2026 Nepal Expedition.

Expedition One. Himalayas with Dominic Huxley

I've been putting off writing this blog. 

Probably because I feel like I failed, so I'm a little pissed off and disappointed, and also I guess because a lot happened and I don't know where to start; she’s big job pulling thoughts together in our hyper-distracted state of life.

It turns out that I'm going to need to pivot a little; my great Himalayan adventure is becoming a cliche story where it's about the journey and not the destination, as the destination was not reached. Although I'm writing this in a slightly self-deprecating way, I am fine with not coming away with a summit. Going into this, our main ethos was always about booking the ticket and just saying yes to adventure and collecting stories, and it's safe to say stories were collected! I’ll do my best to tell this story in an easily digestible manner. If you also struggle to concentrate, here’s the TLDR (too long, didn’t read) version below.

TLDR: Booked the ticket. The goal was to climb Lobuche East, Island Peak and then Ama Dablam. Got AMS. Got HAPE. No donkey required. Mission failed. But mission not failed > Learned a lot. Comeback story is loading. 

Note: One of the best things about travel is the people you meet along the way. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly actually (as we’re everywhere) we met quite a few kiwi’s (about 6-7) lurking around. We also met a crew of Brits who were being guided by their fearless leader, Rolfe Oostra — an old school mountaineer who also has the world record for the highest solo rescue on Everest. At a teahouse one evening, Dom and I were befriended by Cheryl, whom Dom later nicknamed the “Khumbu’s Biggest Hugger,” as she offered us some Cadbury Mini-Eggs. Another jovial Brit called Sam was also along for the ride. As it goes in the Khumbu, we’d bump into the same people at various locations and teahouses where we’d continue sharing stories or comparing notes on the day(s) that had been. Upon returning to Kathmandu a few weeks later, we all caught up for a drink and Cheryl had picked up a book for us both. The Adventures of Rum Doodle for Dom (very fitting as he was earlier gifted a copy after a successful summit. It’s a small custom where the successful summiteer would then sign it and hand it on when the occasion called. His had even been signed by the one and only Conrad Anker) and Everest, An Unfinished Story for me. Ha!

The story wouldn't be complete without the mention of two other legends and now good friends, Deepak and his cousin, Bibek. Deepak is Dom’s friend and a Nepalese guide who was pivotal in helping to organise all the trip logistics. From booking teahouses, transport and hotels to organising my permits, Deepak was incredible. He was also kind enough to take us on a few small day trips when we returned to Kathmandu. Thanks Deepak, we'll see you soon!

Nepalese Brad Pitt, Deepak Thapa

I set out for Everest with a destination in mind, as most travellers do. I thought I was going to touch the base of the world's highest peak, to stand in its shadow and bring back a story of accomplishment. I was wrong.

The mountain had other plans for me. At 4,410 meters, in a small village called Dingboche, my body and my spirit were asked to stop. A pounding headache was the symptom, but the cause was far deeper. In that moment of what felt like failure, the true journey began. It was a journey not of ascent, but of return; not of conquest, but of surrender.

This book is the story of that return. It is a map of the path I found only after I let go of the one I had planned. The real summits, I discovered, were not made of rock and ice, but of human kindness: the warmth of a shared meal in a cold lodge, the wisdom in the eyes of a man carrying his daughters' futures on his back, the unexpected joy of a toothless man's laughter.

Say Yes. Figure the Rest Out Later.

If you read one of my earlier posts, you'll know that Dom Huxley came into my life via a chance encounter during a Movember shoot, and a few months later dragged me up Mount Aspiring in the Southern Alps. You'll also know that saying yes to that trip cracked something open in me: a hunger for greater adventure, more discomfort, beauty, and stories I wanna tell the grandkids someday. 

Our original plan was to climb in October 2025, however Dom seriously injured his ankle and, coincidentally, that same day Nepal erupted into widespread protests as Gen Z students rose up against the former establishment. 76 people died. Large-scale change has a cost.

Dom goes to the Himalayas the way most people go to the supermarket, regularly and without much fuss. If I'm being honest, I can't quite remember how I wriggled my way onto this one but I have a feeling it started with me pitching to come along and shoot some content and document the journey. Nek minute that evolved into me being his only team member. I naively said yes, without knowing what I was really getting into and thus, the idea was born. My job was to document the trip and also create content for a new expedition company. More on that soon.

The plan was ambitious. Three peaks: Lobuche East (6,119m), Island Peak (6,189m), and Ama Dablam (6,813m). The first two as a progression, learning systems and getting the feel for high altitude mountaineering, before attempting one of the most iconic and beautiful mountains on earth. I was under no illusions that these were serious objectives, but I trusted Dom, and I was excited to learn and test myself.

Six weeks before departure, I hurt my knee while hiking with a weighted vest (shoutout Industrial Athletic for the vest!). I think it may have just been the sudden increase in load as it was a bigger training week. We'll leave it there. Suffice to say I arrived in Nepal already slightly broken, which, as it turns out, was just the beginning. On 27th March, I flew down to Christchurch where I was greeted by Dom and his lovely wife, Sylvia. Our first stop was Bivouac Outdoor to pick up some climbing hardware. Later that evening, we enjoyed Pizza at a beautiful little spot called Bomba Pizza in Lyttelton. AMAZING and the perfect last dinner in New Zealand before departing.

Kathmandu

With everything going on with the war, we luckily had had the foresight to transit in Singapore rather than Dubai. After a non-eventful day of travel, we landed in Kathmandu late Saturday, 28th March. If you've ever arrived in an Asian city for the first time, you already know what I'm about to say. But Kathmandu has its own particular flavour of chaos. Smoggy, loud, electric. Suzuki Altos, motorbikes and surprisingly, many electric cars thread their way through the narrow streets of Kathmandu. It takes awhile but eventually you figure out how to cross the road without much hassle; the traffic kinda just slows down and flows around you.

We spent Sunday in Thamel, Kathmandu's tourist hub, sourcing the last of our gear. The Rab store became a favourite, as did the Himalayan Java located almost directly above. This was where the first of many chicken burger and fruit salad combo’s were demolished. 

Getting to the mountains meant flying into Lukla's Tenzing-Hillary Airport, one of the most dangerous in the world. A short runway carved into a Himalayan hillside, 12 degree gradient, cliff at one end, mountain at the other. Because the approach requires line of sight through the valley, delays are extremely common. Ours was cancelled Monday. Then Tuesday, after waiting about 8 hours on both days. “Hurry up and wait!”

On one of those afternoons, we managed to escape to Pashupatinath Temple, one of the most sacred Hindu sites in the world, perched on the banks of the Bagmati River. Open cremations on the ghats, sadhus draped in saffron, incense curling into the haze. I wasn’t sure if I’d feel something profound or strange seeing human bodies being burned in public, but what struck me instead was the river itself, so venerated and so sacred, and yet so visibly polluted. There's a metaphor in there somewhere but I'll leave it for someone smarter than me to unpack. Wednesday, five hours delayed but finally airborne, we made it to Lukla.

Into the Khumbu

After landing in Lukla, and a mandatory coffee accompanied by some momo’s for fuel, we were moving by 3pm. Our first night was in Phakding, a small village along the Dudh Koshi River. It was also my first introduction to Dal Bhat, the lentil rice dish that would become the fuel for a big part of the trip, until I couldn’t stomach it anymore. The best thing about Dal Baht power, 24 hour, was that we’d get refills which was perfect for refuelling at the end of the day. I followed Dom’s advice; NEVER EAT THE BUFF (buffalo). It’s killed outside the national park and then carried in which could take some days and last time I checked, the porters didn’t come with refrigeration. 

The next day we pushed to Namche Bazaar. Dom and I were carrying everything ourselves at this stage with no porter. Our packs were somewhere around 35kg front and back combined, which is decent at sea level but brutal as we climbed higher and higher. The approach to Namche is infamous for its final climb just after the famous Hillary Bridge, a relentless wall of switchbacks that comes at you right when your legs have already given everything. I started cramping and kept moving albeit slowly — this is where I first earned my nickname, “The Nepalese Snail.” It had a ring to it haha. Little by little. Slowly, slowly. 

A final checkpoint, a coke and a snickers bar and Namche revealed itself.

I don't know what I expected, a dusty outpost maybe. What I found was a proper mountain town draped across a hillside like an amphitheatre. Coffee shops, bakeries, gear stores and even a North Face store, which has got to be the highest one in the world. Throughout the approach, Dom had been responding to every concern I raised with "we can get it in Namche”, which became a running joke. He was right. The Sherpa Capital was a bustling little town. Expedition teams roamed around and given that we were going into the main climbing season, the town was buzzing.

We spent two nights in Namche, using the second day for an acclimatisation walk with Campbell and Emily, aka The CMC frothers, a pair of young Kiwis we'd first encountered at the chaos of Kathmandu airport. They'd pop up again and again throughout the trip, which is just how the Khumbu works. You keep running into your people.

Our acclimatisation crew also included Henry the diplomat, who joined us for the walk up to the Hillary Memorial and down into Khunde for lunch. Good company, good views, and a first proper taste of the altitude that was waiting above.

Off the Beaten Path

The next morning we began our journey. Before leaving, we had made the decision to get a sherpa to help with the load and thank the Lord we did. Hari was quiet, strong and seldom seen without a cigarette lol. A man of few words, exceptional efficiency and someone who became a good friend.

Most trekkers in the Khumbu follow the main EBC (Everest Base Camp) trail, busy, well-worn, clearly marked. Dom, being Dom, had other ideas. Our first detour took us to the monastery in Khumjung, home to what the locals claim is a Yeti skull. The existence of the skull itself is interesting enough, but the backstory is better: apparently Sir Edmund Hillary once convinced the government to fund a "Yeti-finding expedition," essentially talking his way into a budget for climbing by dangling the promise of finding a mythical creature. Whether the skull is real or not, it’s a great story and I appreciated the entrepreneurial spirit of the great Sir Ed.

After a 45-minute wait to find the owner of the open café in the village, we were rewarded with the single best tuna sandwich I have ever eaten in my life. Crazy. 

We made our way through Dole and Machermo, staying a night at each. Navigating the trails required occasionally dodging the donkey caravans and dzopkyo (yak-cow crossbreeds) as they weaved through the trails carrying in important supplies. The landscape continued to shift as we ascended higher and higher, becoming more and more alpine and becoming colder and colder.

Hari, and Dom looking on at Gokyo Lakes

My journal entry from April 6th, written in Machermo:

"Terrible sleep last night. Headachey. Early signs of AMS?"

AMS, Acute Mountain Sickness. Fuck. It was the one thing that I wasn’t able to prepare for and the one thing that I just didn’t know how I’d respond to. Dom's advice was sound: my body was dealing with a lot of deficits. Cumulative physical fatigue, disrupted sleep, unfamiliar food, altitude. Just keep hydrating and give it time as it’s all part of the process.

I started on Diamox, a medication commonly used to aid acclimatisation, and pushed on to Gokyo, where we stayed for two nights (this allowed for an acclimatisation walk up Gokyo Ri) and then Dragnak. But the symptoms weren't fading, instead they were continuing to build. The headache became a permanent companion. Nausea showed up and I knew it was bad when my appetite faded and Dom started finishing his food way ahead of me. Sleep, already rough from the cold and the thin air, became nearly impossible and included four bathroom trips a night. It could be worse though; Dom told me the story of a guy who slipped on ice that had formed from spilled water on a bathroom floor, a late-night trip to the loo costing him his shot at Everest 🥶

From Dragnak, our next goal was the Cho La pass.

Cho La

I had been warned that Cho La was hard. I did not fully understand what that meant until I stepped out of the teahouse and hit a wall. The climb starts almost immediately from the teahouse and I wasn’t ready for it. My heart rate spiked uncontrollably which I can only describe as feeling like something between panic and desperation. In jiu-jitsu, when someone catches you in a choke, sometimes it comes on fast. Your body is fighting for air and you have a finite window to work before you have to tap. That panicky urge to breathe is something I know. Cho La, at altitude and already depleted, brought it rushing back. Not as acute, but the same flavour and unfortunately you don’t get to just tap out and start a new round.

My heart rate stabilised eventually. But every step was slow and hard. Dom and Hari moved steadily ahead, their silhouettes shrinking against the white expanse. I kept my eyes on my feet and kept moving.

What would normally be a 2-3 hour crossing at sea-level took me eight hours, and I think that's the frustrating thing. It wasn't technically challenging. Being sick just made it hard. There were climbs I hadn't anticipated, including a fucking annoying dip in elevation before the final push to the pass lol. It felt like I was giving back the hard-fought altitude that had cost everything to gain. Wearing just our trail shoes, our feet were soaked within half an hour as snow continued to fall.

Being my first proper experience at a decent altitude, it was mind-blowing how much it reduced my capacity. “Slowly, slowly” I continued to mutter as I slogged through the sufferfest. The craziest thing was that Hari, who was loaded to the brim, was long gone. After vanishing for over an hour, he returned bagless and ready to help. Before I even started the second climb, he'd already dropped gear at the top and was back ready for more. Built different…no, born different.

At the top, we had some Tibetan bread with jam. A small celebration at the top of a very hard day.

The descent to Dzongla was mostly downhill, and I arrived feeling pretty spent.

Dzongla and the Decision

Dzongla sits at the foot of Lobuche, our first summit objective. We stayed at the Cholatse Lodge, a beautiful teahouse, where we had warm soup, and a much-needed rest day. On day two, however a weather window opened.

And I hesitated.

Doubt had slowly began to creep in while I wasn't looking. My body wasn't recovering the way it should. The headaches hadn't shifted. A wet cough had developed, which was first noticeable back in Dragnak and had only worsened as we climbed. I made the call to stay and rest. Dom, ever adaptable, unhinged, and well, seasoned, decided to make a speed ascent of Lobuche East solo. He left at 1pm, making high camp in under two hours, and pushing for the summit through the night with Kunga Tempe, who had been designated as my sherpa for the climb. 

I felt both relived that I wasn’t participating and also gutted. From what I hear, the climb isn’t overly technical and it’s definitely something I have no doubt I would have achieved under normal circumstances. But they’re not normal circumstances so I cannot think about the what if’s. I guess that’s the whole reason why 8000m summits are so so impressive and even more so without using supplemental oxygen. I understand now, more than ever. 

The plan was to meet Dom in Dingboche, some 400m lower, where I was quietly hopeful that some descent and recovery might resurrect Island Peak as a possibility in a few days time. The body can bounce back. I'd seen it but for now, I just needed to get lower.

The thing about HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema) is that it doesn't always announce itself dramatically. It creeps in slowly via a cough here, a bit more breathlessness than expected there. By the time I was descending toward Dingboche, the cough was worsening and I was losing power in my lower limbs which became extremely obvious when Dom, Hari and I were walking up a gentle slope in Dingboche towards a newish Scandi-Style cafe (in the Khumbu of all places). Dom, who had just summited Lobuche, was moving comfortably, and was joking around with Hari who was happily puffing away on a ciggy. Based on their surprised looks, I don’t think they realised I had dropped behind about 30 meters over the span of about 60 seconds. Later that evening, we made the call to go down and get checked out at the medical centre, which was about a days walk from our current location.

Down

I felt both things at once. Relief and grief, sitting right next to each other.

Relief because going down meant feeling better, and I did, almost immediately. The descent from Dingboche to Namche, was a beautiful walk that took us right past the turn off to Ama Dablam’s base camp — another mountain that had been on the agenda and one that I had a permit for. The body's response to altitude is almost comically responsive to elevation. Down is the only medicine and it tasted fucking sweet.

Grief because I had come so far, literally and figuratively, and had not reached my goal. I'd imagined this trip for months and was so excited. I was gutted because the decision was made for me and there was nothing I could do besides learn from the experience. 

I also felt…embarrassed. Like I'd let people down. Like somehow I had failed.

In Namche, I visited the medical centre. A doctor confirmed what Dom had suspected: HAPE. Fluid on the lungs which meant I had to go down and stay down. We stayed two nights (or maybe 3 I can’t remember) in Namche, resting up before heading down to Lukla. We also ran into Emily again (one of the CMC frothers) in Namche, which was awesome. She’d suffered similar altitude issues and had made the decision to descend also. Haha two Kiwis, both battered by the Himalayas, regrouping at the end of the trail. There was comfort in that, somehow, knowing that it wasn’t just me? 

The walk out was uneventful but a grind. I had forgotten about the big hill right at the end, which seemed to take forever. After spending the night in Lukla, we managed to catch out flight back to KTM with only a two hour delay, while Emily continued on foot for a few more days before catching a 12 hour Jeep ride. I felt bad for her, but that’s all part of the rugged travel experience! She said someone threw up on her, which I guess further adds to her story haha.

The Long Wait for Home

Because we came down so much earlier than planned, Dom and I had time to kill. We made it to Pokhara, explored, ate well, and tried to think about what came next. We tried to book earlier flights back, but due to Trump's escalating tensions with Iran, airlines were running less flights and the only option was paying $4000 for business class. That’s a no from me. 

A random photo dump. Wifi cards at the lodges, a strong porter, planing the next adventure with Dom and Deepak and the. Medical Centre in Namche.

What I Know Now

While there’s a lot to unpack, it’s also incredibly simple. I didn’t reach my goal which was disappointing, but I’ve come away with so many amazing stories and memories that will stay with me forever. I’ve built new friendships and deepened existing ones (Dom and I didn’t kill each other lol) and I’ve learnt more about myself. It’s funny how a bit of distance (and being at sea-level haha) changes things. I vividly remember waking up one night with a pounding headache, thinking to myself “fuck this, I’m gonna sell my kit and buy a surfboard.” But now I’m back I’ve forgotten the pain…maybe it’s like a relationship that’s ended. Sometimes we end up thinking of the highlight reel and forgetting the reasons why things didn’t work out? Maybe that’s my toxic trait ha. But for me, this feels like unfinished business, and I think I owe myself another go.

I learned things on that trip that no amount of preparation could have taught me. I learned that my physiology, more explosive and more fast-twitch, produces lactic acid at a rate that compounds badly at altitude, where everything is already pushing you into an anaerobic state. I learned that I need to have a better fuelling strategy, every 60 minutes like an ultra-runner, because you're burning through reserves faster than you think. I learned that load management matters. There’s things I can’t control, but there’s a bunch of things that I can, and this needs to be my focus on future missions. 

Altitude can also hit differently each time; A climber died near Camp 1 on Everest recently, someone who had summited before. The mountain doesn't owe you consistency and it doesn't care what you've done previously.

And I learned, again, that the best stories don't always come from the summit. Sometimes they come from the frozen bathroom floor at 4am (for Dom’s mate anyway). From Tibetan bread during a sufferfest. From a doctor in Namche telling you to go down and stay down. From running into fellow Kiwis at the end of the trail, both of you beaten and strangely okay about it. From a Scottish teacher who was the cause of Dom’s food poisoning to a Russian traveller who knew me from another life, these stories are all worth it. 

What's Next?

More adventure and stoke. Oh and Dom and I have started an expedition company, Hux Exped which will be coming soon. I don't know how I didn't know this sooner, but Dom's an IFMGA Certified Guide. Yours truly will be there to document. The goal is to offer a boutique, guided trekking experience in a beautiful and more untouched area of Nepal, Kangchenjunga. More soon!

Thank You

Dom Huxley

Rum Doodle, where do I even start. You’ve often said that time is the most valuable thing we have and therefore it’s the most valuable thing we can give someone else. Thank you for investing your time in me. For your guidance and wisdom, whether it be technical mountain knowledge or life advice. The mountains are a stressful environment, and I’m proud to say that our friendship not only survived, but deepened. Haha also rate all the stories big time. I’m excited to collect more with you!

Follow Dom's adventures at @rum_doodle. A special mention to his wife, Sylvia for also letting me steal him for this mission and letting me stay. Appreciate you.

A huge thank you also to our sponsors:

Industrial Athletic. Amber and Rob Holah from IA. You guys are epic humans. Thank you for backing the dream and not only that, thank you for continuing to have me shoot your content. If you need any fitness equipment, these guys are the best by far www.industrialathletic.com

No Ugly. Thanks so much team! Haha we had to quickly skull our cans of Hydrate at customs as we forgot to pack them in our checked luggage. My empty can then embarked on a journey to stay crinkle free, living inside my helmet throughout the Khumbu. Another epic Kiwi brand! https://nougly.nz/

SMC Events. Lauren and the team at SMC. You guys are great and I’ve loved working with you for the past few years. Shooting all over the North Island and of course the Mount Half. Appreciate you guys!

None of this happens without the support of people and brands who back the mission. On to the nextttttt!