In the crisp predawn darkness of Namche Bazaar, I seated myself for breakfast at 6 AM, my mind focussed on the day ahead. This was not merely another day of trekking; it was my crucial acclimatisation day, a strategic pause at 3,440 metres that would enable my body to adapt to the challenging altitude of the Everest region. My guide Bhupal had explained the vital principle we would follow: “climb high, sleep low,” a time-tested strategy for trekking above 2,500 metres.
As we commenced our ascent from Namche in the early morning light, prayer flags fluttered in the gentle breeze, their colours barely visible in the dim light. The decision to begin early proved invaluable; the mountains held a different kind of magic at dawn, and we had the trails almost entirely to ourselves. The only sounds were our steady breathing and the crunch of boots on the rocky path.
Our first stop at 6.45 AM was the Tenzing Norgay Memorial Stupa, a moment that touched me deeply. Standing there in the serene morning light, I found myself reflecting upon this remarkable man’s legacy. As an Indian, Tenzing’s story held special significance for me. Here was a hero of the Indo-Nepalese community whose crucial role in one of history’s greatest mountaineering achievements had been diminished by the colonial attitudes of his time. Whilst Sir Edmund Hillary was knighted, Tenzing received only a civilian George Medal, a disparity that spoke volumes about the era’s prejudices.
I kissed his statue, a gesture of profound respect for this humble pioneer. Despite being an equal partner in the first Everest summit, Tenzing was often viewed merely as a guide or assistant, his extraordinary skills and contributions overshadowed by the prevailing attitudes of the time. His humility, whilst admirable, had perhaps allowed this narrative to persist, although today’s Sherpas rightfully demand the recognition they deserve.
Continuing our ascent, we reached the Everest View Hotel at 3,880 metres. The panorama that greeted us was nothing short of spectacular; Mount Everest, Lhotse, and Nuptse stood majestic against an azure sky, their peaks gleaming in the morning sun. I indulged in what I considered to be the world’s most scenic second breakfast, an admittedly expensive but absolutely worthwhile investment on my credit card. The tranquillity was interrupted only by the gentle whisper of prayer flags and the occasional clink of teacups, until the distinct thrum of helicopter rotors shattered the mountain silence. The hotel, I discovered, offered luxury tours for wealthy guests who would arrive from Kathmandu by helicopter for champagne breakfasts with a view of Everest. As each helicopter landed, depositing its well-heeled passengers onto the hotel’s helipad, I could not avoid reflecting upon the stark contrast between these brief luxury visits and our own hard earned ascent to this breathtaking vantage point.
Our early departure proved increasingly judicious as we began our descent around 9.45 AM. We passed crowds of late rising trekkers struggling uphill, their large numbers making the narrow trails congested. Having ascended mountains in Japan and Indonesia, I understood the value of those early morning hours when the weather is most stable, and the views are clearest. The previous day’s count of 800 new arrivals in Namche had made our dawn departure even more essential. We had ascended “bistari bistari” (slowly slowly), as it is said in Nepali, savouring the peace and solitude of the morning mountains.
Upon returning to Namche, Bhupal departed to play volleyball with his companions whilst I enjoyed a quiet lunch followed by a well earned period of rest. The afternoon found me exploring the bustling streets of Namche Bazaar, savouring local momos and relaxing with several Nepalese beers. This was not merely any rest day; it was a masterclass in mountain acclimatisation, cultural immersion, and historical reflection, all encompassed within one unforgettable experience in the heart of the Khumbu region.
