6.2 The Air: Breath of Life

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6.2.8 Diary of a Climb

 

John’s Journey Up Mount Everest

- Day 1: Base Camp (5,300 metres / 17,388 feet) Today we reached Base Camp, our first stop before the climb. The air feels thinner, but I can still breathe without much trouble. Even here, I’m feeling the altitude—the pressure is lower, and I get out of breath just by setting up my tent. I’ve been told that as we go higher, the oxygen in the air will drop even more. The human body just isn’t built to handle this.

Day 6: Camp 2 (6,400 metres / 21,000 feet) I’m starting to feel it. Every step takes effort, and my head feels like it’s in a clamp. My breathing is shallow and quick, like I’m never quite catching my breath. Up here, the air has about half the oxygen as sea level. People call this “thin air” because there’s less oxygen in each breath. I have to stop and take slow, deep breaths. The guides remind me that this isn’t just about being tough—without enough oxygen, my brain and body can’t work properly.

Day 12: Camp 4 (8,000 metres / 26,247 feet) – The “Death Zone” We’re now in the Death Zone. Up here, the air holds only a third of the oxygen we breathe at sea level. Without my oxygen tank, I could survive for only a short time. Even with the tank, it’s hard. My body is struggling. It’s like there’s a weight on my chest. I keep my breaths deep and steady, but each step feels like a mountain itself.

The guides explain that our bodies can’t survive up here for long. At this altitude, even breathing in as deeply as I can, I only get one-third of the oxygen my muscles need. My heart is working overtime to pump blood, but it’s still not enough. This is why we can’t stay here more than a day or two.

Day 13: Summit (8,848 metres / 29,029 feet) We made it to the top! I look out and can see the curve of the Earth against the sky. I can’t stay long—just a few minutes to snap photos and take in the view. My oxygen tank is running low, and there’s no chance of survival without it. Up here, the air is so thin that each breath is a struggle.

As I descend, I think about how high I am. Airplanes fly only a couple of kilometres higher than this, around 10 kilometres up. But they’re in pressurised cabins filled with oxygen, while I’m here in the open air. At this height, humans aren’t meant to live without serious support. The experience is incredible, but it’s also a reminder: up here, nature is in control.