Today was going to be special. We had conquered the cake – today would be the icing. Kala Patthar is a minor summit overlooking Gorak Shep and today we would climb it to get the classic view of Everest. It’s only about 1500ft of ascent, but the round trip takes about 4 hours. So we had an early start planned with a 4:30 wake up call. Mary was up for the climb, but was not up for the early start. So at 4:30am I bounced out of bed and padded down the dark corridor to have a chat with the porters. They just looked at me and said “Namaste! Have you looked outside?”

In the night it had snowed – big time. Kala Patthar was definitely off. Back to bed!

The snowfall was out of the normal for this time of year. Normally the autumn trekking season has very predictable, stable weather. But we were told an enormous cyclone had circled in over the Indian Ocean and its tail had whipped round and dumped a lot of snow in the area.

What do we do now? At breakfast we had an expedition conference. Did we descend or did we stay put? It looked decidedly dodgy to us. Here we were 17,000 feet up with 18 inches of fresh snow and not knowing if there was more on the way. We were warm and safe where we were. However, if we did not return now we might miss our flight back to Kathmandu – and hence our flights back home. It also depended on whether other trekkers below us were coming up or whether they too were staying put.

We were also fairly well equipped, but not really well equipped. Few of us had considered this type of weather as we all thought it was benign at this time of year. For example, Mary did not have any gaiters and I just had walking shoes (with holes in) and no waterproof trousers.

Our guides made the decision for us. This was, of course, their job. We were to descend!

The yaks went first and broke the trail through the fresh snow. I’ve no idea how they knew where to go. We followed, slipping and sliding down some significantly steep slopes. It was very slow going, but the guides were magnificent and helped us every step of the way.

After just a few hundred metres my feet were soaking wet and cold – and we had about 6 more hours of this. As the day progressed the path became more compacted and therefore more slippery.

… and then it started to get slushy – yuk.

In all we descended about 2,700ft to Pheriche where we arrived wet, cold and fairly miserable. But we were safe. We felt we had had a proper adventure. The single dung-burning stove – the only source of heating in the place – had no chance. Everybody piled their boots, clothes and rucksacks around it, and the next morning they were still sopping wet.

But there was one brilliant redeeming thing about going down. We treated ourselves to beer in the evenings. We had all been so terrified of altitude sickness and keeping focused on the way up that we were all totally teetotal. Now, however, with our red blood cell count sky-rocketing, we started to crack open the local brew. We also bought a beer for our guides who were very pleased. While we slept in our rooms, they bedded down each night in the communal room with the hopeless stove in the middle. Therefore they were the last to go to bed and the first to rise to bring us our tea in the morning. They would never usually have had a beer as it was super expensive for them. For us, of course, it was cheap. But they would only have one can – they refused a second.

And what was the predictable beer brand called? Well, “Everest” of course. D’uh.