Literally Into Thin Air

I must admit, I was not fully prepared for what happened on our Everest trek. I am still scratching my head wondering how I got by, (was it luck or fate? God? Scientology?). All I know is that I underestimated how dangerous the Everest Base Camp trip was.

The trek started smoothly enough: hard wooden beds, early breakfasts with steaming cups of milk tea, and long slow days of trekking for about 8-9 hours along scenic mountain ledge. Ah, alone at last with my thoughts! To say it was peaceful is an understatement. It was like someone hooked a Hoover vacuum hose up to my ear and sucked out all the worry and angst.

However, on the second day my fellow trekkers began to report slight constant headaches. This was not a matter of them being out of shape; one had hiked many mountains, including Kilimanjaro, and the other was a marathon runner scheduled to complete in the NYC marathon in 3 weeks. Actually, you might say that out of the three of us, I was the least physically prepared for the trek (but if you don’t have anything nice to say…). I was confused that I felt fine. I kept asking myself am I sure I don’t have a headache? Why do I feel so good? Did I accidentally do LSD again…?

We recognized the symptoms from the numerous cautioning hand-painted posters: Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) or “altitude sickness” as it is referred to among trekkers, occurs when the air is thin and the oxygen molecules are spread out so that your body cannot intake enough oxygen to sustain itself. It is one of the most unpredictable illnesses – nobody knows why some people can quickly make enough red blood cells to compensate and some cannot. All we know is that the only way to cure it is to get down, fast.

While there is no other cure except getting to a lower altitude (or finding an oxygen mask – good luck in a Himalayan village!), there are plenty of preventative measures you can take to increase your oxygen levels - and we did them all. 1. Drink at least 4 liters of water a day, and get really creative about what you consider to be a bathroom. 2. We started each day with 2 cups of Coca herbal tea that Kelly smuggled back from Peru (I won’t say how or where…). This tea is derived from a plant proven to help with the altitude (and get you higher than a kite! …I kid). 3. Lastly, we ate garlic soup at least once a day, which officially ruined my chances of making out with a Sherpa.

It turns out, garlic is the Sherpa’s secret weapon against the altitude. It contains high amounts of sulfur and has 9 different agents that act as natural blood thinners (watch out Aspirin!). On almost every menu in the villages is a simple “garlic soup” made of crushed garlic boiled with some water, flour (to thicken), and oil. I’m not sure if I truly enjoyed it or if I was just always really hungry, but I never met a bowl of garlic soup I didn’t like.

After setting out on the third day, we started to see groups retreating down the paths and helping along weak trekkers. As we got higher up, the illnesses became more severe. People were vomiting on the side of the trails, laying down beside the paths unable to move, getting carried down by sherpas on impromptu mattress-stretchers, slumped on top of rescue yaks, and even the occasional rescue helicopter was summoned. Two days later a tri-athlete had “pushed himself too hard” and was found dead in his bed. On day 10 we began heading back down the mountain, and I encountered the worst case of all. Around sunset we met a friendly Cambodian man who had fallen ill and was making his way back down the mountain on horseback with his guide. He seemed tired, but cheerful. We exchanged pleasantries and wished him luck, and then watched him gallop off on the trail in front of us. A few hours later we arrived at the lodge, plopped down to order some hot tea, and learned that he was dead.

Our own progress seemed to take a turn for the worse in a village called Dengboche (14,550 ft). When we woke up on day 6, one of my fellow trekkers (the Swedish marathon runner) slowly opened her eyes and mumbled from beneath her down sleeping bag, “I’m not going to make it”. She was nauseous, suffering from severe headaches, and she could not eat, sleep, or walk uphill. After breakfast, we watched as she and one other guide turned around and slowly descended down the fog-induced trail back the way we had come.

We all agreed it was the smartest decision; she needed to return while she could still walk. Yet there was an unshakable feeling of sadness, of surrender. Our friend, who had been dreaming about seeing Everest since she was a little girl, and had been planning and reading and researching and training for this trip for over 8 years, was the one who had to turn back. “How senseless!” we said to one another at lunch over mounds of rice, “she was the fittest and most prepared of us all. Life can be so unfair, so cruel.” It was true of course, but then we were all adult enough to understand that- even as we said it -life, by nature, is not fair.

And yet, in the end she showed us that while life is not fair, it is also wonderfully mutable. We are not given a choice in which hand we are dealt, but we are free to play those cards however we want. Four days later, when we reunited in Namche village on our way back down the mountain, she was healthy and glowing with joy. There was no mention of her sadness and no complaints of the unfairness of it all. She enthusiastically asked us questions, and recounted how the illness was a wonderful opportunity to get to know our shy assistant guide better. She had filled her days planning off-the-beaten-path day treks to a few Mt. Everest view points, that way she could still fill her camera with pictures of Everest without having to make it to Base Camp.

Seeing her sitting there, smiling and recounting her days, was a reminder of the power of attitude, and a testament to her determination to live out her dreams (corny, but true). And I don’t just mean her dream to see Everest, but her desire to be happy. She showed us that happiness, as elusive and complex as it can seem, is simple. It is a choice. It isn’t easy, but it is within each of us- and all we have to do sometimes, is choose it. Now, when I start to get upset about something, I remember I have a choice; I plan another route, and I try to take the opportunity to get to know the assistant guide.