Off To Tibet

By Margaret Watkins

Tibet. Land of mystery. Or is it still? The author finds out when an unexpected opportunity takes her across the high arid Tibetan plateau and lands her at the base of Mount Everest. Join her in this once-in-a-lifetime adventure as she combines mountain medicine with a personal journey of endurance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Aug 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781432794668

Margaret Watkins

During the decade surrounding this adventure and the writing of this book, Margaret Watkins lived in a small cabin in Stanley, Idaho (population 100) with her husband, two horses and two large messy dogs.

Book preview

cover.jpgicover.jpg

Off To Tibet

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2017 Margaret Watkins

v1.0

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc.

http://www.outskirtspress.com

ISBN: 978-1-4327-9466-8

Interior photographs by author unless specified

Cover Photo © 2017 thinkstockphotos.com. All rights reserved - used with permission.

Outskirts Press and the OP logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Also by Margaret Watkins

TRANS----PLANTED

THE FINE LINE

MOLE DOG

Copies available from: JJ Ranch Books at

[e-mail]

Also available from Barnes&Noble.com and

amazon.com by title or author

For Robert, who trusted my judgment.

And Eric, who made it all great fun!

Contents

PROLOGUE

THE IDEA

PREPARATION

UNDERWAY

KATHMANDU

REACHING TIBET

ACROSS THE PLATEAU

THE CAMP AT TINGRI

TREKKING TO BASE CAMP

HOW HIGH CAN YOU GO?

GRAVEL PIT IN THE SKY

MEDICINE ON THE MOUNTAIN

PHOTO MONTAGE

EASTER AT CAMP ONE

MY SUMMIT

NICE BIG ROCK PILE

EXIT ROW

PROLOGUE

This is not a mountaineering book. I suppose it is a travelogue. Even though the awesome majesty of the north face of Mount Everest was the goal of our expedition, it was the journey to get there that became my consummate experience

THE IDEA

I did not begin with plans to climb a mountain. I simply had a yearning for some Great Adventure. Maybe I was bored with a life of retirement. Perhaps my restlessness and itching to be off was just a reflection of my unconventional lifestyle. My wanderlust found a focus when I read Jon Krakeur’s account of the tragic 1996 Mount Everest expeditions: INTO THIN AIR. I was captivated and catapulted into the world of mountaineering. The lure of exotic places; the personal struggles; the dangers of mountain climbing—such stories appealed to my longing. The quest for adventure soon developed into a dream and finally an obsession.

I began reading all the climbing books I could get my hands on. I devoured books written by Walter Bonatti and Hermann Buhl. Maurice Herzog’s haunting account of the ascent of Annapurna in 1950, which sparked assaults other 8,000-meter peaks, left me enthralled and horrified.

The early expeditions of the British, in their attempts to find a northern route to the top of Mount Everest, captured my imagination. All of these books had in common the elements of travail, triumph, and tragedy. I wanted to experience the camaraderie and ambience of an expedition team even if I were not exposed to its dangers. I liked the idea of challenging myself within the grandeur of planet Earth in its extremes.

What follows is the story of how I came to be on the slopes of Mount Everest in April of 2003.

The concept of going to the mountains took form in my head and underwent many permutations over the summer months of 2002. I initiated some timid inroads into the mountaineering community by writing letters and making calls of inquisition without much expectation of results. In October, I happened upon an expedition company in Ashford, Washington, called International Mountain Guides (IMG). I picked up the phone with a bit of skepticism and made a call that would instantly offer me a challenge more than satisfying to the reckless side of my nature.

I expected to have a wait of at least a year or two before I could plug into a group going somewhere high and outlandish. I was totally unprepared to make a quick decision when Erin Simonson, wife of mountain climber and co-owner Eric Simonson, asked if I would like to join the trekkers’ portion of the expedition going to the north face of Mount Everest in April of 2003.

I was too stunned to say anything for a moment.

Erin finally asked, How do you feel about going to Tibet?

How did I feel!

I recovered enough state of mind to obtain some details on costs and timelines. I promised to call IMG in a few days with my decision but I knew instantly that this was the trip for me. That night my mind began to race. I had soon arranged the trip; packed my bags; ordered supplies; organized my personal hygiene and medical needs—all in my head, of course.

When it came time to approach my husband with my grand scheme, I decided to present it to him over the phone as if the plan was a fait accompli. Robert would be bearing the brunt of the not-inconsiderable expense of this brilliant idea of mine, and I knew he would have some serious issues with the safety factor.

I did not expect Robert to have a fit of apoplexy, but I was still a bit anxious about his reaction. After a short silence, during which my husband rapidly surmised that I was not exactly calling to ask his permission, Robert said only three words—YOU GO, GIRL! I could have jumped through the phone and kissed him.

And so it began. My flabbergasted family and friends reacted with expected astonishment. "You live in the mountains. Why do you want to climb one?" I was unable to give a sensible answer. British mountaineer George Mallory reportedly once said that the deepest argument for climbing mountains was the irrationality of its total lack of purpose. Well; there you have it.

Those I hold near and dear continued their counterarguments unabated. One of my offspring ventured her opinion that mountain climbing would be too physically challenging for someone my age. I really prickled at that comment. Another darling daughter mentioned that, to her knowledge, I had never climbed anything much higher than a stepladder.

When all the admonitions finally wound down from lack of impact, the same question remained: exactly why did I want to climb a mountain?

I looked all naysayers straight in the eyes, with a maniacal glint in mine, and answered, Well, why the hell NOT?

PREPARATION

It slowly began to dawn on me that I was going to Tibet. To Mount Everest. What was I thinking! Having inadvertently stumbled upon my Great Adventure, I now poured all my restless energy into preparations for the journey. I absorbed details of climbs by more recent and technologically sophisticated climbers/writers like Joe Simpson and Jim Wickwire. I memorized ascent routes on faces and ridges of K2, Denali, and Nanga Parbat. Then I turned my attention to Everest.

Eric Simonson of IMG, along with Larry Johnson and Jochen Hemmleb, set out in 1999 for the north face of Mount Everest to retrace the route of the 1924 British expedition. They were looking for clues as to what had happened to George Mallory and Sandy Irvine on June 8 when they were seen for the last time on the northeast ridge below the summit. Simonson hoped to find evidence to answer the seventy-five-year-old question of whether Mallory and Irvine actually reached the summit before they disappeared into mountaineering history and legend.

The expedition found many clues, including the body of George Mallory, on the north face at about 26,000 feet. He had sustained grave injuries in a fall and apparently died quickly as a result of them. Irvine’s remains were nowhere to be found; nor was there a conclusive answer to the mystery of the failure or success of the climbers. The authors favored the opinion that the intrepid Englishmen had indeed reached their goal.

GHOSTS OF EVEREST, The Mountaineers Books, 1999. This was the definitive book for me. Here, geographically outlined and supplemented with vivid photographs to inflame my obsession, was the very route I would be taking with the IMG 2003 expedition. I wouldn’t be going anywhere near the northeast ridge, let alone the summit, but from Advance Base Camp (ABC) at 21,500 feet, I would be cheering our North Col climbing team on to success.

It was time to begin some serious physical training. It seemed as if the moment I decided to whip my fifty-six-year-old body into shape, the weather turned against me. The temperature plummeted and late October found our ranch in Stanley buried under three feet of snow. Winter had come very early to the Sawtooth Valley of central Idaho and it looked like it was here to stay.

I laced up a pair of old Sorel glacier boots and strapped on my snowshoes. Our cabin is located at 6,500 feet elevation. Across the highway is a hill with a gentle incline leading into the White Cloud Mountains. I chose as my objective the daily surmounting of this 800-foot-high, half-mile-long stretch of sagebrush and rocks. Every day found me laboring up the steep slope as the snow deepened and the nighttime temperature dropped below zero. My tired legs and breathless lungs gradually grew accustomed to the exercise and cold air—perfect conditions for the mid-mountain terrain of Everest.

I reckoned that some upper-body conditioning would be a good idea even though I would not be doing any technical climbing. Extra training certainly would not hurt me. I threw in a weight lifting regimen even though the floor of our old garage was covered in snow and my breath condensed on its windows. I may have been the only person signed on to this expedition who was working out in three layers of clothing and mittens.

I received from IMG a list of recommended personal equipment. It became apparent that my backpacking gear needed some serious updating. L.L. Bean provided me with huge duffel bags, rain gear, and a new zero-degree sleeping bag. My old Jansport daypack would serve its purpose just fine. I began to accumulate stuff. A pair of new Vasque Sundowner hiking boots settled quickly into comfortable footwear after a few trips up the hill strapped into snowshoes. My bags would see a lot