After so many years away, stepping back into the Khumbu Icefall felt like flipping open a worn book—pages filled with memories, both triumphant and tragic. But this year, the Icefall is a new chapter altogether.

The entrance has shifted far to the right—so far, in fact, that in the past, this line would have been considered suicidal. Now, it cuts across what we call the “Soccer Field,” then bends left again, crawling beneath the ominous hanging seracs of the Horseshoe Glacier. That section has taken lives before—heavy ones. And yet, paradoxically, this year’s route may be the fastest I’ve seen in the last 15 years. Efficient, but laced with quiet menace.

What’s most alarming, though, is the heat. The Khumbu Glacier is melting at terrifying speed. I used to think the stories of midnight climbs were just high-altitude folklore. Not anymore.

This season, it’s the only way to stay ahead of the melt. Just last night, our Sherpa team left Camp Two at 9 PM to push to the South Col—Camp Four. In my earlier years, that would’ve meant frostbite and bitter winds. Now, it’s survival strategy.

Reaching the Valley of Silence brought a different kind of intensity—an emotional one. There’s a stillness in that place that always leaves me breathless, and not from altitude. I felt old there. But I also felt strong. Not in the way I used to be—reckless, fast—but in a seasoned, rooted way.

Seeing Damian’s Camp Two setup (he chose it a few years ago) from above—strategically perched on a granite dome—was inspiring. From there, you get a panoramic view of the entire camp and the route beyond. He’s carved out something special up there, and you can feel it.

This rotation was short, yes—but it carried the weight of years. Changes in the Icefall. Changes in climate. Changes in us.

We’ll rest now. But we’ll return. And when we do, we’ll carry these truths with us: The mountain changes. The glacier shifts. But the spirit—that deep, raw pull that brought us here in the first place—endures.

The Flight Into Memory

On the morning of May 5, Germán—my climbing partner and client from Argentina—and I woke up in Lukla. Shortly after, we boarded a helicopter operated by Heli Everest Air, bound for Everest Base Camp.

Flying over the Khumbu, the scale of the camps spread across the glacier below was staggering. From the air, it truly hits you: this place is a village of determination, ambition, and raw human endurance.

We landed around 9:45 AM. The moment my boots touched the ground, emotion took over. Tears filled my eyes. So many memories—some joyful, others marked by loss—rushed in all at once. After more than two decades on this mountain, every stone, tent, and trail carries a story.

Reunion with Our Sherpa Family

The highlight of the day was reuniting with our Sherpa team: Khundu Sherpa, Sonam Phinjo, and Pasang Geljen. Pasang is the younger brother of Lama Jambu, who began working with me in 1997, and of Lhakpa Gelu, the legendary Sherpa who still holds the Everest speed record. This team isn’t just experienced—they’re family. Their presence here is not just reassuring; it’s essential.

A Strategic Camp in a Crowded Season

Our base camp is located on the upper left side of the lower Khumbu Glacier, set apart from the most densely packed clusters (and yes, the smell). This season, Base Camp is enormous—over 2,000 people are living here. But in our quiet corner, the sun hits our tents at 7:10 AM, giving us a natural and welcome wake-up call. It’s a thoughtful, strategic setup that makes all the difference.

Eating Like Kings: A Fusion of Cultures

We’re eating incredibly well, thanks to a fusion of Nepali, Argentine, and American flavors. After the effort it took to get here—from Mera Peak to the glacier—good food is more than a comfort. It’s fuel, morale, and celebration, all in one.

Training Begins: Into the Icefall

Today, we stepped into the legendary Khumbu Icefall. This year’s route begins on the right side, hugging the edge for about a quarter of the way before cutting left through the section known as the Soccer Field. I have to say—the icefall is in excellent condition. About as safe as it gets, with minimal technical bottlenecks and fast travel times. Still, it demands total focus. There’s no room for complacency.

Germán: Strength and Partnership

A special mention to Germán, who continues to impress me. He’s not just physically strong—he’s present, focused, and deeply committed. Climbing with him has become a real partnership. We’ve built a strong rhythm together, and his mindset through every challenge is inspiring. This is his first time on Everest, but he moves with the calm and steadiness of someone who belongs here.

Reflections: A Life on Everest

Standing once again at Base Camp, I couldn’t help but reflect on the time I’ve spent here. Since my first expedition in 1999, this marks my 15th Everest expedition. Over the years, I’ve spent approximately:

• 375 days at Base Camp

• 30 days at Camp 1

• 75 days at Camp 2

• 30 days at Camp 3

• 15 days at Camp 4

• And I’ve crossed the Khumbu Icefall around 120 times

Each camp, each crossing, holds its own weight in memory—from quiet mornings sipping tea with friends, to brutal storms, to powerful summits. It’s all part of the story.

And I’m still writing it.

- Willie

The Journey: A Story in Stats

After nearly two weeks navigating the wild and remote Hinku Valley, our Mera Peak pre-acclimatization program has come to an end—stronger lungs, deeper bonds, and two successful summits later.

From April 24 to May 3, our small team covered:

• 35+ miles on foot

• 17,054 feet of elevation gain

• 12,800 feet of elevation loss

• 2 summits of Mera Peak (6,476 m / 21,247 ft)

This wasn't just about reaching the top. It was about preparing ourselves for Everest and Lhotse with sharp logistics, lean decision-making, and the trust that only a tight-knit team can build.

Summit Days: April 29 & May 2

We reached our first summit on April 29 after a calm, clear climb from High Camp (5,800 m). The views were everything we hoped for—Everest, Lhotse, Makalu, Cho Oyu, and Kangchenjunga standing tall in the morning light.

After a well-earned rest day in Khare (4,950 m), we climbed back up through a May 1st blizzard to set camp again at 6,000 meters, gaining nearly 1,050 meters (3,445 ft) over just 3.5 miles. On May 2, we stood on the summit once more—this time in perfect weather—and sealed our acclimatization with confidence.

Fast Decisions in Unstable Weather

Our second rotation tested every part of the plan. May 1 brought brutal winds and whiteout conditions on our ascent. On May 2, the skies cleared just in time for the summit—but by afternoon, we were navigating through 10 inches of fresh snow on our descent.

On May 3, we awoke to crystal skies. Without wasting time, we descended rapidly to Khare, packed gear, and by late afternoon, were airborne to Lukla via helicopter.

This level of agility—making the call, pivoting plans, pulling off clean logistics—is only possible in a small, tightly-run team. In contrast, larger commercial expeditions often struggle to adapt, weighed down by the psychological pressure of group dynamics and the sheer inertia of managing 20+ people. Decisions take longer, risks multiply, and personal motivation can dissolve in the crowd.

The Heartbeat of the Team: Kala, Nima & Ringi

No summit happens alone. Behind every step we took were Kala, Nima, and Ringi—our dream crew from High Altitude Dreams, led by Kili Sherpa. These guys are the real force behind the expedition.

They carried our loads, broke trail when needed, made the best coffee above 5,000 meters, and kept spirits high when conditions were anything but. Their skill, strength, and loyalty are what allow expeditions like ours to run with precision and heart.

Reflections: Soreness, Aging & Staying Hungry

On a personal note—this rotation reminded me that I’m not 25 anymore. The altitude hits harder. The aches linger longer. But the love? That only deepens.

Each step, each summit, each push through the storm makes it clearer: I’m still hungry. These mountains still matter. And being able to do this with good people? That’s the real privilege.

Teamwork at Its Best

A huge thanks to German, my climbing partner on this expedition. Strong, focused, and thoughtful in the mountains—he’s the kind of teammate you want on your rope when things get tough. What started as a professional guiding relationship has evolved into a true partnership based on trust and mutual respect.

Next Stop: Everest & Lhotse

Mera Peak was our warm-up. Tomorrow, we fly to Everest Base Camp, where the next phase of our 2025 expedition begins.

We’re rested. We’re acclimatized. We’re ready.

Let’s go.

– Willie Benegas

Today was another incredible step forward on our journey. We left Khare early in the morning with our sights set on Mera High Camp, moving steadily higher into the thin, crisp air of the upper Hinku Valley.

The climb was steady and challenging. We covered about 4 kilometers (2.5 miles) in distance, gaining roughly 900 meters (about 2,950 feet) of elevation. Our high point of the day was 5,800 meters (around 19,000 feet)—a serious altitude where every step demands focus, patience, and respect for the mountain.

As we climbed, the landscape transformed around us. The route wound its way across ancient moraine and onto the glacier itself. The beauty of the area is breathtaking—peaks like Mera’s multiple summits tower overhead, ridgelines sweep into the sky, and the vast expanse of the upper glacier stretches out in every direction. Yet, it’s impossible not to notice the changes. The glaciers are retreating, leaving behind exposed rock and new, unfamiliar terrain where once there was only ice. It’s a powerful reminder of the transformations happening in these remote places, places that once felt eternal.

As we gained altitude, the effects of elevation made themselves known. Breathing became slower, each step a little heavier. The body moves differently at nearly 6,000 meters; everything becomes more deliberate. But the reward—the sense of standing high in the Himalaya, surrounded by the silent, raw beauty of these peaks—is worth every labored breath.

After reaching High Camp, we made the decision to descend back to Khare for the night. Returning to the relative “low” of 4,950 meters (16,240 feet) felt almost like a luxury after the push upward. Hot food, warm drinks, and the laughter of friends around the table made for a perfect end to a big day in the mountains.

Days like today are why we come here: to test ourselves, to feel the awe of these landscapes, and to witness both their enduring beauty and their fragile changes.

Today we left Khote behind, stepping further into the Hinku Valley on our way to Thangnak. Even after more than two decades of exploring the Khumbu region, today felt like a first. This part of the valley was completely new to me—a reminder that no matter how many times you return to the mountains, they always have new secrets to share.

The trek was nothing short of spectacular. The valley opened wide around us, framed by massive rock walls that seemed to rise straight out of the earth. Sheer, towering faces of granite and ice loomed above, giving the whole landscape a wild, raw feeling. The scale of it all was overwhelming in the best possible way. Every few steps, I had to pause, not because of the altitude, but because of the awe.

The views of the surrounding peaks were incredible—ridges sharp and clean against a deep blue sky, glaciers winding their way down from hidden summits. Mera itself was visible at times, standing tall, as if keeping a quiet watch over our journey.

What struck me most was the sense of discovery. After so many years and so many expeditions, it’s easy to think you know the Khumbu. But today reminded me that exploration never really ends. There are always new valleys to walk through, new faces of the mountains to see, new perspectives to gain.

This place is alive, shifting with the seasons, the weather, and even with the memories we bring and the ones we create. Trekking from Khote to Thangnak wasn’t just a physical journey; it was a personal one too—a fresh connection to a region that has shaped so much of my life.

I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

As someone who has stood on the summit of Mount Everest over a dozen times, I can say without hesitation that training is everything. No one lucks their way to the top of this mountain. The blend of endurance, strength, technique, and mindset sets apart a successful climb from a dangerous one. Ultimately, being in true Everest shape isn't just safer for you—it's safer for your Sherpa team and climbing partners. When you're strong and efficient, you reduce risk for everyone around you.

At Benegas Brothers Expeditions, we've guided hundreds of climbers on big mountains worldwide and seen firsthand what works. We're not just guides; we're climbers ourselves. We know what it takes because we've lived it again and again.

My Everest History

I started guiding on Everest in 1999, and since then, I have participated in 15 expeditions, including summiting 13 times.. On my last trip in 2018, I summited Everest and then summitted Lhotse the very next day—an experience that tested every ounce of endurance, strength, and focus I had. Every season, I see climbers who show up strong—but strength alone isn't enough. You need to train smartly for the mountain's specific demands. I've moved through the Icefall, the Western Cwm, the Lhotse Face, and the Southeast Ridge in all kinds of conditions. Every season, I see climbers who show up strong—but strength alone isn't enough. 

Real Training for Real Mountains

Here in the Wasatch, I train primarily through backcountry skiing. It's my favorite way to build aerobic capacity, strength, and mountain movement. The big vertical days in Big and Little Cottonwood Canyons mimic the sustained effort required on Everest.

Aerobic Capacity is Everything

Endurance is the backbone of mountaineering. If you can't keep moving for 6, 8, or 12 hours daily—day after day—you won't make it far. On Everest, the timeline and effort for a summit push look something like this:

• Base Camp (17,500 ft) to Camp 1 (19,500 ft): ~2.5 miles, ~2,000 ft gain, 5–7 hours through the Khumbu Icefall

• Camp 1 to Camp 2 (21,000 ft): ~1.5 miles, ~1,500 ft gain, 5–6 hours across the Western Cwm

• Camp 2 to Camp 3 (23,500 ft): ~1.3 miles, ~2,500 ft gain, 5–7 hours up the Lhotse Face

• Camp 3 to Camp 4 (26,000 ft): ~1 mile, ~2,500 ft gain, 5–6 hours into the Death Zone

• Camp 4 to Summit (29,032 ft) and back: ~2 miles round trip, ~3,000 ft up and down, 10–16+ hours

That's a massive output at high altitude, often on little sleep and limited calories. If your aerobic base isn't solid, the mountain will break you down.

Strength That Serves You

Mountaineering strength isn't about lifting heavy weights at the gym. It's about being able to carry a pack uphill for hours without your legs giving out. Here's how I think about strength training:

• General Strength Phase: Build clean movement patterns with full range of motion and light resistance. This is about durability and injury prevention.

• Max Strength Phase: Focus on lifting heavier loads for low reps to increase force production—without adding bulk.

• Strength Reserve: If your pack weighs 50 lbs and you can step up with 100 lbs, you're only using 50% of your capacity. That buffer is what keeps you going when fatigue sets in.

• Muscular Endurance: This is where you condition your body to do thousands of step-ups without losing power. I recommend one ME workout per week as you approach your climb.

Movement Efficiency = Energy Saved

Poor technique drains energy fast on Everest. Whether it’s inefficient footwork in the Icefall or struggling on fixed lines, I’ve seen climbers burn out not because they weren’t strong but because they weren't smooth.

We coach our climbers on real mountain movement: how to stay balanced on crampons, how to transition on ropes, how to walk across ladders. Practicing these skills beforehand means you waste less energy when it really counts.

To simulate Icefall movement during training, I set up agility drills over unstable terrain, practice walking on ladders in crampons, and use ropes to rehearse clipping and ascending systems. It's not perfect, but it trains the coordination, balance, and focus required to move efficiently through the most dangerous section of the mountain.

Pre-Climb Recovery (aka Tapering)

The final stretch before the expedition is all about recovery and preparation. For Everest, the approach trek acts as a natural taper. I usually recommend light activity 2–3 days before departure to let the body rest, stay sharp, and avoid illness. If you're going on a climb that demands high output from day one, like Denali, a full taper 1–2 weeks out is better.

The Mental Game

No matter how fit you are, Everest will test your mind. Cold, altitude, long days, and uncertainty are all part of the experience. The key is learning how to stay calm and focused under stress.

Long aerobic training days help build that mental stamina. So does putting yourself in mildly uncomfortable situations—sleeping outside, hiking in rough weather, carrying loads uphill. The more discomfort you can train through, the more resilient you'll be when the real test comes.

And belief matters. Confidence isn't bravado—it's knowing that you've done the work, and you're ready.

Final Thoughts

I've guided climbers from all walks of life to the top of the world. The ones who summit aren't always the youngest or the strongest—they're the ones who train with purpose, move smart, stay focused, and trust the process.

If you're aiming for Everest—or any big mountain—train for the one you're climbing. Train your body. Train your mind. Train your skills.

At Benegas Brothers Expeditions, we're here to guide you every step of the way.

Let’s climb!

—Willie Benegas