Nepal

This is a difficult post to write, and one of the reasons I have been putting off blogging for so long.

As I'm sure you're aware, there was a huge earthquake in Nepal on 25th April. It measured 7.8 on the Richter Scale, thousands lost their lives, and many more were injured and left homeless by the devastation. Kathmandu, the capital, was one of the hardest hit areas, and images of fallen buildings and sacred temples flooded the headlines. Remote villages waited weeks for outside help, and many people around the country slept outside for days, as aftershocks rippled and they feared their homes were unsafe.

It was peak climbing season in the mountains; avalanches rocked Everest Base Camp, and 18 climbers lost their lives. Others were stranded at Camp 1, safer than their colleagues and friends at base camp, until helicopters could be organised to transfer them further down the mountain, with avalanches deeming the Khumbu Icefall - the only way down from Everest - impassable.

Although Nepal lies in the heart of the Himalaya, and is prone to tectonic activity, this was the largest earthquake in 80 years. Already one of the poorest countries in the world, it didn't have the money or resources to deal with such a disaster. Fortunately, aid quickly scrambled to their relief, with disaster charities from around the world arriving around the clock to help those in need. Fundraising efforts around the globe raised millions of pounds for various charities, and my faith in humanity was restored.

A second earthquake hit the region just a few weeks later, setting back the relief efforts, and terrifying those already affected. It was a dark time for Nepal, and it is only just beginning to rebuild itself almost two months later.

The reason I'm telling you all of this, is because I was supposed to be flying to Kathmandu on 21st May, less than a month after the earthquake. Those of you who have been following this blog for a while will know of my obsession with Everest, and I have been planning this trip for a very long time. I've had it booked once before, two years ago, when I had to cancel due to a highly unprofessional company, coupled with a lack of funds. I then planned to go in October 2014, but again had to postpone while I saved up a little longer. Needless to say, this was a trip of a lifetime.

When I woke up on Saturday 25th April, and heard the news, my heart sank. Not, I hasten to add, because of my trip, but because I knew how many people would be affected by this. I didn't quite realise the severity at the time, but I had friends and acquaintances out in Nepal, as well as work colleagues, and people I follow on Twitter. I was on tenterhooks the whole day, waiting for news that people were safe, and my sadness deepening as more and more images flooded the news sites.

Although I've never visited, I have read so many personal accounts of Nepal, and had done so much research for my trip, I felt like I had. I felt I knew all the places that had been so heavily affected, and felt deeply for everyone who had died or had been injured. When I realised that there was no hope of my trip going ahead, I was sad more for the missed opportunity to experience the country at its best; not for a cancelled holiday, as these things can always be rearranged. Of course I was disappointed, but it was very easy to see the priorities in life as I scanned Twitter, following those who had been personally affected.

I did allow myself a moment to be selfish, when I feared the insurance company wouldn't compensate me for my trip (they often don't if it's force majeur). Not because of the financial side, but because it meant that I would have to cancel the trip completely rather than postpone, and I would have to wait another few years to visit.

I am also very grateful that I wasn't there at the time, and that no-one I know was injured, or worse.

In the meantime, we fundraised at work (we work closely with partners based in Nepal - I was actually supposed to be visiting them on my trip), and I also set myself a personal fundraising goal, to give to long-term NGO relief efforts, as well as the immediate disaster relief we donated to in the office.

I was very fortunate that Emirates extended their refund policy based on FCO advice, and I now plan to postpone my trip until May 2016, purely because my plan was, and always has been, to visit and trek to Everest Base Camp during the climbing season.

Two months on, Nepal has declared itself safe and ready for tourists. Indeed, it is crying out for them as its main source of income. Frustratingly, the British Foreign and Commonwealth Office is still saying that they advise against all but essential travel to the area, meaning that if British nationals go against this advice, their travel insurance will be invalid. Fortunately, other countries around the world are much more sensible and I would love it, if you can, for you to go. I would go earlier myself if I could - most trekking regions are fit to travel after the monsoon (from September onwards) and lots of places, such as Pokhara and Chitwan, were barely affected. Don't make anyone else lose out because of this dreadful disaster, and don't alter your travel plans. Nepal is still stunning, and with your visit, you'll be doing more good than ever before.

As for me, my walking boots are waiting patiently in a cupboard, my daypack hung on the rack, and my trekking guide sat quietly on the bookshelf. Everest, I'll be with you next summer.



Image credit: Hillary Travels

How do you travel the world if you're scared of flying?

Hi, my name's Sophie, I work in travel and I'm terrified of flying.

I know, sounds like the beginning of an AA meeting, right? I mean, lots of people are scared of flying, it's hardly unusual. But what if it's an intrinsic part of what you do?

In my job, I reassure people all the time. Of course Thailand is safe, you'll be absolutely fine. No, you're highly unlikely to get Ebola in South Africa, you're actually closer to the outbreak here in London... It's part and parcel of what I do, and I enjoy it. One thing I struggle with however, is reassuring nervous flyers.

I didn't set foot onto a plane until I was 13 years old, heading to the Canary Islands with my dad and brother. I'd heard stories of people being scared of flying, but that first time, I don't actually think I was too bad. My dad might remember differently, but I don't think flying bothered me too much. It was as I grew older, and became aware of my own mortality, that flying became more and more scary.

I think the first time I was properly petrified was the first time I went on holiday with my friends when I was 18. A couple of my friends were nervous flyers as well, and I don't think we helped each other much. In fact, the joint fear only justified our own individual nervousness, and so I was the most scared I have ever been. I started listening to every noise, and became aware of every movement, watching the eyes of the cabin crew to see whether it was normal.

My brother and I used to watch a lot of Air Crash Investigation on TV (a programme that analyses plane crashes, why they happened and what could have been done to avoid it), and rather than it reassure me, it made me aware of how many things could actually go wrong. There's one episode in which one of the windows in the cockpit blows out, and the pilot is sucked outside of the plane, only saved by the quick thinking of his co-pilot, who grabbed onto his leg. Somehow, miraculously, they managed to land the plane AND the pilot survived, but what caused the problem? Somebody had fitted the wrong kind of nut or bolt onto somewhere. One tiny thing and a massive problem occurred.

I think that's my issue with flying. I know all the statistics of it being the safest form of transport, but if you crash a car, you've got a relatively high chance of survival, or at least that paramedics will get there quickly enough to save you. If something goes wrong in the air, it's not the problem itself that will kill you, but the uncontrolled descent, loss of pressure and potentially exploding into a ball of flames. Chances of surviving a plane crash are very slim, and you'll potentially know about it for a while before you actually die. That's what scares me.

Channel 4 did a programme a couple of years ago called 'The Plane Crash.' (I know, I know, why do I do this to myself?) In it, they intentionally crash a plane into the desert to try and analyse what increases your chance of survival in the case of a crash? Should you brace? Yes, probably. Where should you sit? Well, that depends on how the plane crashes. Nose first, then clearly the back. Tail first, the front is your best bet.

Oh but, by the way, this is only going to help you if the plane crashes in a very specific way. If it doesn't skim the ground right, then you'll probably ignite the fuel tank and you'll die anyway.

The point of this is that, the older I've got, the worse my fear has got. It's now developing into a full-blown phobia. Take off is the worst; once the captain switches off the seatbelt sign I'm usually ok, but all the way through check-in and boarding, I'm an absolute nightmare. I have scars on my wrist from digging my nails into myself during take off; an attempt to distract myself from what I'm actually doing, and ward off a panic attack.

The worst I've ever been was on the way back from Kenya in 2010. I was sat right at the back of the plane, in the middle of the middle row, and couldn't see a thing of what was going on outside. I was to be trapped on the plane for another 8 hours, and I had a really, really bad feeling (something I've learned to ignore as it usually means nothing!) I'd just conquered Kilimanjaro and spent three weeks leading a group of 22 volunteers around Tanzania, but this was too much and I burst into tears and had a panic attack all the way through take off, much to the disconcertion of everyone around me (not that any of the cabin crew noticed).

Since then, I've tried to control myself. I've learned to sit near the window, usually over the wing, so that when I hear a noise I can usually look out and attribute it to something. I tell whoever I'm travelling with to ignore me being an idiot, as I'll sort myself out as soon as I'm at cruising altitude, and pandering to my fear will probably only justify it in my head in the long run.

I take deep breaths during take off, squeeze my eyes tight shut, and occupy my hands so I don't add to my collection of scars! One of the main things that's helped is telling myself that, there's no going back now. Even if something does go wrong, my panic at the beginning won't actually affect anything, so it's best just to stay calm!

When I came back from Sorrento this summer, this was severely tested when we had to set off into a thunderstorm. I had to stand by the window and watch lots of other planes take off safely before I'd even consider going to the gate, and had to force myself to board the plane. Of course we were absolutely fine, and didn't even experience any turbulence, but my brain just wouldn't listen

Recently, with the losses of MH370 and MH17, as well as crashes in Taiwan and Mali, all within a few weeks of each other, plane travel has once again come into the spotlight. Again, I know the statistics, and I know it's the safest form of transport. But it's not 100% safe, and I have to face up to that. My heart goes out to anyone affected by either Malaysian disaster, or any plane crash really, as I can't imagine anything worse. For some reason, MH17 scared me more than most. For a civilian jet to be blown out of the sky; that's something that I hadn't even considered could happen, and it really shook me up.

Travel is my life, however, and flying is something I have to do to facilitate that. I haven't let it stop me in the past, and I don't plan to let it do so in the future. My biggest test will probably be in Nepal in May; I'm finally hoping to do Everest Base Camp (if I can actually get the money together for the flights) so not only do I have to fly to Kathmandu, I have to take a flight in a tiny Twin Otter plane to the most dangerous airport in the world.

Lukla is a tiny airfield. set into the side of the Himalayas, and the start point of most treks in that area. To get there, you have to fly on a tiny plane in which you can feel every movement, and see directly into the cockpit from your seat. In recent years, there have been several crashes here, mainly because of the weather (although Nepali airlines don't have the greatest safety standard either). The most recent was when clouds descended suddenly, causing the pilot to miss the runway and clip a fence on the edge of the airport, killing everyone on board.

Everest has been my dream for a while now, and I've already put it off a couple of times because of lack of funds. I have to do it, and the only other alternative is to add a 6 day trek in from Jiri (which I would do if I could, but I can't get the time off work!) I could do this with every trip; I could take buses and cars and trains, but the trips would take three times as long and it just wouldn't work in the long term. It's just not sustainable, and it would be silly to even consider it.

I've already started having nightmares about the flight, and nothing I've read on it has been reassuring (seasoned flyers have been terrified by it, so there's no hope for me!) The worst bit is that it's not an irrational fear, so I can't tell myself that I'm just being silly, as it is a possibility that the worst could happen.

I know I'm not as bad as some people; I've always been able to get onto the plane, and I've never had to take valium or any medication before doing so. This doesn't make my fear any less real though, and it still affects me more than I'd like.

I can't let this fear take over however, otherwise what's next? My dream of being a travel writer would be over, and I'd never be able to see the world like I've always hoped I would. I've overcome it before, and I will overcome it again. Sometimes you have to accept the risks in life, as the end goal is worth it, and I have to remember that (just don't tell my Mum!).

Everest: "Because it's there." - George Mallory

On my wall in my bedroom, I have a map of the world with stickers on all the countries I have visited. At the moment, I have stickers on the UK, France, Italy, Spain, Portugal, Hungary, Belgium, Kenya, Tanzania and Mali. Not bad considering that I didn’t go on a plane until I was 13 years old. It’s not enough however, and I have a craving to see the world.

One of my biggest obsessions is mountains. Or hills. Anything really that makes the scenery a little bit more exciting. I’m not sure why I like them so much. Sure, I’ve grown up in the middle of the Pennines, a good hill climb no more than half an hour’s walk ago, but it’s more than that. They capture my imagination like nothing else does – the sheer scale of them, the stories of people who’ve tried to conquer them. For someone like myself, who can never dare to dream of being a climber, the hundreds of accounts of successful (and failed) climbs out there are gripping tales that only want to make me read more.

The mountain that grips me more than any other is, perhaps not surprisingly, Mount Everest. Many hardcore mountaineers will scoff at the world’s highest mountain, because it is not necessarily a ‘hard’ climb – not technically challenging at least, unlike some of the other 8000ers such as K2. It’s not this that excites me about it however; it’s the grandeur and majesty of the place. Stories of the many, many climbers who attempted this colossal peak and failed before Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay’s success in 1953, and indeed those who have succeeded and failed since then fascinate me. Everest has claimed hundreds of deaths since it was first attempted in 1921 – much like any other mountain – yet hundreds of people attempt the summit every season.

From the Guardian website

My favourite – and perhaps the most well-known – quote about Everest is George Leigh Mallory’s “Because it’s there...” when asked why he continued to attempt to climb it. This perhaps most closely describes my passion for the hills; they’re there, and so they’ll always draw me towards them. Mallory is the person who defines Everest in my opinion, along with his climbing partner Sandy Irvine. Their story is well known to those interested in climbing and mountaineering; when they first set out to climb Everest, the (now much utilised) Nepali side of the mountain was forbidden territory, and so their expedition, under the leadership of Howard Bury, began from Tibet (Everest borders the two countries). No person had ever climbed to anywhere near the height of Everest before, and it was unclear as to whether anybody could actually survive at that altitude.

Nevertheless, the expedition strove on, determined to find a route to tackle the unclimbed peak. This was a reconnaissance, not a full-scale climb, and after getting as far as they could – further than anyone had gone before – Mallory and the team returned home.

Mallory returned to Everest in 1922, under the leadership of Charles Bruce. He, along with several others, reached an altitude of almost 27,000ft (higher than anyone had ever gone before), but were unable to progress any further. Two other climbers, George Finch and Geoffrey Bruce, were able to get even further, but still did not make the summit. Their attempt, however, used supplementary oxygen, and their remarkable success at reaching 27,300ft motivated Mallory to try it – something he had previously been against.

In 1924, Mallory returned to the mountain under the leadership of Norton, although he was made ‘climbing leader’ as a result of his experience. After a failed attempt by Somerville and Norton, Mallory decided to take his chances, along with supplementary oxygen and a young, inexperienced climber called Sandy Irvine, who was chosen because of his skill with the oxygen canisters. They arrived at Camp VI and set out for the summit, but after a brief sighting by Noel Odell the day they made for the top, were never seen again.

To this day, nobody knows whether they reached the summit of Mount Everest, and it is one of the greatest mysteries in mountaineering history. 

Conrad Anker found Mallory’s body in 1999, still clinging onto the rock face with his finger-tips, one of his legs broken, the other one wrapped around it to presumably stop the pain. A broken leg on a mountain such as Everest isn’t merely an inconvenience, it means death. Even something as simple as a lost boot or a lost glove can kill you in the high-altitude, freezing conditions and so Mallory - if he was conscious - must have known his fate. They’ve never found Sandy Irvine’s body, though it must be nearby. Nobody knows what caused Mallory to fall, whether Irvine fell with him or tried to descend on his own, or as I said, if they made the summit.

Although if they did make the summit, which would put them before Hillary and Tenzing in 1953, as all mountaineers will tell you, getting to the summit is a bonus, getting down again is the battle, so they would not be considered true summiteers. Nevertheless, people to this day are trying to solve the mystery. It is known that they had a Kodak camera with them, which Mallory did not have in his possession when they found his body. If Irvine is found and he has it, it may be possible to discern from the pictures whether or not they actually reached the top.

Many of the climbing community however, disapprove of expeditions to try and find Irvine’s body. They say – rightly so in my humble opinion – that it doesn’t matter whether or not they reached the top. Mallory defined Everest, and played a key part in the early expeditions. The greatest mystery surrounding Everest should be left as such, as it is part of the charm.

Incidentally, if you are interested in Mallory’s story (for there is much more to tell, I’ve merely skimmed the surface based on what I can remember), there’s a brilliant film of Conrad Anker (the guy who found Mallory) and Leo Holding (an incredible British climber), who attempt to climb Everest the way Mallory and Irvine would have. At the moment, at the summit of the mountain (and indeed further down) there are ladders installed by the Chinese to get past several insurmountable faces, including the ‘Second Step.’

With these, it is possible to scale the face in half an hour, making a summit success much more likely. Without these, it would take hours to climb, and is technically almost impossible. Mallory and Irvine would have faced the summit in these conditions, in gear drastically inferior to what is available nowadays. If Anker and Holding can climb the step in the same conditions, it makes it much more likely that Mallory and Irvine would have been able to; it’s a brilliant watch, and also goes more deeply into the history. It’s called ‘The Wildest Dream.’

There are also many books on the subject, of which I’ve read many (including ‘The Wildest Dream’ but this is one I’ve found is actually better as a film, because it’s easier to see the mountain than it is to visualise it.

I’m not going to go into much more history of the mountain because, although I love it, and there is a huge amount to go into, it would take all day and probably bore you to tears. If you are interested, as I say, there are plenty of books and internet articles out there.

My love affair with Everest started a couple of years ago when I started reading my Stepdad’s climbing books. I’ve previously done Kilimanjaro (which is just trekking) and so was curious to see how this differed from actually climbing a mountain. A huge amount it turns out, as I was introduced to words like jumars, ice screws, crampons, fixed lines and other technical climbing jargon. I’m still not sure what some of it means but it was an adventure and an education at the same time. I’m never going to be able to be a climber – I’m not fit enough, brave enough, daft enough or committed enough – so I love escaping into the world through these books. The best I’ve ever read are:

·         Andy Kirkpatrick – Psychovertical
·         Andy Cave - Learning to Breathe and Thin White Line
·         Don Whillans - The Villain (it's a biography but I can't remember who actually wrote it)
·         Joe Brown - The Hard Years
·         Joe Simpson - Touching the Void
·         Tomaz Humar - another bibliography, just called Tomaz Humar I think 
·         Stephen Venables - he's written a few and all are good, but my favourite (I think) is Higher Than the Eagle Soars: A Path to Everest
·         Graham Bowley - No Way Down - Life and Death on K2
·         Jamie Andrew - Life and Limb
·         Jon Krakauer - Into Thin Air
·         Edmund Hillary, Stephen Veneables, and Dalai Llama - Everest: The Summit of Achievement (probably the most amazing factual book I've read)

There are many more that I’ve read since then, and I’d list them all if I could, but each shows the truly desperate conditions that a climber faces when on the mountain, and the sheer bravery of these men (and women). (Not all of these are about Everest by the way, if I didn’t make that clear). One thing is clear from all accounts though; the mountain is always in charge.

The season that I have read the most about, perhaps because of curiosity and perhaps because there are a lot of accounts from that season, is the year of 1996, when a series of events led to one of the biggest disasters in Everest’s history. There were more climbers on the mountain than ever before, and as a result of guided groups, Everest was now easily accessible to novice climbers who had a lot of money. A dangerous mix on such a dangerous mountain.

Amongst the groups was an American IMAX expedition, hoping to film the climb, and two group led by guides Scott Fischer and Rob Hall. With so many people on the mountain, it made sense to stagger summit attempt days (for those not in the know, there are only a limited number of days to climb Everest every year, A clear weather window when the jet stream lifts for a while and before the monsoon arrives from late April to very early June. This is one of the reasons why Everest is so dangerous, because outside of that window, the mountain is unclimbable.

If you are delayed on the mountain and thus get caught in the monsoon, your chances of survival are slim). Scott and Fischer wanted to go on 10^th May, and the others agreed to go before or after them, to reduce the number of people on the narrow ridges and roped steps above, and avoid causing a dangerous bottleneck, delaying summit times and reducing chances of survival. However, many times on the mountain at that time were either inexperienced or just arrogant, and despite agreeing not to, a Taiwanese team decided to attempt the summit on 10^th May as well.

 This, along with many other minor mistakes that, ordinarily wouldn’t have made such a difference, meant that many climbers were caught out in a storm that rolled in on the evening. Caught out in the open, with no shelter, no water and no food, in horrific conditions, there is very little chance that many of them would have survived.

Indeed, 8 climbers died as a result of that storm. There are many differing opinions on what went wrong that day, who made the wrong judgement calls, and what should have done instead, and there are many differing opinions of what actually happened. If you want to know more, read Jon Krakeur’s ‘Into Thin Air’ for his account of the disaster; a incredibly interesting book, but also quite chilling, especially when you get to his account of Andy Harris’ death. It just shows how hypoxia can cloud judgement and your brain entirely, and how, on a mountain, it is very difficult to look out for anybody other than yourself.

 One of the most amazing stories to come out of that disaster though, is that of Beck Weathers. He was left for dead several times throughout the disaster, the most disturbing being when he was found half frozen to death, his face under a block of ice and entirely unconscious. In those conditions, it is impossible to carry somebody down from the mountain, and so was left for dead by other climbers who had no choice. 

Incredibly, as someone had chipped the ice away from his face (bearing in mind that he was practically blind at that point as a result of snow-blindness and recent eye surgery), he managed to make his way down, unassisted to one of the lower camps, and was airlifted to hospital. Despite extensive frostbite, he lived to tell the tale, and published his book ‘Left for Dead’ in 2000.

Conrad Anker is currently leading another expedition on Everest, with photography Cory Richards. This is being sponsored, and highly documented by, National Geographic, who are giving real-time updates of events happening on the mountain. They’re nowhere near ready to attempt the summit yet (climbing Everest requires a long period of acclimatisation and  getting supplies up to high camps), yet they’ve already had several close shaves (including an avalanche near base camp), and their first death of the season – an experienced Sherpa who died after falling into a crevasse after failing to clip onto the safety rope.

Cory Richards (also an Everest veteran) is recovering after an evacuation as a result of an AMS scare, showing that, no matter how experienced you are, the mountain is still in charge. For anyone who wants to follow the expedition (and I suggest you do, it’s fascinating), the website is here: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/everest/overview or type #OnEverest into Twitter.

I don’t know what it is that draws me to Everest; whether it’s the history of the place, to mystery of the place, or just the sheer beauty I don’t know, but I do know that it’s somewhere that I must visit. The best way to go about this, is to trek through the Himalayas to Everest Base Camp. This is the trek that all expeditions undertake, and to tread in the footsteps of legends would be phenomenal. Not only that, but the place is incredibly beautiful.

Along the trek, you pass through Sherpa villages such as Namche Bamzar, and Gorak Shep, and see incredible views that you just can’t rival. Where else can you see a Himalayan mountain, towering above you at every corner? You also walk past, and visit, Buddhist monasteries and past realms of prayer flags. It sounds wonderful, and is just somewhere I have to go. It’s a tough walk, but that’s part of the attraction; walking, mountains and history – sounds like an incredible combination to me!

"Everest for me, and I believe for the world, is the physical and symbolic manifestation of overcoming odds to achieve a dream." – Tom Whittaker.