"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple." -Dr. Seuss

I’m not going to lie to you. I’m bloody nervous. As I pack my bag for my return to Nepal I can’t help but reflect on everything I’ve learned over the past few months since I unpacked this very same bag in June. As soon as the wheels of the plane hit the tarmac, I began planning my return journey. And here I am. About to return to with a new project – albeit one more daunting, complex and impactful than any I’ve ever attempted. 

A lot has changed since I returned to the UK and Canada from Nepal. I’ve been busy trying to find my feet again after what was a topy-turvy few months. Not long after I came back, someone commented, ‘I bet your entire life will change on account of your experiences’. At the time I didn’t really understand what they meant… But I’m starting to. 

I still enjoy the challenges of my job, I’m still climbing mountains of sorts, loving the outdoors, and trying to find that healthy work-life balance. The highlight of my summer was climbing in the Alps and an attempt on the notoriously temperamental Eiger. But all the while, since my return, I can’t help but reflect and process those intense 5 weeks in-country where I saw, felt and experienced things that moved me to the core. I originally traveled to Nepal in April on a record-breaking project to climb of two of the highest mountains in the world and, having survived the earthquake, returned to Kathmandu to immerse myself in providing humanitarian assistance in a disaster of a global scale. It would have been impossible for the experience not to change me.

The changes and challenges I’ve faced pale in significance to those endured by those in Nepal where local people face mountain after mountain. Immediately after the earthquake there was the challenge of ‘relief’ – getting life’s essentials to the outstretched arms of the vulnerable and marginalized. All the while the aftershocks, over 1000 since the earthquake, rocked the country. Since the earthquake a lethal mix of torrential monsoon winds and rains have continued to bring down landslides, rockslides, avalanches and subsequently homes and schools. Entire villages have been wiped out. Life has been redefined for millions of men, women and children across the country. 

Onward and upward.

The ‘relief’ phase following the earthquake has transitioned to ‘rebuilding’ and ‘recovery’. And despite the many challenges along the way – environmental, political, economic, cultural - the Nepali people have been resoundingly resilient.

Over the past few months I’ve wondered how I can help, knowing firsthand how easy it is to make an immediate difference in-country but how longer-term change is both slow and testing. I can’t help but think back to those rather desperate days in April / May as we worked so hard to raise money and awareness for the Paldorje Education Foundation so that when the ‘headlines’ disappeared, there would be resources available for rebuilding. During those long days and nights, for every step forward it sometimes felt like two steps back. Positivity and optimism were tested to the extreme.  

In July, in line with our vision of transparency and accountability, the Paldorje Education Foundation produced its first Donor Report to send to the thousands of people who helped to raise over $220,000 for the charity to distribute in-country. I could not help but be moved by the fact that through our global efforts, with the support of Sherpa Adventure Gear, the Foundation was able to directly help well over 11,000 people. 

And that was just the beginning.

So it’s with a tremendous amount of responsibility and trepidation that I return to Nepal to pick up where I left off. Not to climb a physical mountain but rather, a proverbial mountain for a change. Sitting here staring at my kit-bag packed full of clothes rather than climbing equipment feels strange. I usually feel excited, positive, and ‘free’ as I roll up my sleeping bag, pack my crampons and print out my boarding pass, mentally preparing for another perhaps ‘selfish’ adventure to become – to quote the French climber Lionel Terray - a ‘conquistador of the useless’.

This time I have a job to do that is perhaps more important than any job that I’ve ever done before – and it doesn’t involve walking up a big hill whilst wearing lots and lots of clothing and eating freeze-dried food. This time I’ll be working with the Paldorje Education Foundation to begin the groundwork for the rebuilding of a school to over 450 students in the village of Dalchoki, located about 2 hours outside of Kathmandu. 

In Dalchoki, the school and its 11 classrooms were completely destroyed in the earthquake along with about 90% of the homes. Today the students of Dalchoki are in need of properly equipped classrooms that go beyond lines of make-shift benches and temporary structures which are susceptible to the arrival of winter. An environment which is once again viewed as a ‘safe haven’ which encourages learning, group work and activities is desperately needed. 

But OMG. I’ve never built a school before.

It’s kind of ironic – just this week I did a motivational talk to a corporate group, ‘From Basecamp to Boardrooom’ reflecting on the many lessons learned from mountaineering that can be applied to ‘real life’ – or to boardrooms for that matter. I spent a considerable amount of time talking about planning and the importance of breaking down complex projects into bit-size pieces or milestones… a bit like the various camps enroute to the summit of big daunting mountains like Everest. 

Perhaps the thing that most scares or overwhelms me with this trip is the size and scale of the objective that I’ve set for myself. In my more familiar ‘comfort zone’, if I don’t summit the mountain, I can walk away, return to work and reflect on the lessons learned. But the stakes are so much higher this time. And I’ve never wanted to ‘summit’ a mountain so earnestly before.

I need to take some of my own advice.

I’m excited, nervous, and anxious – and will do my best to make a long-term and sustainable change – why? Because I know that I can. I know that the experience will be more impactful than any summit that I’ve ever planned for, attempted, stood on or dreamed about. 

So watch this space.. and please wish me luck..!

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To donate to the Dalchoki school rebuilding project please follow the link below:
https://www.crowdrise.com/helpsherpashelpnepal/fundraiser/dalchokischool

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PRESS RELEASE: The World's Largest Mountains, a Londoner and a Disaster of Global Scale

PRESS RELEASE From London: DC: "The World's Largest Mountains, a Londoner, and a Disaster of Global Scale" by By Phil Mahony, 16th of September

Earlier this Year the LONDON:DC team supported an inspirational consultant from PwC, documenting her journey to scale two of the world's largest mountains back to back. Heather Geluk is a Canadian born Londoner, a full time consultant for PwC who conquers mountains in her spare time. In April of this year, Heather left for Tibet attempting the remarkable feat of climbing two of the world's largest mountains, Shishapangma - 14th highest at 8013m and Cho Oyu - 5th highest at 8201m.

The scale and difficulty of the challenge is difficult to comprehend for a professional climber, let alone for a city worker. Heather would become the first women in 23 years and only the second women ever to achieve the task if successful. We prepared a team headed by LONDON:DC's principal DOP, the Bafta award winning Huw Walters, to capture the adventure and create a shareable documentary to celebrate the milestone.

The team flew to Kathmandu, Nepal before heading overland to Tibet, before settling and beginning their journey.

What was to happen next would change them forever.

On the morning of April 25th at 11:56am, a devastating earthquake shook the mountains. Dominating international headlines, it was the worst natural disaster to strike Nepal since 1934, killing 9000 and injuring a further 23,000. Hundreds of thousands were made homeless and entire villages flattened. It triggered an avalanche on Mount Everest killing 19 - the deadliest day in the mountain's history. 

At the time Heather was positioned at advanced base camp on Shishapangma. By her own account, the quake last 20-25 seconds which she describes as the longest of her life. Their knowledge of the destruction was limited by the lack of communication and it wasn't until they returned to Kathmandu the scale became apparent. 

Heather stayed on long after to assist with aid efforts and relief. She was present in Kathmandu on May 12 when the second earthquake with a magnitude of 7.3 struck which she describes as equally terrifying as it wasn't snow and avalanches descending upon her this time but the buildings of Kathmandu. Heather elaborates further on her time since saying:

"I've since travelled and distributed relief to areas that I didn’t even know existed, unpronounceable place names on a map are now personified by images of rubble and the outstretched arms of the vulnerable.. Sometimes I forget that I originally came to Nepal in early April to climb mountains. Little did I know that when I arrived that these mountains would be more proverbial than real. The people that I've met, the things I've seen and the lessons learned have been more impactful than any summit I've ever attempted, stood on or dreamed about".

The documentary will be released in October 2015.

http://londondigitalcontent.com/news/view/the-worlds-largest-mountains-a-londoner-and-a-disaster-of-global-scale

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The People You Meet Along the Way: A New Mountain - Rebuilding Dalchoki School

With its rolling green hills, winding roads through terraced fields and panoramic views of cloud covered mountains, the small and picturesque village of Dalchoki is typical of many rural Nepalese villages. This village of about 1,800 people can be reached in about 2 hours by car from Nepal’s bustling capital city of Kathmandu.  

On April 25th, 2015 the lives of the villagers Dalchoki would change forever. A magnitude 7.8 earthquake shook the earth below their feet as thousands of homes crumbled to dust and the mountains sent rock and ice tumbling down over the villages below. When the earth settled beneath the country, over 9,000 people were dead, over 25,000 injured and 2.5 million people were left homeless or displaced. 

In Dalchoki, the sweeping views of Kathmandu which once revealed a bustling metropolis, hills dotted with temples and local people forging a life out of the earth, now revealed an ominous plume of ancient brown dust which slowly lifted to reveal the devastation and tragedy below. 

In Dalchoki, over 90% of the houses collapsed. Those homes were left standing were left with long jagged scars cutting through the walls and foundations. Those that crumbled buried the dead and trapped the injured. Whilst waves of aftershocks rumbled from below, those that survived faced shortages of food, drinking water, medical supplies. In addition, those that survived needed the tools and the means to begin to rebuild their homes in light of the impending monsoon and the ability to prepare for the future ahead.

The international headlines documenting the scale of the humanitarian crisis disappeared long ago. Unfortunately however, long-term challenges impacting men, women and children across the nation remain. One of these challenges is Education, the key to providing hope for the future.'

Pre-Expedition Planning: “The main hope of a nation lies in the proper education of its youth” (Erasmus)

Dalchoki’s main Secondary School and the largest school in the district, ‘Shree Goth Bhanjyang’ once welcomed 450 students and 17 teachers from surrounding villages. On April 25th the school and its 11 classrooms were either badly damaged or completely destroyed.  Fortunately it was a Saturday and the children were not in school - otherwise the headlines would have been much more tragic.

Today, nearly 5 months after the earthquake, the students of Dalchoki are still in need of properly equipped classrooms that go beyond lines of their current make-shift benches and temporary structures which are susceptible to the wind, rain and snow. An environment which is once again viewed as a ‘safe haven’ which encourages learning, group work and activities is desperately needed. 

There are also silent after-effects of the earthquake that go beyond the dust and beyond the rubble. The psychological impact will leave scars on these children long after the rebuild has started.  Still today, children continue to live in fear, many still suffering trauma and stress. Support is needed through counselling and simple motivation – e.g. through the provision of food, and a safe and fun learning environment – to get them back into the classrooms and collaborative, safe learning environments. 

A new mountain... "Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do..." (John Wooden)

In October I'll travel to Dalchoki to kick off this significant rebuilding project with the support of the Sherpa Adventure Gear Paldorje Education Foundation and The Nth Degree. It’s my new 'mountain', a new challenge, a new journey – a proverbial one for a change – but equally as demanding with a longer-term legacy, a bigger scope and more stakeholders than any challenge that I’ve taken on in the past. I meet this challenge with an even greater sense of trepidation, planning and responsibility.

In my ‘day job’ as a consultant, I’m used to managing change and putting organizational, communications and stakeholder management skills into overdrive to lead and /or facilitate an organization or group of people from getting from ‘A’ to ‘B’. Apart from a number of (quite epic!) forts we used to build around our farm in rural Canada when I was growing up, I’ve never built a thing in my life… But this opportunity to learn and discover new skills, meeting new people, combining my personal and professional interests and, most importantly, making a difference excites and invigorates me. 

Over the coming months I’ll be sharing the details of this journey and welcome any input / tips / words of wisdom / contacts / helping hands etc. that you might have.  Please do feel free to get in touch directly via email, hgeluk@hotmail.com

Huge thanks in advance to Sherpa Adventure Gear, the Paldorje Education Foundation and The Nth Degree for your support thus far.

Timeframes: 

October 2015:
8-10 days in October initial planning / build with ongoing in-country support post build via contact from the Paldorje Education Foundation 
- Research building design options (eg. California Institute of Earth and Architecture)
- Study and evaluate design / construction of similar ‘earthquake-proof’ schools in the area (eg. Phulkharka School also going through a rebuilding project)
- Understand local pool of labour / skills and the gap for what’s required
- Understand available resources for building and the gap for what’s required
- Meet key local stakeholders 

March - April 2016:
- Skilled laborers and helping hands to support the rebuilding of the classrooms
- Helping hands to support ‘decorating’ / kitting out the classrooms
- Help in working with the students to provide emotional support
- Basic supplies including stationary – papers, pens, books
- Funding for ‘meal a day’ programmes to pay for school lunches
- Support in sourcing materials needed and transportation to Dalchoki

Estimated Financial support required to support the rebuild: $40,000 USD.

Dalchocki School before the earthquake (Picture: ECCA)

Children playing with the destroyed school in background (Picture: ECCA)

Temporary school building (Picture: ECCA)

Temporary school building (Picture: ECCA) 

Damage from 25 April Earthquake on one of the main classrooms (Picture: ECCA)

SPONSORS:

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The People You Meet Along the Way: “Everything you want is on the other side of fear.”

“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” Wise words by American author Jack Canfield. The meaning of these words had been playing in my mind over the past three months since the Nepal earthquake. When the earthquake struck on April 25th, 2015, my climbing Sherpa Lhakpa and I felt its terrifying force as frozen tsunami-like waves rolled under our feet and sent us sprawling across the glacier while avalanches tumbled down around our 6,000m perch in the high Himalaya. At the time of the earthquake, we were enroute to Camp 1 on a mountain called Shishapangma, the 14th highest in the world. 

I hadn’t fully appreciated how much the earthquake its 250-plus aftershocks had affected me until I returned back to the UK in early June. I realized how constantly ‘on edge’ I’d been during those 5 weeks in Nepal after the quake. Old habits die hard. Despite being on significantly more stable bedrock of the UK, I continued to sleep with the door open to facilitate a ‘quick exit’ from my flat and felt imagined aftershocks on an almost daily basis... Even the dull rumbling of the London Underground deep under my flat would send my pulse racing. In a room or building I’d always look for the nearest exit... 

Exhausting hypervigilance.

‘Wouldn’t it be nice’, I often wondered, ‘if we received an email or a text message before an earthquake arrived…’ 

For me, life has now returned to ‘normal’ and hypervigiliance has been dialed down. But ever since my return from Nepal I’ve wondered, would I still be ok in the mountains? Those who know me well and understand my passion for mountains and mountaineering, will understand how this ‘fear’ has gnawed at my emotions and the longer term impact its had on my personal ambitions. This gnawing fear became subtle undercurrent, a controlling force, a domino effect that continued to grow and gnaw at my rational, intelligent thinking self and stopped me from pursuing two of my passions – planning to climb and climbing itself. 

My friend Nick House and alpinist and guide Jon Bracey helped to break the ice last weekend. Back in March, pre-earthquake, Nick and I decided that we would return to Switzerland this summer to climb the Eiger, a project we started 2 years ago but were knocked back on because of dangerous snow conditions. Trusting the guide, trusting your climbing partner, trusting yourself – these were aspects of climbing that had become part of my usual ‘routine’.  These elements were and will always continue to be part of the journey and are controlled aspects of climbing that fell within my comfort zone. A number of years ago I overcame a massive fear of heights. But now, I had a new challenge to overcome - trusting the earth was something that I perhaps took for granted and a new stake in the game…. 

But then we arrived in the Alps and I saw the panorama again – a mountain vista framed by blue skies and mighty snow covered peaks. Last weekend, during our acclimatization climbs on the Italian side of the Mont Blanc massif, I took a few deep breaths and said out loud, ‘You’re ok. You’re ok.’ 

And I was. 

But I know that I’m lucky.  I’m incredibly fortunate to have formal and informal support networks in place to help deal with these fears in a safe, controlled and rational way. And I feel blessed to again realize that I’m safe and happy in the high mountains… that seismic shifts are part of the inherent risks involved in mountaineering - risks that I’d perhaps never considered but have always been present. Afterall, my rational self reminds me, mountains are born from earthquakes… 

But I can’t help but wonder, what about those hundreds of thousands of people in Nepal that eek their daily lives out of the mountains, where aftershocks are now part of the new normal and the threat of the next ‘big one’ is an omnipresent and inescapable reality…? 

Whilst the headlines may have disappeared, the people of Nepal now face a silent threat that will linger long after the aftershocks have disappeared. Helping these people and doing what I can to play a role in the rebuilding – both physically and emotionally – has become part of my ‘new normal’ and a new proverbial summit and a much longer journey.

We didn’t summit the Eiger last weekend. The day of our ‘summit bid’ called for an unleashing of yet another of natures’ forces – the weather. The threat of electrical storms, heavy snow and white-out conditions had us reassess and rejig our plans for an ‘atmospheric’ and shorter climb of Trugborg while the weather system rolled in. The climb offered everything that I love about the sport – heart stopping exposure, snow/rock mix, a breathtaking sunrise, sharing a rope with new friends, and a bit of character building 4am trail-breaking…

It's also helped me to realize that my climbing journey is far from over. It’s only just begun. I’ve learned a tremendous amount from my experiences in Nepal and with these lessons come a new chapter and new opportunities – a strengthened soul, inspired ambition, and a new vision of success.  It turns out that everything I wanted was on the other side of fear all along. 

Onward and upward to the next climb and the next chapter…

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NEPAL EARTHQUAKE: When International Headlines Disappear

The seismic shifts have subsided, the number of deaths and casualties have plateaued, and international headlines have all but disappeared.... Sadly, the aftermath of the earthquake and over 300 aftershocks as felt by over ¼ of Nepal’s population of 28-million remains a startling reality. The new challenges are both violent and silent and will ultimately affect most vulnerable populations including 1.7 million children, newborns and an estimated 160,000 pregnant women in the affected areas.

Leaving the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu on the 31^st of May I looked out the taxi window and began a long journey of starting to work my way through a complex set of emotions. Orange and blue tarps still scattered like patchwork along the streets; mothers crawling out of their tents with crying hungry children in their wake, men sweeping the dusty streets in the early morning light. How lucky (?) I was to be able to just ‘leave’ and return to the UK when so many millions of people have no choice but to face a harsh reality.

The harsh reality is the problems that remain in Nepal which run deeper than the jagged cracks in the walls and far beyond the rubble which still litters the streets in Kathmandu and many rural villages. Whilst there has been much talk about ‘the resilience of the Nepali people’ over the past six weeks, longer term challenges remain that will put this Nepali resilience to the test. Thousands of people continue to eke out their daily lives in extreme poverty under tarps and in tents, fearing more aftershocks and living in frightened anticipation of the next ‘big one’.  In the mud and damp under these tents and tarps, malnutrition, gastrointestinal diseases and the threat of water-borne diseases run rife. Driving past one of Kathmandu’s many humid, steaming ‘tent cities’ and inhaling the humid stench of human waste is proof of this.

For many people each new tectonic twitch heightens the instability and uncertainty. Just last week a 4.4-magnitude tremor shook parts of Kathmandu, sending the birds screeching into the air and the children screaming into the cover of their tarpaulin camps. It was yet another unnecessary reminder of what had happened – and what may yet lie ahead.

There's also the ‘invisible’ silent aftermath - the earthquake’s impact on mental health. Mental health experts say those most vulnerable to developing prolonged mental health conditions are children, the disabled, and the elderly. Sadly, many of these people don’t have access to councillors or professionals to help cope with mental stress and grief. There are countless stories of men, women and children who become paralysed with fear at the sound of loud noises, become overwhelmed by crowds, fear enclosed places, and have a constant ‘earthquake hangover’ – the feeling that the ground is perpetually moving, a temporary inner-ear reaction to the earthquake and constant aftershocks.

The monsoon has started with a vengeance with torrential rains, thunder, lightning and hail. In just four months, between June - September, 85% of Nepal’s annual precipitation of 1,500-3,000mm will fall. Last week in a precursor to the monsoon I watched as the sky grew dark and rolled thick with thunder and lightning. With each almighty crack the building shook from above whilst the aftershocks rumbled the earth from below. I felt well and truly put in my place, with an all too familiar ‘earthquake adrenaline’ pulsing through my veins. The wind began to pick up and across the horizon a flurry of destroyed orange, yellow and blue tents and tarps could be seen flying through the sky. And this was just the beginning. I can’t even begin to imagine the terror of children and families cowering from the elements as their flimsy shelters were ripped from their frames.

The monsoon rains will trigger devastating landslides. Whilst the mountains tremble their slopes become increasingly unstable – all that is needed is water and gravity to complete the vicious cycle. From my brief visit to the Khumbu in mid-May it was clear that the instability of the slopes and the crumbling, deteriorating mountain trails would be hard-hit by the monsoon rains.  Even sections of the well-trodden ‘Everest trail’ such as after Phakding bore visible evidence of instability and landslides. Many relief efforts to hard-hit and remote districts such as Ghorka, Sindhupalchok and Langtang have been thwarted by unstable slopes and devastating landslides. Additionally, the monsoon will also force the country’s few helicopters to be grounded – slowing down the delivery of much needed aid to the vulnerable.

In the departures lounge at the airport I saw another national headline highlighting an issue that stopped me in my tracks – the trafficking of women and children. Tens of thousands of young women from regions devastated by the earthquake in Nepal are being targeted by human traffickers supplying a network of brothels across south Asia. Many children are being picked up and taken abroad by traffickers posing as relief workers. Many ‘tent cities’ are now guarded by police offers stopping any children accompanied by an adult. Over the past few weeks I feel as though I’ve seen humanity at its best – people stepping in, risking their lives, helping those in need… but then I see headlines like this. How can some people be so heartless?

I’ve been back home for over a week now. It’s strange – whilst in Nepal I’d been so immersed in the earthquake relief efforts, the continuous aftershocks, seeing destroyed buildings and the headlines in the local papers, that I hadn’t really imagined or considered life ‘outside’ of the ‘earthquake bubble’. I knew that it would be a shock to reintegrate into ‘normal life’ but I hadn’t really reflected on what aspect would be the most difficult.

I think it’s a feeling of helplessness and trying to balance between getting back into my original, usual ‘work-life routine’ and integrating the experiences of the past 2 months whilst ensuring that, like the international headlines, my efforts don’t taper off and disappear. I guess this is part of defining my ‘new normal’. All the while my Facebook newsfeed remains full of stories and images of friends on the ground in Nepal building temporary shelters like the earthbag homes, distributing tents and tarps, building schools, distributing food and medical supplies and preparing for the monsoon rains. It’s hard to be here because I know how valuable an extra set of hands can be there. Having said that, I also know how many more funds are required and how much continued awareness is needed to support these efforts to help the vulnerable prepare for an uncertain future – their ‘new normal’.

Beyond continued fundraising efforts organised from the UK and Canada, I plan to return to Nepal in the Autumn to continue to help with the rebuilding efforts. Next Spring I will return and continue my expedition on Shishapangma and Cho Oyu. They’re small contributions – mere drops in the ocean – to helping solve the wider problems but do make a difference.  As the saying goes, I believe it was Mother Theresa who said it, whatever you can give, no matter how small will be of great benefit. We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.

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Thank you for your continued contributions and donations to the Paldorje Education Foundation - Nepal Earthquake Relief Fund. Whilst the Nepal earthquake headlines may no longer dominate the front pages of international media, the impacts here remain real and omni present. Please continue to donate, to spread the word and give what you can.

https://www.crowdrise.com/helpsherpashelpnepal

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The Nepali Times Article: When The Mountain Moved

Copy of the article which appeared in The Nepali Times, 1 June, 2015

http://nepalitimes.com/article/nation/survivor-account-from-Shishapangma-after-earthquake,2294

Lhakpa Wongchu Sherpa and I set out from Shishapangma Advanced Base Camp on 25 April in heavy snow, limited visibility, and a gentle breeze that left the long string of prayer flags blowing gently in the wind. Despite the weather, we felt warm and safe in the mountains as we began to make our way up to Depot Camp at 5800m.

It was a long, slow plod over a maze of rock, mud and snow with limited opportunity to appreciate the mighty mountain vistas hidden in the mist. We’d only been teased with fleeting views of this 8025m summit, the 14th highest in the world.

I had been planning this ‘Himalayan Double Header’ expedition for six months: climb Shishapangma from early April to mid-May and then travel overland to climb the 6th highest mountain in the world, Cho Oyu for a mid-late May summit. If successful I would be the first woman in 23 years to have done so and the 2nd woman ever.

When we reached the Depot Camp, I sat reflecting on my passion for mountaineering. Mountains provide context, they are humbling and make you realise there are forces in nature that will never be harnessed, that won't bend to our schedules. Rather, we bend to theirs. Coming from a consulting job that demands structure and planning, I find this lack of ‘control’ in mountaineering an opportunity for reckless mental and physical creativity liberating.

I was tired but content. I took a sip of water and looked down at my watch. 11.55am. My ears picked up a faint, deep rumbling sound that broke the silence and sparked an almost animal-like instinct. Something wasn't right. The rumbling continued, louder and louder.

My initial instinct was that this was an avalanche, but where was it coming from? We were literally surrounded by mountains on all sides and had zero visibility. The ground then began to shift back and forth in a slow rhythmic movement. Earthquake.

Lhakpa shouted over the roaring sound of falling rock and ice. Through the mist we tried desperately to establish the direction from which the avalanche would come. We huddled next to a rock, our eyes darting in all directions, hugging each other, terrified, praying that the rumbling and shaking would stop.

In what felt like an eternity, the seismic shifts beneath our feet finally subsided. As we fearfully made our way back to Advanced Base Camp, we noticed the impact of the quake and the avalanches of snow and rock it had released. There were fresh cracks in the ground, loose boulders dislodged, cracked ice in the lakes. Almost eerily, the snow stopped and the cloud lifted, and rather than a scene of destruction and devastation, the mountain vista stretched out before us seemed almost beautiful, natural and strangely rebalanced.

Back in Advanced Base Camp we learned that the earthquake had been widespread but were limited to the details by an almost complete lack of communications. It wasn’t until our evacuation from the mountain and arrival back in Kathmandu on 5 May that I began to realise the full scale of the disaster. I’d only heard about the tragedy on Everest but hadn’t prepared myself for the bigger picture. It was overwhelming, at a scale unprecedented to my senses and any previous frames of reference.

My first day back in Kathmandu was an emotional roller coaster walking through the rubble and dust of the once familiar streets and past ancient monuments. Concerned for my wellbeing, family and friends demanded I return home. But going home would mean turning my back on a country that had been so incredibly generous to me since my first visit 15 years ago. I knew I had skills that would be helpful in mobilising the aid required to provide relief and support the rebuilding of the country. I decided to stay and help my friend Tashi Sherpa of Sherpa Adventure Gear and his team raise funds for earthquake relief through the Sherpa Adventure Gear Paldorje Education Foundation and provide assistance with the distribution of aid to those most in need.

On 12 May I was in Kathmandu assisting with this relief work when the second earthquake struck with a magnitude 7.3. Being on a mountain for the first earthquake and in a city for the second was equally terrifying. This time the danger wasn’t avalanches coming down, it was the buildings.

On the ground relief work has opened my eyes to the scale of the disaster: many villages still look like a war zone. Buildings tilt at vertiginous angles, a door or window visible through a twisted mess of corrugated iron. Brown dust drifts over the disintegrated remains of once proud homes.

I’ve since travelled and distributed relief to areas that I didn’t even know existed, unpronounceable place names on a map are now personified by images of rubble and the outstretched arms of the vulnerable. This week, we distributed relief to a community in Dolakha. Last week I travelled to the Khumbu to deliver financial aid to 234 families in Thame, and delivered aid to survivors of the Langtang tragedy now living at the Yellow Gompa in Kathmandu. Over the past month we’ve distributed over a thousand tents and tarps, thousands of kg of food, and provided extensive financial support. I’ve seen more of the country and met more incredibly inspiring, resilient people than I’ve ever thought possible.

Amid the long, deep cracks and between the rubble, I’ve also found something to be positive about for the longer-term future of the country. This is the initiative and energy of Nepal’s youth which is rapidly gaining momentum: a groundswell which will bring greater and longer-lasting change than the devastating earthquakes.

Sometimes I forget that I originally came to Nepal in early April to climb mountains. Little did I know that when I arrived that these mountains would be more proverbial than real. The people that I've met, the things I've seen and the lessons learned have been more impactful than any summit I've ever attempted, stood on or dreamed about.

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