Nepal
    Glued to the vision before me, I held even more respect for our Sherpa leader, Sona. A 44 year old veteran of four Everest expeditions, he had cheated death on at least one occasion, when he and three fellow Sherpas were trapped in an avalanche. Short and thin, but incredibly strong, he was able to dig himself out, and his friends, and lead them through chest-deep snow to safety. I turn to watch him string up a line of prayer flags between two rocky outcrops on the summit. This quiet reverence to his religion was ever more inspiring given the prominence of death in these mountains. Life expectancy here is only 52. Sherpas and porters can make good money assisting in expeditions, but often they pay the ultimate price. Monasteries in the region swell with young children, orphaned at an early age. Earlier we had seen a rescue helicopter flying up to Ama Dablam, trying to recover five dead climbers. Of the five dead, only one was a foreigner.
    After several glorious hours on the summit of Gokyo Peak, we regretfully descend. Back in camp, the clouds move in quickly and it begins to snow. We feel all the more fortunate for what we have just seen. Riding an emotional high, we set off the next day in high gear, crossing the rocky lower reach of the Lungsampa Glacier, a moonscape set off by a blinding sun. Later, rising up through Chugiema, I am struggling again. As good and varied as the food is on the trek, my lack of appetite has been causing me to lose weight, and along with that, strength. We were approaching what I knew would be a difficult part of the trek, a climb over the Cho La Pass. At 17,800 feet, I knew it would be a climb about as high as Gokyo Peak. What I didn't realize until the day before was that our trusty yaks were leaving us and taking the long way around - the pass was too steep for them to climb.
    I am dizzy the next morning, staring up at the glacier-covered pass. We make our way slowly up the rock wall, sometimes hand over hand. At some point Ang Chuldim, our Sirdar (head of the trekking staff) notices my ragged condition and graciously takes my day pack. At this point I am not too proud to refuse help. This frees me up enough to finally reach the top of the pass. As I stare at the sea of ice surrounding me, I feel in the clear, realizing that most of the remainder of the trek is downhill from here. But on the way down the other side of the pass, I am still not feeling right. I try to eat something at camp in Dzongla, but I can't keep it down. This puts me into a new category as far as altitude sickness is concerned. It is time for a very watchful eye, from Deb, Sona, and myself.