How Trekking with Cancer Survivors to the Base Camp of Everest Changed My Life
The wind swirls around our aching bodies and our steps slow as we descend from Everest Base Camp. I trail closely behind a young man who days earlier was carrying two backpacks, his and a fellow trekker’s, who was suffering from intense migraines. Today his face is pale and mood quiet. He abruptly stops and leans on a boulder and loses his breakfast. I encourage sips and nibbles and he leerily snacks on a granola bar. His eyes seem to murmur, “I hope I can keep this down.” Perhaps this nausea reminds him of chemotherapy.
In 2010 I was swinging kettlebells with Charlie Wittmack, as he trained for the World Triathlon. Charlie, a motivational story teller and unique endurance athlete, would become the first American to “Peak and Pond,” by swimming the English Channel and summiting Everest. He linked the two feats by biking from France to Nepal. During our training for the World Triathlon, Charlie introduced me to Dr. Richard Deming and they invited me to train and co-lead a team of cancer survivors to the Base Camp of Mount Everest.
Two months prior to our departure to Kathmandu, I began to train with our team of survivors. I was in awe of the energy that bounced from their beings during that first night of training. The survivors fought for another chance at life. Some survivors were recently completing chemotherapy and radiation, others juggling joint issues and some managing lymphedema. This did not stop their intention to live life as a cancer survivor, they embraced the opportunity to hike the base camp of the highest mountain in the world.
As I tried to motivate and inspire them to increase strength, endurance, and balance, they taught me the beauty of effort, hope, and resiliency. I was training them to safely reach the base camp of Mount Everest and we were training one another for living a life with purpose.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry!” the Kathmandu airport staff screams, as we drag our 30-pound trekking bags through security. Red circular lights flash next to baggage conveyor belts, yet we scuffle by in a rush to the tiny runway. A stewardess guides our feet up a few metal steps into a twin propeller STOL (short-takeoff-and-landing) plane, housing one pilot, a few arms-lengths away from the 15 prospective hikers to Mount Everest base camp.
We fly over the jagged white tips of the Himalayas. A short distance from my window the propellers swirl in a round blur. The cotton balls in my ears scantily muffle the engine and wind noise that attempts to drown the excited cheers of my trekking friends. I spy the Sherpa village of Lukla and what is considered the most dangerous airstrip in the world, at the Tenzing-Hillary Airport. Our plane descends quickly upon a mere 1500 feet of uphill runway that’s paved at a 12% gradient. The plane lands safely as tears of joy and relief trickle over our cheek bones.
We begin our 10-day ascension to base camp by snaking through the village of Lukla at 9317 feet in elevation to Phakding. Laughing children with tousled hair jump rope barefoot. “Namaste,” they say as we hike through. The Sherpa homes are pristine white, with royal blue trim. The rocky and narrow trail is flanked with terraced gardens, boulders painted with Buddhist symbols, rock slabs carved with Tibetan mantras and white Stupas sheltering golden prayer wheels. A rushing river rumbles under a cable suspension bridge. The wild red rhododendrons, green pastures, and budding cabbage and onion gardens are a stark contrast to trash-laden streets of Kathmandu.
The day prior we toured Kathmandu, Nepal. The lively city is a bustle of noise: honking cars, insistent peddling, Hindu ceremonial chanting and Nepalese music. The narrow streets are laced with open-front souvenir shops selling metal singing bowls, colorful pashmina, purses, and textiles. Roaming cows consume trash and wander through Durbar Square, an area that includes old temples, monuments, and a royal palace. Bamboo scaffolding clings to crumbling brick buildings. The smell of incense, evergreen, trash and gasoline lingers in the air.
Conversely, the trek to base camp is a string of peaceful sounds: an occasional clap of thunder and light rain, running water and yak bells. Yaks with long coarse hair and horns big enough to scare any rodeo clown. The yaks portage heavy trekking supplies up the mountain by sharing suspension bridges and narrow hiking paths with Sherpas and hikers.
Our team of 29 hikers, including 14 cancer survivors and two doctors, partner with six Sherpas (our lead guides), a dozen kitchen staff and 15 porters. The Sherpa porters load 90–120 pounds of supplies on their backs, including our trekking bags, stuffed with the bare necessities for 14 days of adventure. Each night we dive into our sleeping bags, draped over wooden cots, in small tea house lodges. Our wake-up call begins with hot tea and mango juice at 6:00 a.m. We wash our faces and feet with wet wipes or from hot water in an aluminum bowl, delivered by a gentle smiling Sherpa to our small plywood-walled room.
Our nomadic cooks prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner daily. We gobble eggs, porridge and toast for breakfast. Freshly cooked lunch and dinner meals of sardines, tuna, nak cheese, curried potatoes, fries, yak pizza, cabbage, cauliflower, or Spam nourish our tired and sore muscles. In the colorful village of Khumjung, we happily discover a Sherpa bakery and feast on pie, pastry and cake.
We trek six to 10 hours daily. It snows, it blows, the sun shines; wispy clouds play peek-a-boo with mountain tops. We hike through villages selling yak bone jewelry, yak wool mittens and yak bells. We spy remote internet cafes, monasteries, markets and snooker bars.
In Tengboche, we sit cross-legged on the dusty floor of the largest monastery in the Khumbu. Nine cleanly shaven monks, wearing deep maroon robes, chant a medley of mantras as they rock forward and back in lotus position. The walls painted symbolically in brilliant gold, green and orange bring both zest and calm to the space.
On day 10, our boots hit the loose sediment of the base camp of Mount Everest. At 17,600 feet in elevation, fellow trekkers experience a variety of altitude ailments: nausea, vomiting, headaches and diarrhea. Dr. Richard Deming compassionately delivers care for all those dealing with acute mountain sickness.
During the trek our teammates are a band of hugs and encouragement, offering to carry a backpack, share a smile and authentic words. One survivor who struggles with balance falls to her knees repeatedly. Each time a hand reaches out and she slowly stands, as her thighs ache and shake. One step at a time, we will our way.
We tour the edges of the Khumbu Icefall and distantly witness mountaineers scaling the dangerous crevasse of the Khumbu. Some of us grab ice picks, harnesses and crampons and venture up a small vertical ice cropping.
Middle of the night, I wake in my tent, pitched on the slow, gliding Khumbu glacier. I hear a deep moaning in the ice and step out to see a full moon in a dark sky littered with stars impossible to count. The light of the moon bounces off the snow and ice and illuminates the multi-colored tent city of base camp. Coupled with the excitement of standing near the Khumbu Icefall and camping in below zero conditions, I feel the hair on my arms stand on end.
Early morning before leaving the base camp of Mount Everest, we raise more than 300 green, blue, red, yellow and white prayer flags. Each hand-sewn fabric square is decorated in honor of a dear friend or relative who died from cancer or others who are currently dealing with cancer. A prayer flag project is born. Dr. Deming gracefully shares a John O’Donahue poem dealing with the death of a beloved:
“May you continue to inspire us to enter each day with a generous heart to serve the call of courage and love ...”
Descending to Lukla takes four days, enough time to reflect upon a quintessential trekking experience: one filled with adventure, nature, culture, spirit, resiliency, camaraderie and new friendship.
As we trek towards home through the Khumbu Valley, we carry a sense of being part of something bigger than ourselves. How will this journey be the catalyst for living a fuller life? How can we use our talents to benefit the greater good? What message can we send to anyone who juggles adversity? How do we carry the lessons and inspiration of the mountain to our personal lives and the greater community?
I resolve, we must continue to train our mind, body and spirit for a life with purpose and passion.
Mary Van Heukelom is the Program Director for Above and Beyond Cancer and a Certified Cancer Exercise Trainer
Upon returning from Nepal in 2011, Dr. Richard Deming founds Above + Beyond Cancer. We continue to train and lead teams of cancer survivors on transformational journeys to beautiful mountains: in Tibet, Nepal, Tanzania, Peru, and Colorado. While traveling we partner with local clinics and offer medical mission, share hope and resiliency, and donate time and resources.
We realize cancer has no borders. The struggle for a better way and the desire to heal is universal.
Above + Beyond Cancer programs also offer free, evidence-based classes: Meditation, Healing Yoga, Total Training, Cycling, Wellness Coaching, Nutrition and Cooking Classes, Urban Pole Walking, Book Club, Adventure Fitness, and a Cancer Education Series.
To get involved or learn more contact mary@aboveandbeyondcancer.org or visit our website.
You too may apply for our next transformational journey by visiting our website.
