Sun 15^th April 2012 Lobuche Base Camp 4820m to Lobuche Camp One 5250m

After a reasonable night’s sleep it’s breakfast to discover that a few of us are suffering. A couple of Diahoreas (sp?), at least three head colds and a couple of us with lung infections. Lots of coughing, sniffling and groaning amongst these finely honed athletes.

We set off after lunch it’s only a short climb up rocks with only one small technical section where we have to use harnesses and fixed ropes, which is near the top of the climb.

Immediately I realise I have packed far too much gear as my pack weighs a lot. I am also wearing my 8,000m High Altitude boots for the first time. Every time I look at them I think of the word ‘Muck luck’. I don’t exactly know what ‘Muck luck’ is, or how to spell it but I think of something very big, quite heavy and cumbersome which sits on the end of a foot. Worn by Sailors or Eskimos? (Help....) As this climb entails balancing on large and small rocks these boots feel singularly ill designed for such a purpose and after a little uphill and quite a few major wobbles I am blowing and knackered.

I soldier on up, I am not last, but I am certainly not first.

I come to the technical bit. I have never actually been on a ‘fixed rope’ nor used an ascending device, called a ‘Jumar’, but unusually I have actually read the instructions and it seems very straightforward..... Until you are under pressure from a couple of impatient guides then it all falls apart. When you are a Slatter and are in a sticky spot in most sports one is genetically lucky enough to always resort to a bit of upper body brute strength and ignorance. This was a case and time in point.

Didn’t get many points for technique but I got up!

It’s snowing by the time we get to camp. We have some 7, two man tents perched on a ledge and it’s quickly inside one, with my ‘tent mate’ Dan and get arranged.

We cook and quickly establish the flatulence rules ......there are no flatulence rules!

The brief for tomorrows climb is shouted through the tent walls. We are the furthest away but understand it be a 5.30am move.

An evening trumpet sonata in D flat Major and we get our heads down. Dan is the same size as me; there isn’t a great deal of room!