Llew Wanders the World

The end of the last entry left me in Yak Kharka at 4018m above sea level. Due to a good dump of snow that had taken place overnight, I’d been worried about the prospects for walking the next morning, but lo and behold, the snow had once again ended during the night and the morning was bright and sunny.

The whole morning’s walk was spent tramping through snow. I was the first to leave Yak Kharka (rising early had become a habit since I’d been walking with the girls [and since I’d started going to bed no later than 21:30]), so until I arrived at Letdar, the next group of guesthouses, there was a layer of untouched fresh stuff on top of the harder crust below. Despite my early start, I wasn’t ENTIRELY alone. As I walked, I passed by several small groups of yaks, snuffling through the freshly fallen snow looking for a bite to eat.

While I’d left the hugeness of the Annapurnas behind when I turned off the main valley the previous day, the higher elevation and recent snow still led to some beautiful mountain views looking in either direction along this sub-valley’s length. Despite the heavy dump, not everything had even been covered in snow. Some of the steeper, more jagged peaks received only a dusting on small flat sections of their faces.

At Letdar, I sat down and enjoyed a breakfast of muesli (which I’d purchased in Manang) and listened to a Dutch couple trying to work out their grievances with their guide. I’d met some groups who loved their wonderful guides, and others like this pair. On the balance, I was pleased to be doing the walk on my own. While hiring guides and/or porters to carry my pack would have supported the local economy, the satisfaction of and physical sensations that came with completing a hard walk were among the aspects of trekking that I most enjoyed.

As I sat at Letdar, a large group arrived, and shortly after I’d departed, I passed another getting ready to depart from a guesthouse. It appeared there were many people on the trail that day. There was even one woman coming down from the other side of Thorong La (unusual for reasons that will become clear later) and I was happy to hear from her that there was only 20 or 25cm of snow at the top, and that my gaiters would be more than sufficient, not forcing me to resort to the sweaty, sticky rubber lined pants I had with me.

This day’s walk was even shorter than the previous one’s. I arrived at Thorong Phedi (literally meaning the base or foot of Thorong) altitude 4450m, at 09:40. At that point I had to admit that I was definitely feeling the effects of the altitude. I’d been walking very hard, almost all uphill, and when I finally arrived I felt dazed, my head a bit fuzzy. I was the first to arrive at Phedi that day, so I had the place to myself as I sat down for a rest and a bite to eat. To my great relief my head cleared after about twenty minutes and I felt just fine once again. After eating, I decided that in light of my better health and the early time I’d walk just a bit further.

At Thorong Phedi, the river valleys ended. From there on, it was up, up, and over Thorong La. La means “pass” in Nepali, and what a pass it is. At 5416m, Thorong La is probably the highest regularly used pass in the world. Even the Throng Phedi High camp that I headed up to next is at an astonishing 4700m. The walk up to the high camp was far from easy. It was 250m of steep climbs and switchbacks, though thankfully the slope was steep enough, and the sun had been shining long enough that much of it was out of the snow.

By the time I arrived at High Camp, I was huffing and puffing, and the dizzy, dazed feeling had returned. I went inside and sat down and was once again relieved when the feeling passed after I’d taken a rest from the hard work. Inside, I met Rob, Vicky and Steve, a group of three Scots who had planned to head over the pass the following day and said they’d be happy to have my company. This was a great relief, as the heady heights of the pass were the one area of the trek where it was HIGHLY recommended that one not walk alone (due to the danger of AMS occurring with no help nearby.)

Throughout the afternoon the weather worsened, but more people kept appearing at the high camp, including the English crew, and Jo and Dr. Alex. It was nice to have most of the same crew together again to while away the blustery, snowy afternoon. We played cards and chatted all day, pausing only briefly when, to our astonishment a large group came over the pass in the opposite direction through the harsh wind and blowing snow.

A jolly atmosphere was present throughout the evening. Everyone squeezed in around the one table with a heater under it (many of the high altitude guesthouses had these, and I firmly believe that they’re one of the great inventions in history) continuing to play cards and laugh throughout the evening.

I went to bed nice and early, with my alarm set for 04:45, so I could get a very early start on the long walk over the pass, but couldn’t help but worry a bit about the nasty weather outside. Would we be able to walk the next day?

I didn’t sleep well at all, waking several times throughout the night, and then for good at 03:18. At that time it was snowing fairly heavily, but nonetheless I packed up and headed over to the dining hall. There was much debate amongst the several Nepali guides present over whether it was prudent to leave or not. I was very anxious to go, but until at least one group with a guide left, I wasn’t ready to head out myself, and the Rob, Steve and Vick seemed to be of a similar mind.

Finally, by 07:00 the snow had stopped, and several of the groups were ready to head out. It had been decided that we’d all make the journey as one large party, primarily for safety reasons, since, while it looked nice for the moment, the weather was still unpredictable.

Altogether, the group that departed from Thorong Phedi high camp that day consisted of 18 trekkers, 10 Nepali guides or porters, and two Nepalis who owned tea houses along the route who joined us to open them up and do a bit of business.

We headed on up the hill, thankfully nowhere near as steep as the climb from Thorong Phedi to the high camp. Nonetheless, it was slow going. Near the back of the line, the Scots and I were beginning to get a bit frustrated with the slow progress. It was understandable, given that someone in the front had the hard task of breaking a trail through the snow, and that every time one person stopped, the whole line behind them did too.

I walked through the snow just to the uphill side of the trail in order to make a bit of faster ground, but soon found myself stuck in the line once again. I was beginning to thing that, despite the altitude, the slow pace would make this the easiest day of walking yet. We arrived at the first teahouse after about an hour’s walk, and most people went inside for a drink. I, on the other hand, saw it as an ideal opportunity to get to the front of the line. Surely I could make better pace than whoever had been breaking the trail before…

I was a bit nervous about starting out, but Dilip, Dr. Alex and Jo’s guide encouraged me to give it a shot. The physical work of plowing through the 30 or 40cm deep snow wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t that tough either. The main difficulty with the walk was the nervous feeling I got that I was leading people on a more difficult than necessary route. The usual trail was entirely invisible, obscured by the night’s snowfall and by the flakes that had started to fall since our departure, but I managed to do reasonably well.

As I pushed out ahead for longer and longer, the work did start to become hard, but I was having fun doing it. I was pleasantly surprised that despite the steep hills, deep snow and heavy pack the dizzy feeling from the previous day did not return. Perhaps I was just too focused on the task at hand to notice anything else, but I managed to keep pushing forward through the grounded and the still-falling snow for most of the remaining trip up the pass. Often it was possible to “feel” the trail under the masses of snow. There was sometimes a base of hard packed snow, and a small ledge of the stuff nearby that was obviously a well used route, and by pressing against this ledge with my feet I was able to keep us on the right path for much of the way up. Where this wasn’t possible, there were tall steel posts every few hundred metres that marked the way, and if we weren’t following the easiest or that usual route, at least following the posts got us where we needed to go.

At many points I was well ahead of everyone, even the Nepali guides and porters following my trail, and managed to take pictures of the snow obscured peaks around me and the string of people following my path up the hill.

As we approached the pass I had to admit that I was getting quite tired, and was so quite pleased when Steven the Englishman (in fact I’ve been doing him a dis-service…. He’s actually Irish though he’d lived in England for many years, and has a mostly English accent) took over. I was amazed that a man of his age (well into his 50s, and probably over 60) could carry on with what I’d grown to learn was very hard work.

Thus it was that Steven, Gary and myself were the first three to arrive at the high point of Thorong La that day. Despite the fact that we were all quite tired, we all cheered, smiled and hugged. We stopped to take a few photos by the official marker before heading into the teahouse (the owner was the fourth person to arrive) to escape the biting wind that blows over the pass in the late morning, and only gets work as the day passes.

Inside, Steven very kindly bought me a cup of some of the most expensive tea in Nepal (understandable, since not only did the tea have to be carried up, the proprietor had to walk up to the pass each day!) and we were quickly joined by Vick, Rob and Steve. After a drink and some chocolate, the four of us were anxious to start down the far side of the pass. We left our regrets with Steven and Gary who were waiting for the rest of our party and lit out.

I’d thought that, despite the 1600m drop we had to come (and this is why it’s very hard to climb the pass in the other direction… going that way it’s a 1600m CLIMB then a 700m descent) that the worst was over. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The wind had really begun to howl as we started our descent. The snow was falling heavier, and was already much thicker on the ground. I started out leading, and managed to keep it up for an hour or so, but soon was thoroughly exhausted. The snow was well over a metre deep in places, and there wasn’t even the vaguest sign of the trail. Worse still, the blowing snow meant that the steel posts were often difficult to see.

Throughout the afternoon, various people took turns leading, and we wandered, almost blindly, save for the posts, down the mountain. I’d hoped that some of the Nepali guides would be able to steer us in the proper direction, along the actual trail, and while a couple of them did take over the very hard work of leading for good stretches, they seemed to be just as lost as the trekkers in terms of what direction to take.

I got back in front for a while, and found it almost impossibly difficult work. The blowing snow and lack of almost any non-snow-covered reference points meant that depth perception was essentially non-existent. All you could do was walk towards the next pole and keep tapping the ground in front of you to ensure that there wasn’t a radical drop-off ahead. One positive point about the deep snow was that almost any slope became navigable. There was enough snow about that it would hold my weight as I clambered down hills that would have been impossible under dry conditions.

As I continued to lead I grew very, very tired. Pushing through snow above my waist was, as I have said, incredibly hard work. Often it would be necessary to take a step, stop and rest for five or six seconds and then haul myself forwards with one great lurch, aided by my walking stick for the next step.

After four hours or so of walking, with different people in front I finally gave up leading for good, but it still wasn’t easy. Until the trail was well compacted the walking was still very tough, so anyone in the front five or so had a very hard time of it as well. As we carried on down the mountain there was occasional disagreement about what route to take, especially at one point when there were no marker posts visible at all. Rob wanted to head left while Gary headed off to the right. After waiting a while with the Scots to see if they returned I followed Gary’s path which twisted us down a steep slope. Apparently Rob had had the right idea, as he appeared to the left, waltzing along just as I was nearing the bottom of the tortuous descent.

Shortly thereafter we caught sight of an area below us without so much snow. And as the sky cleared for a while we spied of something even better. A town. We were almost there!

The remained of the descent wasn’t easy, nor was the long walk through the snowy valley we’d descended into, but it was made much easier knowing that our destination was in sight (even when the cloud came back and re-obscured it.)

Finally, some ten hours after we’d set out we arrived in the town of Muktinath. It wasn’t much to look at, but to my eyes, after the exhausting, Hellish (or perhaps Hadean is a better adjective since it was, after all, cold) march through the snows of Thorong La, it was the most beautiful place on Earth. As we walked into town, I met up with Dr. Alex, Jo and their Nepali guide Dilip. I’ve said earlier that the hard work and accomplishment of a tough trek is its own reward, but I have to admit to having been delighted when Dilip said, “you’re the man! Without you our walk would have been much longer today.” (Yeah, so I’m boasting a bit. You would too, believe me. Smile 🙂

This entry ends here, but in order to save you from nervous tension (which is now a serious social problem in all parts of the galaxy) I will reveal that everyone made it over the pass safe and unharmed, save for the breakage of a coffee cup, the bruising of somebody’s upper arm and a pair of burnt retina that recovered just fine (and actually, now that I come to think of it, the bashing up of my knees which took quite a beating on the way down.)

Thanks are also, very naturally, due to everyone I crossed Thorong La with, especially to all the people who took turns at the difficult, difficult work of leading through the deep, miserable snow: Rob, Gary, Steven, Dilip, as well as a two Nepalis and a Frenchman whose names I don’t know. Congratulations to all of them, and, indeed, to everyone who made it over Thorong La on that long, draining day.

Tags: Nepal

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 22nd, 2005 at 10:15 am and is filed under Nepal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.