A Solo Tale of Strength: Jayashri’s Everest Base Camp Trek Review with Thrillophilia
I never imagined my feet would lead me to Everest Base Camp. Yet sometimes, life takes you on unexpected journeys.
It was the start of the summer season in 2023 when I stepped out of Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan Airport. The Himalayan breeze blew through my hair, and prayer flags fluttered above narrow streets. I felt a mix of fear and exhilaration as it was the merging of past dreams and future reality.
Amid twinkling lanterns and the smell of momo steam, I sat across from my father in Thamel via video call. He offered me a supportive silence, and then said softly, “Jay, may these mountains show you what is inside.” My voice cracked trying to answer, “I will, Pa. I am ready to explore.”
Under neon shop lights and the buzz of tourists, I whispered to myself: I can do it.
It was the spark before the climb and the tension before it all began. And I felt alive.
Flight Into the Clouds
My early morning drive to Ramechhap was peaceful. A 6-hour journey with a waking sun rising over the foothills prepared me for the real climb. At the airstrip, small twin-engine planes lined up awaiting flight. I boarded, sat by the window, and felt my heart rise as the pilot rode toward the edge of land and sky.
The 12-minute flight to Lukla was everything people say - a little plane in a vast hall of mountains. In an instant, the earth was replaced by clouds trailing ridges and the deep valley formed by the Dudh Kosi River. I exhaled sharply when the wheels touched down on the short runway. Here I am, I thought, 2,850 metres above sea level.
That afternoon, the trek to Phakding transformed me from a flyer to a walker. I passed prayer wheels and rhododendron glades while greeting young guides with nods. My legs and my breath were steady. Each step felt like an opening.
Climbing to Namche
The trek from Phakding to Namche Bazaar was a steady 6-hour climb through rough canyons and gushing rivers. The air thinned at that height. On the way, I paused to watch a prayer flag-wrapped suspension bridge sway over foaming water. A local porter announced that we were arriving at Namche.
Soon, Namche buzzed like a small-world theatre. Yak caravans, trekkers, teahouses, and prayer flags all collided in a contained explosion of energy. After check-in, I joined an acclimatisation hike to Syangboche. We reached a high viewpoint, where the Buddha Park was humming with silent prayer. Below, Everest and Lhotse touch horizons.
A fellow trekker and I sat on a rock while sharing chocolate and life stories. We talked to each other for some time. On our slow descent, I realised I had found a different perspective in life.
Higher Elevations
From Namche onward, each day became a meditation of effort, rhythm, and meaning. The trek to Deboche moved through pine forests and rhododendron thickets, and the Mera beer at the tea house tasted of sun-warmed tradeoffs. At Dingboche, altitude treatment began. I walked to a pyramid of prayer stones and gazed over the valley, repeating to myself: “One foot in front of the other.” My heartbeat resonated in my chest like a drum.
The next day, a short acclimatisation climb tested me more than I expected. It was a short walk, but the altitude grabbed me. The head throb, the breath thinning, and the uneasy nausea. But coming down to the camp, I felt powerful as I had stood high, looked low, and walked back.
Conversations with guides over steaming noodles carried reflections. Karma asked what I was really seeking. I said, “To know I can go forward.” He nodded, “Mountains are mirrors.”
Lobuche, Gorakshep, and the Miracle of Steps
The path from Dingboche to Lobuche to Gorakshep marked the trek's crest. Each step became smaller and more deliberate. There were snowy peaks and broken hills, prayer flags snapping in the icy wind, and the occasional yak knocking over small blocks of frost. Soon, we reached Labuche.
On Day 9, I left Gorakshep at dawn. It was a six-hour push to Everest Base Camp, and every inch felt earned. I headed past frozen lakes and flags that marked the way. When I arrived, blue tents were situated on the hill at 5,364m. I collapsed onto a rock as I was overwhelmed.
“I cannot believe I am here,” I whispered to no one. A fellow trekker slung an arm around me. “You earned it, sister.” And I felt pride and relief.
Sunrise at Kala Patthar
I woke at 3 am on Day 10, covered in thermals and adrenaline. The climb to Kala Patthar at 5,545 metres felt like crawling toward the sunrise of the world. Every incline was tough, but I kept walking. When the horizon split with gold and white peaks, everything paused. Annapurna, Makalu, and Everest glowed like embers.
I pressed my hands together. A native Sherpa whispered, “Everest smiles today.” I thought of my father, my hometown, and the moments that led me here. I had climbed into the sunlight and found a sacred quiet.
Walking back from Kala Patthar to Pheriche, Namche, and finally to Lukla was a retreat. My muscles protested, but my spirit flew. I spoke with porters, pilgrims, and trekkers, and found fellowship in tired smiles. That evening in Lukla, I drank hot chocolate and stared at the runway lights blinking in twilight.
They felt like Morse code from another world: Well done. Well done.
Full Circle in Kathmandu
The flight back to Ramechhap and the drive to Kathmandu felt brief. I returned to Thamel with footprints on Himalayan rocks held in my senses. I carried prayer flags from Lobuche and a carved wooden yak that sat on my studio shelf back in my hometown.
I met my father at the hotel courtyard. He took my hands. There were no words, but I sensed that I had delivered what I promised.
Read More: Thrillophilia Everest Base Camp Trek Review