Sept. 24-Oct. 2008. Reflections.

First, to conclude the narrative of time in India. I was up to 4:30 AM to pack for our 5:30 AM pickup. We were due to depart on the 7:20 Kingfisher flight to Delhi. According to Joel, JetAir, which I flew in 2006, has now become ridiculously expensive. In any case, we were worried about weight surcharges at the airport, but some creative accounting took care of that. Joel re-identified all the luggage for us, and we were off and away with a smattering up window seats amongst the group. It was pretty much clear and I had some spectacular views from my middle seat (737, 3 + 3 seating). Prince and drivers met us in Delhi and we whisked away in 3 vehicles in a death race to the Imperial Hotel. We made it there with 20 minutes to spare...an ocean of time for efficient eaters on a mission.

One is immediately put at ease by the liveried valets, gorgeous door-women, and wafting aromatherapy as one enters the grounds. After a false start in the (hot) outdoor garden, we were given a private little zone in the bar. Then, off to the buffet. Glass after glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, smoked salmon, almond croissants, fresh fruit, omlettes to order, well-done tea. Heaven! Then we drove to the Cottage Yes Please. A few bags originally planned for transport from Manali to Leh were brought to Delhi instead (personally, arranged by L.C.) due to the weather-related road closure. So we regained this gear, and also claimed a few bags left a month before at the Cottage Yes Please storeroom. Everything was in good order.

At this point, the group began to fragment and goodbyes began. M. took off for a 2-3 day "Golden Triangle" trip to Agra and Jaipur. The Kiwis and W. absconded to higher class digs at a nearby hotel although we met later at the Metropolis. L., P.S., and myself rented a triple day room for kinky shower fun. Joel went to sleep. The afternoon really marked my re-entry to ordinary life. I went to an internet cafe with all the modern conveniences and "worked" for a few hours. After a shower I spent my last few hours in India wandering in Paharganj. In contrast to some past time in this neighborhood, I felt completely at ease. It was not intolerably hot, and no one bothered me in the slightest. Once you get off the main drag, it is just typical India.

The trekking crew minus M. re-assembled at the Metropolis, and then at 6 PM, Joel, P.S. and myself left for the airport and home. The international terminal at Delhi is now quite tolerable with food service and clean bathrooms. The Continental flight was not full and left absolutely on time. My neighbor was an interesting young French Canadian woman who makes her living importing jewelry from Rajasthan and generally hangs out in India about half the year. Clearance of US customs in Newark was a snap, a joke really, and the last flight to Seattle was just long but no problem. Susan was right outside the door at the baggage claim area. Home...goodies brought out...superficial unpacking and gear cleaning...the beginning of the re-entry process.

My first "U.S." activity Friday morning was to go to second year Hindi at the University of Washington. A subset of the smart and cool young people from my first year class were there, all enthusiastic and embarking on another year of langauge study. Ah, how I wanted to join them. However, class is at a bad time of day, and it just didn't feel right to flake off from my regular adult life, again. It was an incredible privilige to attend a first-class Hindi program last year as part of the University of Washington's tuition exemption program for faculty and staff. As Krishna said to Arjuna, accept your dharma. I am not a young college student anymore. Maybe next year...शायद अगला साल। I am already forgetting my Hindi.

It is now about a week later as I finish this blog. The good memories from this trek and group will last for a lifetime. There were maybe 10 times during the course of the trek that I said to myself, to paraphrase, this is too hard, I can't make it, and if I survive I will never do this again. And there were an even greater number of timess that I thought, this is wonderful, and as soon as I recover I want to come back and do another trip. Everyone stepped up to the plate in more ways than one. Highs and lows were endured. Most people "let it all hang out" and were accepted with compassion and understanding. We got incredibly lucky with the weather. A tremendous amount of behind-the-scenes planning and accumulated Himalaya experience on the part of Joel, L.C., and all of our Indian staff were absolutely key to pulling off this long and difficult trip. Thank you all. And remember what happens on vacation stays on vacation. David

Sept. 23, 2008. Tour de Gompas.

Joel, another trekker and myself made the 8 AM meet-up time and walked up to Gesmo's for breakfast. Ah, another bowl of yoghurt and a baked goody. Gesmo's seemed to be one of the few restaurants still open and generally patronized by Western tourists. A few others slept in. M. and I left at 9 to visit a few monasteries. It was very pleasant to have L.C.'s uncle, Aingchuk, with us. He was the most careful driver I think I have ever had the pleasure of riding with in India. Two years ago, he drove the jeep that picked us up from Kharnak and brought us back to Leh. Between Hindi and English we were able to communicate just fine.

We initially traveled over slow back roads across the Indus and little bit east to Martho. Martho is actually a scenic, pleasant-seeming village that hosts a gompa, nestled up against the foothills of the Stok range. Apparently there are some short treks that start from here. We drove to the very summit of the gompa hill, got out and walked into the gompa proper. There was an ambitious expansion going on. A friendly monk showed us around; we were the only visitors, and then handed us off to a more senior person who showed us a few more rooms. The artwork was beautiful and there were a few young students about, but we did not witness any puja. After about an hour we drove to Stakna. This gompa is affiliated with some gompas in Bhutan, and according to Joel this dates back to a historical alliance in which Ladakh and Bhutan joined to counter Tibetan political influence. Stakna sits on an isolated hill closer to the Indus river and is not really associated with a nearby village. A solitary monk was conducting puja when we arrived but took time to host us after he was done. The artwork was over-the-top ornate with lots of Chinese style dragons and other decoration. Lots of rooms filled with identical statues surrounding a megastatue with the same motif. We were told there were 30 monks and 15 students, but didn't see anyone else. The architecture was a bit more unified and monumental than Martho, but the place seemed more of a museum than anything else.

After this we crossed back to the north side of the Indus to Thiksey. This is an impressive city on a hill, and really only the top part is open to tourists. Here for the first time we encountered some other visitors. There is a formalized entry with bathrooms, admission fee, even a restaurant, odd Tibetan/western medical clinic, gift shop, etc. Despite all that, it is an impressive place to tour. There is a multi-story high gilt Buddha constructed about 30 years ago, and also some very old images and interesting nooks to crawl around. Perhaps the best part for me was visiting the dining hall and being around when a bunch of 6-8 year old monks in training were taking a break. They "close for lunch" at 1 PM so we drove back to Leh for momos. At the old royal palace of Shey, there are some very old stone carvings by the side of the road that are worth a stop.

Our last afternoon was occupied with shopping in the Tibetan markets and just poking around town. I bought a few gifts but nothing special or expensive. The group met again at the Tibetan Kitchen for our last dinner. Anticipating our 5:30 AM departure, lights out early tonight.

Sept. 22, 2008. Cable bridge to showers.

With heavy hearts, we packed up and walked an easy 2 hours downhill to the cable bridge across the Zanskar river, a few miles south of Chilling. St. and I walked together and shared a few jokes. In 2006 the bridge was at Chilling. At that time, the road up the Zanskar terminated at the village. Apparently there were some inter-village disagreements about bridge revenues and the cable was cut. The new bridge is an Indian government enterprise and, I think, free. The Zanskar was actually pretty low and the cable crossing was pretty sedate. We waited for the horses and gear to cross and piled into two jeeps. The road actually seemed safe by Himalayan standards. First we drove about 30 miles down the Zanskar to where it meets the Indus, and joined the main Srinagar-Leh highway. The later was in amazingly good shape. It was actual blacktop with a lane marker down the middle. Joel said that it was heavily damaged by August 2006 flooding and got a significant rebuild. Interestingly the Zanskar and Indus were the same color this time with the Zanskar having a higher water volume.

We pulled into the Hotel Sheynam in Leh by mid-afternoon. My room was in the old wing. Just like 2 years ago, the old wing rooms had TVs but dodgey hot water, while the new wing rooms were the opposite. The hot water was still fine for a bucket shower, don't get me wrong. It was fun to walk around the town again, and Joel was right, there were considerably fewer tourists than in July. In fact our timing was perfect; most of the tourist-oriented businesses were preparing to shut down but still open. It got cool in the evening but outdoor courtyard restaurants were still fine with a down jacket. The Karmapa was staying nearby after being helicopter evacucated from the Leh-Manali highway. There was a perpetual traffic jam as pilgrims and well-wishers swamped the building. L. ended up recieving the blessing, and several of our Indian staff went once or more also.

The group went to the Ibex for dinner...table for 15. Our guides (L.C., St., T.) and kitchen staff (T, N, P, ?) joined us also. I can't say much for the food but the company was great. I recited my carefully written out, overwrought goodbye speech in Hindi, but St. didn't laugh where he was supposed to. The dinner tab was Rs. 500 a trekker including drinks and the Indian staff: very reasonable. The reality is that each and every one of our Indian staff probably spoke better English than I spoke Hindi. Oh well. Afterwards a select few trekkers and staff retired to the Hotel Sheynam garden for the after-party.

Sept. 21, 2008. Scenic Markha descent to Skiu.

Having faced the fact that we would not, in fact, be finishing over two more 5000 meter passes, we got down to business and dropped about 20 miles through the beautiful, cultivated, historic Markha valley today. I had been this way, uphill, in 2006, taking perhaps 4 days to slowly climb (for acclimitization) the route we followed today in the opposite direction. It was impossible to get lost and I, for one, really relaxed today and just enjoyed the walking and the scenery. I got a good night's sleep, making up for some sleep debt, and aside from some dry-skin cuts on my fingers and a persistent lip sunburn, feel great.

We passed many stupas and an interesting shrine composed of red-dyed sheep horns near a prominant rock outcropping. The weather improved, but the high mountains on either side of the valley were definitely covered in fresh snow. Up-valley, the gleaming mass of Kang Yatze (6400 meters) shone in the distance. There were a few river crossing and even civilized bridges but nothing very tough. We had a late lunch at a parachute cafe and arrived at camp about 5 PM. Once again there was a parachute cafe and a real privy. In a natural reaction to the previous evening, things were kind of subdued in the dining tent. We all knew this was the last night camping and I think we felt a little anticipatory sadness that the trek would be ending the next day. There are actually electric wires of some sort coming up to Skiu.

L.C. took off in the morning on his riding horse to arrange for our new pickup. His plan was to leave the horse on our side of the Zanskar, cross at Chilling, hitch a ride to Leh and hire some vehicles. Joel also sent a text on the satellite phone. We will see tomorrow how it all pans out. (Note: perfectly). Tonight we said goodbye to our horsemen, with a little Hindi speech and tips. They will be accompanying us to Skiu to drop off the gear, but will then turn around, ascend the Markha valley, cross Nimaling (we think) to the Leh-Manali highway and walk to Manali. I believe they will be paid for the project time for this trip on a per-day basis.

Sept. 20, 2008. We have an exit strategy.

Several years ago, the Dean of my medical school was killed trekking in Nepal by a heavy fall of snow. The story was that it just accumulated on the tents and suffocated the group. The snow that fell overnight was not nearly that heavy, and we had good 3-4 season tents. Nonetheless, I found the night a little scary due to the unrelenting snow. From my skiing background, I am a little paranoid about situations in which there is massive snow accumulation on upper, unseen (and unseeable) slopes. Just walking in valley bottoms can be unsafe in some conditions. We had moderately heavy snow and could expect a warm-up given the time of year, but at least it was not windy, so that upper slopes were probably not heavily wind-loaded. This was one of a few interesting times on the trek that, for me anyway, the line between making indepedent decisions regarding one's own safety, versus just relaxing and relying on our leaders to sort everything out, was tested a little. As I lay in the tent I recalled bad judgements I had made in the mountains, for example triggering a wet snow avalanche this June on Mount Rainier by insisting on hitting a steep pitch on a hot day a week after a 2 foot dump. At the end of the day you have to always keep thinking.

I periodically shook the snow off my tent and did not sleep too much. On at least 2 occasions, Joel and our Indian staff also personally shook the new snow off and also dug trenches around the tents to relieve any local obstruction of airflow. They really were on top of things throughout this snowstorm and the entire trek. By the morning there was about 12 inches of fresh snow, with ongoing precipitation.


We packed up camp and got going down-valley to Hankar. L.C. broke trail in the deep snow and steered a very safe course; he's probably been this way 20 times. We saw no evidence of big slides. We needed to make a final decision there about heading back uphill to Nimaling and a final 5200 meter pass, which featured a steep far-side descent, versus a long but safe exit down the Markha valley to Chilling on the Zanskar river. Maybe an hour out of camp, I managed to miss a rock during a river hop and face-plant into a 6-inch deep river. The irony was, my feet didn't even get wet, but I did bang up my left knee and was stunned into a depressed silence for awhile. Joel asked me what I thought about the route choice and I could only reply that I was not doing a lot of thinking. We did spot some impressive groups of blue sheep on the left-hand hillsides, apparently driven down from the high country by the weather. As we dropped, the snow got gradually less deep and we started to meet a few local people. One told of waist-deep snow at Nimaling, and this seemed to tip the final judgement towards the Markha valley exit. We continued downhill in easier terrain, past more and more signs of habitation, and passed through the village of Hankar. There is an impressive ruined fort above Hankar but no one had the energy to go up there. We continued down to Umlung and actually camped at a set camping area with a toilet building. There was a parachute cafe at which refreshments were again obtained for the evening for the pleasure of the usual suspects. Things were getting a little loud in the dining tent an a suggestion to quiet down was met with a spirited reply.

We later received some additional information about the effects of this snowstorm. It did close the Leh-Manali highway, a not unusual event for September. We heard rumors of some bad outcomes for "cyclists" on the highway but I don't have any independent confirmation of this. We did run into several groups in the Markha valley who basically changed their minds about continuing over a pass, turned around and re-traced their steps to exit at Chilling. We don't know if the French group we met below the Zalung Karpo La, having a sit-down lunch in their dining tent, ended up going up and over or not.

Sept. 19, 2008. Sneaking across Zalung Karpo La.

Danger. We crossed the Zalung Karpa La today in deteriorating weather. The ascent was certainly less effort than either the Kang La or the Char Cha La. We started climbing out of a defile immediately above Rubrang, but then there was a broad upper valley that gave a bit of a respite, and a long bare upper slope that allowed a reasonable view forward to what looked at first glance like the summit ridge. The total elevation gain was something like 750 meters, noticably less than that required for the Char Cha La. Even though the summit was a little higher (read out as 5170 meters on our fancy Swiss map and corroborated by GPS), by this time most people were not really bothered by the altitude. It started snowing shortly into the climb, lightly at first. W. and I tried to keep pace with T. and the kitchen staff on the upper stretches. I found that having another person in sight provided a scale factor that kept everything in perspective and made the effort seem less. We topped out on the false summit ridge in high wind, light snow and poor visibility. The true summit was another 5-10 minutes to the North, marked by prayer flags. After hanging about for a little while, W. and I decided to drop into the Markha drainage and find a more sheltered spot to wait for the rest of the group. So we missed the group summit photo. Sure enough, within a few minutes our horse crew and L. dropped down out of the weather, followed shortly by the whole group. By this time it was really snowing and everyone really moved, intuitively understanding the need to get down.

The Zalung Karpo La is actually a double pass. Three routes meet at the top: from Hankar, from Dat, and the side path we ascended from Rubrang. The true summit, shown at left, was the "meet up point" with my 2006 trip, which traversed from the Hankar to the Dat sides.

The rest of the trek day is a bit of a blur as we dropped down to about 4400 meters in ongoing snow, with maybe a 1 inch accumulation by the time we hit camp. We stopped at the logical transition point to beginning tomorrow's planned ascent over the shoulder of Kang Yatze to Nimaling. However, there was already serious doubt among our leadership about the ability of the horses to negotiate the step side-hilling required for this route. We pitched the tents in worsening weather about 2 PM and hunkered down. By midnight, as I write this, there is 6 inches of fresh snow and Nimaling seems out. The total amount of snow is the key variable. Everyone's health is acceptable, but again footware and foul weather clothing are being tested to the max and not everyone has full-on mountaineering gear. Dining tent conversation as usual devolved to a fairly low common denominator, featuring M.'s story about her friend's animal husbandry duties in the pork industry. 1940's and 1950's British TV and especially radio theater were an endless source of fascination to certain guides and trekkers but left some of us shaking our heads.

Sept. 18, 2008. Transition back to high country.

Today was about an 7 hour stage up to the high green pastures of Rubrang. We started in gorge country, and again had innumerable river crossings interspersed with a few high traverses above the watercourse. Very gradually, the canyon walls grew smaller, and drew away from the valley, with meadows opening up on both sides. After a late lunch, we began to gain views to our left of high mountains and the region of Rubrang Pass, an alternate route into the Markha valley. The going got easier, but the kilometers really started piling up in the afternoon as we trekked through the landscape towards the distant mountains. The river cut a channel into a broad plateau, and we alternated between paralleling the watercourse on the steppe, and dropping down onto rougher boulderfields beside the river. I managed to fall and bang my knee today. I wore tennis shoes for a change but missed on a few river crossings and was unable to keep my feet dry.

Finally, we crossed a side stream entering from our left, ascended a little and arrived at the lush grass oasis of Rubrang. Showers were on offer in the toilet tent (!) and L. and I took advantage of this. High winds threatened to reveal all. The horsemen conducted an impromptu cricket match on a sloping ground. We had the second installment of P.S.'s smoked salmon tonight...yummy...but two trekkers chose to rest in their tents rather than join the feast. Dining tent conversation pretty much focused on yesterday's special cave; T., our head cook, and St. and T., our local guides, were the successful climbers. I think we listened to Orson Well's original radio broadcast of War of the Worlds in the dining tent this evening. The temperature fell very quickly as the evening wore on in a harbinger of things to come. Our camp was at about 4500 meters tonight or 15,000 feet. I don't really feel the altitude any more. A few health observations about the trekkers...remain private.

Sept. 17, 2008. Quintessential Jumlam day.

This was a relatively easy 5 hour day to Kharnak Sumdo. We started with more downhill, crossing the river myriad times in sandals. The current strength ranged from mellow to attention-grabbing but never scary. It was cool and cloudy, but not cold. The canyon was lined by incredible rock walls. There were 1 or 2 narrow stretches that added spice. We also passed the (in)famous cave of the stone lingam. For brave and accomplished rock climbers only! Lunch was at a major Sumdo; Joel had an attack of stomach, perhaps caused by cucumbers! After lunch, it was not far to our dusty camp, but it was little uphill. Our camp is actually on the same river that flows through Dat, an area I visit two years ago. So, in a sense, today marks the link-up to my former geography, sort of a book-end to my re-visit to the lower Miyar nala. There are 4 days left on the trek. One day of solid up and then a pass a pay for 3 days. We are at only 3700 meters and the next pass is ~ 5200 meters...hmmm, this speaks for itself.

6 PM. I am sitting in the dining tent trying not to fall asleep. Didn't sleep too well last night: 11 hours in the tent and maybe 4 hours asleep. This afternoon I brought out the cheese from Trader Joe's in Seattle that I have been carrying for 3 weeks: Wensleydale (in honor of Wallace and Gromit), an English blue whose label I can no longer read, and a generic "smoked cheese". We broke out the first two on plain crackers in the dining tent around 4. The Wensleydale had produced a tense gaseous excresence into it's bag, while the blue had undergone several metamorphoses. Sensory overload! P. was not feeling well but the rest of us blissed out. I retired to my tent, fell asleep, and promptly entered REM sleep and astral projected my soul to somewhere beyond Jupiter. Perhaps this is related to the early American comic strip, "Dreams of the Rarebit Fiend" by Winsor McCay, in which the protagonist has psychotic dreams after eating toasted cheese sandwiches. In McCay's work, politically incorrect ideas were allowed to sneak into print with the excuse that they represented dreams rather than reality (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dreams_of_a_Rarebit_Fiend). I woke up and gradually returned to reality: camping in a canyon in the Indian Himalaya, still comfortably unreal.

Sept. 16, 2008. Downhill all day.

Today was a nice day in the Jumlam. Not exactly bathing suit weather, but sunny and warm enough. Most people used their hiking boots today, so the path was one of jumps and leaps to avoid wet feet, rather than one of sandals and wet crossings. I yanked M. up from a splash-in on one occasion. Camp was cold as usual, and we were up and away by 9:15. The tail of the group was quite slow over the rough terrain. St. was a little sick today (stomach) but carried on like a trooper. The first sumdo (junction) we got to had a natural "horse" shape in the rocks quite high up above the valley bottom. This was really just an abstract pattern of whiter rock against the dark rock. After lunch the usual out-front group (W., M., plus/minus me) chased the horses, passing them and the resting and getting re-passed. Finally into camp by 2:30-2:45, in time for a bit of a wash-up. Camp is at a sumdo with a snow peak visible up the side valley. It is cramped but right by the river and very clean. Joel said they spent a day exploring up this side valley last year, hoping for good views, but just got wiped out in steep rockpiles. Today I am pretty healthy except for the upper respiratory thing, several days after stopping anti-bacterials. P. started azithromycin yesterday, having failed to improve on amoxicillin/clavulanate.

It is hard to believe that in 10 days I will be home.

Sept. 15, 2008. Char Cha La aerobics.

We awoke to a dawn rain that changed to snow. Fortunately, it stopped as quickly as it started and left the air cool and clean for our ascent of the Char Cha La. We left camp about 9 AM and immediately started on the unrelenting uphill. Literally every step from camp to pass was up. W. and A. led the way; I was pushing as hard as I could but could only manage a 3rd place, well behind those 10 years or so my senior. I think it took about 3 hours to knock off the 1000 meter gain to a high point of about 16,100 feet (4950 meters). L. and J. brought up the rear today. Shortly after they hit the top, we dropped into the upper Jumlam proper. This involved a bit of a hairy traverse above the young river. There was an interesting juxtaposition between brown and grey rocks. We had lunch in a beautiful spot maybe 20 minutes below that pass that was considerably more sheltered. Camp was in a big broadening of the valley at about 4500 meters. A small group of blue sheep approached the camp along the valley bottom and M. and I walked out to meet them; waiting in camp would likely have resulted in getting just as close.

Sept. 14, 2008. Back on the trail.

Today was not a very hard day on the trail. We left "horse piss camp" about 9 and partially re-traced the track A. and I had taken to Zangla village yesterday. Turning off, we trekked behind the prominent ruin of Zangla fort and looked back to the village. A subset (M., W., and I think J. and myself) essayed the moderate uphill to the fort proper. We met a couple of Hungarian volunteers who were working with local materials and a couple of older Zanskari's to restore the fort or at least forestall additional damage. They were making bricks on site and rebuilding a few walls. The Hungarian staff spoke good English and we gossiped about fund-raising and the cooperation and interest, or lack thereof, of the local Zanskaris in their cultural heritage and in supporting the restoration. The Hungarian connection had to do with a pilgrim and scholar from Hungary who had spent considerable time in the area in the 1800s. On the way up we had passed our Hungarian contact from the bus debacle on the 12th...karma! In any case, we went into some of the inner rooms of the fort and I for one was completely blown away by the quality of the art and statuary inside. Far better than I expected from the tumbledown exterior. The place really is a treasure.

After descending and re-joining the group we initially traveled along an irrigation canal, and then entered a proper canyon. We preceded gently uphill for a couple of hours, crossing the river perhaps 30 times in sandals (or boots for the Kiwis). We then camped at the "Y" junction where two streams tumbled out of steep upper valleys and joined. The camp was small and cramped, but nice and forested compared to the ice camps of the Miyar nala. The elevation is about 3900 meters and we can only get a vague sense of tomorrows route to the Char Cha la (4915 meters).