Sleeping in until 6:30am meant that I got a fantastic night’s sleep. I felt fantastic too: no headache, not out of breath, and a normal heart rate. Apparently 12,000ft is a good place for my body. Breakfast was cooked and served at 7:30am by the same two boys and I made myself at home in the kitchen afterwards, so I could use the rough pvc pipe sink spigot to eke out half a liter of water to top off my bottle. The sink and countertop were hand carved from one piece of thick wood and it was fascinating to look at; then I stood by the large wood cookstove to get a bit warm before Sam and I departed.
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| Proof of that one time Sam drank tea. |
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| Day 9. Our room was the one directly above Sam's head. |
We were glad for the cold temperature at 8:00am, because it meant all the slimy, mucky, foul smelling trail mud was frozen solid and we were able to traipse up the trail with relative ease. The trail was familiar and we passed Ledar with a certain amount of loathing before the sun was fully visible above the mountain peaks and warming the quickly drying landscape. It was an easy sloping dirt path for awhile, but then it suddenly dropped down in a series of sharp switchbacks to a bridge; once across, the path quickly climbed up to a teahouse packed with trekkers taking a break and snacking on a midmorning 10:00am meal. We waved to our Japanese trekking acquaintance and stopped to say hello.
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| Not an awesome photo, but it shows the trail nicely. |
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| Lots of yaks around here. |
This brief delay meant that we ended up walking behind a group of trekkers at a tedious pace. I made a move in an attempt to get around some of them, but slipped in the mud and nearly fell off the side of the mountain. A few people gasped in horror. Sam was lightning quick and grabbed the top of my backpack just in time and instead of tumbling 200ft to my certain death, I merely plopped into the mud and grass. Coordination has never been one of my attributes.
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| This photo put us at the back of the pack. |
After that section of the trail, we climbed higher; the calm sunshine and mud was replaced with harsh wind and rocks: lots and lots of wind and rocks. The steep angle of the slope and the wind makes this section of the trail extremely dangerous: the wind causes nearly constant mini rockslides and as the rocks pick up speed, they become airborne missiles. This section is traversed in increments, with guides dividing up their trekking charges into groups and spacing the groups about 30 feet apart – then, one at a time, a group will scurry from one large rock boulder to the next, using the boulders as shelters from the rocks flying down the slope. We accidentally found ourselves in a group of three other trekkers and a guide. The guide gathered us like a mother hen and then said “Go” and we all ran, single file, following him, as fast as we could possibly propel ourselves along the rocky path until we reached a large boulder and huddled against it, literally gasping for breath. It is not easy to run on rocks and gravel, across the side of a steep slope, with a backpack, above 12,000ft, while fearing a rock may strike your body at any moment. This huddle, run, huddle routine was repeated four more times. I will never forget the sound the rocks made as they whizzed past us like enormous bullets. Some would bounce as they tumbled and flew, others never touched the ground; they were all shapes and sizes. During one of our runs, a rock the size of a softball whizzed right past Sam’s head, but we kept running our slow, nightmare-like run, until we reached the safety of the other side of the rockslide. Apparently doing the run in groups is supposed to be so that if one person is struck and disabled, the others are there to haul the wounded trekker across the expanse.
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| My only photo of this part of the trail, because I wasn't about to take photos while dodging rocks. |
Thorlong Phedi – Base Camp, the foot of the mountain pass – was reached with relative ease, after the rock ordeal and we were there by 1:00pm. Who should be standing outside the teahouse, but our trekking buddy Johnathan who was trying to make up his mind where he wanted to sleep that night; we all decided to stay right there, got rooms, and sat in the warm “outside” dining room (it was like a large greenhouse right next to the stone teahouse) that had terrific views of the valley terminus, snowy peaks, and icy blue hanging glaciers.
We decided to climb up to High Camp and check it out and get in our final “climb high, sleep low” routine. A headache was beginning to plague me, but I tried to not let it worry me. Sam and John took off up the trail together and quickly left me in their literal dust – it was very dry at 14,826ft. I wasn’t truly alone, since there were a lot of other trekkers slowly making their way up to High Camp as well, but I felt alone as I struggled, outwardly and internally, up the seemingly unending steep slope. The trail narrowed about half way up, like an hourglass, and water was seeping out from fissures in the jagged rock face and flowing down the trail. It was a slow flow, which meant most of the water was freezing and made the trail frightfully icy. There were a lot of “Watch your step” and “Don’t go this way” calls as trekkers tried to navigate the ice and snow and assist each other. I was having a very difficult time even walking straight – it was as if I was inebriated – so my pace was very slow and deliberate, frustrating and exhausting. The altitude was attacking me again. It took me an hour to hike the near vertical 437 yards up to High Camp.
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| The trail up to High Camp. Look at the center to see the tiny trekkers. |
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| Close up of the same photo. See the people now? |
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| Having some trouble with HACE (High Altitude Cerebral Edema), but trying to not worry. |
Sam was waiting for me at High Camp and we went into the busy teahouse dining room where I ordered a bowl of tomato soup. This soup didn’t have any tomato chunks, was greasy with yak butter, had an orange appearance, and was so unlike tomato soup, I think they should have called it Orange Greasy Spice Water soup instead. I ordered a second bowl and some tea, not because I was hungry, I wasn’t, but because I wanted an excuse to just sit in the warm, thickly red carpeted and tapestried dining room.
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| People day tripping up to a low peak for their "climb high, sleep low." |
Then we carefully made our way back down to Base Camp and napped until dinner at 7:00pm. We ate spaghetti in the dark, smoky interior of the teahouse dining room and listened to an old Nepali talking about how it was back in 1983. No roads, fewer people, fewer guides and porters, etc. You know, the good ol’ days. I had zero appetite and could barely swallow more than a dozen forkfuls of my pasta, so we called it a night and went to bed. Unlike all the previous teahouses down the valley, where trekkers pay their food and lodging bills in the morning, here, trekkers pay in the evening, because most trekking groups begin their final push for the Pass very early (3:00am) in the morning.
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| Our last view of Annapurna III and Gangapurna from this side of the Circuit. |
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| Goodbye sun. Lots of little unseen birds clucking on the slope. |
I put my down jacket inside my sleeping bag with me and the teahouse-provided twin size comforter over the top of my bag and slept fairly warmly for most of the night. At 11:00pm I had to use the outhouse, so I told Sam where I was going, grabbed my headlight and camera, and went outside. The moon was bright and the snow on the mountains was brilliant and all was still and quiet. My head didn’t ache much and I was in good spirits as I climbed back into my warm bag.
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| Moonlit trekker laundry - outside our bedroom door. |
Data
Starting elevation: 12,000ft
Ending elevation: 14,826ft
Distance: 4.5 miles
Weather: variable
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