Jamey Glasnovic - A Few Feet Short: An Uncommon Journey to Everest

Copyright 2018 by Jamey Glasnovic

First Edition

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Cataloguing data available from Library and Archives Canada

ISBN 9781771602914 (paperback)

ISBN 9781771602921 (electronic)

All photographs are by Jamey Glasnovic unless otherwise noted.

Maps by Jocey Asnong

Distributed in Canada by Heritage Group Distribution and in the U.S. by Publishers Group West

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We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and of the province of British Columbia through the British Columbia Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

To my partner, Jocey
who introduced me to the wonder that is Nepal.

CONTENTS

ASIA

NEPAL TRAVEL ROUTE

PART ONE

THE HIGH COUNTRY

FREE AGAIN AT LAST

Its official: Im scared shitless.

Even with the best efforts to get my act together, its impossible to deny this feeling any longer. I am frightened right down to my core and I dont like it. Whats most notable about this fairly common emotion, in this particular case, is the fear is coming to me in a way Ive never experienced before in my life. Im not startled or anxious, or even alarmed. That would be too superficial, too simple and too tame. No, the dread that is dominating this evening is more extreme and somehow more primal than that. I am, without doubt, terrified to the base of my being. The worst part is I have no idea what to do.

My partner, Jocey, and I have arrived in the Himalayan village of Machhermo, Nepal, just south of Gokyo and one valley over from Mount Everest, and I have a headache. That I have a headache is not notable in itself Ive been living with low-grade pain lurking behind my eyes since climbing up to Namche Bazaar four days ago, but this rattling inside my skull is a new sensation altogether and is way beyond anything Ive ever felt.

The Beast, as I have come to call it in the hours spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if Im going to die, has the distinct characteristics of a bad migraine with all the attendant pain, nausea, and hypersensitivity to light and sound, but, just for good measure, the sensation is also peppered with an impending and overwhelming sense of doom. The thing is, the Beast also behaves like a mean tension headache, radiating up from my shoulders and pulling down at the back of my skull in a spectacularly irritating fashion. The whole experience is akin to a cranial tug-of-war, with my grey matter used as rope. Somehow even my hair hurts. I feel like a pair of giant dogs have me firmly locked in their jaws but havent decided who gets the privilege of finishing me off.

Even in this vulnerable and addled state, however, I am struck by the idea that pure fear is a rare taste indeed. Frustration and aggravation and anxiety are easy to come by, and they all contain elements we can manipulate and control. To an extent, we ourselves even feed these lesser demons, giving them life. Real fear, on the other hand, exists wholly beyond our ability to cope, living unchecked and unmanaged, which makes it at once terrifying and exhilarating.

The fact that I dont know much about altitude sickness, or Acute Mountain Sickness as its officially called, only compounds my sense of dread. Am I going to get up to go to the washroom only to pass out and never wake up? Am I going to start bleeding out the ears? Is the top of my head simply going to pop right off? I just dont know, and that helps feed the terror. But the worst part of the whole illness (once I ascertain this is probably an exercise in discomfort, not death) is that everyone in the guest house were staying at has heard the Canadian is sick, and has a helpful thought or ten on treatment options. The truth is Im beginning to feel like a sideshow attraction down at the county fair; Im drawing attention to myself when all I want to do is curl up in a little ball and die already.

So, after ten straight hours of unrelenting agony and uncertainty, I figure it is time to give in. I tap out. I surrender to my fate. Lesson learned and experience rendered. I am frightened and helpless and hopeless and small, and still, things could be worse. Things could be much, much worse. If the mother of all headaches does develop secondary symptoms like vomiting or diarrhea, then I will face the unenviable task of descending a narrow yak trail at 4400 metres in the dead of night. The trouble with that plan is that yak trail navigation at altitude is a skill Im only beginning to master in broad daylight, thank you very much. As much pain as I may be in, the last thing I want to do is go stumbling around outside in the dark, even if it does bring some relief.

Of course, trekking in Nepal is a tremendous life experience for the adventure enthusiast even with these challenges. If not a vacation exactly, it does qualify as an endeavour worthy of pursuit for the adventurous type, and altitude sickness is just one of the inevitable complications associated with the attempt, along with washed-out trails, temperamental yaks, questionable water quality, dodgy toilets, rickety and/or sway-prone footbridges, guest houses of a wildly varying standard, thigh- and lung-searing climbs in which you take ten ridiculously small steps before stopping to wonder where all the air has gone, and, naturally, erratic mountain weather patterns.

This is a small price to pay, in my book, for deep, steep, tree-filled valleys; rivers that look like roaring molten steel; sweeping high mountain meadows; awe-inspiring, snow-covered peaks; and a unique glimpse into a culture and lifestyle still somewhat removed, both practically and geographically, from the consumption, commercialism, and greed that dominates everyday life in the developed world. So I down some Diamox, generously provided by a group of Israelis staying down the hall, quit crying for my mommy already, and try to ride out the storm tearing around inside my head, because weve still got ten days left to go on our trek.

Nine years later, I have returned to this little village high in the Himalaya, and I dont have a headache this time. Thank God. My recollections are a bit hazy, but Machhermo hasnt changed much from what I can remember. Outside the window of the dining room of Namgyal Lodge, prayer flags are being whipped about by a gathering wind, and a small cow is contentedly grazing in the inner courtyard. Here in the dining room, a colour bomb has gone off and distributed the full palette into every corner.