On the second night in Sibuje, some of us opted for sleeping on the lawn, under the clear sky, far from any light pollution. It meant a gentle awakening as the sun began the day from behind the mountains. Breakfast was served picnic style on a tarp on the lawn. So far from everything and 8,000 feet above the sea, it felt like a morning just for us.
Then, a phone call for Karma came. The day changed. That feeling stopped.
As the information came, in spurts and through language barriers, all feelings stopped.
An avalanche on Everest. Only Sherpas on the mountain there. Not Sherpas. Porters. Guides. Staff. Not all staff are Sherpas. Only staff on the mountain there. No tourists. No clients. Clients were lower down the mountain waiting to summit later. Probably 100 local staff up there during the avalanche. Seven of those are from here in Sibuje. Not sure of the death count. 12? 20? 16? No names yet. Biggest mountaineering disaster in history. Worst case math done in the head. Seven less incomes in this village would be devastating.
This morning has now become-
What we were doing when Everest fell…
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