In September 2018, I set off on a journey to one of the most extreme environments on earth – Mount Everest’s Base Camp, in Nepal, which attracts thousands of trekkers every year.

Yes, I can see that the whole endeavour seems a little masochistic. Why would anyone willingly spend two weeks hiking - for several hours a day - up and down steep mountain sides, while carrying 20kg on their backs? There were many difficulties. But, this trip was hands-down one of the best experiences of my life.

Mount Everest is considered the tallest mountain in the world, towering 8,849 metres above sea level and growing taller every year. Interestingly enough, though, this record is hotly debated in the scientific community.

Turns out, it all depends on the definition of “tallest”. If we defined it as the furthest point from the earth’s centre instead of from the sea level, Mount Chimborazo in the Ecuadorian Andes would take the cake. If we defined it as the furthest point from the mountain’s top to its base, the Hawaiian volcano Mauna Kea would win the title, since a large portion of the mountain is under the sea.

No matter how you look at it, Mount Everest is just incredibly tall. Reaching Base Camp from the closest airport takes over a week on foot. But even so, it became one of the experiences I wanted to have before turning 30.

On the long journey, I got to explore the jaw-dropping Himalayas and the Khumbu Valley, areas of incredible natural beauty and spiritual energy which are considered sacred by Buddhists.

Surrounded by the mountains, I felt everyday mental pressures slip away. There wasn’t much to do other than walk and absorb the beauty around me. It cleared the clutter in my mind. Life felt simple – there was a real sense of peace and comfort.

At least, that’s how it started. The first day of the trek was easy; it made me think the trip wouldn’t be that taxing after all. Of course, this was a mistake - and day two proved it. The long and steep walk to Namche Bazaar, a town in the Khumbu district, was utter hell.

As we walked higher and higher, the days took on an almost rudimentary routine. We’d wake up early, stretch, eat and start walking. Then we’d walk again, eat, and walk some more. We’d sit for a while to drink Nepalese tea, then eat, then walk again. At the end of our days, we’d attempt to sleep with our mouths wide open - desperately trying to breathe in as much oxygen as possible. (The dropping atmospheric pressure meant oxygen levels were constantly decreasing.)

The main climbing seasons are spring and autumn, when there are no monsoons. In September, when I started, the temperature was pleasant – about 10°C during the day and 0°C at night. But when we reached camp in Gorak Shep (5,150 metres above sea level), the temperature reached its lowest at -15°C.

Finally, after nine days and 65 kilometres, we reached Base Camp (5,364 metres above sea level). I still remember that moment so clearly. The wind was strong and the sun was looming on the horizon behind a few clouds. The air was thin and every step I took felt like 50.

Having spent the last ten days walking by to this point, my body was completely exhausted. But, trust me, when you look up and see the views, you realise it was well worth the struggle.