As big as it gets

Eighth in a series

 The early-morning snowfall is a curtain between the Rongphu Monastery and Mount Everest, and we have to get through it to see the highest peak on earth.

 I and my travelling companions from Copenhagen, Jane and Mike, set out for Everest Base Camp, less than 30 minutes' drive away along a rickety road built for the 1960 Chinese Everest expedition.

 That mob of 214 mountaineers, a third of them Tibetan, chose the Northeast Ridge for its assault on the summit. Tibet's view of Everest is better than Nepal's too, most guidebooks agree, but the monument is lost in haze when we reach the base camp just before noon.

 At the camp, tourists have to stay in the tourist zone, and it's five kilometres away from the climbers' zone, where yellow tents dot the flat moraine at the mouth of the Rongbuk Glacier.

 The tourists lodge in rows of Tibetan "tea tents", each of which can accommodate five people for a fee of 40 yuan (Bt190) each per night.

They're quite comfortable, and the surrounding stalls sell Tibetan food, instant noodles and, as souvenirs, fossils of shellfish, small lizards and leaves. These prehistoric relics, says our "landlord", come from 6,000 metres up in the Himalayas.

 They'd make great mementoes and gifts, but we decline out of fear they'll cause a problem at airport customs.

 After a few cups of milk tea - quite a necessity in this weather - we start walking toward the climbers' zone, shunning the 25-yuan shuttle bus.

 A caravan of yaks led by two Tibetans gives us the idea to follow them up and down the low, rocky hills, but we need to stop for breath every five or 10 minutes and they soon leave us behind.

 We arrive at the climbers' zone with relief, wondering why the nomads with the yaks would want to live in this frosty landscape at such a high altitude.

 Four Chinese and one Tibetan soldier man a checkpoint to make sure that tourists entering the area have the right travel documents. We're 5,200 metres above sea level, and still need to climb a little further to get a proper look at Everest.

 The viewpoint hill is crowded with British cyclists in their 40s and 50s, here on a 10-day ride from Lhasa to Kathmandu, and the vista is still cloudy. Jane isn't taking any photos, not so much because of the haze but nausea. Altitude illness soon strikes me too.

 Disappointed, I return to the tourist zone on the bus, but finally, at 9pm, just before sunset, Mount Everest reveals its glory for a full 20 minutes.

 It's a spectacular, theatrical moment, one that could only be performed by Mother Nature.

 The curtain of clouds is drawn aside, and the imposing slabs of snowy rocks, topped by the monstrous peak shooting 8,850 metres straight up, slowly comes into view, filling half the sky's blue dome.

 The surrounding mountains suddenly seem like a mighty fence protecting the monarch of mountains. On Everest's left is Changtse, rising to 7,553 metres, and on the right Lhotse, 8,516 metres. At around 6,200 metres on Changtse's northern slope is the climbers' penultimate objective, Advance Base Camp.

 It is inspiring beyond expectation to just sit in the low camp and gaze skyward. Everest looms out of its fog, its own weather pattern, so gigantic that we're all mere specks at its ponderous foot.

 We're sharing a vantage that has held many illustrious figures in awe. Confronting Everest's storied North face, Sir Francis Younghusband marvelled at its stance, "proudly and alone, a true monarch among mountains".

 "Seen from Rongbuk," the English adventurer Bill Tilma wrote in 1938, "it looms up magnificently, filling the head of the valley. The final pyramid, with or without its streaming banner, is a glorious thing."

 Everest is in fact pyramid-shaped, with three great ridges and three wide faces. The first expedition in 1921 was surprised to discover it was all rock, not mostly snow. This vast rock strata stretching across the North Face in distinguishable bands is a wonder in itself.

 The north side was the first to be explored. From the summit, a great ridge descends toward the northeast for nearly five kilometres, terminating in a col, or pass, known as the Rapiu La, which separates the East Rongbuk and Kangshung glaciers.

 A kilometre from the summit, the ridge forms a distinct shoulder, from which another descends toward the north, to a high and icy col now called Chang La. Beyond that is the roof of Changtse.

 We see all of this in just 20 minutes, and then the shroud of darkness falls. Ahead for is a night of dehydration, sleeplessness, headaches and nausea. We are paying for our audience with the monarch.

 Next Monday, a visit to the world's biggest gilded bronze Buddha, at Tashilunpo Monastery in Shigatse.