The mountain is getting closer, and I’m starting to visualize the climb. What will it be like up there? Will we make it? Will a storm hit? The plan seems simple: step by step, calmly upward under guidance.
Early Saturday morning we leave Thukla for high camp, where the tents stand as the starting point of our climb. This high camp sits at 5,300 meters, and the walk up brings more snow and narrower paths. It isn’t cold, but the snow changes the scenery and creates new conditions to walk.
Once we arrive, we have some lunch in the shared tent and then I head to my little tent where I’ll sleep. The last time I slept in a tent was last summer at Lowlands. These are definitely different circumstances. This is exactly what I want to experience, living primitively is essential in the mountains. I feel good, full of energy, and after some rest it’s time for rope training. This part makes me a bit nervous, I notice. The explanation goes quite fast, and I want to hear it again. The training is pretty minimalistic: Sherpa Lakpa throws a rope around a rock, gives it a few tugs—“yes, solid”—and then shows how to use the safety gear and descender on your harness to practice going up and down. After about an hour, the rehearsal is done. Boots and crampons are sorted, and gear-wise we are ready to go.
We eat early, and at 18:00 the sun slips behind the mountains and it quickly gets colder. Temperatures drop to -20°C during the night. Around 19:00 I’m already in my tent because the alarm goes off at 00:30. Breakfast at 01:00, gear on, and at 02:00 the climb begins.
Naturally, I make two or three nervous bathroom trips during the night, but luckily I still manage a few hours of sleep at 5,300 meters. When the alarm goes off, I notice I’m ready for the climb. Bring it on—showtime!
At 02:00 we head out with a small bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea in my stomach. The moonlight, the stars, the headlamps of the four of us, and the rocky terrain form the setting for the start of the climb. It’s magical. The mountains are clearly visible, and you can also see the headlamps of climbers on Ama Dablam, a serious 6,800-meter peak further away. Maybe the next Mountain…
Same focus as always: step by step, calmly upward. The beginning is easy; when it gets steeper and more technical, I even need to give Michelle a push a few times to keep her upright. The first rope-part come shortly after. One of us is clipped in, and I hold onto the rope with my hand as I climb up. At some points I don’t feel clipped in myself, so I ask the Sherpa how this works. “No, one of us has safety, so it’s fine.” In other words, one out of four clipped in is enough. Still feels strange—the rope isn’t thicker than a centimeter and looks like a skipping rope. The climb gets steeper and steeper, and finally I also have to clip in on some sections. The sound of big spiked boots crunching ice combined with heavier breathing is something I only knew from videos. Now I hear it from myself and feel, step by step, that we’re getting higher and higher with this sound as a calming rhythm.
We pause for a moment for a sip of hot tea. The sky slowly grows lighter and you can see where the sun will rise. It’s a colorful scene, clearer than anything I’ve ever seen. Even though it’s tough, I notice I’m not getting exhausted. My breathing keeps up easily and stays calm. Large steep rope sections bring big altitude gains, and after 4+ hours we see the summit come into view. The sun is up, and at 06:30 we reach the final stretch leading to the top. Wow—what a sight, what an altitude, what a view, what a magical summit. I’ve never done anything like this, and because of the physical effort it feels like all my senses are heightened. I feel the release, and emotion hits me as I record a video! Tears roll down my cheeks and I enjoy this peak moment. It feels right, and I can truly enjoy being there. I’m not out of breath, so I calmly drink some water and even eat a Snickers on the summit. A heroic moment. A few photos, some time to take it all in—those 20 minutes feel like 2. By far the most extraordinary experience of my life, and at the same time realizing I still have energy left to enjoy it. Incredible.
And then, yes—climbing is only half of a successful summit. The descent is what matters for safety. The climb often isn’t the dangerous part—the descent is… You have to stay just as focused. I quickly notice I struggle with the steep steps, and my big body combined with the fear of not being clipped in makes the first meters downward feel awkward. The large steps in snow and ice are far less enjoyable now, and each time I slam my 100 kilos onto my ankles. The descent is very tough, and Michelle also struggles because of her prosthetic and placing her foot correctly. This makes the descent slow. Fortunately, nothing dangerous happens and the weather stays good. While walking, you realize clearly that the descent is more important than the climb. “The top of one mountain is the bottom of the next.” Concentration, step by step. Eventually at 10:30 we reach high camp again after 3 hours of descending. Safe, exhausted.
I overestimated the climb and underestimated the descent. Nicely balanced and very educational. So now I know: I can do this. I’m happy to get some food and to rest a bit. And if you think that’s the end—nope! After climbing all night, we still have a 3-hour walk to the next village. During that walk it really hits me that, a month after Harbinder asked the question, I now have the answer to: “What is the coolest thing you’ve ever done in your life?” Grateful that this crossed my path and that I listened to the signs.
When I inform my family the next day, they remind me that November 9th was the anniversary of my grandfather Piet’s passing. The old man watched from above and undoubtedly helped me.
Back in the village, I feel empty and broken. That night I literally empty out due to stomach flu. The next day I move slowly and rest in the tea house. One Imodium, two Colas, some light food, and rest—that’s the medicine. I realize mountaineering is all about mastering the basics: sleep, healthy food, recovery, vitamins, and drinking lots of water. And all of that in extreme conditions above 5,000 meters, without a shower and with minimal facilities.
I go to bed early to recover from my summit and I savor the experience.
Dear people, thank you so much for all your support and belief in me. It helped me realize that nothing is impossible. An incredible experience and a memory for life.
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