Into the Wild

“The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.” – Jon Krakauer

After two days of relaxing, acclimatizing and soaking up the sun in beautiful Gokyo I was ready to leave the crowds and comforts behind and move on to something more real. Following a leisurely breakfast and a pot of tea I made my way across the Ngozumpa Glacier toward Thangnag to walk over the Cho La.

The sun is brutal at 15,000’. As I crawl up the valley my thoughts keep going back to I should have started earlier. An ice-cold wet handkerchief wrapped around my head saves my brain from boiling. At noon I find relief in the shade of a boulder just big enough for me and a pot of noodles. This is an amazingly beautiful place to stop for lunch. Not another person around for miles, I hear nothing, see only mountains, and the air is as fresh as the melting snow around me.

Keep moving higher. I’m standing on top of a hill in the center of the upper portion of the valley. All around me are peaks of 6,000 meters. This is where I meet some other travelers headed in the opposite direction. We exchange polite greetings and soon they inform with a pointed finger that, over there, is where the pass is. A wall of rock, snow and ice stares back at me another mile away. Taking in this amazing scenery I decide this is where my day will end. Down the other side of the hill I find a flat spot to build my tent and camp for the night.

Time went by and as I sat on a flat rock outside my tent at 16,000’ watching the sun go down and an undercast roll in, I had a familiar sensation. Although it was freezing I was reminded of the starry nights in the desert of Kuwait. That feeling of isolation and insignificance which puts me at peace, knowing that no one in my family and heritage has ever stepped foot on the ground I walk on. It’s somehow inspiring. I went to bed that night warm and content, without a care in the world.

I slept great and took an early start in hopes of avoiding the sun. The final 400 meter hike up and over the pass was a cold and brutal battle. With feet numb and cold air stinging my face, yet unable to breathe though my balaclava, I pressed on slowly but surely. The altitude makes this simple task of walking, with a few French steps here and there, a painful struggle full of doubt and exhaustion. Upon reaching the top I was greeted immediately and appropriately by a resting porter… NAMASTE!!! As he smoked his cigarette I put my bag down and sat upon it to take in the incredible view of the Himalaya.

Without notice and despite the fact I began my day only 400 meters below, I found myself overtaken by a Swiss trekking group. Where they were headed I had no idea and couldn’t care less. They looked only down at their feet and listened only to the sound of their mp3 players. Why come all this way to experience something only to block out your environment with electronic noise, and to burden other people with your unnecessary load? As they pass I take a look back to where I’ve come from. The rocky peaks loom above me like the pointed horns of the devil himself.

The walk down is easy and I’m left with my thoughts and the warmth of the blazing sun. Stripping off layers of clothing as I descend I felt like some sort of molting creature going through a natural transformation. Things will get easier over the next few days and I’ll forget what it means to struggle. The fine weather and beautiful landscapes constantly remind me that I am the luckiest man on earth.
I make new friends in Dzongla, decide to quit early, and settle in for the night.