Mera Peak has just the sort of base camp you'd imagine: a set of tents splayed about some rocks by the foot of the mountain. But the town of Khare is close enough to the mountain that it's become the de-facto base camp.

After a comfortable night in a tea house (basically a hybrid campsite-hotel) in Khare, we left for advanced base camp at 8am. After 2 hours of hiking, we pulled out our climbing gear, including mountaineering boots, crampons, a harness, and an ice axe.

The remainder of the hike would be on snow and ice, so the 7 of us roped up to make sure that if one person slipped, the rest would catch him.

Our badass hiking crew outfitted with crampons and ropes.

We started ascending a bowl of ice and snow. I was convinced that the advanced base camp lay at the top of this bowl, but boy was I wrong. We opened our packed lunches at the top of the bowl. It was windy and cold, so a couple of us ate standing up, backs to the wind. I don't think anyone ate much --I just stuffed a bunch of Oreos into my mouth then rushed to put my face mask back on.

After “lunch,” we continued climbing. To my dismay, it turned out we were at the foot of a massive hill. Climbing with crampons was exhausting, so we agreed to take a break every forty steps. With this slow pace, we were still on the snow when the afternoon fog rolled in. That was surreal! The 7 of us tied together, stomping through a foggy nothingness.

At around 4pm, the fog cleared and we could make out a rocky outcrop spotted with orange North Face tents: advanced base camp.

We were warned in advance that the camp was not much to sneeze at, but it exceeded my low expectations. Marloes and I spent the evening in the cooking tent, hanging out with the cook and his assistant. While we peeled garlic, our assistant climbing guide Tanzi came in with bags full of ice he’d chopped off the glacier. These were boiled for water.

This probably gives you a sense of just how cold it was, but let me emphasize further: it was friggin cold! My contact solution froze, and I slept with my water bottles in my sleeping bag to stop them from freezing too. I also froze, and did shamefully little stargazing in the -20C air.

We were served dinner in our tents: tomato soup, popcorn, and spaghetti. Popcorn seems to be one of those Western foods that has really taken off here in Nepal.

Dinner in bed! Spaghetti with canned ham.

We were leaving at 12:30am the following morning. Like with most snow covered mountains, it's best to climb in the early morning, before the sun has turned snow to slush and triggered avalanches.

A headache and some nausea made my sleep very restless. I dreamt of being back in Khare, drinking chai and sitting by the fire. I kept waking up and checking my watch: 11pm, 11:30pm, 12:15, 1am… where's Lackba?

Turns out he was waiting to see if the wind would die down. At midnight, wind gusts reached 60mph. Thankfully by 2am the wind settled down, and Lackba came to our tent to wake us.

I was wide awake already, but not feeling great. I considered staying back due to my headache and nausea, classic signs of altitude sickness. Bizarrely, none of our guides had a pulse oximeter so it was difficult to measure how bad it was. I decided to start the hike, and turn back if the symptoms got worse.

My dad had enough adventure climbing to the high camp, and decided to stay back and photograph nearby mountains, including Nuptse, Lhotse, Ama Dablam, and Everest.

The view of Everest (left), Nuptse (center), and Lhotse (right)

Our climbing party consisted of Marloes (a Dutch hiker), Nandini (a local woman from Thagnag), Captain Lackba (our climbing guide), and Just Lackba (our assistant climbing guide). Because two members of our party were named Lackba, we promoted our climbing guide to Captain, relegating the other to “Just Lackba.” We in turn were referred to as Team Boca (translation: Idiot Team), and agreed that if we could climb Mera Peak, then surely any idiot could.

It took an hour to force down some oatmeal and saddle up. We stepped back onto the ice at 3am, once again roped together.

I found out later that the route to Mera Peak passes by 27 crevasses. Early in the climbing season, Sherpas will map and mark a safe route to the peak. At the time I thought it was miraculous that Captain Lackba was navigating this route by starlight. Once the sun rose, I realized that he was following a shoveled trail.

The hours before sunrise were hard. It was very cold, and while my two down jackets and down pants kept me warm, occasionally the wind would cut through my balaclava, sending sharp chills down my body. We stopped every few minutes. During most of these breaks I collapsed on top of my poles, hunched over like an old man.

Hiking at altitude is exhausting. The closest analog is hiking with the flu --you feel exhausted so easily. When taking a break, I wouldn't drink water because opening my pack took too much energy. Altitude also zaps you of personality. When on long runs or hikes, I try to entertain the people I'm with, or at least check up on how they're feeling. That doesn't happen at altitude --my mind is fully occupied with the task at hand: overcoming the pain to keep moving forward. This also explains why I have no photos from this stage of the hike.

We saw the first hints of dawn at 4:30am, and by 6 we turned off our headlamps. At least now we could see our progress. But we were moving so slowly and taking so many breaks that this was actually demoralizing. I decided to only look up at our route once every 5 breaks, spending the other 4 staring at my shoes. This sounds depressing, but at 20k+ feet it makes little difference what you look at when taking a break.

Nandini started hurling about an hour into the hike. I was sure she would turn back, but after a few words with Captain Lackba she plowed onwards. Our trail was littered with vomit, urine, and feces. Being from San Francisco, this was nothing out of the ordinary, but I'm sure it disgusted others. The temperatures are so low that bacteria doesn't consume the waste.

As we rounded yet another hill, a peak appeared in the distance. Just Lackba said it was Mera Peak, and I excitedly repeated the news to the folks behind me. As we drifted farther from the peak though, I realized something was off. I was too tired to ask though, and kept ploughing past this peak. It turned out to be Mera North which is the true summit of the mountain, but is too prone to avalanches to climb. We continued onwards to Mera Central.

At this point Marloes turned back. She couldn't catch her breath, even when standing still. At this altitude, the oxygen levels are 40% what they are at sea level. She and Just Lackba took the ropes, so Captain Lackba, Nandini, and I bound our harnesses together and carried on. We looked like a lethargic chain gang, constantly pulling each other forward.

At last we reached the base of the central summit. It didn’t appear that steep, and I was strangely reminded of Stokes Hill, where I went sledding as a kid. We dropped our packs and began to climb. First snow, then ice, then snow again.

I didn't realize we were at the summit until Captain Lackba stopped and hugged each of us. The final ascent was far less difficult than I thought it would be --the real challenge was getting there.

Mera Peak is described as the highest “trekking peak”. It requires a lot of endurance and perseverance to climb, but relatively little climbing skills. It was a challenge, but mainly a physical one. The trip has inspired me to start climbing more technical mountains, beginning locally with Shasta and Rainier. Later, I think I will return to the Himalayas for some of the easier technical climbs like Island Peak and Nuptse.