Fifty-eight years ago, on May 29, 1953, Tenzing Norgay and Edmund Hillary became the first human beings to stand upon the highest point on Earth, the summit of Mt. Everest at 29,035 feet above sea level. In May 2003, I returned to the Khumbu region of Nepal to honor the greatest mountain in the world and the men who climbed her 50 years ago.
I was born in the Spring of 1953, and was intrigued with the prospect of celebrating the golden Jubilee of the first summit of Mt. Everest as my own 50th birthday present to myself. After my last visit to the Khumbu in 1999, I did not expect, or want, ever to return. My reluctance was not due to the Maoist insurrection wracking Nepal or the political instability following the June 2001 slaughter of the royal family, the combination of which put Nepal near the top of the danger list for travel destinations. Nor was it due to travel fears after 9/11 or the outbreak of SARS in Asia in the spring of 2003. It was personal.
On that last trip, I was returning from an unsuccessful climb of Mera Peak when I saw three porters swept away and killed in an avalanche. The members of our team had to run for our lives. Everyone in our group survived with no lasting physical scars, but we had a cold, wet and miserable time of it. On an expedition to Pokalde and Island Peak the year before, I had suffered through a severe case of acute mountain sickness to the point where I had symptoms of cerebral edema. Luckily, I was able to reach the Himalayan Rescue Clinic in Pheriche, the highest regularly staffed medical clinic in the world, for emergency treatment. I was nearing the end of my forties and, after four Himalayan expeditions in five years I was sick and tired of being cold, wet, sick and tired. I’d had enough of mountaineering. It was no longer safe to visit Nepal, anyway.
But May 29, 2003 was the golden Jubilee of the first summit of Mt. Everest, and Nepal once again beckoned. The country needed tourists to return, and the Maoists and government declared a truce. Sir Edmund Hillary and the King of Nepal joined forces to try to lure climbers from all over the world back to Nepal to attend celebrations from Kathmandu to Base Camp on the flank of Mt. Everest. I heeded the call. I would not attempt to climb any mountains, but would trek through the Khumbu to Base Camp and check out the highest parties in the world.
My guide and interpreter, Hari Pudasaini, and I spent the first night on the trail, as most trekkers do, at the village of Phakding. We tent camped on the grounds of The Himalayan Chain Resort, and when we sat down to dinner in the lodge’s meal room, seated to my left was June Carlyle (age 86), Ed Hillary’s older sister, and around the table were a group of 15, including his nieces, nephews, cousins, friends and in-laws. As part of the 50th anniversary events, they were making a pilgrimage to the Hillary school in Khumjung and the Kunde Hospital, the first medical clinic established by the Hillary family foundation, the Himalayan Trust.
The intrepid octogenarian June reminisced, “When Ed was young, he loved to personally work on laying brick and stone to help build schools and medical clinics in Sherpa villages. He had so much fun!”
Before we left Phakding, we expected to see a helicopter rescue of a porter, who’d had a stroke. In my three previous treks through the Khumbu I had seen only one helicopter rescue, but I learned that several private firms viie for this business, as it pays up to $3,000 per passenger. The partially paralyzed porter was helped onto the grounds of our lodge to await the rescue chopper. He was quite old for a porter, almost 50. But his employer, a trekking/mission group from Northland College, Wisconsin, did not have rescue insurance covering porters. After vainly waiting two hours to see if a chopper came, Hari and I shouldered our packs and headed north.