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In spring, the roof of the world is invaded by small men from faraway lands, cheeky tourists looking for alpine stories. The history of Everest, this mythical figure from the East, has already been written. Nonetheless, today everyone wants their share of success, to mark their own little stories, those of their courageous egos. That's when the stories of expeditions begin, those that take the measure of time, your temperament, your size and remind you that you won't stand up to it. Those stories are the ones that will measure your heartbeat in your puffs of fear, reflecting your suffocated breath as you drag your foot. All of you will grumble as you ascend the snow-covered mountains of the Nepalese sky goddess, the holy mother of Tibet.

Finally, and above all, it is at this time that we will discover that this journey to altitude is above all a story of seduction, mystery, cruelty, exoticism and beliefs lived and told by sherpas, forgotten heroes of this epic conquest of Sagarmatha.


Sushil, my guide, will tell me all about it. He lives according to the seasons between the alleys of Kathmandu which still mourn the destruction of its temples, and his plantations near Lukla. He is one of those who let it seem that their life is a hard fight.

During a long 14-day journey, Sushil tells me about his life, intimately linked to the whims of the weather and describes to me the stories of the Nepalese people of Khumbu. His stories are dotted with Buddhist and animist references, always inscribed in the Devanagari Sanskrit.


I listen to him with my breath taken away but without interrupting him, and as we climb, the sight offered by these mountains becomes spiritual. On the summits, like testimonies of respect, colorful prayer flags float in the wind, carrying these magic words intended for the well-being of humanity. At my feet, piles of Mani stones which illuminate my path, guiding my steps in the middle of all these snow-covered peaks.

I finally take the measure of this adventure, and as I contemplate the Khumbu ice falls next to Nuptse (summit) which culminates in the firmament, I feel Swayambunath's inspiring gaze upon me.


Before leaving this magical place, and in a final tribute, I see in these silent minutes, Mallory and Hillary greeting me kindly and further on, Tenzing Norgay who transmits to Sushil the Sherpa, all the secrets of Sagarmatha.