Estimated reading time: 4 minutes
If I didn’t know better, I’d think the latest trend in thrill-seeking involves taking out a second mortgage just to enjoy some fish eggs while high on the world’s tallest mountain—and I am not talking about smoking those funny plants.
Honestly, what happened to the good old days of climbing a mountain? You know, hacking through the snow, contracting frostbite, maybe sharing a flask of something strong with a Sherpa, and praying your toes don’t turn into popsicles. Now, it’s spas, sushi, and posh digs? It’s like if Costco decided to go couture.
Imagine this: You’re perched precariously on what is effectively a glorified boulder, surrounded by snow and probably a few dispossessed mountain goats, and what are you thinking about? The oxygen tank running low? The possibility of avalanches? No, you’re wondering when the hell your raw, thinly sliced fish is going to arrive. Because that’s Everest now—a Michelin star on a mountain named after a dude who probably never envisioned it as the 7-Eleven of the elite.
Oh, and what about the spa treatments? Isn’t the climb supposed to be the ultimate detox? Thousands of feet into thin air, freezing your Gucci sunglasses off – that’s supposed to cleanse you! But no, apparently now you can get a hot stone massage at Basecamp. Your chakras will be aligned just in time to pray you don’t slip into oblivion.
Let’s talk housing. The thin air must be doing something because people are hallucinating that they’re climbing Everest while staying in accommodations better than my college dorm room. Who went and decided that roughing it means having a pillow menu and a mini bar? When I first heard this, I thought Everest had opened up a timeshare. Next thing you know, the Sherpas will be offering game shows: Wheel of Misfortune, anyone?
Luxury dining? Apparently, now you get to ‘experience’ Nepali cuisine like you’re at a fancy New York restaurant. Because nothing says ‘daring adventurer’ like sipping imported wine in a tent while pretending you’re the next Reinhold Messner. I came here to almost-die climbing a glacier, not to sample seared foie gras.
Let’s not forget the environmental impact. Yes, let’s make even more garbage to leave strewn on this beautiful, remote, already trash-laden mountain. Let’s leave an ecological footprint the size of Bigfoot’s shoe. Leave it to humanity to take one of the last bastions of untouched beauty and turn it into something between a VIP lounge and a clearance rack.
What happened to honor? What happened to actually feeling like you accomplished climbing Everest? Getting to the top of that peak used to mean something. It was supposed to test your mettle, now it just tests your credit limit.
I mean, how did this conversation even start? “Honey, let’s show the Joneses we’re better than them. I know! We’ll climb Everest! We’ll spend thousands on that gorgeous frostbite and relationship-altering stupor!”
Maybe Everest was sick of its rugged, no-frills image too. Maybe it looked at Kilimanjaro’s Instagram, got jealous, and said, ‘Hey, I want to trend too!’ And voilà, welcome to Mount Excess, where you won’t break a sweat without breaking the bank.
But isn’t that just where we are now as a society? Instant gratification, even in the most absurd of circumstances. If we could turn camping into glamping, why not extend it to the highest point on Earth?
Enough is enough. If you want to climb a mountain, climb a mountain. If you want a spa, go to a spa. You don’t need to mix frostbite with filet mignon. It’s grandstanding, but with altitude sickness. You might as well start offering to airbrush your mountain-climbing photos to make you look tanned and fabulous, not like you just survived an ordeal.
So, a final message to all those ‘hard-core explorers’ out there, getting massages and eating sashimi at Everest: Bravo. You’ve managed the impossible. You’ve turned the world’s most esteemed climb into a series more suited to E! Entertainment than NatGeo. If Edmund Hillary were here, I’d bet half my limbs he’d be embarrassed. But hey, at least you’ll still have limbs to bet because why risk anything when a concierge can carry you up in style?
Source: Spa, Sushi, Posh Digs: The Bougiest Way to Climb Everest
