Day 7: Lobuche to Gorak Shep to Everest Base Camp to Gorak Shep

This was it. This day was the day when we'd make the big push to Everest Base Camp, an estimated 5,364m above sea level. We were supposed to be starting off from Gorak Shep but because I was sick the other day, we had to add a couple hours extra by setting off from Lobuche.

Now that we were on the push day and I could almost taste Base Camp, I was so filled with emotions. I had been picturing this day for months and wondering if I was actually going to be lucky enough to make it. Not only was it higher than anything I'd ever been at before, but I also saw it as the first step in getting to the top of Everest. For 24 hours and counting, it was all I could do to bite back the spring of emotion that welled at the back of my throat. I had spent six days getting sick, worn out and emotionally tired that when I pictured myself arriving at Base Camp, it was an image of me crumpling to my knees and falling on my face in a combination of joy, relief and grim satisfaction. I'd sacrificed and given so much and it still wouldn't be over, but it was a point that marked a huge shift inside of me.

I used up so much energy in blazing to Gorak Shep, even the pointy ridge of this rock couldn't put a dent in the comfort of laying on it

The walk from Lobuche to Gorak Shep was — and I'm a little loathe to use this word — fairly easy. For a while, I kept pace with a yak herder who was the same age as I, mostly listening (because I was still panting quite a bit) while he told me about the times he'd summited, his two kids, and how much more relaxed his life was now that he'd embarked on a new career. After a while, I had to pee so I broke off from him and searched for a rock, waving while he led his yaks higher and higher. The ground was covered in snow and the wind was pretty brisk, but my Walmart boots and spur-of-the-moment Namche windbreaker purchase kept me warm and dry from head to toe.

By the seventh day, I was starting to feel pretty rough. My hands were so edematous I could barely make fists; despite my best efforts with the Loratidine, nasal decongestants, Strepsils and copious mugs of tea, my lungs, nose and throat were constantly burning, running/stuffed up and painfully sore, respectively (I also well lost my voice by this point); I hadn't showered in a week but surprisingly, my clothes didn't smell all that bad; and I was increasingly losing my appetite each day. Oh, and lemme tell you about the combined cerebral hypoxia and insomnia! During the day, the silliest thing would make me giddy with laughter, provided I wasn't trying to do something as basic as add figures or think of certain words. At night, I either didn't sleep or slept and had crazy dreams. Right in the thick of it, it was kind of like constantly being on drugs, which wasn't actually the worst feeling in the world. Life was pretty vivid during this period.

If you look hard, you can see the yellow tents of Everest Base Camp in the top left corner

Anyway, the trek. We secured a place at Gorak Shep and I shivered with my mug of hot orange (hot Tang, I think) by the window), trying to keep my dry hacking cough to a minimum so I wouldn't disturb the other trekkers and climbers. By this point, all I could do was stare morosely out the window and wish it was all over; as much as I wanted to reach Base Camp, I was starting to feel pretty miserable and unmotivated all the time and even a helping of my favourite RaRa soup couldn't lift my spirits.

The trek from Gorak Shep to Everest Base Camp was technically pretty easy and only took an hour and a half or so. Along the way, I scampered up some rocks and assembled my own little rock statue; there was a woman conveniently passing by, so I got her to take my picture with Base Camp in the background. I was content to stay perched on some rocks a little further ahead and say I'd made it to Base Camp, but I'm glad I made the decision to trek the rest of the way and head to the jumble of prayer flags. Now, I have the official pictures of me by the Everest Base Camp rock.

I didn't collapse on the ground in pure emotion, but a lot had to do with how much the altitude was affecting me. Now, instead of feeling lacklustrely hungry and having a headache, I also wanted to throw up but couldn't (an awful feeling), I was sort of thirsty but couldn't care enough to drink anything, and the thought of eating anything made my stomach turn over. There was an incredibly sweet guy I passed on the way back who asked if I was okay (no) and if an energy bar would make me feel better (no, but thank you for offering). While I was sitting on a rock and wishing I could just throw up already, he passed me and tried to cheer me up. "It could be worse," he said. "You could be carrying a load like this sherpa" (pointing at a sherpa who was carrying something akin to the size of a fridge on his back).

But I made it to Everest Base Camp and in darn lucky good shape. That night, tired of not being able to sleep the entire night through in fear of being too groggy the next day, I took half a sleeping pill and blissfully nodded off — after a couple hours of horrible hacking and headache-ing — into a calm, peaceful sleep.