Leaving Pheriche to head to Lobuche Basecamp meant one thing: I was about to walk past a spot I rate as one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to. Cholatse is a strong contender for the most beautiful mountain on earth, and on this day I would spend a lot of my time looking at it.

Pasang was aware of my opinions on Cholatse, and suggested we take a line rarely used by tourists – going to the lake below the mountain. Cholatse means Lake Pass Mountain – and the iconic turquoise lake at its base is part of what makes the perfect image when hiking past this mountain.

This line did entail crossing the river via jumping from rock to rock, and some of the rocks were coated in ice while others were loose – so not as simple as the more touristy line. But I’ve done plenty of sketchier river crossings in the Drakensberg, so it was simple enough. I was impressed how easily Basanta was able to do the crossings with all the weight he was carrying.

We stopped for a break by the lake. I was really feeling it today – I felt weak on Nangkartshang the day before, but now even minor uphills were proving difficult. I tried to tell my mind how easy this should be, but in reality I was mostly in denial about the fact that I was sick.

The lighting at this spot wasn’t as good as when I had passed here a year earlier, but the views remain well worth the effort. I ate a bar of chocolate before we started the slog up the hill to the main trail.

The hill was a bit loose in places, but nothing worse than the average Drakensberg pass, thin air aside. I stopped for far more breaks than I’d like on this hill. I was starting to feel very sick.

Soon we reached the main trail and Lobuche was directly in front of us. The following day would be my first day trying to climb a peak above 6000m – and even if I don’t consider Lobuche to be an independent mountain, only having 279m topographic prominence relative to a 6119m summit (4.5%, well under the required 7% under the Himalayan definition), it would still be the highest peak I’ve ever attempted.

The hill up to Lobuche Basecamp felt considerably harder than it should have. At 5200m, it is only slightly higher than Nangkartshang, so I was already well acclimatised to this.

We eventually reached basecamp. They way it works is that you rent a tent while you stay there, which includes food, tea etc. This means that people don’t have to carry tents just for one night here.

I was exhausted. We had done roughly 1000m elevation gain for the day, so it wasn’t a trivial day – but I should have felt far stronger than I did, this wasn’t even on difficult terrain and I felt so bad. This would be my first night sleeping above 5000m in elevation.

I spent the afternoon lying in bed. I had struggled to eat the lunch that was made for me, but had managed to drink 4 or 5 cups of tea at least. I usually don’t have sugar in my tea, but in Nepal I drink sugary tea as its one of the easiest ways of getting energy when you don’t feel well. I got out of bed to try and catch the sunset, but had mostly missed it.

The next morning I was up at 1am. It was very cold at basecamp, so I put on both my down jackets, my down gloves, my fleece balaclava, my helmet (more for higher up with risk of rockfall), my down pants and my double boots. Pasang had advised me to do the hiking section in double boots rather than lugging hiking boots all the way up.

I went for breakfast, but struggled to eat – I think Mount Kinabalu is the only time I’ve ever been able to eat a proper breakfast for one of these early starts. Even on Drakensberg hikes with early starts, I usually eat breakfast after 5am on a break during the hike, opting mostly for game energy drink mixed into my water.

I greeted a person who walked into the breakfast tent, and they responded that they only speak Spanish. So I responded in Spanish with something along the lines of “nice, I’m trying to learn Spanish because I want to climb the mountains of Peru”. They responded “claro” (basically “I understand”), and then proceeded to say something very fast and complicated of which I didn’t understand a word. I clearly have a long way to go on my Spanish lessons!

We started walking at 2am. Within 5 minutes I had learned two very important lessons:
1) Don’t hike in double boots, they are practically impossible to walk in on regular ground.
2) Even if it is cold, don’t overdo the clothes. I soon had to stop and remove most of what I had on.

The initial hill was feeling really difficult. Before I stop for a break I always look at my GPS to see how much elevation we have gained – and if its less than 200m, I usually try to push on till 200m. When my GPS said we had only gained 38m, I knew I was not ok.

After the third break, Pasang took half of what was in my pack, and by the 5th break he was taking a rope out of his bag. I told him I’d rather not get up than be pulled up, and he responded that he was worried about how often I was losing my balance and wanted to short rope me as the ground was getting more exposed.

It was starting to get light by the time we reached 5600m. This was the 3rd highest elevation I had ever been to, but I had far less energy than the previous times I had been this high. In my mind I was still trying to tell myself that I was not sick, but my rational brain took over and reminded me of something very important: the reason for the 2am start is that most ice and rock falls happen around sunrise. We were still well below crampon point, which is subject to rock fall on occasion and if we kept pushing on, we would hit this at the worst possible time.

I told Pasang that I wasn’t ok to keep going. I was clearly sick and needed to get to lower elevation and have a full rest day. So we agreed to head down and spend the following day in Pangboche. I was sad to be bailing on this peak, I had hoped to go above 6000m in elevation for the first time, but we had barely gained 400m for the day and I was finished. I forced a smile for a selfie, and we started going down. In retrospect, I’m very happy with this decision – getting closer to the ice/snow would have been a major risk and opting to turn back so far down avoiding an unnecessary risk.

We were the first team back at basecamp. We had some food, and then packed up and left around 10am. As we left, the second team to return to basecamp arrived, they also had not made the summit, although they turned around much higher than we had.

We took Thulka Pass – the route that takes one from the Lobuche/Dzongla trail to the Pheriche/Lobuche trail. I had not used the pass last year as I used Kongma La to get from Chuckhung to Lobuche, and then after heading up Kala Patthar and to EBC, I had hiked from Lobuche to Cho La. It is a short easy pass, but nice to finally do it – even if it put us back on the super busy EBC route.

We stopped for lunch in Pheriche – where I had a cup of mint tea and ginger tea, hoping they’d do something to the flu I had picked up. I also had a plate of momos and sat as far away from everyone as possible. Least I can do is avoid making anyone else sick.

I was happy to be able to get all the way back down to Pangboche in reasonably good time. Its one thing I’ve always been good at – getting down a mountain quickly, even when I don’t feel well.

I spent the following day in bed. Pasang had suggested I bring an extra roll of toilet paper, and for how much I was blowing my nose, I was very happy to have this. Pasang also gave me some pills to try and help with the flu. I read the ingredients – it was mostly paracetamol, presumably for any fever. It also contained a decongestant and an antihistamine. My throat was very sore from all the coughing, but unfortunately I had nothing to take for this.

While I probably should have stayed in Pangboche for at least a few more days to try and shake this flu, there was a good weather window coming, and that meant we could either try for the summit if I felt ok, or at least do a second acclimatisation rotation if not. We had been above 5600m on Lobuche, and the summit of Ama Dablam is 6812m, so we had likely done enough to try for the top.

We set off for basecamp, and the days rest had definitely helped. In my mind I was still trying to convince myself that I wasn’t actually sick, it was just a reaction to the altitude and dry air. This seems strange in retrospect – swallowing food had become painful from how much I had been coughing, and I was blowing my nose every few minutes.

We got to basecamp and I saw a sign on the first tent with a few flags, one of which was the South African flag. Oh, nice – there’s another South African here. It took me a moment to realise that this was actually me. We were sharing a permit and basecamp with a few other groups as this saves on cost.

Of the four teams sharing the permit, there were 12 people in total. The two other groups, 7 people, had already left basecamp when I arrived – only one of them had made the summit. The four British climbers were on their summit push, although Rob unfortunately had to bail at camp one, and would be back down in basecamp on my first night there.

The following morning we set off after breakfast. Basanta had been given most of the gear to take up to camp 1. I wasn’t overly happy about this as I believe a climber should be responsible for their own equipment above basecamp. If I had been in a non-sick state, I would not have agreed to this, but I didn’t fight as I knew I wasn’t strong enough to get my own gear to camp one.

As we started up from basecamp, I was very happy to be past 200m elevation gain before I first asked for a break. But it was downhill from there – well, actually uphill, but you know what I mean.

The views above basecamp are amazing. I had been to the top of the 5001m ridge above basecamp in 2022, but hadn’t done anything past that. For those visiting the Everest Region, take a day or two and visit Advanced Basecamp on Ama Dablam – it is well worth the effort.

As we got further, I was struggling again. Having day-hiked Mhlwazini Peak in the Drakensberg, including only taking two breaks between the start and 2600m on Gray’s Pass – barely being able to walk a moderate trail was really frustrating. I kept having to stop for breaks, which wasn’t entirely a bad thing considering the views.

We eventually reached Advanced Basecamp. I had considered suggesting we stay there for the night, but never actually said this as I knew it wasn’t a good idea.

I hadn’t seen photos of the east face of Ama Dablam before – and I have to say that I rate this to be the most beautiful face of the mountain. Maybe it was just how close I was to it, but it was an insanely impressive sight.

Pasang said he would go ahead to secure a tent for us, which left me to find my own line through the boulder field. It is a type of terrain I enjoy, although less so when sick. The way camp one works is that a number of companies set up tents at the start of the season, and then everyone pays a fee to rent them for the night. This saves tents being taken down and put back up throughout the season, plus reduces the weight that has to be taken up the mountain with each team.

My state of mind can be summed up by how few photos I took. I was looking at how long we had till sunset and realised I was about to be on my own in the dark in a boulder field, and all my sleeping gear was with the porter. If I didn’t manage to push, I was in real danger. I could see Camp One now, but it was much higher than I had thought.

As Abraham Lincoln once said: “Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the ax” – I knew I needed energy if I was going to get up. So I sat down and forced down a chocolate and put some rehydrate in my water. I gave it a few minutes to settle, then started moving again.

I was making good progress through the boulders, and mostly judging the stable ones from the unstable ones. And then smack – I had just made an aggressive move from one rock to another, and not noticed the massive overhang above my head. Luckily I wasn’t bleeding or dazed or anything – but I would have a large bump on my head for the rest of the trip.

I eventually reached the start of the fixed lines. It was my first time climbing on fixed lines, and I now really understand why these are such a game-changer on the big mountains – in a healthy state I could easily walk this final section into basecamp, but in a sick and exhausted state, I was actually able to do the final section to camp one far faster than even the moderate steepness trails lower down.

I got to camp one with about half an hour to go before sunset. Pasang called me from the tent, and soon I was inside. I was cold, I felt nauseous, and I had no energy. Ok, yes, I know those are symptoms of altitude sickness – but I conducted my standard altitude sickness tests: I was not disorientated, I knew exactly who I was, where I was, where I live, what my job is, my personal credentials and had no slurred speech. I was even able to do a moderately fast rap. Although reading this now, I am wondering if I might not have had a bad reaction to the altitude on top of being sick, or perhaps because of being sick.

Pasang made some soup for me, which was great. He also made some rice for me, which I struggled to eat.

We were up after sunrise the next morning, a good night sleep does wonders! I managed to finish about half of my left over supper from the night before, before packing my gear into my pack and starting up the fixed lines. I was happy to finally be carrying my own gear.

Progress was slow, but we were starting from 5800m, with well under half the oxygen one would normally have at sea level. I was also carrying a 15kg backpack, so I wasn’t worried about this.

Getting through basecamp took some time. The camp is very spread out.

I was initially concerned when I saw non-locking biners being used on the fixed lines, but I soon realised this was only on stabilisation points, all anchor points were correctly fixed. One has to remember that the people who fix lines up these mountains are some of the most experienced rope fixers anywhere on the planet, and deaths due to incorrectly fixed ropes are rare.

My progress was slower than I’d like, but I was at least making progress.

Two climbers passed me – when I heard the British accent, I asked about their team and found they were the British team sharing the same permit as me. Of their team of four, Rob had bailed at camp one, and they had both bailed just above camp two earlier this morning. One had an allergic reaction to their breakfast (a really unfortunate mistake by their guide), while the other wasn’t feeling well. The fourth member did make the summit. Most importantly – all four got back down safely.

By this point I was really not feeling well. I was spending as much time resting as moving, and I had given up on trying to climb the rock, instead pulling on the ropes for basically all but the easiest moves. I had hoped to free climb the Yellow Tower (the technical crux of the route), and here I was aiding class four terrain. At one of the stops Pasang checked my blood oxygen, and the SATS reading was 71 – which was a bit scary.

We then hit a sketchy spot, the hardest move till this point (albeit still on fixed ropes). In retrospect I realise that Pasang knew I was not in a state to keep going up and used this as a reason to make me turn back without me feeling bad about it. He gave me a story about how he thought this next section was unsafe, and we should come back with some additional gear on our summit rotation. I filmed a video at the spot at the time, but watching it at home there’s nothing notably dangerous about this section. We stashed our summit gear on a spot where it wouldn’t be blown away, so we could come back up for another try in the weather window the next week.

To be honest, I was relived to be going down. I don’t know what would have happened if I pushed on, we had more than enough time to reach camp two before dark, and were well past halfway – but I seriously doubt I would have made it up the Yellow Tower in the state I was in. And if I had, there are plenty of ways our attempt at summit day could have gone wrong – ranging from being below the Dablam at sunrise to spending far too long in the cold conditions above camp two and ending up with frostbite. In my sick state, even pushing this far had been an unwise decision – and a mistake I was lucky to get away with. If we had pushed on further, I might not have been so lucky. In my mind, I was still telling myself that I wasn’t really sick, it was just an excuse to go back down – even though I was coughing up large amounts of green phlegm (apologies for TMI).

The reality is – if I’m going to try and climb the more technical mountains out there, I need to be honest with myself when I’m not feeling ok and bail earlier. Waiting till just below 6000m to bail was not the right call here – even pushing on to camp one was a questionable decision. There will be people who read my writeup and think I’m being overly harsh on myself – but the reality is that knowing when to go down on a mountain is more important than knowing when to go up. The summit doesn’t count if you don’t make it back down.

On the opposite side of the coin, there will be people who read this and think I’m making excuses for not training hard enough, or perhaps for not wanting to push on to the sketchier terrain above. Some may watch videos I have posted from this trip and respond “you don’t sound sick” or “you look fine, definitely not sick enough to justify turning around”. I trained harder for this mountain than I’ve trained for anything in my life. There are a number of lessons I have learned – including to carry antibiotics, as I could have probably squashed the infection if I had acted earlier. The reality is that I was so sick when I got home that I was booked off work and put on 6 different medications (including antibiotics) – and as at the date of writing this (22 December, just over 5 weeks after the day I’m writing about), I am still taking cough medicine regularly to try and push the last remaining part of this.

Getting sick on a trip like this is surprisingly common, but there’s little one can do to prevent it. Notably I could have avoided talking to other people in the tea houses, could have spent more time in my room and less time in dining halls – and next time I likely will do this – but there’s no guarantee that this will be sufficient. Sitting around a fire in cold dry air with people from all over the world is one way to almost certainly get sick, as is well documented.

Anyway – back to the mountain. We dropped down a bit till we found a nice spot to sit. We had turned back at 5965m, which is the highest elevation I’ve ever reached – beating the summit of Kilimanjaro (5895m) in March 2015. At roughly 5950m, we took a break for me to attempt my personal record for the highest elevation I have attempted to rap at, and highest elevation I have whistled the SA National Anthem at.

For the descent, I decided to abseil anything I could. I knew this is easier and safer when one doesn’t feel well and needs to get down quickly. Even on some of the less-flat traverses, I opted to abseil.

I was moving as fast as I could, but did still need to take more breaks than I would like.

The views from camp one are absolutely insane, I didn’t spend enough of the time on this rotation enjoying the views.

As we reached camp one, it was getting late. But we had headlamps and agreed that we must keep going down. I knew that I would recover faster at 4600m than 5800m, and the warm temperatures would help too.

Sunset from the descent was absolutely spectacular.

It is easy to be harsh on oneself in situations like this, and at the time I was definitely being very harsh on myself about how this had all played out. But I can take some positives from this – 5965m is now the highest elevation I have ever reached, and camp one on Ama Dablam is without a doubt the most beautiful place I have ever been. One may think I would be angry at Ama Dablam for denying me passage, but my appreciation for this mountain is considerably higher now than it was beforehand. And notably, nothing that went wrong had anything to do with the mountain.

We got back to basecamp just after 8pm. I spent the following three days mostly lying in my tent listening to audiobooks. There was another weather window coming, and I was still hoping I could push this flu and be ready to go for the summit in the next window.

The day after I got back to basecamp, the British climber from our permit-team safely returned to basecamp. He had safely made it to the top and back down. I joined them for their celebration dinner and cake. The following day they went down and our basecamp was down to just myself and the support team.

Pasang had an emergency at home and had to leave, but sent his friend and very experienced guide Chuldim for the rest of my trip.

More to follow in the third and final part…