Ready, Set? Errr, No….

We head off to Everest Base Camp tomorrow morning, flying into Lukla where, insha’allah, a porter awaits us on arrival.

And, for all that the last three days feel like solid preparation, I don’t really feel prepared at all.

Well, to say the last three days feel like solid preparation would be an exaggeration, verging on a lie.

The last three days WERE going to be solid preparation.

Then, to the toxic tail-end of my cold, I added a bonus dose of tummy upset.

And, as I trampled across packets of antibiotics and plastic bags full of down gear, dry heaving with sweat sprouting from my forehead, en route to the cool embrace of the porcelain god — or, oh god, do I need to do it in the sink?! — I did start to wonder:

“Do the travel gods REALLY want us to go to Everest Base Camp? Or are they trying to tell me something?”

Let it hereby be wrote.

I have absolutely no doubts about Zac’s ability to make it to Everest Base Camp in one piece. He climbed Mount Kinabalu when he was nine and Everest Base Camp, although much colder, is only 1200m or so higher.

Certain preconditions have been laid down for this.

To wit:

I am, however, rather more dubious about my own physical condition.

We were going to be doing some light hiking around Pokhara, getting into the zone. But instead, I spent most of our time there hacking up a lung.

So here we go. I am off to Everest Base Camp, to an altitude of over 5000m and temperatures around the -30 mark (that is, fact fans, pretty chilly), on the back end of a stomach bug and the tail end of a cold.

Zac? Well… he seems fine and dandy. Or otherwise we wouldn’t be doing it.

So, what preparations have we made?

Wayull.

I’ve upgraded our travel insurance to something that covers us (British nationals) for trekking up to 6000m, includes helicopter evac if required and doesn’t insist that we do so with a Western tour group, for the duration of the trip (World Nomads).

I’ve added the following to our warm clothing selection:

6x hiking socks
Fleece underlayers for Zac
Double-layered fleece each
Down pants for Zac
900-fill down jackets each
Gloves and liners each
One snood each
Spare gloves
-20 proof sleeping bag, each

No, we won’t be camping (not this time!). But there can be a distinct shortage of blankets in the tea houses and a few question marks over their cleanliness, so a sleeping bag is a good solution.

I’ve also bought sundries including:

Map (but no compass)
Headtorches
Thermos flask
Sunglasses

And then there are the medications. I’ve shopped for every common ailment that hits folk en route to Everest Base Camp plus every common ailment either of us have had in living memory that we don’t already carry meds for.

You can buy antibiotics over the counter in Nepal, as in much of Asia, but even the pharmacist raised an eyebrow at my impressive shopping list of:

Azithromycin (general antibiotic)
Ciprofloxacin (tummy antibiotic)
Tinidazole (specialist tummy antibiotic — for giardia and amoebae)
Fucidine (skin infections)

Not to mention:

Loperamide (tummy blocker)
Diamox (altitude sickness)
Paracetamol
Ibuprofen
Pseudoephedrine (anti-snot)
Salbutamol (anti-wheezes)
Cetirizine (anti-sneezes)
Betamethasone (anti-itches)

And further…
Bandages
Plasters
Surgical tape

And then, of course, there’s sustenance. Bottled water costs over $3 high up in the mountains (it’s about 20 cents in Kathmandu), so even if we weren’t already purifying water, we would be up there.

Snickers bars and energy bars cost about 65 cents here, and again the price soars in the mountains – because it’s been carried up there either on a person or on a yak.

And hot chocolate, obviously. Zac’s dad has got him some protein bars for emergency iron rations – what meat there is in the mountains is contra-recommended.

Not to mention sunscreen (factor 60), lip balm and Vaseline (breathing very cold, very dry air can do hideous things not only to your lips and face but to your nasal lining, so I’m told).

Toileting facilities are, as you might expect, not necessarily the finest (I’ve heard the loos en route to Everest Base Camp can leave one longing for the charm of Chinese toilets).

So we have wet wipes, loo roll and hand sanitizer.

Further to that?

I’ve triaged our stuff, bagged up what we can leave in Kathmandu for, umm, leaving in Kathmandu, and had everything else laundered as close to the wire as possible (in cultures where fire is sacred and the weather is cold, drying socks is an absolute bitch — and, in places where fuel is short, the bucket of hot water in which to wash the aforementioned socks is going to run you $5 or so).

Further, I have charged all our electricals – there’s electricity in plenty of places along the trail, but it costs – and bullied Zac into washing. For once.

We have plane tickets, trekking passes, a shedload of rupee cash and some dollar cash (except the down gear came in more expensive than I thought, so now I’ll need to get more rupees in either Lukla or Namche).

As far as I can tell, I’ve done pretty much what I can.

Apart, of course, from any kind of exercise.

But it’s going to be fine, right? A woman rising 40 and a 12-year-old boy, both of us of only very average fitness, heading to Everest Base Camp at the end of November?

Let me listen to the travel gods again…