Up and over
- Oct 26, 2016
- 4 min read
Date: 12-13th October 2016
We had two major goals for our Nepal trek, one was Everest Base Camp and the views from the nearby Kala Patthar, the second was an ascent of Mera Peak. Getting an itinerary agreed with our trekking company that would allow us to do both had been quite a feat of persuasion on the part of our expedition leader Nige. Apparently, it's quite unusual for parties to attempt both in one trek. And there's a reason for that.
In fact there's one very solid and unmovable reason for that, and that is the 5800m Amphu Labsta pass.
To link up the Everest region and the Makalu Barun National Park, which includes Mera Peak we'd need to complete a passage over the Amphu Labsta, north to south. Descriptions of the pass are many, in trekking guides, on Wikipedia, and in various online reports and blogs. These descriptions vary to a degree but sooner or later they all seem to arrive at the phrase 'serious mountaineering challenge'.
For me, getting this far had very much depended on a one day at a time approach, in fact it'd often depended on a one step at a time approach. This meant that up to now I'd largely parked thoughts of this challenge. On the afternoon of 12th October, however, as we approached the headwall of the pass, those thoughts could no longer be held at bay. What faced us was a steep scree slope topped by a seemingly vertical wall of rock with the odd snowy ledge. We took it all in and a general sense of incredulity took hold. Surely there's no viable route over that wall. Especially not for our porters with their stagger inducing loads. While we'd learnt nothing but respect for the strength and sure-footedness of our porters, this seemed a step too far even for them.
One of my favourite tales from climbing history tells of the 1970 expedition to the south face of Annapurna. The story goes that the team were somewhat aghast at first seeing the apparently impenetrable face. The renowned climbing sage Don Whillans remained calm, however, and sat and scrutinised the face for several hours. Over time and under his gaze, the face's gradient slowly seemed to lean back just enough to offer some hope of success. 'Right' I thought, I'll take up position on a convenient rock, muster my best Whillansesque stare, and give that trick a go.
I guess Don Whillans had something that I don't, perhaps his dozens of ground breaking gritstone first ascents and stellar array of alpine and Himalayan exploits. Whatever it was, however, the trick didn't seem to work for me. Despite my determined gaze, the wall of the Amphu Labsta remained resolutely vertical. One thing's for sure, I thought, tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.
It's now mid-morning on the 13th October and myself, Dan, and Nige are installed at the summit of the Amphu Labsta pass. The views are stunning. To the north we can see the summit of Everest peaking over the massive curtain wall stretching between Nuptse and Lohtse. Almost lost beneath that wall sits the 6100m Island Peak. To the south we have our first views of the Hunku valley where we'll be heading later, at its head the 7200m Baruntse.
The few hours that have led us to this point have been what my climbing buddies would euphemistically refer to as 'interesting'. The face proved to be concave in shape, steepening as we climbed higher. After the initial scree slope we traversed a number of narrow snow covered ledges, linked by a series of increasingly steep pitches of climbing protected by fixed lines.
At one point we had to hold our position on a narrow ledge as a party moving in the opposite direction shimmied their way past. Their downward progress had been by a series of abseils linking up the ledges. They looked to be a party of mixed experience levels and their faces showed an array of emotions ranging from calm relish to barely concealed terror.
The summit where we now sat was at a little over 5800m, another new altitude record for me. I'd been so absorbed by the climbing, however, that I had not once paused to consider the thinning air.
At that precise moment, funnily enough, none of those thoughts were foremost in my mind. What was occupying my thoughts was a series of garbled cries drifting up the face from where our guides and porters were still hard at work. Their unenviable task was to bring up various loads of camping kit, food supplies, and gear. Something was going on down there and it didn't sound good. We later learnt that one of our heroic porters had lost his footing and a load had tipped out of his carrying rig and disappeared down the face.
Our climbing guide eventually appeared, his usual cheery demeanour apparently undimmed, and we were on the road again. The south side of the pass was the stubby remains of a steeply descending glacier. Our path crossed a series of ice shelves linked by snow covered ramps. As we worked our way down, towering ice cliffs loomed above our heads. At one point a snow anchor was created to allow a short abseil over a particularly steep section.
All the time the upper Hunku valley lay below us. This was where we hoped to leave behind the crowds of the Everest base camp trail and enjoy some time off the beaten track. I finally began to relax as the site of our next camp came into view. It had been quite a day. We'd passed a stern test. It had indeed been a 'serious mountaineering challenge' and we, along with our porters just one load down, had taken the key step into the next phase of our trek.
With thanks to our climbing guides and our heroic porters.
Postscript: It's Thursday 24th November and I'm listening to a talk by Stephen Venables, first UK climber to summit Everest without supplemental oxygen. He's relating various tales of his mountaineering history and includes the story of a trek he led from Makalu base camp to Everest base camp. The trek crossed three high passes, the last being the Amphu Labsta, which he describes as a 'serious mountaineering challenge'. I nod sagely.
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