As was by now the routine, we woke, packed our gear, ate breakfast and headed out across the dirt and shrubs. Our trip that day lasted only around three hours, but what waited for us was one of the most amazing parts of our trek: Base Camp.
It's one thing to walk to the base of Everst (or some other mountain) and stare out at the unlikely village of multicoloured tent poised on the edge of a glacier, but it's entirely different to arrive in the midst of one knowing that it has been assembled for the purpose of allowing you to climb that mountain!
The 2 dozen tents at Island Peak Base Camp were scattered across the rocks and dirt lying between the opposing hills. Loosely clumped into groups the tents were of every size shape and colour. A few expeditions has solar panels mounted on their tents or perched on nearby rocks and one featured a rather loud stereo system. Our large yellow dome tent was already waiting for us right at the edge of camp (heaven forbid we have to help set up our own tent or walk all the way across base camp!) and as we flung our bags inside the door, our cook arrived with two mugs of hot tea. We could tell we were in for rough time during our stay at base camp.
After a quick nap we joined our porter, guide and cook (of course!) under the massive orange dome that was our kitchen. Lunch was always a high point of our day, but at this altitude simply watching someone cook was entertainment itself! Stacks of aluminium pots, pressure cookers, cooking utensils, bags of rice, piles of vegetables, heaps of tin cans, jars of spices, and everything else imaginable required to cook a five star mountain meal lay strewn across one side of the tent, while a large kerosene stove (which made a noise reminiscent of a small helicopter) lay in its center. Crouched between the two was our masterful chef; constantly shifting pots, mixing ingredients and pivoting around to grab additional supplies (how he actually found anything in that giant pile of equipment and food I'm still unsure). It was unbelievable he could even work at all, let along prepare a three course meal on a single burner stove. Our lunch consisted of vegetables, fries and (as far as we could tell) jam and yak cheese sandwiches. We began to wonder why no one els was eating when we realized that the "white" food was only for us, and that the rice and dhal (that local cuisine) currently being prepared was for the others. Did we really come across as so uncultured and delicate that we required our own special food? Apparently so.
We collapsed back into our tents for another nap and were awoken sometime later by our cook when he brought us our 3:00 tea (and a plate of cookies) out to our tent. Really? We obviously made it this far, walking another few meters probably won't kill us! We sat in our tent drinking tea and eating cookies while slowly sifting through our equipment, which had all been hastily crammed into our large duffel bags. After returning our mugs and plate (we managed to make it all the way back to the cooking tent all by ourselves!) we gathered our equipment and met with our guide to tackle the challenge for the day: the perilous hills of base camp! In order to make sure we knew how to (at the very least) put on and use our our own climbing gear we spent some time "climbing" and "rappelling" down the vicious and foreboding 20° hill behind our tent. Our guide jogged part way up the hill and tied a rope around a large boulder for us to play on. I connected myself to the rope and excitedly (it had been weeks since I'd been able to play with my climbing gear, and some of it was still brand new!) began marching up the gentle incline. Less than six steps later I was bent over forwards leaning on my knees trying desperately to breath. Right: altitude. "Slowly! Slowly!" he called up to me (not that he had to yell, I had made it less than a few meters away from him). I slowly covered the remaining of the distance to the boulder, switched my climbing equipment (from the "up dealie" to the "down dealie") and made my descent. Jennie follow suit and made a safe return to the bottom of the hill. Success! We had been confimed to know the absolute minimum required to get us up the mountain!
After our strenuous ascent of Mount Less-challenging-than-a-staircase we took a well earned nap and made a pathetic attempt to sort through the rest of our gear. On the way to dinner we bumped into Toronto Guy from the previous night. He had found the necessary climbing gear and was leaving for Island Peak in the wee hours of the morning. We talked for a bit ("Have you guys seen that giant tent over there?!" "Actually, that tent belongs to us. We're having diner in there in a few minutes") before he headed off for bed. To our surprise, our diner that evening actually somewhat resembled what the others ate! Rice, curry, and soup! There was also popcorn and little sausages from a tin can, but we ate the other food as well.
We crawled into our down sleeping bags (nestled between the mounds of clothing, candy wrappers, and climbing equipment that still covered the floor of our tent) and accomplished our most important task of the day: sleep.
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