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The Everest Base Camp Trek (EBC Trek) is the most popular trek in Nepal. It starts with a scenic flight to Lukla (2,840m) or a drive to Thamdanda or Surke from Kathmandu. Trekkers follow ancient trade paths through Sherpa villages, glacial rivers and alpine forests.
Trekking to Everest Base Camp offers stunning views of the highest mountains in the world. Highlights include Mount Everest (8,848.86m), Lhotse (8,516m), Nuptse (7,861m) and Ama Dablam (6,812m). The highest point on the Everest Base Camp trek is Kala Patthar (5,545m) which gives the best view of Everest.
The EBC Trekking trail is around 130 km round trip from Lukla to Lukla. If you start and end at Thamdanda or Surke the distance is about 150 km. The Everest trail is steep ascent, rocky path, suspension bridges and high altitude terrain. The toughest part is the climb from Lobuche to Gorak Shep and Kala Patthar due to altitude.
The average walking time in Everest Base Camp Trek is 5 to 7 hours and 10 to 15 km a day. The total hiking time is around 65 to 75 hours and can be completed in 12 to 14 days. You can complete the trek in 14 to 16 days including acclimatization and travel.
Food and accommodation are available in teahouses along the Everest trail. They offer Dal Bhat, soups, noodles, pancakes and hot drinks. Rooms are basic but warm with shared toilet and limited hot shower.
The best time for Everest Base Camp Trekking is spring (March to May) and autumn (September to November). These months have stable weather, clear sky and great views.
You need two permits for Everest Base Camp Trek: Sagarmatha National Park Permit and Khumbu Pasang Lhamu Rural Municipality Permit. A guide and porter are highly recommended, especially for safety and navigation. But, one can do Everest Base Camp Trek solo or independently. Fly or drive from Kathmandu to Lukla, Thamdanda, Surke or Salleri. Return the same way or via Ramechhap if flights go there in peak season.
EBC Trek is tough but worth it. With proper planning it’s a one time journey.
The Everest Base Camp trek is a journey through the high altitudes, and with that comes the risk of altitude sickness. It does not discriminate. The threat takes hold beyond 2,500 meters. Symptoms usually begin past Namche Bazaar at 3,440 meters or Dingboche at 4,410 meters, especially near Lobuche (4,940 m) and Gorakshep (5,164 m).
Common altitude sickness symptoms during Everest Base Camp Trek include headache, nausea, tiredness, dizziness, and insomnia. More threatening forms of such illnesses are High Altitude Pulmonary Edema (HAPE) and High Altitude Cerebral Edema (HACE), taking lives with severe and dangerous turns.
Slow and steady ascent is the best to prevent altitude sickness. Acclimatize for at least a day or two on the way, Namche Bazaar and Dingboche being the best places. Drink plenty of water, do not consume alcohol, and eat well. Climb higher during the day and go to lower elevations to sleep. If your doctor recommends it, use Diamox (acetazolamide).
Never climb higher once altitude sickness symptoms have appeared. Just stay and rest at the same altitude or descend. If the symptoms worsen—such as confusion, breathlessness at rest, or inability to walk—then the person must descend immediately, down to villages like Pheriche (4,240 m) or Namche for further treatment.
In severe conditions, get the help of guides and the local rescue team. Helicopter aid is also available from locations such as Gorakshep and Lobuche or Periche.
Altitude sickness in EBC is preventable and manageable. Listen to your body, follow a good itinerary, and don't rush your trek. Doing so ensures a safe and unforgettable trek to Everest Base Camp (5,364 m).
If you are a beginner and want a slow pacing and acclimatize properly, you can begin EBC trek from Thamdanda. The drive to Thamdanda from Kathmandu is around 14 hours via Salleri. There will be the EBC Trek package like Everest Base Camp Trek by Land.
Alright, listen up. Altitude on the Everest Base Camp trek isn’t just a number on your fitness app—it’s the sneaky villain in this story, and it LOVES annoying anyone who’s not paying attention. Stuff starts to get real after 2,500 meters, and by the time you’re huffing and puffing above 5,000? You’ll wish you read this.
Lukla (2,860 m) → Namche Bazaar (3,440 m)
Right out the gate, the altitude kicks up fast. Some folks just get a little woozy, maybe a nagging headache or feel like their body’s rebelling. Nothing wild, but trust me, notice those signals. Chug water like it’s your job. And whatever you do, don’t try and win some imaginary race to Namche. Chill, speed racer.
Namche Bazaar → Tengboche (3,860 m)
Here’s where things might get spicy. You’re going up, but it feels (a little) gentler. Still, man, shortness of breath sneaks up real quick, and your head might throb like you just went too hard at karaoke night. Take an extra breather at Namche. Sorry, but booze is not your friend up here. Save it for your Everest-pub-crawl dreams.
Tengboche → Dingboche (4,410 m)
Now we’re cooking with gas. Loads of trekkers start getting whacked by AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) around here. Dizzy? No appetite? Can’t sleep? Classic signs. At Dingboche, park it for an acclimatization day and just enjoy the scenery. Don’t be a hero. You’ll thank yourself later.
Dingboche → Lobuche (4,940 m): Mood
Vulnerable. Oxygen’s dropping, and you might feel like you left your energy back at the airport. Weakness, brain fog, running out of breath walking to the outhouse—yeah, it happens. If things get sketchy, plant yourself there. Or better yet, go back down. Pride won’t keep you alive. Listen to the body, not the ego.
Lobuche → Gorak Shep (5,164 m) → Everest Base Camp (5,364 m)
This is the boss level. AMS shows up hard—intense headaches, puking, weird wobbly walking. You don’t push through that kind of stuff. You turn around and get down before you end up needing a helicopter.
Gorak Shep → Kala Patthar (5,545 m)
Sunrise hike to Kalapattar? Sounds romantic, but with zero sleep and air thin as Instagram excuses, it’s kind of brutal. Only drag yourself out if you’re feeling sharp.
So, what if you start feeling crummy? — Mild issues? Hit pause. Rest. Drink more than you think you need. Go slow. — But if it turns nasty—bad headache, vomiting, can’t walk straight? Time to head downward, fast. Get air, call for help if needed. — NEVER go higher if you’re getting worse. No view is worth a hospital bed. Bottom line: Your body’s the real expert here. Watch, listen, react. Stay sharp, be smart, and don’t let summit fever turn into something much worse. This is survival, not a TikTok challenge.
Alright, let’s talk about altitude sickness on Everest Base Camp Trek—yeah, that fun little surprise waiting up on the Everest Base Camp trek. First off, EBC sits at a bonkers 5,364 meters (or about 17,600 feet—seriously, nosebleed territory). You’d think with a place that high up, the only thing you'd catch is a view, but nope. Altitude sickness, also known as AMS if you wanna sound like you know your stuff, is honestly super common.
Real data says somewhere between 30% and 50% of people trudging up there catch symptoms. So, picture your trekking group: basically every other person is wheezing, groaning, or popping Acetazolamide. There’s this 2012 study—“Wilderness & Environmental Medicine”, if you’re curious—that pinned AMS rates at 43%. Weirdly specific, right? Most folks start feeling messed up around Namche Bazaar (3,440 m) and Dingboche (4,410 m). Not exactly luxury spa altitudes.
Fast forward to a 2014 report in “Journal of Travel Medicine”, and it’s the same story. Things really go sideways after you hit 3,000 meters, but around Lobuche (4,940 m)? That’s chaos. Lots of people get knocked back by symptoms there.
Now, despite all this drama, most people actually make it. The success rate for EBC is stupid high—like 90%! But, yeah, a couple of unlucky trekkers (usually 1–2 out of every 100) wind up calling a helicopter thanks to AMS or some other health curveball. Helicopter rides at Pheriche or Dingboche? Pricey, but honestly, probably worth it if it means avoiding a headline like “American Tourist Ignores Headache, Goes Full Yeti.” Deaths? Kinda rare, thank God.
The Himalayan Database says 3-5 trekkers die each year—mostly AMS, heart stuff, or just plain bad luck during Everest Base Camp Trek. When you realize how many people flood this trail annually, those numbers are actually... weirdly low. But still, not exactly a fun statistic to kick around the campsite. When people have to bail on their big Everest dream, it usually happens at Namche, Tengboche, or Dingboche. These places at least have beds and food for licking your wounds—or, you know, sitting there being dramatic while your friend calls their mom.
The main culprit behind AMS cases? Going up too fast and being a stubborn mule. Yep, that’s about it. Every ounce of research hammers away at two simple things: acclimatize (i.e., chill and stop acting like you’re racing Kilian Jornet) and drink plenty of water. Take rest days at Namche and Dingboche. Plan your trip so you go slow, and honestly, your odds of helicoptering out go way down. So, bottom line: altitude sickness is totally a thing, but it’s not like a doom sentence. Prep right, stop trying to prove something to Instagram, and most folks will stroll into EBC with nothing worse than a solid sunburn and some wild stories.
No One Asked For Alright, let’s talk about Khumbu Cough—that gnarly hacking cough everyone ends up with when trekking in the Everest region. Seriously, if you hit altitudes above 3,500 meters (right around Namche Bazaar), you’re basically rolling the dice. By the time you stumble up to places like Dingboche, Lobuche, or Gorak Shep, forget about it—your lungs are in for a wild ride. Funny thing is, it’s not actual altitude sickness (so technically, you’re not dying—yay). But the air up there? Drier than your favorite aunt’s turkey. Cold too. The Khumbu Cough looks like altitude sickness on EBC, but, actually, it is not.
Your throat gets pissed off, and every breath feels like someone’s been sandblasting your windpipe. Locals even call it Everest’s “special gift.” You know, because nothing says “welcome to the Himalayas” like coughing your guts out all night. It usually shows up as a brutal, dry cough—no mucus, no fever, just that endless tickle making you sound like a broken engine every time you try to talk or suck in air. Sometimes your throat feels like it’s been attacked by a cheese grater, or maybe your voice drops two octaves. Chest tightness? Oh, sure, why not. If you’re waiting for gross phlegm like a normal sick person, you’re outta luck. This cough isn’t about that life. What causes it? Well, mainly you’re breathing in frigid, bone-dry air way faster than normal, thanks to the thin atmosphere.
Start speeding up the trail, think you’re some kind of mountain goat? Bad move, buddy, now you’re hacking twice as much. Add dust (hello, yak trains) and the smoke from those charming but smoky teahouse stoves, and your lungs start plotting revenge. How do mere mortals fight back? Easy(ish). First off, stash a scarf, buff, or anything you can wrap around your mouth and nose—trust me, it helps.
Looks goofy? Maybe, but it warms up the air before you drag it into your lungs. Avoid big, open-mouthed panting like you’re in a horror movie. Take your sweet time, especially between Namche and Tengboche or up to Lobuche; slow and steady is the name of the game. Hot drinks are your best friend; think endless chai and soups, not ice-cold water. Dodge the dust clouds on the trail (not always easy, I won’t lie). Face masks or neck gaiters help a ton—and no, it’s not just a COVID thing. Lozenges, steam from a kettle, or just whining about it to other trekkers: worth a try. Look, Khumbu Cough generally won’t kill you, but it’ll make you wish it’d leave already.
Most folks handle it fine with a bit of adjustment and smart habits. Everest Base Camp waits at the end, so don’t throw in the towel—just bring a scarf, pack your patience, and get ready to trade coughing stories with every other sweaty, red-faced hiker on the way.
(trip:everest-base-camp-trek-without-lukla-flight]
Alright, let’s talk about what really happens when folks hit the Everest Base Camp trail. Here’s a lowdown on ten mistakes people make on high-altitude treks (yeah, Namche Bazaar, Dingboche, all those uphill towns you’ve seen on Insta). Just a heads up: the mountains do not care if you’re “feeling strong.” The rules are for everyone.
1. Charging Up the Mountain
Like You’re in Fast & Furious Look, I get it. You just landed in Lukla (2,860m), you’re hyped, you wanna breeze into Namche (3,440m) and post those “I’m already here!” selfies. But man, that’s a 600m hop in one day. Bad move. Some people get cocky and charge straight for Tengboche (3,860m) the next morning. Guess what? The mountain slaps back. Some dude last year had to get helicoptered out from Tengboche. You don’t wanna be “that guy.” Take it slow—never climb more than 500m a day after 3,000m, no matter how invincible you feel.
2. Blowing Off Acclimatization Rest Days (aka “But I Feel Fiiiine!”)
Everyone underestimates this one. They’re like, “Rest day? Nah, waste of time!” Then they go from Namche to Dingboche (4,410m) without chilling. Somebody in 2023 even skipped Dingboche’s rest day, shot up to Lobuche (4,940m), and ended up getting airlifted. Don’t be that person. Your “boring” rest days are the real MVPs—climb high, sleep low. You snooze, you don’t lose.
3. Not Drinking Enough (Water, Not Beer)
It’s so dry up there your lips are basically sandpaper. And you’re puffing away like you’ve got asthma. If you don’t drink enough (think 3-4 liters), headache city, baby. And yeah, I know those mountain bathrooms are arctic, but dehydration packs way more misery. A bottle, some electrolytes, and for the love of the Khumbu, always purify your water unless you’re cool with “Nepali belly.”
4. Playing Superman With Your Steps
Oh man, every trip there’s someone sprinting up to the Everest View Hotel (3,880m) on day two, then face-planting. Trekking is not the Olympics—stop trying to win. Keep your pace chill, and take breaks. If you’re gasping or feel your heart doing drum solos, stop and catch your breath. Overexertion is how tough guys end up getting piggy-backed down by a Sherpa twice their size.
5. Pretending Not to Notice Headaches, Nausea, Dizziness
Here’s a pro-tip: Mountains don’t reward bravado. Ignore AMS symptoms and you’re pretty much booking yourself a chopper ride (and not the cool kind). Some dude at Lobuche tough-guy’d his way to Gorakshep (5,164m), collapsed next morning. Take weird stuff seriously. Tell your guide, don’t just pop a Diamox and hope for the best. Sometimes you need to go down. Who cares what your trekking group thinks?
6. Sleeping WAY Too High, WAY Too Soon
People get loopy with their plans. Dingboche (4,410m) to Gorakshep (5,164m) in one swoop? Insanity. That’s how a couple last year ended up bailing straight back to Pheriche with AMS. If you feel rough, DO NOT sleep higher. Trust the process. This ain’t a horror movie—don’t skip steps, or you’ll be the next tragic travel tale.
7. Partying On the Trail (Booze & Smokes)
You reach Namche and suddenly it’s Oktoberfest. Newsflash: beers at 3,440m are a guaranteed bad idea. Alcohol dehydrates and disguises AMS symptoms. Add cigarettes, and you’re starving your body of oxygen. In 2021, a trekker partied in Namche, then felt like his chest was in a vise hiking to Tengboche. Save the partying for when you’re under 3,000m. The mountain isn’t judging—your lungs are.
8. Not Layering Up
Weather above 4,000m is about as stable as your WiFi in rural Nepal. One hour: sunny. Next? Siberia. This one guy at Gorakshep got mild frostbite rocking Dollar Store gloves. The gear list isn’t for show—base layers, insulated shell, windproof jacket. Good gloves, socks, and backup warm gear—keep it all in your daypack. Your fingers will thank you later. If you need help for pack list for Everest Base Camp, visit us at: Trekking Equipment Check List in order to finalize the right gear.
9. Skipping Meals Because “Not Hungry”
Altitude can kill your appetite, but skipping meals is for amateurs. Your body needs fuel even if your brain says “meh.” Had a trekker bail on dinner at Pheriche, fainted next morning climbing Nangkartshang Peak (5,083m). Classic mistake. Shovel in the dal bhat, soup, whatever you can. Force it down, carry snacks, and never “diet” up there. No shame.
10. Not Listening to Your Own Body
You gotta pay attention. If you’re hurting, breathless, or getting weird pains (especially chest stuff), don’t gaslight yourself. Trekking = not a competition. One guy ignored chest pain between Lobuche and Gorakshep and ended up on a heli out. Communicate, drop the macho act, and descend if you gotta. You’re not impressing anybody by pretending you’re invincible. Bottom line: Mountains are brutal but fair. They don’t care who you are or what your Instagram follower count is. Respect their rules, respect your body, and you stand a chance of actually enjoying the best trek of your life instead of riding shotgun in a rescue chopper.
1. Don’t Rush the Climb—Let Your Body Figure Things Out
Look, the quickest way to ruin your shot at Everest Base Camp? Charging uphill like you’re late for a flight. That altitude sickness? It doesn’t mess around. From Lukla (2,860m) all the way up to Base Camp (5,364m), you’re playing with some real elevation. Play it smart—after you hit about 3,000m, keep your daily gain under 300 to 500 meters. Once you reach Namche Bazaar (hello yak burgers), stop for a couple nights. Hang out at Dingboche, too. Your body will thank you—trust me.
2. Actually Use Those Acclimatization Days
Everybody talks about “rest days,” but honestly, most folks just wanna power through. Bad move. Your lungs NEED that downtime, especially in places like Namche and Dingboche. So, seriously, take an extra night. Do a cheeky day hike (nothing wild), then drop back down to sleep. Stay put on Day 3 in Namche, then Day 6 in Dingboche. Science agrees with your guide on this one.
3. Hike Up High, Crash Down Low
No, not party talk—real altitude strategy. The trick is: walk high in the day, but drop lower to sleep. Your body adapts without you waking up feeling like your head’s been put in a vice. From Dingboche, check out Nangkartshang Peak (5,083m) as a solid hike. Save the summit sleeping for another trip.
4. Water Is Your New Best Friend (Booze Isn’t)
Listen, hydration is non-negotiable up there. Being dry as a raisin is a fast track to a splitting headache. Most days you want 3–4 liters of water—yep, that much. From Lukla upwards, never stop sipping. And don’t let some Australian in the tea house talk you into a round of raksi above Namche. Guzzle water, save the shots for Kathmandu.
5. Got Diamox? Don’t Be a Hero
Don’t wait until you’re gasping for air to think about Diamox. If you’ve ever felt just a pinch off—slight headache, breathing feels funky? Start the meds. Typically, folks start around Namche. Ask your doc, but it’s usually 125–250mg twice a day. Bottom line: taking it early beats a dramatic helicopter rescue.
6. Don’t Ignore the Warning Signs
It starts with a “meh” headache, then you’re suddenly swaying in the trail like a zombie. AMS hits fast over 3,000m, especially after Tengboche (3,860m). Check in with yourself: headache? Nausea? Seeing double? Tell your crew, don’t just “walk it off.” Monitor, and don’t try to tough it out.
7. Slow and Steady—This Ain’t a Race
Don’t let your ego get in the way climbing Namche Hill or slogging up to Lobuche. Overdoing it at altitude is begging for misery. Big tip: take big, slow breaths, use those trekking poles, and embrace the plodding pace. Above 3,000m, any sprint is just dumb.
8. Bundle Up—But Don’t Turn Into a Sauna
Nights up here are no joke. Dingboche, Lobuche, Gorakshep—teeth-chattering cold. You want a sleeping bag good for -10°C or colder, but don’t overdo it and wake up drenched in sweat. Keep it cozy, not boiling. The sleep you get makes ALL the difference.
9. If You’re Feeling Worse—Get Down, Fast Serious AMS?
There’s only one real fix—descend. Don’t try to be a legend. Head straight down from Lobuche or Gorakshep to Pheriche or even lower. Drop 500 to 1,000 meters. Like, right now. People who wait it out rarely have a good time.
10. See a Doc Before You Go (Don’t Be That Guy)
You don’t want to find out about a heart issue halfway to Base Camp. Get a checkup before you leave—ideally at a clinic that knows about altitude. Ask about any sketchy medical history or meds. Do this a couple weeks before your flight to Nepal, not when you’re already at the airport. Trust me.
1. Acetazolamide (Diamox)
Alright, if you’re heading up into the clouds, Diamox is your altitude wingman. It tells your body, “Hey, let’s get used to this thin air” and kinda hits the fast-forward button on acclimatization. Expect to breathe faster—yep, that’s the point—and snag more oxygen up there.
2. Pulse Oximeter
Grab one of these little finger-clippy dudes and keep an eye on your oxygen levels. Watching those numbers is like keeping score—helps you catch altitude weirdness before it smacks you upside the head.
3. Water Bottle with Filter (or Purification Tabs)
Hydration at altitude isn’t optional; it’s survival. Clean water is your best friend. Either lug a sturdy bottle with a built-in filter, or drop those funky-tasting tabs in. Trust me, dry mouth and dizziness? Not fun.
4. Oral Rehydration Salts (ORS)
All that heavy breathing? You’re losing more than patience—you’re torching salt and minerals. Toss ORS in your water to prevent feeling like a dried-up lizard halfway up a mountain.
5. Warm Sleeping Bag (Rated -10°C or Lower)
You want to sleep like a baby, not shiver like a chihuahua. Cold messes with your body’s recovery, so get a bag that laughs at freezing temps. Cuddle up and thank yourself in the morning.
6. Thermal Base Layers
Nobody wants that bone-chilling cold creeping up on them. Thermal basics keep your core cozy so your body doesn’t waste energy on shivering—which, believe me, sucks when you’re tired.
7. Sun Protection (Hat, Sunglasses, SPF 50+ Sunscreen)
The sun’s brutal up high—like, “fried in thirty minutes” brutal. Sunburn and snowblindness aren’t souvenirs you want. Dress for a sunny apocalypse: big hat, shades, and sunscreen.
8. Slow Energy Snacks (Nuts, Granola, Bars)
Junk food’s a no-go. You want snacks that drip-feed energy—nuts, granola, energy bars. Keeps your body chugging along, instead of running on empty and crashing at 14,000 feet.
9. Trekking Poles
Steep climbs are murder on the knees. Poles aren’t just for show—they save your joints and help you last longer, especially on endless “one more hill” types of days.
10. Lightweight Hydration Pack/CamelBak
Why stop every ten minutes to sip water when you can just suck from a tube like a hiking astronaut? These packs keep you sipping all day, no fuss. Hydrated = happy.
11. Altitude Training Mask (Optional)
If you’re the type who likes to suffer before the suffering begins, you can use one of those training masks at home. Preps your lungs a teeny bit for the oxygen shortage, or so the ads say.
12. Moisturizing Lip Balm & Nasal Spray
Dry air hits hard. Crusty lips, bloody noses—they’re gross and annoying. Keep ‘em moist so you can breathe and grin without wincing.
13. Garlic Pills or Raw Garlic (Old-School Remedy, Optional)
Local wisdom says garlic helps blood flow at altitude. Is there science? Eh. But Sherpas swear by it, and hey, maybe you’ll keep the vampires away too.
14. Thermos Flask (for Hot Drinks, Like Ginger Tea)
Nothing lifts the spirits like a steaming cup of ginger tea after hours in the cold. Plus, ginger’s a gut-soother—which is clutch when your stomach’s flipping from altitude.
15. First Aid Kit (w/ Ibuprofen or Paracetamol)
Altitude headaches? Welcome to the club. Having painkillers on deck can mean the difference between “just a rough day” and “I want to launch myself off a ledge.”
16. Buff or Face Mask
Your lungs hate cold, dry air. Wrap your face with a buff, warm that air a little, and it’s suddenly way easier to breathe.
17. Sleeping Altitude Record Book / Journal
Write down where you sleep every night. Helps you stick to the “climb high, sleep low” rule, and spot if certain heights are messing with you.
18. Multivitamins (Iron & B12 are key)
Oxygen’s scarce, so your blood has to work overtime. Iron and B12 boost red blood cell production—pretty handy in air that’s thinner than your excuses for skipping leg day.
19. Portable Oxygen Canister
Worst case scenario, crack open one of these for a hit of O2. It’s not a permanent fix, but buys you time to descend before things get ugly.
20. Guidebook or App with AMS Info
Honestly, Google can’t save you without signal. Carry a pocket guide or an offline app that spells out the warning signs—because missing those can seriously wreck your trip, or worse. Bonus Tip: More important than the gear? Don’t play hero. If your body screams “stop,” LISTEN. The mountain will always be there. Your job is to come home, tell stories, and not become one.
Oh man, altitude sickness on the Everest Base Camp trek? It’s pretty much par for the course. Like, somewhere between 30% and 50% of folks hiking up there will get at least some kind of “ugh, my head hurts” moment. There’s this nasty stretch between Namche Bazaar (about 3,440 meters) and Lobuche (pushing 4,940 meters), where oxygen’s basically playing hide and seek. Not fun.
Usually, problems start kicking in after you get past Tengboche (that’s 3,860 meters), then things get a little messier in Dingboche (4,410 m if you’re counting), and, just to top it off, it often hits its worst as you roll into Lobuche and Gorak Shep. By the time you’re making that last charge to Base Camp (5,364 meters, whoa) and Kala Patthar (5,545), you’re basically challenging your body, “How little air can you function on?” Spoiler: not a lot. Wanna dodge the worst of it? Go slow. No, really—slower than you think you need.
Take at least two days just to hang out and acclimatize—crash in Namche for a bit, then do it again in Dingboche. Drown yourself in water (well, not literally), but stay hydrated. And hey, maybe skip the post-hike beers for once. Old rule: climb high, sleep low. Oh, and headaches, nausea, dizziness—don’t try to tough it out. If things go from “hmm, weird” to “oh crap,” just head down. Pride ain’t worth it. Bottom line: with the right prep and a bit of caution, you’ll be fine and honestly, it might just be the coolest thing you ever do. Just train a bit beforehand, trust your gut, and soak in the fact you’re on the freaking roof of the world.
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