I wanted to see sunrise on Tiger Hill at any cost, so I made arrangements to share a taxi with some tourists to see this wonder of the world. We had to leave at 3:30 a.m. to arrive at the viewing site of Tiger Hill before 5:00 a.m. It was freezing and dark at 3:00 a.m., but I knew the destination would be spectacular. Of course there was always the chance that fog or clouds would obscure the view, but it was almost the end of the rainy season, and I hoped it would be clear. I knew some tourists made the trek up to Tiger Hill three times before they could see this spectacle. There were about thirty tourists already at the site at 4:30 a.m. We huddled together to block the wind and looked for the first rays of sunlight.
I had heard the experience described as breathtaking, magical, and even mystical. I wasn’t disappointed. When the first rays of sun provided a yellow backlight for Kanchenjunga, and then the light quickly turned pink and then a brilliant white, I took four pictures in quick succession with my trusty Olympus and vowed then that I would also climb to the base camp of Everest. That morning our little group on Tiger Hill was very silent, almost reverent, and I understood how primitive peoples could worship a mountain.
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