I was on the edge of a pullout on the Tibetan Friendship Highway when I first saw her. To this day, that memory brings back the tears that had fallen – and froze – on my face in that moment where a dream became a reality. Qomolangma. The Goddess Mother of the World. The Goddess of the Third.
I had purposely avoided seeing Mount Everest until this very moment. I had waited many years for it, and I was determined it would not be from a plane or a bus window. It had to happen when all my senses could be overwhelmed by the mountain, the deep cerulean blue of the Tibetan sky and the reds, blues, yellows and greens of a thousand Tibetan prayer flags cracking in the icy wind as if they were paying ohmage to the Goddess of the Third. But let’s rewind a bit here as to how I came to be in this moment in this moment.
We were a small group of travelers who met only a few days ago in Beijing as part of a tour with GAdventures. Travelling to Tibet required being part of an approved tour and my past experiences with the Canadian company made the decision to travel with them again easy. But I digress. After a harrowing 42-hour train ride (you can read about here) we arrived in Lhasa to acclimatize to the altitude before our slow journey.
Warmed by endless cups of lemon ginger tea and with portable oxygen bottles loaded into our bus, our small group of adventurers hit the road. Our destination – Rongbuk – a Buddhist monastery and guest house nestled at the foot of Mount Everest. Located at over 16,000 feet (5990 meters), altitude sickness was a real hazard. Take the worst hang over ever, mixed with a level ten migraine and a bout of bronchitis – and you would still feel good in comparison to AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness – talk to your doctor before heading out to any high-altitude destination!)
Our road trip to Rongbuk was stretched out for almost three days, over three passes of 16400 feet (5000 meters) or higher, with overnight stays in Gyanste and Tingri. Along the way, we stopped at the shores of Yamdrok Tso, the stunningly beautiful turquoise lake located high in the Himalaya. We walked through the halls of Gyanste Kumbum, where there are reportedly 100,000 images of Buddha. A farmer and his wife served us pancakes with yak butter. We were offered a taste of the infamous yak butter tea. (Caution! Sip slowly as each empty bowl would be quickly refilled by your host.) Villagers would peak at us through the heavy, yak hair filled blankets used as doors as we lunched on soups and the ever-present lemon ginger tea.
Our route was made up of climbs and descents, switchback after switchback, small villages, countess yaks and panoramic, breath-taking views. We were getting close. During the previous hour, the bus had been filled with the electricity of anticipation and silence has fallen. We all knew this would be a moment we would never forget.
Then it happened. There she was. The “Holy Mother” of mountains, lying on the other side of the valley below, under skies so clear that one could see the new snow at the peak being swept into the air by bitterly cold winds. When that wind and cold worked its way through our winter gear, we returned to the bus, shivering from the icy wind and the excitement of what we had just seen. On to Rongbuk.
It is hard to describe the feeling when we arrived at Rongbuk, reputed to be the highest monastery in the world. As we tumbled out of the bus in our desire to stare in awe at Mount Everest – there – in front of us – majestic and mythical – real instead of a bucket list item – time seemed to stop. Yaks wandered freely around us. The winds slapped any parts of our faces that were still uncovered. The monastery rose to our left, the guest house walls to the right. The mountain tauntingly close in front of us. And we were all smiling. Huge, ear to ear, all teeth showing smiles. We were here.
Rongbuk Guest House was an experience in itself. Long narrow halls in the bright primary colors of Tibetan prayer flags lead to small rooms. Blue thermoses filled with hot water were located at each door so we could wash up after our trip. Beds with thick mattresses and blankets filled with yak hair were ready for us. The worn wooden window frames let in the wind – and showcased Mount Everest above. My roommate and I sat on the bed closet to the window, wrapped our arms around each other and acknowledged how incredibly lucky we were. This was no 5-star hotel. The temperature in our room was sub-zero and we would be sleeping in full winter gear, the toilets were open holes in the floors of the grainery and we could feel the breath of the same winds that brushed the mountain itself. It was the most amazing place we had ever laid our heads.
We dined in the one heated room in the guest house. Yak dung burned in a central stove and the closest seats to that stove were prime real estate. Hot tea was kept simmering on top for those who came in from the biting cold, fingers quickly wrapped around cups to stave off the ache as feelings returned to them. As the darkness fell, electric blankets were turned on to warm the beds. Some settled in for the night, others went to share barley beer with the guest house crew – and I set up my camera.
It was a full moon that night, and I knew Mount Everest would be adorned in the most beautiful light. The wind was not cooperating though. So, I waited – and waited – and waited. In the early hours, there was a sudden silence. The wind had stopped whistling through the window frames. Happily, I was already fully dressed, so I slipped on my boots, grabbed the camera which was already set up on the tripod and raced outside, running around the sleeping yak, and took as many time exposures as I could before the wind awoke once again and my camera froze. I returned to my bed, wondering if this had all been a dream. The cold reminded me of the reality, I grinned like a mad woman, and slept until dawn.
As the morning sun hit the face of Mount Everest, we prepared to head back to Lhasa and our flight to Kathmandu. The Friendship Highway between Tibet and Nepal had been damaged and was impassable, so this was one bucket list item that had to wait. But I was fine with this. It gave me an excuse to come back some day – to sleep once again under the Goddess Mother of the World.