Opportunity knocked at an old friend Khashing Chandra Rai’s door. A photographer/videographer by profession, he landed an assignment to cover an Indian Army expedition to Everest (8,849.86m).

For Khashing, the business had taken a sharp nosedive for two years because of the pandemic; it came to a grinding halt during the lockdown. He jumped at the offer, courtesy of Seven Summit Treks.

He realized it would be no picnic in that harsh godforsaken land—his first-ever high-altitude assignment in 10 career years. His contract included Everest Base Camp (5,364m) and the periphery only, not the summit. Armed to the teeth with his camera gear and other paraphernalia, he flew to Lukla (2,850m) on 16 April 2021.

Flying over the unbounded wilderness and lofty mountains that seemed to spring to life, the Twin Otter prepared to land. To Khashing, it was no less dramatic; his heart skipped at the hair-raising touchdown. Small wonder, Lukla rates as one of the world’s most dangerous airports.

It took a nine-day trek from Lukla to EBC, helping the entire team acclimatize to altitude gain. After Dingboche (4,410m), it started snowing and continued until they arrived at snow-laden EBC.

The scenario at the Base Camp took Khashing off his guard—the site crawled with people: over 200 summiteers with twice as many Sherpa porters and guides. Amber-colored tents swarmed the place against the white backdrop. The entire locale bustled, almost giving a cramped feeling. An incredible sight!

To Khashing’s great surprise, their Sherpa porters pitched tents at designated spots with uncanny deft and precision, and the guides executed logistic functions, leaving no loose ends.

The closure of climbing season in 2020 in the wake of Covid-19, the year 2021, it appeared, had thrown the sluice gate wide open for the hung-up Everest aspirants. The Chinese side remained closed.

A week of getting used to the gear: from crampon, harness to ascender (jumars), ice ax, and figure-8 followed by a ceremonial puja performed by revered Lamas, the team set off to Lobuche peak (6,119 m), a drill for the ultimate—Everest.

Khashing was not supposed to join, but a senior Indian officer did him a good turn and arranged the gear for him. He was over the moon after the successful climb.

At night, temperatures at EBC dropped to negative eight, but daytimes were warmer, even sweltering—above 30 degrees Celsius inside the tent, a greenhouse effect. The snow seemed a mainstay: cooking, drinking, and even laundry—a one-of-a-kind experience for Khashing.

The turn of events shifted unawares; weather on the north side deteriorated when the Indian team prepared for their assault on Everest and stayed that way for weeks on end. Devastated, they abandoned the ascent. Several other expedition teams, too, called off.

As a last resort, three members of the Indian team scaled the Lhotse Himal (8,516m), instead—the world’s fourth-tallest peak, south of Everest.

Then disaster struck—two of the Indian team members fell sick. The symptoms bore a close resemblance to HAPE (high-altitude pulmonary edema), but the team doctor suspected a case of Covid-19, and the sick got airlifted to Kathmandu.

Words got around as more coronavirus cases surfaced at the base camp. Gossips ran high; speculations were fueled. News broke that 17 more climbers had been evacuated by helicopters to Kathmandu—most of them tested positive. And hacking coughing (called the Khumbu Cough) seemed to permeate the otherwise peaceful nights at EBC.

Next followed chaos. Camps got cordoned off—and expedition members confined to their bases. Pandemic protocols like physical distancing and staying put in respective bubbles were imposed. Khashing felt alarmed—scared, too; he had developed a mild cough.

Helicopters went into overdrive, delivering supplies and airlifting the sick. The ominous drone of the choppers continued unabated. The last update took the number of infected from 150 to 200. Rescue flights continued. And the silent stalker still seemed to lurk around EBC.

Disheartened and burnt-out, the Indian detachment took a helicopter from Pheriche (4,371m) to Lukla. Khashing and the Sherpas trekked back. Namche, on the way, looked like a ghost town—every hotel had shut down because of the outbreak.

After a day’s delay at Lukla, he flew back home to Kathmandu—only to find the pandemic had snowballed for the worse.