The story, as described to Samiksha, by Parbati Joshi.
The Start
On April 20, around 12:30 AM, I went to Ramechhap by vehicle. I am the kind of person who would fall asleep as soon as the wheels started to move, but this time, my eyes were wide open. A lot of thoughts were going on in my mind, a feeling like —Am I really going? Am I prepared for my journey? Maybe I left something behind while packing. I arrived in Ramechhap at 5:30 A.M. and took a flight to Lukla to begin the journey I’d dreamed of for years. No major sponsors. No media spotlight. No clients. No deadlines. The next few days felt like pure freedom.
Along the way, I waved to old clients and both familiar and unfamiliar faces, passed Pasang Lama Gate, and exchanged smiles and namaskars. I had walked this road many times before, but this time, it carried a different feeling and energy—I was a bit afraid. When I came this way with clients, it usually took 8 days, but this time I reached Everest Base Camp in just 4 days, including a visit to Ama Dablam Base Camp.
After about a week of rest and preparation at Base Camp, I began my rotation on May 1st around 3:30 AM. As I was halfway through the Khumbu Icefall, my period arrived earlier than expected, and honestly, the real challenge of climbing a mountain isn’t always the mountain itself—it’s also figuring out where to pee, especially during your period.
On the way, I met an old friend who was leading another group. Among his team was a French climber, Dylan Bousiou, with whom I had a great conversation. With his team leader’s permission, Dylan and I continued our rotation together, supporting each other along the way.
The snow was falling as we reached Camp 1. His tent arrived earlier than mine. Even though he was new, he offered to walk me to my tent. I stopped by his tent, had some juice, and left alone from there. The snow kept falling, and since my tent wasn’t ready yet, I had to stay outside for a while. By the time the tent was ready, I was completely wet.
The next day, with the golden sunrise, I enjoyed my morning in nature, forgetting all my worries and pain — after all, the view made it all worth it. Shortly after, I started packing.
I continued my journey to Camp 2. Since I had a good sleep, I was energetic when I started. Having no guide gave me the freedom to be on my own, to stop and start whenever I wanted.
The next day, I climbed to Camp 3, returned to Camp 2 the same day, and descended to Base Camp the following day. From May 5th to 15th, I rested and recovered. Although rope fixing was completed on May 9th, several factors delayed my summit.
With the fear that a common cough or cold, or a twisted ankle—or any mishap—could cancel the summit and waste all the effort, I did no extra physical activity in between until it was time for the summit push. The fear felt heavier and harder than ever, for every step forward carried the weight of years of preparation and dreams I’ve had since 2016.
On May 16th, I left Base Camp to reach Camp 2. With the heavy gear, the trek from Camp 1 to Camp 2 took longer than I expected. As I pushed toward the summit, risking my life, the thought of my family, especially my mother, kept coming to my mind. If something went wrong on the way, how would she react? That thought consumed me, and the fear that I might have hurt her by choosing to climb Mount Everest weighed on me time and again.
We had to change the plan and aimed for May 19th instead of May 20th because of the bad weather forecast. This meant moving even on our scheduled rest day. So, on May 17th, we began to ascend to Camp 3 at 2:15 PM—a risky time to climb due to the heat.
Time for the Summit
On May 18th, we pushed from Camp 3 to Camp 4. At Camp 4, I realized I had left my headlamp behind and asked one of the guides who was returning after the summit. Though the headlamp was flickering, making the night even more challenging, I was thankful to him for the headlamp. Also, the regulator I had used before moving was not working. However, luck was in my favour—one of the members of the British army didn’t climb further from Camp 4, and I got his guide’s regulator.
I began my final push toward the summit on May 18th, at 11:30 p.m. As I moved up from Camp 4 (South Col), I was alone, and the fear of coming across any dead bodies gripped me. With limited oxygen, I couldn’t increase my flow rate, and even walking had become a struggle. I knew that if I had seen any dead body at that point, I might have fainted on the spot.
That same night, ice was falling, which warmed me for much of the time. Once, a large chunk hit my leg hard. The headlamp I had kept flickering on and off. At the same time, there was no one behind me. I was last, and so many things were happening at once. When I turned around to look, there were people climbing Lhotse, and the view was mesmerizing — but since I was last and there was no light behind me, I was just having my own battle at that moment.
At the Balcony, I found another group and asked a guy to check my oxygen. He told me that it might last until the South Summit, but I had no idea where the South Summit was located. I decided to continue with them.
I had set up my power frame on my goggles. As the sun started to rise and due to the strong wind, they became uncomfortable as I moved forward. When I took them off to clean, they had already frozen. So, I didn't wear goggles that day.
I finally reached the South Summit, changed my oxygen, and began seeing dead bodies. Since others were around at this time, the fear was less overwhelming. Slowly, traffic jams started to form as the people who had started earlier were returning after the summit and the path was narrowing. When I changed my safety clip near the Hillary Step, I had to stand on a dead body for around two minutes, making way for climbers coming down. Further up, I passed several more.
On May 19th, 2025, at 9:00 a.m., I reached the top of the world — Mount Everest. I could hardly believe I had made it. I spent about half an hour there, observing, taking some pictures, and living in the moment. The weather was extreme, so people usually arrived, took pictures, and left.
Later that day, when I began my descent, I got stuck in a jam and saw the body I had stepped over, which made my heart feel heavy. The thought of having stood over it as a living person weighed on me.
While stuck in the jam near the South Summit, a few other climbers and I spotted a Russian girl, clearly disoriented and likely suffering from severe altitude sickness. We helped her descend to the Balcony. However, when I shared this story, some called me foolish for risking my own life to help someone else especially so close to the summit.
On the return, I faced another challenge: the more I was coming down the more difficult it had been for me to breathe. I didn’t realize when the oxygen ran out but after the time a man informed me, I had gone without oxygen for about 30 minutes. I managed to radio for help, and a person arrived just above Camp 4 with an oxygen cylinder.
While descending from Camp 4, I unzipped my pocket to grab my water bottle, where I had also kept my phone, and, in the haze of exhaustion, I forgot to zip it back. There was a bag placed near the safety chain, forcing me to bend lower than usual while changing my safety clip, and during this process, my phone fell. With it, I lost many of the memories I had captured.
The plan was to reach Camp 2, but my body craved rest at Camp 4. However, due to limited oxygen, I pushed on to Camp 3 instead. I was completely unaware of both the time and everything around me.
When I reached Camp 3, the sleeping bag I had left was not there. I radioed for help but received no response. If I had slept on just the mattress in that cold, I surely would have died, so I went to another tent where three people were sleeping. One of them was my instructor from the basic mountaineering course. I slept in their tent, removed my oxygen as it was getting uncomfortable, and drifted off. Later that night, my health condition worsened, though I remained unaware. My instructor noticed me feeling uncomfortable and woke me up. As I woke up, tears streamed down my face, and as the sun began to rise, it only made things harder. I realized I had snow blindness. However, within 24 hours, I began to recover.
When I planned to move further down, my instructor didn’t let me go alone and helped me on the way. Later, I had a cup of coffee, and perhaps because of the difficult circumstances, it was the best coffee I’d ever had. The snow blindness forced me to stay an extra two days at Camp 2. I reached Base Camp on May 22, and arrived in Kathmandu two days later.
Lessons for a Lifetime
I had achieved one of my biggest goals. With my experience, I also carry the lessons from the challenges I faced. The fear and joy I experienced still remain in my mind. I was afraid when I started. My body and mind were drained on the way down. Now, as I’ve returned to a normal pace, I still remember the courage I found during that time. I still recall that night when I was alone, afraid of encountering dead bodies. I felt a shock, remembering how close I came to dying if I had tried to catch my phone as it fell
With the summit came not only admiration but new expectations. Success changed how people saw and treated me. But for me, the journey carried lessons from both those who lifted me up and those who turned away. Even a simple gesture of kindness became a great support on the way to Everest, and I want to thank Migma Sherpa for the encouragement and support, Namgel Sherpa for carrying my heavy bags a few times and providing me with hot water at Camp 4, and Lakpa Sherpa for carrying my sleeping bag from Camp 2 to Camp 3. I am also grateful to Social Tours, the company where my tourism journey began and that continues to support me, and Intrepid Travel for sponsoring equipment worth $4,000. For me, it’s the people, the struggles, and the small acts of support that truly defined the journey.
