new and surprising space. Changes of ice and cold are carried by hanging notes where in the distance you can hear the thundering water guessing in a gorge and the Sherpa hike leader who gives instructions that just imagining the way he describes them has made me nervous.

For Clive, adrenaline is everything, imagining himself rising with the group to the top
encourages him, and every detail is a new adventure. “Everest” is not everyone a recognized name for the mountain group, among the Nepalese, its name is Sagarmatha and when they get there, they discover a national park protected since 1976, where it is necessary to use Yak dung to heat food. It must be protected as a world heritage site and for this it is necessary to establish ecological care that all hikers should respect.

Sagarmatha is the name in Nepal for this imposing peak. It means “mother of the universe” in
Sanskrit. Along the way we found a pine forest and the 150-meter ascent through the colourful Namche, everything seemed to indicate that life provides enough strength to move forward, but the discomfort arrived and found us in its camp, a painful head with seized some of the hikers, the height subdues the most reckless.

During a journey that seems worthy of the most courageous humans capable of acting in the
face of tremendous cliffs and climatic extremes, David's illness contrasts with the name of the
one who prevailed against Goliath; making a comparison in those latitudes, when it is necessary to take him to a hospital, to receive a second opinion due to the deterioration of his health. The contrast shows the reality of a world that is not made for everyone, regardless of age and vitality.

Something stuck in my mind in a particular way, the moment in which the writer worries about the state of health of the young man who is finally taken to a hospital in Kathmandu, and another detail that seems irrelevant but that shows me Clive's strength when he points out that at a certain height, he decides to use a second pair of socks, I remember my climb to the Nevado de Toluca in my own country and the need to wear mountain boots with three pairs of socks that did not fulfil their purpose and there, I realize that the Himalayas are not for everyone.

It is a feat that deserves patience at every step of the way. Tengboche is a monastery set against the backdrop of the Khunde Canyon. It is located directly adjacent to Khumjung, in the valley at the foot of Khumbu Yül-Lha, the mountain sacred to the Sherpas. The Khumjung Valley is between 3,800 m and 4,000 m above sea level. Khunde is located in the western part of the valley and slightly higher than Khumjung.

Carrying a heavy backpack on your back causes pain in the lower part of the neck, headaches
are a general trigger among hikers who need to hydrate with something that contains sugar, and crossing a raging river over a bridge has to be one of the experiences more powerful, and Clive discovers it in detail, the guide decides, given the group's stomach ailments and headaches, to spend the night in Dingboche.

The encounter with their settlement at 4,267 meters high (approximately 14,000 feet high) leaves many of us readers wanting to see that crescent moon on the shoulders of the mountain, there is no photograph of that fascinating event that remains reserved for the eyes. of hikers, a clear, starry night that perhaps becomes the setting for a peaceful night in the small settlement of stone huts at Ama Dablam.

Ama Dablam is affectionately known as the "Mother's Necklace" among the Sherpas, a term
loaded with cultural meaning. This name is derived from the Sherpa language, where "Ama"
translates as "mother", and "Dablam" refers to a double pendant worn by Sherpa women that
holds images of gods. Without a doubt, the stars fulfil a beautiful image among visitors and this fascinating and traditional necklace.

Approaching the autonomous region of Labouche urges me to imagine that peak recognized as the 93rd mountain peak that has not yet been able to be climbed by humans due to the dangers it implies, being able to see it from the front must have been one of the most impressive events for a British visitor.

The Kala Patthar climb is very popular among trekkers in the Mount Everest region as it offers the clearest view of Everest. Kala Patthar, meaning “black rock” in Nepali and Hindi, is a mountain in the Nepalese Himalayas.

Then the usual breakfast of sweet potatoes and cabbage dwindles to tea and biscuits, and the
climbers' stomachs can't handle it anymore, each journey is a physical effort and an admirable moment for each of them. Just thinking that this path was crossed by the most renowned climbers in the world made the journey full of enthusiasm.

The mere idea of imagining the Sherpas, willing, happy, and accustomed to doing this work
continuously to accompany the intrepid visitors. It is interesting, that Clive discovers it as a sign of humility for each of them. Reaching 5,638 meters, approximately 18 thousand feet high is not something that is told to be left in the memory, documenting it and sharing it is the most fascinating thing that Clive has made us part of a unique event, even though I will always miss the shot of the crescent moon.

*          *          *

This is an un-edited review auto-translated from Spanish and originally published on ‘Letras Creativas con Ariadne Gallardo Figueroa’ blog (April 2024) under the heading “Tierra de Grandes Catedrales”, Reseña a la obra de Clive Simpson.

Click on link to order a limited edition, signed copy of Land of Great Cathedrals

Tragedy in Nepal

Ten years ago this weekend I had just arrived in Kathmandu with my good friend, Tim Scott, where I was to start trekking for the second time amongst the wonderful high peaks and scenery of Nepal.

We joined a party of a dozen international trekkers on a three week hike that would take us across Gokoyo Ri at 5,360 m and through the 5,400 m Cho La pass before trekking to Gorak Shep and ascending the 5,500 m Kala Patar, known as the trekker’s ‘mountain’ overlooking Mt Everest and basecamp.

October in Nepal is a peak season for trekkers to gather and work their way along and up the Himalayan mountain trekking routes. Skies are normally clear by day and the sun often shines before the bitter cold returns at dusk.

But the tragedy that unfolded in Nepal this week was on an altogether unprecedented scale. A series of avalanches followed heavy snowfall and blizzard conditions on Tuesday causing a a nightmare scenario with at least 32 people dead and many more missing.

Most of the fatalities happened as the blizzard reached a point on the Annapurna Circuit 100 miles northwest of the capital, Kathmandu. This too is a well-known trekking route in central Nepal and at about 4,500 m it is close to the circuit’s highest point, the Thorung La pass.

Tourists from countries around the world were caught on the mountain and helicopters saved more than 200 survivors stranded in lodges and huts along the route, according to Nepales authorities.

With snowfall from the storm topping six feet in some places, this is probably the worst disaster in the history of Nepal’s trekking business.

The blizzard was the tail end of cyclone Hudhud, which hit the Indian coast a few days earlier and was reportedly one of the strongest storms on record to affect the region. It made landfall in Andhra Pradesh, India, last Sunday and was the equivalent of a category four hurricane.

Scientists are always reluctant to link any one weather event to climate change but they have pointed out in the past that the Himalayas are especially vulnerable to the increased storm intensity expected to result from climate change.

“Storms in that region are getting stronger,” John Stone, an IPCC lead author and adjunct professor at Carleton University in Ottawa, told the Toronto Star. “It is not inconsistent with what scientists have been saying - by making the atmosphere contain more energy, we have increased the likelihood of more frequent and severe storms.”

The International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development, a regional agency based in Kathmandu that serves eight countries, released a report in May showing that rising temperatures caused Nepal’s glaciers to shrink by almost a quarter between 1977 and 2010 - at an average loss of about 15 square miles per year.

The report also pointed out that Nepal’s average temperature change has been two to eight times greater than the global average and says such changes could bring more intense and frequent floods, avalanches and landslides.

In April this year an avalanche - caused by melting ice from the Khumbu ice fall - killed 16 Nepalese guides near Mt Everest base camp in one of the deadliest disasters in the mountain’s history.

Modern  weather forecasting has reduced the risk of being surprised by a killer storm like the one that struck last weekend but the pronounced warming of the Himalayan climate in recent years has made the icefall more unstable than ever and added to the dangers for both trekkers and mountaineers.

A former British Gurkha officer and avid trekker General Sam Cowan is quoted as saying that “no one should have ventured out to cross Thorung La with the weather as threatening as it was”.

But access to our accustomed news media and forecasts is not always so easy in the high and remote mountains and it is unclear at this stage whether those caught in the storm had the benefit of any warning or not.

 

 

All photos: Clive Simpson

In praise of Sherpas

Photo: Clive Simpson

The world it seems is always full of tragedies - the recent loss of a Malaysian aircraft with all its passengers and crew, the South Korean ferry disaster and, a few days ago, a deadly avalanche on the slopes of Mount Everest in Nepal.

They are different in scale but on the human level all have unique and very individual impacts on families, friends and communities.

Tragedies on the world’s highest mountain are nothing new and are almost expected at this time of year, which is deemed the most ‘favourable’ time for commercial expeditions to guide fee-paying clients to the summit.

As rescuers abandoned their search for three Sherpas believed to have been killed along with 13 others last Friday, the Nepalese government is still considering cancelling all expeditions to climb Everest this year.

The avalanche happened at about 5,800 m (19,000 ft) - some 500 m above Base Camp - as Sherpa guides were hauling gear through the Khumbu icefall, a treacherous terrain of crevasses and enormous chunks of ice.

The men were near an area known to climbers as the ‘popcorn field’ - because of its bulging ice - when an enormous piece broke away from a high glacier and crashed down the mountain, setting off an avalanche of ice and rock.

This latest incident has raised concerns in Nepal about the scale of the climbing business and the inherent dangers to the Sherpa guides - as well as the low levels of compensation paid to families by the Nepalese government.

For 2014, some 334 climbers from around the world have permits - costing almost £6,000 each - to climb Everest. Filming rights and other fees bring in more money to the government and if the expeditions are cancelled fees will have to be refunded.

For the Sherpas themselves - a once-obscure mountain people whose name has become synonymous with Everest and whose entire culture has been changed by decades of working as guides and porters for wealthy foreigners - it was a brutal reminder of the risks they face.

On well-travelled, high-prestige climbs like Everest, the Sherpas are the ones who go up first, breaking deep snow, laying fixed ropes and carrying heavy equipment and supplies. Avalanches, altitude sickness, lack of oxygen and brutal cold are part of the deal.

A year ago British climber Jon Griffith and two colleagues abandoned an attempt to climb Everest by a new route after a dispute about the treatment of Sherpa guides.

"There's an underlying feeling among the Sherpas that they've been treated quite badly by westerners and that clients don't have any respect for them," he said afterwards.

"If you look around at how incredibly luxurious some base camps are, you can see their point."

Sherpas are an ethnic group in Nepal and have helped foreigners climb the country's towering peaks since before Sherpa Tenzing Norgay and New Zealander Sir Edmund Hilary became the first to reach the top in 1953.

But in the muti-million pound business of summiting Everest they have all too often been treated as the poor relation and only time will tell if this latest and worst single tragedy on the slopes of the world's highest mountain will address the imbalance.

In my own experience of trekking to Everest base camp, Sherpas have always been friendly, helpful and very supportive. And, as I wrote in ‘Postcard from Namche’, their cheery demeanour and willingness to serve is a lesson to us all.


The Lighthouse Keeper is written by Clive Simpson - for more information or to get in touch click here

Postcard from Namche Bazaar

We’re on our way down. Arrived at Namche Bazaar mid-afternoon and able to post an email to guys back home from the local internet café.

The lower altitude means our bodies are alive with the 'extra' oxygen - an exhilarating feeling. But this has been a challenging journey for us normally office-bound mortals.

There have been times of great beauty and times of intense physical effort. We have gazed upon golden eagles from above as they swoop and soar below.

There has been a helicopter evacuation of our youngest member after he fell seriously ill with altitude sickness.

And we have experienced extreme cold and biting winds when it seemed almost impossible to keep warm.

Now we are on our way home. It has been a life-changing experience, a test of stamina and willpower, and all in the presence of the world's mightiest mountains.

Unforgiving and at the same time alluring in their pristine and rugged beauty. To see snow billowing from the mountain tops in the early morning jet-stream set against the clearest and deepest blue you could imagine is a sight to behold.

To trudge through a glacier that has created a landscape so alien it seems like no place on earth was both exciting and scary at the same time.

And always we have been supported by our able team of Sherpas, porters and cooks, whose cheery demeanour and willingness to serve is a lesson to us all.

They have guided and met our every need. Sometimes cajoling us along a particularly awkward path or offering to carry a rucksack when the altitude bites at our lungs and demands more than we are seemingly able to give.

We have climbed to more than 5,000 metres, and experienced emotions high and low in the process. But now we are on our way home. The place we have been dreaming of on the long, cold dark nights.

Camping at Tengboche

I was now beginning to feel some effects of being at high altitude. Normal actions seemed to take much longer and I was surprised how rapidly one becomes out of breath when walking up a gradient. Everything required more effort.

It started to rain a little (low cloud) on the afternoon's final approach to Tengboche. Arrived about 3.45. Drink to stave off altitude headache; thankfully it went almost straight away.

Bitingly cool this evening, especially with the damp air. Dinner was in mess tent at about 6.30 pm. Many other parties here. Tengboche is a regular stopping point for treks.

Had found lunch a little hard to digest (again an effect of altitude). Dinner this evening comprised bombay potatoes, coleslaw, bread pancakes and banana delight. Always hot juice when we arrived at campsite, and tea and biscuits in tent. I bought a can of Sprite for extra liquid.

Went to see sort film about Tengboche monastery but fell asleep. It was warm and the chairs were relatively comfortable.

Everest still seemed a distance dream but after first light in morning we should have a stunning view from the campsite, given clear weather.

It’s 9 pm. Sky is now clear. Giant mountains are silhouetted by twinkling stars. Several of us had discussion about coming days and how we would make it to Basecamp. Determined to keep going.

Some of our party started taking Diamox tablets to help thin the blood and thus combat some of the effects of altitude. Along with others I decided to wait and see how things went the next day.

Last night I slept from 11 pm until 0530 am without a break. Socks staying on tonight as colder but will try to save really warm clothing for the severe cold higher up. Others are already using long johns, hats and gloves etc at night.

Can't imagine what the coming days and nights are going to be like. For us ’office guys’ this is a test of determination and character.

Probably not enough pre-trek training with hingsight - and some more gym work might have helped as tiredness kicks in very quickly. Daytime walks are not technically difficult, though.

Our Yaks are tied up this evening near tents. Their thick shaggy coats glistened in the frost as we turned in. They are lying down but the bells clank every now and then - a comforting sound.

Awoke at 0540. Cold overnight in sleeping bag but only woke a couple of times and didn't need to venture out. People now out of tents. Sun just catching tops of mountains - looks like it will be an excellent day.

I took a short walk to top of the Tengboche site to view the sun rising on mountains. Monks in their colourful robes were gathered outside to witness the rising sun too, a daily ritual. Our campsite is white with a heavy frost and we wait for the warmth of the first swun rays of the day. It happens quickly, like the end of an eclipse. In the sun it iswarm but in the shadows still bitterly cold.

I can see the distant Everest from this campsite but it is dwarfed by other mountains in the foreground. The first part of the trail today is down through woods on sandy ground. Then across a suspension bridge. After crossing we contour around a mountainside, with a fast flowing icy river below.

There is a string of high mountains opposite, with Everest in the distance. The mighty mountain is becoming a familiar, if a little discreet, in the range beyond. Most of this part of the walk is dominated by the mcuh closer to hand and distinctively-shaped Ama Dablam.

At 12 noon it has turned a little cooler and we stop for lunch. By the time we leave an hour later the sun has disappeared as the afternoon clouds build; it will be much colder in the afternoon.

I can hear but not see the roar of water below. By now I have neck ache and a pounding lower head; not sure whether result of gaining altitude. I struggle to walk quickly after lunch. The gradient has become hard work.

The scenery is turning to barren tundra as we lose trees and vegetation. I’ve developed a severe headache in back of neck and have bad indigestion.

We come to a small wooden bridge across a raging tributary. I took a short break here and drank a can of Sprite bought at the campsite shop that morning. Then it was a steep climb up onto open land. Taking it steady, I tried to establish rhythm.

My own head had cleared now but a number of our party  werenow suffering bad headaches and stomach upsets. As a result we will probably stay extra night at our next scheduled stop - Dingboche.

Altitude emergency

No walking this afternoon as having lunch at Kangjung which is also where we are sleeping. Stopped at Everest View Hotel en route and also visited simple Sherpa Museum just after we set out from Namche.

Turned colder as the sun disappeared early, about one o’clock. Thankful to be in the teahouse at Kangjung and by a warm stove.

The youngest member of our group, David, aged 19, rather worryingly asleep in a room at the tea house. He came on lower level easier walk as he was suffering since yesterday evening quite severe symptoms, in my opinion, of advanced mountain (altitude) sickness.

Our trek leader said we’ll see how he is tomorrow, although I heard her at lunchtime tell the Sirdar she was worried. Altitude sickness should be taken very seriously, according to the books I had read.

So far everyone else seems okay. The pace was slower today and easier to cope with. Apparently there are a number of contingency options and alternative routes to cope with a variety of circumstances.

My own cold and cough, which struck me on the second night, is much the same, not really bothering me until I lie down, mainly a running nose and hacking cough.

It’s 15:30 now. There is thick monstrous cloud all around. The light is bright but flat. The tent cold. I will transfer to our room in the tea house soon to keep a little warmer. I expect we should make the most of this luxury as it will only get colder as the trek progresses.

Ninety minutes later after a flurry of activity inside two of our porters burst through the door with a very ill-looking David propped between them. It was dark and they were all dressed for the extreme cold. I sensed a real emergency was unfolding before our eyes.

David was carried back across the mountain by the two brave porters and led by our Sirdar. It was a walk of mercy through the bitterly cold night, taking some four hours to reach the Kunde hospital where we had taken a short break that morning shortly after leaving Namche.

Our trek leader was visibly upset by now and told us she wanted a ‘second opinion’ on David’s rapidly deteriorating condition which had rapidly turned into acute altitude sickness.

It was 21.20 and I had just turned in. We had spent the evening chatting in the warmth, drinking hot tea and playing card games for 10 Rupees a go in the tea house. It was reported back that David had been put on oxygen and was staying in the remote mountain hospital overnight. That was a life-saver.

Cloudy mist hangs over the campsite tonight. Somehow it doesn’t feel so cool and it’s nice to have been inside the warm of the tea room for much of the late afternoon and evening. Heated by a stove powered by Yak dung and lighted by Tilley lamps.

We heard the next day that David had been evacuated by helicopter to hospital in Kathmandu. At the lower altitude he would thankfully make a full recovery - it had been a close shave and this trek was definitely over for him.

Namche Bazaar

A day of crossing and re-crossing the thundering glacial ‘Dudh’ (milk) river, walking through pine forests and cleared areas of terraced fields, growing a surprising variety of crops. A series of small hamlets mark the way as we slowly gain altitude, with spectacular 6000 m mountain peaks unfolding above.

We pass through the gates of the Sagarmartha National Park, the establishment of which has seen a significant attempt to stem the use of firewood in the area. Today, self-contained trekking groups must use only kerosene fuels for cooking, and tea-houses and lodges are encouraged to use kerosene or yak dung.

We follow the river course to the confluence of the Dudh and Bhote rivers, and cross a spectacular high bridge before commencing our ascent to the village of Namche Bazaar, the Sherpa ‘capital’ of Nepal.

It is a tough climb towards the end of the day as the trail zig zags steadily upwards through a forest of pine to a vantage point that provides our first glimpse of distantMount Everest. The trail continues to climb and meander to Namche, and the sight of this prosperous village spread within a horseshoe-shaped valley opposite the beautiful peak of Kongde Ri is worth every step.

At Namche we have emerged from the narrow lowland valleys and after an acclimatisation day will continue into a changing landscape of broad glacial valleys punctuated by the moraines left by retreating glaciers.

This stunningly located gateway to so many paths in history straddles the sides of the valley at some 12,000 feet above sea level - you can almost taste the atmosphere in the air, the sense of hope, joy and wonder to come.

It was called a rest day but after breakfast we were off, thought this time with a light pack. We climbed steadily up the side of the village to a museum and then up towards a view point. It was hard going as we put on 500 m.

The skies had been rather cloudy to start with but the sun came out mid-morning. It was a steep twisting climb, but first chance to see Everest in the distance though was thwarted by distant clouds.  Some of our group walked on to the Everest View Hotel but they didn’t see it from there either.

The walk back down was equally punishing in the heat of the day - twisting hairpin footpaths with wonderful panoramic views of Namche at every turn.
.
By the time we got down I was tired with a headache, even though it had been a fairly slow pace. After drinks and lunch the headache disappeared and so did the weariness.

I spent time in the afternoon looking round local ‘shops’. Very colourful and spread along tiny, steep streets with Yak passing-room only. I bought a fake North Face down jacket at a bargain price which I thought might be useful later for the cold nights at higher altitude.

It seemed my body was adjusting to the altitude. Today’s up and then down again walk had helped. Breathing was now easier than the first night at Namche.

But we would be back at square one tomorrow After the climb out of Namche the first part of the day would be fairly level, then a descent into the valley followed by a steady and steep climb.

 

 

 

 

Clive Simpson's travelogue book ‘Land of Great Cathedrals’ is an original firsthand account based two treks in Nepal to the foot of Mount Everest in 2001 and 2004. Limited edition, signed copies, published in March 2022, are available direct from his page on eBay - Land of Great Cathedrals

Under Himalayan skies

After lunch in a wooden tea house we set off from Lukla about 12 noon for a relatively short up and down trek along a well-trodden path into the valley.

Our starting height was 10,000 feet and the path seemed more down than up. The terrain, if not the view, was not too different from a practice weekend earlier in the summer on Ben Nevis in Scotland. The warm sun was on our backs and the air felt clean and fresh.

This part of our 10 day trek is not a wilderness trail with many people were going back and forth, including the Yaks with their shaggy mountain coats and porters carrying impossible loads.

At this point the altitude didn’t appear to be making any significant difference. We camped behind a lodge and tents were allocated. Tea and local biscuits, then chance to sort out our gear before a meal at 6 pm.

It had been a brilliant first day - from the bustling streets of Kathmandu to the foothills of the Himalayas inside a few hours. Quiet, peaceful and now turning quite cool, with the sound of crashing water in the river gorge below.

We had a briefing from our Sirdar called Tek who was responsible for making sure everything went smoothly. We could expect much harder days to follow.

We would be woken at 6 am with hot tea to drink and a bowl of warm water for washing. Breakfast would be at 7 am, by which time we would have been expected to clear and pack our packs, leaving our tents empty and ready to hit the trail by 8 am, just as the sun was rising above the mountaintops.

We were camping tonight at the tiny settlement of Phakding where the first of many suspension bridges was slung high across the raging river below. In our deep, sheltered gorge the thunderous sound of the river filled the air. The night air was fresh and sharp, and the sleeping bag warm.

Our first night of camping under Himalayan skies was one of relative comfort.

Kathmandu to Lukla

Awoken at 0545 am after a restless, noisy night. Breakfast in the hotel 30 minutes later followed by some last minute packing. By 7 am we were heading in a rickety old coach towards Kathmandu’s national airport. Despite the hour the streets were already chaotic.

At the airport we entered through ‘local' departures. It was a hurly burly, do-it-yourself kind of check in but somehow it seemed to work.

There were already some eight planes awaiting as we were bused out to a twin engined Otter operated by Yeti airways. These planes can make four or five trips a day to somewhere like Lukla, some 30 to 40 minutes of spectacular flying time away.

Localised fog out on the runway meant everything was grounded until the sun was properly up to burn away the early morning mist. We hung around outside the plane with the chance to closely examine what looked like a flying relic of days gone by. Hopefully good enough for one more trip into the mountains.

Thought it’s not entirely logical, I feel thankful that we have two pilots as we career down the runway and buzz up into the air away from Kathmandu.

It’s a tight fit for 16 people and all the trekking gear for 10 days and we have an intimate view of the two pilots at the front. Soon we are flying over hilly farmland at about 10,000 feet. To the left there are distant towering mountain ridges.

As we can see through the cockpit window the tiny mountainside landing strip comes into view. It has to be a pinpoint touchdown here as the runway is short and ends in a wall of mountainside. No second chances as the pilots line up for what must be one of the most exciting landing strips in the world.  It is a unique and truly memorable flight.

The mountainside settlement of Lukla, gateway to Everest, is bustling with people and small aeroplanes and even a couple of helicopters. No sooner has our plane turned into the tiny parking area and another is buzzing down the runway to leap into oblivion over the mountain edge. Bags and people are unloaded immediately.

The airstrip at bustling Lukla was built by Sir Edmund Hillary and his friends to service the Everest region when he began his work of building schools and hospitals for the Sherpa people.

We are immediately impressed by the scale of the huge peaks that surround the settlement, as we greet our Sherpa team and take time loading gear with the porters and yaks.

Our party sets off from Lukla at about 11 o’clock, down from the landing strip through a narrow cobbled street. Tiny shops spill onto the walkway and there is the smell of wood fires with smoke rising into the still air.

We snake downhill on a broad and well-marked rocky trail towards the Dudh Kosi, a raging river that flows from the highest peaks. At 10,000 feet the air is already thinning and cool, and you can taste the mountains with every breath as - it is both intoxicating and exhilarating.

Flight to Kathmandu

Our flight from London to Kathmandu seemed dark. By the time we flew into the bright lights of Bahrain for a 1.5 hour stop-over it was early evening. Then it was on to Abu Dhabi in the twilight hours. A two hours delay in a dome-shaped terminal, with little to do in the middle of the night.

We were travelling Go Air, an Arab-based airline which serves curry flavoured meals whatever the time of day. Tasty, but lamb curry at 3 am in the morning local time was a big adjustment and just the first cultural challenge for a momentous trip ahead.

There was a delay on our morning flight into Kathmandu international airport as a bank of fog formed on one end of the sloping runway. Our pilot circled for 30 minutes then went into land - but just 30 seconds or so before touchdown, as dropping into the cloud tops, he pulled out in a steep climb, up and out and away.

We flew on to Dakar where we landed for refuelling. Just over an hour each way and about 45 minutes on the ground before returning to Kathmandu. It had been a long ‘day’ since leaving London Heathrow but at last we had arrived.

Stepping off a plane into Kathmandu is an exhilarating shock - the sights, sounds and smells quickly lead to sensory overload after the confines of several aeroplanes.

Buzzing around the crazy traffic in a local bus, trundling down the narrow winding streets of the old town in a rickshaw, marvelling at Durbar Square or dodging the tiger balm sellers and trekking touts in Thamel - it is an intoxicating, amazing and exhausting place.

As the largest (and pretty much the only) city in the country, Kathmandu also feels like another developing-world city rushing into a modern era of concrete and traffic pollution.

But a walk in the back streets and the Nepali capital's amazing cultural and artistic heritage reveals itself in hidden temples overflowing with marigolds, courtyards full of drying chillis and rice, and tiny hobbit-sized workshops.

At an altitude of 1336 metres above sea level, Kathmandu is an exotic and fascinating showcase of rich culture, art and tradition - and for us, of course, an important gateway to the Himalayas.

Late afternoon we arrived at Hotel Shanker, a stunning former royal palace full of character and charm. The weather was warm and sunny, if a little bit muggy.

Beautiful manicured gardens with potted plants, many of them Marigolds. We were all given garlands of Marigolds on alighting bus from the airport, a traditional form of Nepalese welcome. Darkness had descended by 6 pm.

Our hotel for the night had a restaurant called Kailash restaurant and two bars - the Kunti Bar and the One Eyed Bar. The former boasted a traditional setting of intricate wood carving and lattice windows.

At 21:50 local time we had a buffet meal in hotel dining room. Pick up remaining gear and back to room for bed to grab as much sleep as we could. The mountains of our dreams beckoned.

Land of great cathedrals

The ‘circus’ at Everest Basecamp was non-existent on this bright and sunny morning in early November in the heart of the Himalayas. The still air was crisp and cool, and the midday sun pierced the iridescent sky, rays of warmth feeling good on the face.

No tents, no people, no cameras – the buzz of expedition fever had dissipated along with the changing weather. Just a few tattered prayer flags every now and then, breaking the ground-level monotony of grey rock and Khumbu ice. You can’t even glimpse the summit of Everest from this fabled ‘launchpad’, and so I wondered...

In the days approaching Basecamp we had learnt from other trekkers along the way that it was now ‘empty’, the last and unsuccessful summit expedition of the year having returned to Spain three weeks earlier.

For a trek that was billed ‘Everest Basecamp’ it was now something of a dilemma – it had been our big chance to fleetingly rub shoulders with those taking on the highest mountain on Earth. But the circus and its paraphernalia had left town.

Several hours back from Basecamp along a tortuous, zig zag route of rock and ice is the remote settlement of Gorak Shep, in the shadow of Nuptse. Here the trappings of Everest expeditions past and to come can be seen – neatly stacked aluminium ladders lashed behind huts for self-keeping and a compound of empty ‘gas’ bottles.

But we jump ahead. Back in September, the Lighthouse Keeper asked ‘How high is Everest?’ and promised to enliven the dark winter nights by marking the tenth anniversary a first visit to Nepal with a retrospective blog, re-living the journey in words and pictures – from the excitement and heat of Kathmandu to the extreme cold and wilderness of the lower reaches of Everest.

So, in the words of John Ruskin, our journey to these ‘great cathedrals of the earth, with their gates of rock, pavements of cloud, choirs of stream and stone, altars of snow, and vaults of purple traversed by the continual stars’, starts here.

How high is Everest?

In an effort to put an end to generations of controversy, the authorities in Nepal are trying to ascertain the precise height of the world's biggest mountain. The project could take up to two years - and even then it is more than likely that not everyone will agree.

While for well over 100 years Everest has been recognised as the planet's highest point, there are differences of opinion as to the exact dimensions and even over what should actually be measured.

For more than half a century, Nepal has recognised the generally accepted height of 29,028 ft for the mountain they call Sagarmatha - despite the insistence by neighbouring China that what it refers to in Tibetan as Qomolangma (Holy Mother), is actually 29,017 ft. The mountain straddles the border and neither side wishes to back down.

"We have begun the measurement to clear this confusion," Gopal Giri, a spokesman with Nepal's land management ministry. "Now we have the technology and the resources we can measure ourselves. This will be the first time the Nepal government has taken the mountain's height."

The task of measuring the height of the world’s highest mountain was first performed during the days of British rule in the subcontinent by a Bengali mathematician, Radhanath Sikdar, employed in the office of the surveyor general, Sir Andrew Waugh.

At the time the British authorities were conducting the so-called Great Trigonometric Survey and it was believed that Kangchenjunga in Sikkim was the world's highest. But based on data collected from the field, Sikdar concluded in 1854 that another nearby peak, at the time referred to simply as Summit XV, was higher.

For two years, the team reassessed the findings and then, confident of what they had discovered a new giant, announced their news. Several years later, in 1865, Sir Andrew declared that the peak would be known as Mount Everest, in honour of his predecessor, Sir George Everest. Based on the average figure obtained from six separate surveying stations, each 100 miles from the mountain, it was said to have a height of 29,002 ft.

This height remained in accepted use for the best part of a century, including in 1953 when Edmund Hilary and Norgay Tenzing made their way to the summit and safely descended.

The following year, a survey by the Indian authorities suggested a new height for the mountain, of 29,028 ft, based on the average reading for 12 survey stations, located between 30 and 50 miles from Everest. But the availability of new technology in the subsequent years led new teams to question the estimate. In 1992 a joint Chinese and Italian expedition team was the first to use GPS technology and came up with a figure of 29,031 ft.

In 1999, a team led by the late American mountaineer Bradford Washburn spent several years working with GPS devices to make a new calculation. Washburn's climbers were able to reach the summit and use their measuring devices.

Not only did they come up with a new height, 29,035.3 ft, but they said they had also been able to measure the movement of the Everest massif, being pushed by the Eurasian continental shelf. They estimated that the mountain was moving north-east by around a quarter of an inch a year.

There the matter may have ended, but for the wishes of the Chinese to take yet another measurement. In 2005, a team of mountaineers and researchers climbed Everest from the Chinese side and announced a new reading of 29,017 ft. However, they said this only measured the actual rock formation of Everest and not the snow cap on the very top.

Nepali officials complained that during discussions about the border with their much larger neighbour, China insisted on using its own measure. But last year, the two countries agreed that both measurements might be correct.

"Both are correct heights. No measurement is absolute. This is a problem of scientific research," Raja Ram Chhatkuli, director general of Nepal's survey department, said at the time.

Mr Chhatkuli will be overseeing Nepal's own attempt at a precise assessment in which scientists will place three GPS devices on different locations on the mountain from which to obtain data.

If you are a regular reader you may be asking, why the sudden interest in Everest by the Lighthouse Keeper on a blog that has previously made its name largely covering the final two missions of the US Space Shuttle?

Well, the Lighthouse Keeper hasn’t made it any where near the top of this mighty mountain - but this autumn is the tenth anniversary of my first visit to Nepal and a high-level trek through the Everest region.

That was in the days before blogs so, come next month, the Lighthouse Keeper will be putting things right and embarking on the trip all over again - this time from the relative comforts of home.

A kind of day-by-day blog retrospective reliving the journey in words and pictures - from the excitement and heat of Kathmandu to the extreme cold and wilds of the lower reaches of Everest. Stay tuned for a great upcoming adventure!