Rest day in Dingboche. And by “rest day” I mean “hike straight up a mountain to 5,000 meters (16,404 feet) for fun.”
The logic goes like this: you spend a day at altitude doing a big climb, come back down, sleep at the lower elevation, and your body adjusts faster. Climb high, sleep low. It’s the golden rule of acclimatization and also a convenient excuse for Nicholas to drag me up another hill.
The hill in question sits right behind Dingboche. A ridge covered in prayer flags leading straight up to about 5,000 meters. No switchbacks, no false summits to give you hope. Just up.
But first, breakfast.
The porters carry an entire box of pomegranates and apples up the trail so we can have fresh fruit with breakfast each morning. Think about that for a second. Someone is hauling produce through the Himalayas so a bear and his friends can eat pomegranate seeds at 14,000 feet (4,267 meters). I’m not complaining.
Two Hikes, Two Speeds#
Pokin wanted to do the acclimatization hike. Everyone, including Pokin, knew she probably shouldn’t. She’d been fighting a cough since Namche, and the last post ended with her barely making it into Dingboche. But she’s stubborn, and honestly, I respect it.
The compromise: Pokin and Po On would do the first quarter of the hill, then peel off on a side quest to a small monastery with Kerman, one of our porters. Short, manageable, still counts as climbing high.
The rest of us — Nicholas, Steve, Alice, Manoj, DB, and obviously me — were going for the top.
The grind was exactly what it looked like from below: steep, rocky, and relentless. No shade, no teahouses, no cinnamon rolls. Just cairns marking the path and prayer flags getting closer very slowly.
Nicholas’s weighted stairmaster sessions — 117 floors with dumbbells back in Henderson — were paying off. He and Steve were ahead of the pack the whole way. At this altitude, every step costs twice as much oxygen as it should, and those months of training were the difference between grinding and suffering.
The view from the top was absurd. Ama Dablam right there, Imja valley stretching out below, snow peaks in every direction. I could see why people do this acclimatization hike even when their lungs are screaming at them to stop.
Pokin’s Side Quest#
Meanwhile, Pokin and Po On had done their portion of the climb and taken a detour to a small monastery tucked into the hillside. Kerman went with them as escort.
The monastery was old, built directly into the rock face with thick stone walls and faded blue window frames. The kind of place that’s been sitting on a mountainside for a few hundred years and has zero interest in your opinion about it.
Back in Town#
Back at the lodge, it was clear Pokin had overdone it. Even the short version of the hike had been too much. Her cough was worse, and she looked like she might have a fever again. Nicholas took her to the clinic.
The Mountain Medical Institute in Dingboche is a proper clinic — actual exam room, actual doctor. Dr. Abhyu listened to her lungs, checked her vitals, and delivered the news: impending high altitude pulmonary edema and bronchitis. She shouldn’t go any higher. She could stay put and see if it improved, but it probably wouldn’t.
This was the moment the trip changed.
The group had planned to leave for Chukhung the next morning. Pokin couldn’t do that. So the decision was made: Steve, Alice, and DB would continue to Chukhung as planned. Nicholas, Pokin, and Po On would stay behind in Dingboche, give Pokin another day, and figure out the next move.
It was the right call, but it was a hard one. This trek was supposed to be the whole group, together, the entire way. Now it was splitting apart.
The Night#
Nicholas had been scouting a spot for astrophotography since we arrived — a stupa on a hill about 20 minutes above Dingboche, with a clear view of Ama Dablam to the southeast. The previous nights had been fog, fog, and more fog. But tonight, he set an alarm for midnight and looked out the window.
Stars.
We packed the camera gear, hiked up in the dark, and set up on a ledge near the stupa. The sky was perfectly clear. Milky Way visible. Ama Dablam silhouetted against a wall of stars. Nicholas spent about 20 minutes dialing in settings and then started the intervalometer.
The first frame looked phenomenal.
The second frame, 20 seconds later, was half covered in fog.
The third frame was gone. Total whiteout. Fog rolled up the valley with heavy winds, and the sky just vanished. We sat up there until 2 AM hoping it would clear. It didn’t.
Back to the lodge. Back to bed. Zero usable frames. Another night of Himalayan fog winning the battle.
But here’s the thing: Pokin’s diagnosis meant we’d be staying an extra day in Dingboche while Steve, Alice, and DB went ahead. Which meant one more night. The stupa was still there. The composition was still perfect. We’d get another shot.
The mountains weren’t done with us yet.