For westerners trekking in the Himalayas in an idyllic adventure holiday. But for many young Nepalis who eke out a bare living by carrying the visitors' heavy loads, it's the final journey.
It is obvious before leaving home that slippery paths, hours of walking each day and dubious hygiene would be more than enough to contend with, without having to lug a pack around. The locals could do the heavy lifting. After having cooked breakfast for the tourists men who make their living from helping softies pack up the tent and the 30 kilos of gear strewn through it. They tie it up into a bundle, attach a thin, old piece of rope and hessian head strap (called a tump line) to it and carry it to the next camp site, bearing weight on their forehead.
Tourists on this trek have to do nothing but stroll along, try not to twist an ankle and enjoy the scenery. It costs 54 pounds a day for the privilege of having meals cooked, tents erected and belongings carried by what basically equates to a team of human pack mules. Locals are carting the greenhorn walker's gear.
A.B. was hired by a commercial trekking group. One morning near the top of the pass he felt ill, so ill he couldn't carry his load. He was paid his wages and dismissed. Fellow porters said later that snow was falling steadily as he staggered off, alone, without even a blanket for protection and with just a handful of American dollars. A.B. didn\'t get far. He was vomiting and complaining of a severe headache by the time he reached at a teahouse. He collapsed. By this time it was clear what ailed him: acute mountain sickness, which if not treated swiftly can be fatal. But in an impoverished high altitude settlement medical care is pretty much nonexistent. He was unable to stand, could scarcely breathe and was coughing up fluid. He collapsed and died. His body lay by the trail for three days.
Altitude sickness: a sometimes fatal illness that can trigger fluid on the lungs and brain, gastrointestinal ulceration and cardiac failure. What angers him is that many of those who have died have been porters, and many death have been preventable.
There is a large and growing tally in death and frostbite injury, and it's the tip of the iceberg. For the doctor the Sherpa's death was the last straw. Now he and a handful of Nepalis and westerners with links there are trying to expose the sorts of conditions all too many porters endure. Duff set up the International Porter Protection Group (IPPG) to highlight the exploitation and neglect of local labour that is rife in the trekking industry.
Porters are exploited, pushing themselves to the limit for what to a westerner is the price of a pint. They are tramping through knee-deep snow, their only footwear a pair of flip-flops, not even given a blanket, let alone a tent for shelter. Stories abound of them wearing just a garbage bag for protection, working for a pittance.
Each year when the snows melt, the corpses are found: porters who became separated from the group (there is nobody responsible for where the porters are), or who were paid off and sent on their way if they feel ill and were unable to carry a load any longer. They just sat down, became hypothermic and died. Nobody on the trek they were carrying for had stopped to check if they were safe.
The IPPG wants stringent monitoring of pay and conditions, and also wants tourists to hit operators where it hurts by insisting porters are treated and paid well, or taking their business elsewhere. IPPG is hoping to clean up the scene before it becomes an international human rights issue.
The IPPG doesn't want to deter visitors from hiring porters; it's an essential jobs sector. Western visitors have money to burn compared with the average Nepali.
400 trekking companies compete for those tourists dollars in fierce. Undercutting is the name of the game, and corners are cut to keep prices low. But it's not tourists who are on the receiving end of those cut corners; it's the people humping their gear.
What the IPPG is hoping to do is educate the tour companies, the trek leaders, the porters themselves and the people who come to explore the mountains. They say it's time to dispel the romanticised image many westerners have of porters as hardy souls at home in the mountains, for whom comforts of high-tech protective equipment are unnecessary.
The reality is that he bulk of those who make up the trekking porter workforce are no more used to coping with high altitude than the tourists whose equipment they lug through the mountain passes. Not all Sherpas are high-altitude specialists. They are not any better than the tourists at coping with extreme cold. No reason why the man carrying 60 kilos on his back shouldn't be wearing a jacket, a cap and gloves, that no tourist in their right mind would consider going to the mountains without. Seeing Sherpas' injuries is a sobering picture: snowblindness because they don't have goggles; frostbitten limbs, pneumonia, cerebral oedema. Getting patients to a lower altitude fast is crucial when treating acute mountain sickness. For tourists, there is always an airlift.
Sherpas don't like to work, but they have to do it because they need the money. The top rate they can expect is about 150 rupees a day, they carry between 50 and 60 kilos and they have to provide their own food. There are no unions there. Nepalese law now requires all companies to insure their porters against death.
Losing fingers through frostbite will end a porter's working life. A social safety net is nonexistent; remarriages by widows are rare and culturally frowned on. If a porter dies or can no longer walk, it leaves the family desperate. The trekking companies don't listen to them, and if they refuse to work under these conditions, there are plenty more men willing to take their place. They have no education and that's why they are destitute. There is no point in complaining. They feel worthless.
The tragedy of Mount Everest happened when on the night of May 10, 1996 30 climbers, who were descending from the summit, were hit by a snowstorm which had come by surprise. Within 24 hours eight had died and tree others had suffered severe frostbite. The dead included two of the world´s most highly respected mountaineers. Over 75 years of expeditions, Everest has claimed 142 lives, but never al many in a single 24 hour period. Dr.Beck Weathers is a pathologist who was climbing Mount Everest. He was pronounced dead when he was found some 200 metres from the camp. He lost both arms and his nose to frostbite, but with the help of microsurgery surgeons were able to give him a robo-arm and to reconstruct his nose. Anatoli Boukreev is a Russian guide. In the tragedy of May 10 he saved three people but was criticised for leaving the summit too early and not staying with the others. Another member of the expedition was a cinematographer who wanted to produce a documentary for IMAX and OMNIMAX.
CLEAN-UP CREW CONSIDERS EVEREST A "SORE SPOT"
This spring, the Inventa Everest 2000 Environmental Expedition is being called the most significant clean-up ever undertaken from the high camps of Mount Everest.
A team of eight world-renowned climbers and over 20 Sherpas will climb the South Col to Camp number 4 (26,000 feet) this May to remove hundreds of discarded oxygen bottles and tons of trash left by past climbers.
Leader of the Environmental Clean-up team is Robert Hoffman, 56, from California, who is making his fourth expedition to Everest.
The expedition trek leader is the son of one of the first Everst summiteers, Tenzing Norgay.
In addition physician Sherman Bull, 63, is a member of the team too, and he will be the oldest climber ever to reach the summit.
Lead Sherpa is Appa Sherpa, who holds the world record with 10 Mount Everest summits.
The team estimates there are 600 to 1000 empty bottles at the South Col, giving it the dubious distinction of being the world's highest garbage dump.
The mission is two-fold. In addition to climbing the highest peak in the world, they will make a significant clean-up of a major environment sore spot, what should be one of the most pristine places on earth.
They want to bring back the "roof of the world" to its original condition in time for the 50th anniversary of the first ascent in 1953.
There appears to be a ready market for used Everest oxygen bottles. Every bottle which was brought back from Everest was sold through their web site. All the other stuff, say burnable and biodegradable trash, will be sent to appropriate waste management facilities.
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