OUR twin Otter landed on the exposed runway at the Nepalese village of Lukla, over 9,000 feet in the Himalayan foothills and the starting point for our trek to climb Imja Tse (Island Peak), a 20,000+ feet (6189m) summit situated south-east of Everest in the Sagamartha National Park.
Among the passengers was our group of ten, plus our British leader, Zac.
Supporting us were three Sherpas, a cook and a herdsman in charge of the four yaks which were to carry most of our gear to Base Camp.
This was my second Himalayan expedition, having summitted a sister mountain in 2010.
The group was experienced, competent and fit and I was conscious of being 20 years older than the rest of the team, who were in their 30s and early 40s.
The eight-day trek to the mountain was considerably shorter than on my previous trip, so this had the advantage of using less energy before the climb itself but the disadvantage of a shorter period to acclimatise.
The pace was relaxed as we moved through the lower foothills, staying at basic tea houses where food, a bed and most importantly boiled or bottled water – four litres a day per person to help avoid altitude sickness – was available.
We followed the busy trail towards Base Camp before turning off into more remote country.
We passed through several villages, including the Sherpa capital Namche Bazaar. As we gained height, the accommodation and food became more basic and while the temperature was in the low to mid-twenties during the day, it dropped significantly at night, making a four season sleeping bag and down jacket necessities.
At Chukung, the highest village on the trail, we stopped for two nights.
Until then, the party had been in good shape but at this point the signs of altitude sickness started to appear, notably headaches and breathing difficulties.
The following day we arrived at Base Camp.
Our two-man tents were still being erected when we arrived, but the mess tent was up, so we ate and discussed the ascent.
The afternoon was spent practising our rope work followed by an early dinner and bed.
After kitting up and eating a breakfast of rice pudding, it was 1.30am when we headed for the mountain.
Notwithstanding five layers, double high altitude boots and down jackets, the cold seemed to find a way in.
The combination of altitude, steepness and day sacks containing our climbing gear, spare clothing and water, made breathing a struggle and forced a slow pace.
One person decided to drop out as, later, did one of the fittest members of the group, because of a stomach upset.
The next section of the climb was rock – a long and sometimes exposed ridge which took a lot of time to negotiate.
As dawn broke, we reached the glacier and roped-up to weave our way towards the 'headwall' which would take us to the summit.
We were conscious of time passing but with the breathtaking views we were glad to be there.
At last we came to the 'headwall'. We unroped and individually started the ascent.
At intervals the rope was pitoned into the 'headwall', so it took time to detach the jumar clamp, reattach it above the piton, sort out the safety sling and make sure, while you were doing this, you were well dug in with your crampons and ice axe.
Once a rhythm was established the process quickened and I could see, looking up, that the two who had been on my rope on the glacier were almost at the summit ridge.
It was then that the accident happened.
When a lump of ice was detached from above, it had a direct hit on my head. There was no pain, but there was a good deal of blood. I felt OK, but was concerned about the bleeding.
I was well over halfway up and, as I knew how to jumar up, the decision was made.
I made the ridge where Sherpa Nuhru (32 years old and a record of summitting Everest 20 times) clipped me onto the fixed rope to the summit, as well as to him.
I welcomed the help.
Fifteen minutes later, I joined four members of our team who were already on the summit.
Time to admire the view, take a quick photograph and think about the descent.
It was 11.20am – ten hours since leaving Base Camp.
I knew that the first part of the descent was to abseil back down the fixed rope – something I should have been able to do easily. But I was tired and cold and I wanted to get down.
I swallowed my pride and asked Nuhru to parallel me down.
Not only did he do this, but stayed with me to Base Camp.
I resolved to give him a generous tip in addition to the customary tips that would be given to the Sherpas by the group as a whole.
I made it to my tent. I was totally spent. That evening I did not join the rest in the mess tent.
They brought me soup and a piece of celebratory cake.
Zac dressed my wound twice and insisted on guiding me to a medical station that was staffed by a Western doctor. As we left the centre, it began to snow.
I reflected on the way Zac had handled the situation.
Empathy and patience are leadership qualities.
From the tea house, we descended back to the green foothills and three days later were back at Lukla to board the small aircraft to take us back to Kathmandu.
It had been a successful but eventful two weeks. I had achieved my goal, but at a cost.
Had I bitten off more than I could chew?
How much did it really matter if I had not made the summit?
One simple and obvious truth that emerged from these reflections was the importance I attached to the life we had created back home in Great Warley and the day-to-day things you so easily take for granted . When you are grappling with a clamp halfway up a cold mountain these thoughts come in sharp relief.
