Page 66 of My Fearless Fake Fling

Eighteen:

Twenty-one months later…

The chopper landed us at basecamp. With the whirring blades above our heads, we had to duck as we disembarked. I carried my backpack, but as usual, Len carried most of our gear. Meredith and Brandon climbed off behind us.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” I shouted. Because shouting was the only way to be heard until the bird lifted. The heavy wind whipped my hair in my face, even though I had it pulled back and secured with a band.

“Second thoughts?” Len hollered back.

Clear of the helicopter, we stood straight and watched it lift off again. The four of us were greeted by seven others, including two Sherpas, our trek leader, and a medic.

The leader, Kyle, walked over to shake our hands. “Welcome. Get set up. We’ve got some good stew in the mess tent. Weather forecast is clear for tomorrow, so we’ll be heading up first light.”

I helped Len set up our tent. He’d obviously done this more times than most and didn’t require my help, but he accepted it anyway. The wind still blew in some heavy gusts, but that meant little this far up. We secured the tent into the thick layer of snow and ice with pins two fingers-width thick. Although the sun shined down on my face, we felt very little warmth.

Gear stored, Len and I headed for the mess tent with our metal plates and cups. We found a stew of root vegetables and chunks of yak meat. I’d never eaten yak meat before. Something new to add to the list. They also had this curdled yak’s milk cheese that tasted ripe and still had yak hairs in it.

Oh, well. When in Nepal…

Bellies full, we talked for a while with our groupmates. Jan and Taika, a couple from Helsinki, had been married fifteen years and this was their anniversary gift to one another. They had three kids back home and were avid naturalists—which I admit kind of weirded me out because I thought by naturalists, they were talking the nudist variety, but as it turns out what they meant was environmentalists—who farmed their own naturally sustainable, organic food sources. While Byung-joon, a business man from Seoul, tired of the grind, did what Brian had done. Quit his job, sold off his possessions, and made his way here, the first stop on the rest of his life.

I explained for Len and me. “We’ve been together for almost two years. I gave up my apartment for a job and stayed with Len, but we spent every night together, so I never moved out. We did bring two Cockapoos into our home, too. They stay with our good friends Dion and Henri when we go out of town. We’re here because those two”—I pointed to Meredith and Brandon—“like to travel and Meredith wants good hair for her pictures. I’m a hair dresser. Len’s an adventure guide.”

Brandon spoke for them. Actually, he shrugged and said, “We’re rich.”

Probably at about 10:00, we hunkered down for the night. The wind had picked up pretty steadily and it rattled the sides of the tent.

“Basecamp nookie?” Len asked, a glint of hopefulness in his eyes.

“Do me, big boy,” I teased.

The best part was that with the wind howling so loudly, no one could hear me. And my awesome boyfriend hit all the right places. I sang for the angels.

We woke at first light and packed up our gear. Snowsuits required. Hats, gloves, boots, crampons. Once everyone had finished breakfast, because this was not the kind of hike one started on an empty stomach, our leaders positioned themselves two to the front and two to the rear, and we hiked.

For hours.

The wind picked up and even blew some snow around. We made camp for the night. Each individual or couple was responsible for our own food at the satellite camp. Len and I slept hard. No nookie.

Next morning we packed and started again. Up the mountain. Up. Up. Up. We reached a giant crevasse. If you looked down into it, you couldn’t see the bottom. That was how far down it went.

Kyle hooked himself to a rope and scaled the crevasse, then Mandy, the medic, hooked each one of us, one at a time, to the rope, and Kyle helped pull us over to his side. It reminded me of the day Len and I had first done the zipline. Only, one didn’t zip across this line. We pulled with our arms while our legs dangled.

Halfway across the giant gap, I looked down and thought I might pee my pants. But I had Len at my back, cheering me on, giving me the motivation to keep going.

At one point, we got so warm from all the climbing and clear weather, that people started unzipping and/or taking their coats off.

Who would’ve thunk, sweating in below zero temps? In all seriousness, the idea of it seemed impossible, but there we were or there they were—undressing in this weather. Len and I wore state-of-the-art winter gear that wicked away the sweat and moisture to keep us totally dry. The kind of state-of-the-art winter gear only Meredith and Brandon could afford to pay for. Because they wanted us here, they paid for all of it.

Taika’s crampon hit something in the ice and she slipped, sliding backward down the slope. Jan and Len lunged for her, each getting an arm. Taika screamed. I screamed. I thought even Jan screamed. Our leaders doubled back and the ones at the end ran forward to help, but her man and my man had already saved the day. We stopped for a rest after that because that close call ended up way too close for comfort.

It turned out her crampon had hit a shovel from probably the late 1800s or early 1900s.

Every so often, Len pulled his phone out to video our progress, even though he continued to wear that stupid helmet with the camera attached. We posted all the time to social media. And we even ran a travel blog, so our reach went way beyond that of friends and family. My dad loved the blog. He and my mom commented on every update. They loved to show us off to their friends. Yes,us. Len and I were a package deal with those two. Especially since my dad had recovered fully from the heart attack and the stent kept his pesky artery unblocked, we surprised them with a trip to Mexico. My parents went swimming with sharks.

At camp three, we stopped on a ledge of the Lhotse wall. At each interval, we had to take time to acclimatize to the elevation so we didn’t get elevation sickness. That can kill fast. Like a diver getting the bends. It was all rope climbing once we left camp three.

For our final camp, we hit a compacted snowfield. Solid. Relatively safe, considering we were up on a mountain. But before we reached camp four, we had to climb with the ropes again. At least we stayed to an elevation where supplementary oxygen hadn’t become necessary yet.

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