On our fourth and final morning of the trek, I awoke with surprisingly little soreness in my legs and body.  And my headache was gone, again.  Harold and I packed up our stuff, ate breakfast, and we were all on our way back to McLeod Ganj.  A dog we had fed leftovers to the prior night followed us for the hour’s walk back to Triund.  While he probably belonged to a local shepherd, he made for nice company, often barking at the other dogs we’d encounter (though having to back down due to being outnumbered 2-1).

Ashok had indicated it would be about a 13km walk from our second camp to town.   We made good time, and I had many recollections from our way up as we passed old rest spots.  One nice aspect of going back the way you came is the lesser desire to take photographs.  The trail also looked far less steep and challenging given what we had to climb the day before.

We stopped for lunch at the cottage where we first met Ashok.  Harold and I took showers and relaxed. Normally, we would have taken a taxi the remainder of the way however the heavy rains from the night before (at lower elevations) had washed out roads.  Later, we would hear firsthand reports of the 5-hour deluge which ushered in a week’s worth of rain.  Thankfully, we had spent the night above the storm (literally in the clouds), only experiencing flashes of lightning through our tent.

As we walked through the misty pine forests above McLeod Ganj, we began to see monkeys, and signs of modern civilization.  These lead to the ever-nearing blare of car horns, and before we knew it, we were spit out at the bus stand (main intersection) in central McLeod Ganj.  It took just a few seconds for me to become fed up with the noise and crowds, making me appreciate the time we had just spent communing with nature (and goat poo).

After the goodbyes, I was overcome by a wave of energy which had me hotel-hunting for a room with a soft bed.  After visiting a few places, I settled on Hotel Mount View.  I emailed Steve so I could tell him about the trek the next day, and let my parents know I was alive.  I tried hard to stay awake for the Euro2008 soccer match that night (as I also had a TV in my room), however it was hopeless and I soon drifted off to sleep.

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When the photos were taken, the Tibetan freedom video shot, and the food consumed, we began our descent into the now cloud-shrouded valley. I was glad to have finished one of my two bottles of water so I could use both of my hands to steady myself on the way down.

The first stretch of snow we needed to cross was also the steepest. Despite my recently gained experience on the way up, I was still reticent. Ashok picked up on my anxiety and offered his hand until I was safely across. I could tell the snow had softened up since we last passed through. Harold managed it on his own, though I sometimes worried about his safety when I would watch him.

We continued to head down at a faster pace then we ascended, and I felt comfortable enough on the remaining sections of snow to walk them independently. Ashok showed me how I could poke holes into the snow using my hand to create a third point of contact. The first time I tried this technique, my hands grew wet and cold very fast. Thereafter, I began to wrap my bandanna around my fingers before driving them through the layer of goat poo into the soft, wet snow. In any other circumstance, I would’ve found the process disgusting. Harold joked that I wouldn’t be using the bandanna to moisturize anymore (a reference to my use of it as a cold compress for my sunburn the first two nights).

Harold was the first to slip and fall. He fell forward and caught himself against a medium-sized rock. It looked jarring, though he managed to escape with only a scraped knee (to my knowledge). He vocalized his frustrations about the safety of the trail, namely the wetness from the rain and goat poo, and the snow. Ashok tried to refocus his mind and energy on taking secure steps, as there would be ample time to air concerns once we safely reached camp (and later town).

I slipped second, my feet sliding forward from under me. I landed lightly on my bum. I tried to sharpen my focus on footsteps, finding it a great challenge given my body’s natural momentum to move downhill. My headache was moderate by this point, and I knew Harold’s was worse. The best thing for the both of us was to reach camp as soon as possible.

Harold’s next fall was the result of an unstable rock. Without hesitation, Ashok dove on top of him as he landed on his right side. The moment was over in an instant, yet Harold later acknowledged that our guide’s quick reaction probably saved his life. He said he recognized he was in trouble, and knew he’d have to try and grab onto a rock or something to keep from falling over the edge of a drop off, yet there were no guarantees he could’ve arrested his fall on his own. I redoubled my efforts to continue cautiously thereafter, though I slipped and landed on my behind lightly one more time.

We stopped in a large cave on the way down for one of our breaks. Ashok said it was mainly used by trekkers coming from the opposite direction, that it was cold, and could sleep around 30 people. It had a low stone ceiling and a hay-covered floor. There was a large flat rock which acted as a balcony. The view was beautiful as the sun had emerged. While Harold and Ashok soaked up the rays, I spent the ten minutes in the shade of the rock, under my jacket trying to shield myself from the most intense sunlight I’d ever felt.

As our 3.5 hour descent drew to a close, my legs were like jelly and my fear of falling on the glacier were clear. Ashok waited for me to reach him in the middle, and again offered me his hand so I could be guided across in a more timely fashion. Harold slipped and landed on his butt once while walking ahead of us.

Arriving back at our humble camp, I felt a great sense of satisfaction. Our porter brought a delicious rice and potato dish to our tent, followed by French fries and tea. He refilled our water bottles. I savored my last two squares of Cadbury chocolate which I had saved for consumption back in the tent. Harold and I rested, hoping our headaches would quickly disappear. We ate dinner in the rock shelter kitchen, though neither Harold nor I were especially hungry by that point. We both slept well that night.

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Video Dedication Of My Climb

The world’s attention is on the Chinese government in light of the upcoming 2008 Summer Olympics.To find out more about the Tibetan cause and how you can help, see the International Campaign for Tibet’s website.

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We initially planned to wake at 5am, and head up to the pass at 6am, however there was a rain delay of an hour. I was again thankful to awake with no headache. A light breakfast of cornflakes, hard boiled eggs, and tea was served. Around 7:15am, Ashok lead Harold and I across the glacier, while the porter watched over our camp.

The glacier looked like a frozen ocean, upon which you could walk on the waves like steps. The drizzle let up soon after our departure, allowing us to strip off the ponchos. Harold carried his backpack, Ashok his sleeping bag’s bag with our lunch and one of my two bottles of water, and I carried one bottle of water and a small nylon dry bag with my camera and an assortment of pills.

I felt lucky to have clear views of the pass and mountain ridge the whole morning. I wanted to see where we were going, and somehow found the view energizing instead of daunting (ok….a little daunting!).

The terrain was very rough. The rocky path was in no way as stable and well defined as the Nepalese trails around the Annapurna region. It was developed by shepherds who still use it to bring their goats from one valley to the other. As a result, the path is covered in goat poo, making it especially slippery. Dark brown strips of the poo can be seen wherever the goats cross snow as well.

The steeper we climbed, the more I tried to focus on ensuring the stability of every step. I was the only one who could be held 100% responsible for my footsteps. There would be no one else to blame if I slipped and careened down the mountainside.

As I was getting a little more comfortable in my rugged environment, Harold and I were presented with a new challenge, crossing soft snow on steep pitches without the use of ropes or ice axes. When I saw the first section we had to cross, I snapped a photo stating “this will go in my holy sh*t file.” I was at once petrified of slipping to my death hundreds of feet below, and surprisingly calm and collected. Ashok cut out fresh footholds in the snow, and we followed behind.

I knew going uphill in the snow was easier than what we faced on our descent later. We continued to cross 4-5 sections of snow on our way to the top, with the final one being the steepest.

Ashok lead us up the mountain at a slow and steady pace. The higher altitudes and rugged, slippery terrain forced us to walk slow just the same. My heart would pound heavily during the first hour or two. I either got use to it, or it quieted down a bit the higher we rose.

About thirty minutes from the top, Harold developed a headache, appeared more lethargic, and signaled a feeling of uneasiness. I gave him a 1/2 pill of Diamox which I carried as a precaution.

For better or worse, the place where Harold decided to lay against a rock was not a resting spot according to Ashok, who ushered him to the top just ten minutes away. As for me, I was feeling energetic and hungry.

It was exhilarating to reach the top of 4,320m (14,256ft) Indrahar Pass after four hours of climbing about 1,100m in altitude. I was completely surprised by the view of the snow-covered valley on the other side of the ridge. A dark brown path of goat poo showed the way down the other side. Clouds remained in the distance while we enjoyed lunch and views for thirty plus minutes. Speaking of food, I was the only one who’d been buying chocolate, so I devoured a beloved Snickers, along with a mango, trail mix, biscuits, and fruit juice.

Once you’re seated, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that you’re in a very precarious position. The high altitude is affecting your body’s chemistry, and it is not an uncommon side effect to feel a sense of euphoria (or intoxication).

Besides the aforementioned euphoria, I felt an amazing sense of redemption. Despite efforts to accept my trek in Nepal as “complete” just as I experienced it, there was never a climax. I knew it then, and I couldn’t let go of my desire to successfully climb something high. I had told Cameron I wanted to know what it felt like to be at the top of a mountain.

I now had that feeling, in addition to a headache, and the sobering knowledge that climbing a mountain means little if you can’t get back down alive and well.

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I was glad my headache had disappeared after 5-6 hours of solid sleep. Our second day was to be an easy one (2 hours walking, 300m gain) which would allow us to further acclimatize before the big climb on day three. Ashok cooked up some amazing banana porridge, omelettes, and toast which were served with tea for breakfast. Our plastic bottles were refilled with boiled water, the modus operandi for the next few days.

Around 10:30am, we started trekking. There were noticeable changes in the terrain at this point. The green grass seemed to give way to more and more rocks, some quite large.

We stopped for an hour or so at the Snowline Cafe, the last place to buy a meal, snacks, smokes, or water before continuing on to the glacier and pass. We enjoyed some chai and chilled out before walking the remaining thirty minutes to our second campsite (elevation 3,200m), set amongst the rocky terrain adjacent the glacier, at the foot of the valley we would ascend the next day.

Once the kitchen was set up in a small rock shelter, Ashok fixed us heaps of Ramen noodles, a salad, biscuits, tea, and deep-fried potatoes and onions (my personal favorite). He said we were to eat a lot on this day. His ability to cook for hours in such small confines over just one gas burner would continue to amaze me.

After lunch, Harold and I hung out in the tent, him reading, and me listening to music with a wet bandanna over my head to ease my sunburn. I developed another headache, though still thought it might be partly the result of the sun exposure. Either way, I decided to see how I felt in the morning before making any decisions.

Before committing to sleep, I stepped out of the tent to use the same facilities as the cows and goats who grazed in the area. I caught a glimpse of one of the gigantic slugs common to this area. Around midnight, I awoke to Harold’s vain attempts to scare away a bunch of cows around our tent. We knew they weren’t the local black bears because of the ringing bells around their necks. Ashok had told us leopards were indigenous as well.

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If I were as auspicious as Tibetans, I might have taken the giant black scorpion which appeared in my room the morning my trek was to begin as a bad sign. Instead, I wondered how to get rid of it. As the little beast scuttled toward the protection of my bed, I grabbed two pieces of paper and shuffled it across the floor toward the door. It put up a fight with it’s stinger raised, and claws grasping at the paper, yet I was to prevail in my first such encounter. Later, I was told the increasing rains tend to bring them more out into the open.

Hiring a porter to carry my personal belongings and sleeping bag was an inexpensive option, however after meeting so many people who carried their own bags in Nepal, I felt the need to give it a try myself. I was very glad to be putting my Gregory Chaos to proper use in the mountains versus hostels and hotels.

Harold and I met at the trekking office as the morning rains continued. We ended up waiting about an hour until it stopped, taking a taxi with our porter up to a cottage above the pine forest. This unforeseen ride saved us an hour’s walk up about 300m in elevation. Ashok, our young guide, met us there. We received packed lunches, our sleeping mats, and me my sleeping bag. Once all the bags were packed, we set off.

Climbing uphill along a dirt and rock path, amongst the clouds, it took about four hours at a comfortable pace to climb 800m and reach Triund (elev. 2,900m/9,570ft). Toward the end, I was motivated by one basic need, finding a big boulder behind which I could use a virtual toilet. At one point, I took a few quick steps and was immediately out of breath, a poignant reminder of how high up we were already.

Little more than a campground set in grazing pastures for goats and horses, Triund spanned a pretty green ridge which gave us views of the pass we were to ultimately ascend in one direction, and the towns of McLeod Ganj, Dharamsala, and Kangra in the other. I felt a headache develop, and was unsure whether to attribute it to the altitude or the massive sunburn I unknowingly received on the top of my head and face.

We were served a snack of tomato soup and spicy popcorn, followed by a hearty Indian thali (rice, lentils, veggies, chapati). As I did all day, I continued to drink as much water as humanely possible. It had been Cameron’s number one piece of advice about traveling at high altitudes.

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I stopped into Eagle’s Height Trekkers one afternoon to gather some information about local trekking opportunities. The owner went over the details of the two options of most interest to me – a two day trek to the snowline (Laka Got glacier) and a four day trek to the top of 4,300-meter Indrahar Pass of the Dhauladhar Range. I also asked about trekking to Hamta Pass near Manali, which was of a similar altitude. A few English girls stopped in as I was getting ready to leave. They said the trek was difficult and the food was great. I left my name at the office, hoping to link up with another person or two with whom to share the cost and experience.

A day or two later, I heard a knock upon my door. Harold, a tall French man, was also traveling on his own and interested in the trek. I quickly got the sense that he’d make a good trekking partner for me, though it wasn’t until later that I’d find out he had quite a bit of experience. We went back to the trekking office to confirm our interest. A different pair of English girls who had just returned from the snowline trek had positive things to say as well, especially about the amount and quality of food.

The next day, Harold and I confirmed our arrangements, and paid in full for a 4-day camping trek set to begin in less than 24 hours. I was excited to put all I had learned from Nepal and other trekkers into action. First off, I took advantage of the authentic North Face sleeping bag on offer from the agency. Next, I scoffed at a salesman’s claim that knock-off North Face socks were authentic. I threw caution to the wind and bought a $1.25 pair of cotton knock-off Adidas socks instead (to supplement my trusty Smart Wool hiking socks). And perhaps of most importance, I truly believed from the outset that I could complete the trek.

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I was still having trouble bringing myself to leave Pokhara so I signed up for a 3-day/2-night rafting trip through Paddle Nepal/Ultimate Descents. I chose a trip on one of Nepal’s holiest rivers, the Kali Gandaki. It offered class III and IV rapids, so I knew it’d be exciting without scaring the hell out of me. I’d been rafting twice before in West Virginia (remember Michele?) and Costa Rica, however both had been day trips. Taking a 3-day trip meant one full day on the river without bus rides.

The group consisted of 13 customers and 5 guides. There was a guide for each of the two rafts, the oar boat (which carried the heavy equipment), and two safety kayaks. Amongst the customers, the USA was represented well with 5 people. Australia offered 3 people, Holland and England 2 people each, and Canada 1 person.

We were on the bus for about 2.5 hours the first day. We unloaded it by the river, and lunch was prepared. Once on the water, we almost immediately had to get off the rafts as they were pulled through a class V rapid that recently overturned a raft, causing one fatality. After passing on “Little Brother” we hit our biggest rapid of the trip, class IV “Big Brother.” All I can remember was watching the left side of my raft head straight toward a giant boulder. We bounced off of it safely and only had another hour or so on the river before we arrived at our campsite for the night.

I paired up with Richard from Australia, and we shared a tent which was good because I can’t remember the last time I had to set one up. He was one of the first people I’d met in Nepal who had done a more remote camping trek (not one of the big 3 - Annapurna Circuit, Sanctuary, and Everest Base Camp). He had also summited a 7,000 meter peak in South America!

In the evening, we all got to know one and other. Everyone was drinking beer and rum punch except me, as I had decided to take a few nights off. The guides had us playing silly games, and a good time was had by all. The stars were out and it felt great to sleep in a tent by the river.

The next morning we were up by 7am, eating by 8am, and on the river by 9am. We hit our second biggest rapid of the trip within the first 10 minutes (a class III). I was disappointed to learn there would be no more of that size (partly due to the low water level this time of year). All the same, I was in the front of the raft for most of day two so I was soaked regularly.

On the second night, we skipped the games and spent the time after dinner talking to one and other around a campfire. The stars were out again, and our guides even helped a groom and best man to cross the river as they were late for their own wedding (we could see and hear the party up on a nearby ridge).

Our third day was especially quiet. The first 30 minutes had small rapids (class II+), followed by about two hours (9 km) of near still water (due to our approach of a dam). The lack of rapids allowed for a few water fights between our boats, and another group of rafters, as well as a chance to guide the rafts. All along the trip we passed dead bodies buried under stones along the sides of the river. On the last day we literally passed a cremation in progress, a sight I am sure to see up close and personal once I reach Varanasi, India.

We helped carry the gear up to our awaiting bus, ate lunch, and hit the road for the 5-hour bus ride back to Pokhara. It was a ride full of hairpin turns along mountain cliffs, yet I felt fairly comfortable the whole way. In the evening, we went to dinner with our guides at The Love Shack, and followed it up with drinks at The Busy Bee.

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