Ben Fogle - Up

It was these updates, starting with a selfie of Ben and my father, shortly after arriving in Kathmandu, with flower garlands around their necks, smiling goofily at the camera, that were the highlights of those early weeks. As their trip started, @TheWanderingGP, my father’s Instagram moniker, recounted his hair-raising flight into Lukla, the world’s most dangerous airport, where the carcasses of less fortunate planes littered the apron and hillside around; their overnights in teahouses and the people whom they encountered on the trail. My favourite showed my father with his arms around Kenton and a Nepali climber, Kami Rita Sherpa, who had summited Everest an astonishing 22 times.

‘Between the three of us there have been 33 successful summits of Everest (Kenton 12, Kami Rita Sherpa 21, The Wandering GP 0 (for now)),’ he wrote, brilliantly signing off JH (Jonathan Hunt), reminding us that his understanding of the 21st-century phenomenon that is social media would only go so far.

Everywhere I went, all anyone wanted to talk about was Everest, about Ben and how my father was getting on. And inevitably they asked whether I was worried, whether I was sleeping and how I was coping, and honestly, I responded that I was okay … for now. The reality was that I was only okay because they weren’t yet doing the dangerous bit.

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