That Summer: A last-minute trip to Everest base camp in 2008

Sadie Whitelocks headed to the Himalayas as a 21-year-old searching for adventure – with hardly any kit or preparation

The breathtaking views at Everest Base Camp (Sadie Whitelocks)

Intense terror crept up on me as I bounced through the mountain mist with Yeti Airlines. My destination was Tenzing-Hillary Airport​ in Lukla, Nepal, often considered to be one of the world’s most dangerous airports.

Perched at more than 9,000ft above sea level, where the thin air already makes flying difficult, the airport has the added challenge of a truncated landing strip, which at 1,729ft long, is just a fifth of the average runway at an international hub.

The towering mountains around it offer little room for error. And then there’s the notoriously temperamental weather in the Himalayas.

With my life flashing before my eyes, I suddenly wondered whether booking a last-minute trekking trip to Everest base camp to celebrate my 21st birthday was a poorly thought-out decision.

The plane continued to bob up and down through puffs of cloud, with the dense mountain forest below inching closer each time.

From the “prime” position behind the pilot, I spotted what I feared was a flight instruction manual under his seat and desperately prayed he had completed a few more trips before this outing.

Thankfully, a tiny slip of tarmac soon came into view, and with a bounce and a thud, we landed safely. That ride from Kathmandu was the longest 25 minutes.

The first thing that hit me, after spotting dozens of locals gathered at the rusting airport fence to check out the arrivals, was the thin air. I had to perch on a small stone wall to stop myself from falling over.

It was the first time I had been at such an altitude and it felt like blood was trickling out of my body.

The view into the cockpit (Sadie Whitelocks)

I managed to shuffle over to a little wooden shack selling bottles of water and sweet treats and buy a Mars Bar, which seemingly cured my sudden bout of altitude sickness.

While I steadied myself, I could feel the doubt of my 12 fellow trekkers. We hadn’t even got going and I was already demonstrating chinks in my armour.

Admittedly, I was very underprepared for the trip, which I had booked just three weeks earlier in a last-minute bid for adventure somewhere off-grid. With my parents divorced, I didn’t want to choose who I’d spend my special birthday with.

They were also rightly suspicious of my trekking gear, which included a backpack with a gaffer-taped strap that I had borrowed from a friend. I had delved into my wardrobe from outdoor pursuit courses at school and purchased some hiking boots from Millets the day before flying, unaware that it’s usually best to break them in first. And I casually wore flip-flops and a floral skirt on the plane ride up.

Despite my near-fainting episode, and my slapdash kit, after leaving the tiny, blue-roofed town of Lukla, I managed to keep up with the group.

The scenery was sublime. The winding route to Everest base camp in the August of 2008 was almost devoid of people.

Yeti Airways – the fastest way to Everest base camp (Sadie Whitelocks)

There was the occasional stray mountain goat, and a steady trickle of locals carting incredibly heavy loads on their heads and stout necks, but we rarely had to shuffle over for passersby. And we were the sole occupants of the little lodges you stay in along the way.

Over several days, we snaked over green grasslands and into thickly forested areas where rickety swinging bridges were the only path across gaping ravines. ​

We had Tengboche Monastery – where we got our first glimpse of Everest just before it was shrouded by morning mist – all to ourselves. In its magical enclosure, we huddled around a fire fuelled by yak dung, indulged in cups of sweet milk tea and listened to the monks’ chanting peter out as the chill of the evening set in.

Some spots were less enchanting than others.

In one lodge, I remember hearing an alarming fluttering sound and, turning on the light, found a carpet of moths writhing on the wooden ceiling.

In another hut, you had to be very careful when using the long drop toilet as the stained wooden boards were wearing through and felt very flimsy underfoot.

A majestic view of Everest (Sadie Whitelocks)

When we finally reached our destination after slogging over boggy moorlands and rubble-strewn plains, it was a pretty emotional moment.

I cried when I saw Everest’s snow-dusted slopes, majestically emerging from marshmallow clouds, its lunar-like surface cracking and fizzing as chasms of ice continuously shifted. There were piercing blue pools of water hiding under thick frozen crusts, and the black scree under my feet felt ominous.

But that feeling of being completely silenced by such a unique landscape never left me.

After that trip to Everest base camp, I always yearned to go back to the Himalayas.

Sadie Whitelocks breaking records at Everest almost a decade later (Sadie Whitelocks)

Almost 10 years later, I heard someone was putting together a team to set the Guinness World Record for the highest dinner party on the North Col of Mount Everest, at 23,149ft.

I put myself forward for the challenge, although this time around I had some proper gear and I’d done a bit more training than jogging up and down the London Underground escalators!

When I saw Everest again, memories from my first encounter with the peak came flooding back. I certainly never dreamed as a naive backpacker that I’d one day return to Everest to eat a three-course meal on its slopes and set a world record.

I guess it’s funny how things come full circle. That’s the beauty of travel; you never know how one experience will influence you down the line in ways you never imagined.

This piece appears as part of The Independent’s That Summer series. Find out more about it here.