The Dome: Shall we watch 'Casino Royale' tonight?

There isn't just one Everest Base Camp. As far as I could tell, there are four different camps spread across a huge rocky glacial plain, home to mountaineers from 30 countries.

I pitched my tent at one of the four sites abutting a hill with a stone hut on top, which houses staff of the Tibetan Mountaineering Association, a Chinese government group that oversees this side of Everest.

I was notified by the association staff that wandering past the hill to the other base camps would cost me a $200 fine, apparently negotiable down to $50.

As the wind whipped along, a private guide and I set up my tent. It was no easy task. I was staggering from the altitude. After bashing at a couple of tent pegs with rocks, doubling them, I looked around to see that no one else was using tent pegs. You had to lash the tents to big rocks.

Once that was done, I surveyed the scene. My area seemed to be the 'economy class' section of base camp, with various expeditions run by organizers from Nepal. It housed a motley assortment of climbers spending less than $10,000 for their attempts on Everest.

Repeatedly risking a fine, I visited two other camps. On the other side of the hill were South African, Australian and South Korean mountaineers. The camp was largely vacant. Climbers had either not arrived yet, or already had begun the ascent to the Advanced Base Camp and the North Col.

At the far end of the plain appeared a camp of some 150 Chinese mountaineers, preparing to take the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympic Games flame up and down Everest, and a Russian expedition from the Seven Summits group. I never made it there. Too risky. But I heard they had a nice tent set up as a ping-pong pavilion.

The fourth camp, nearest Everest, was the 'first class' section, with European and U.S. expeditions. A China Mobile trailer and telephone antenna provided communications. Generators hummed.

Thanks to a kindly New Zealand guide, I peeked into 'The Dome' -- a white geodesic bubble -- to see how the other side lives. The Dome belongs to Himalayan Expeditions, the Chamonix, France-based company that is the elite of Everest organizers.

A stove kept the Dome toasty. Lounge chairs covered in Tibetan carpets provided seating. One transparent wall offered panoramic views of Everest. A wide-screen TV stood to one side, ready for nighttime viewing of the latest blockbuster. A small bar occupied one corner near the entrance. A man perched on one chair worked on a laptop with a satellite connection.

I'm fuzzy on the details but I know Himalayan Expeditions works with the Discovery Channel in an exclusive arrangement. Just remember that next time you see Discovery's shows on Everest: They are made under cushy conditions unavailable to most climbers. This is all available to those willing to pay $45,000 to $60,000 or more for commercial guiding up Everest.

Back at my camp, nighttime temperatures fell to about 20 degrees Fahrenheit, making ventures to the latrine a challenge. I nursed the batteries to my cell phone, my digital camera and my laptop, having no way to recharge them. There is one generator belonging to a Dutch crew but it appears to be on the fritz.

At night, my thoughts would sometimes drift to The Dome. But our camp had its more modest benefits. It is near where the yak herders camp. And listening to the melodic bells tied to each yak's neck had its own soothing grace.

A side note: The Tibetan Mountaineering Association is not a beloved group. It charges roughly $5,000 per climber and offers little in return. In past years, some mountaineers have managed to lower the Chinese flag over the mountaineering association's hut and take it home as a souvenir. A new flag is up, but will it survive the 2007 season?