Thorung Phedi-Thorung-La-Muktinath (3000m a.s.l.)
About 1000m up followed by about 2000 m down; longest dayPony-trekking; Treacherous slopes up and 14 km down, down, down and down and down; Harshness of Thurong-La and long walk broke us up; each for himself
I anticipated that there would be daylight by 5 a.m. as I had seen in Yak Kharta yesterday morning. So despite being told to be prepared with a torch-light, I packed the one I bought at Manang into the bag to be carried by the porter.
At the dining hall I met the porter who has been carrying my baggage. His right hand middle finger and the back of left hand are heavily bandaged. On the way from Yak Kharta he was hit by a rock ricocheting off a slope of loose rocks and pebbles. It was the balance of his good fortune that the rock got the back of his left hand and right middle figure as his hands were held with figures interlocked tightly over the head band strapped to his forehead. Had the rock hit him squarely on his head he would have been killed. A couple of doctor trekkers treated him. Despite his injuries our friend is still smiling as always and will continue to carry our bags.
[2 days later I gave him 500 rupees telling him to see a doctor for follow-up treatment. He smiled a bit broadly than usual, in response. On the night before he left us at Pokhara I gave him more tips than others. This time he added a big salute to his broad smile, in response.]
At about 4.45 a.m. we stepped out into the bitterly cold morning air. The path up the slope just outside our hotels was not quite visible. But Sherpa Citra could walk in front without a torch-light.
It then occurred to me that in the mountains daylight appeared at different times according to whether one’s locality was or was not facing the rising sun. Thurong Phedi was hidden from the sun. So it remained dark at 5 a.m.
I walked just behind Jamie who had a torch-light, stepping on her footprints, repeatedly pleading, “Jamie, Jamie wait for me!”
There was a stream of blinking lights, meandering slowly up the long slope from the bottom to the first tea-house. Many groups were ahead of us and quite a few climbers were then quite near the tea-house.
Only five of us wanted re trek up to the Thurong-La, Mee Poon, Chang, Shoo Chan, Jamie and me. The other five including Gan Che had decided to pony-trek up paying USD120 as fare per animal. They were staying back with the horsemen, waiting for daybreak to get going as the mules could not see well in darkness.
About 200 m. up I felt spells of giddiness and was unable to walk straight. I told Jamie to go on as I had to take frequent breaks. Chandra dutifully stayed with me. I felt no better even after the break of dawn. Somehow I just didn’t feel that I could beat that damned slope. Finally, seeing that my teammates had gone far away from me, I told Chandra to rush down and get an animal for me, too. I gave him USD 120. With that I swallowed my pride and said good-bye to the last bit of youthful spirit in me. Finally I heard a tiny voice inside me saying, “Accept it, you are no longer young”. I was close to tears for the sixty years gone by and vanished like a dream. Suddenly I felt so empty, lonely and old.
Chandra scrambled down so that he could get to the bottom before all the ponies/mules started to pull out.
[ I later came to realize that my condition could be partly due to lack of sleep last two nights and partly to me taking too many kinds of pills, especially the extra strong Panadol C that I took before breakfast that morning. Over the next 2-3 days I was to experience same giddiness not long after taking Panadol C in the morning. The spell would last for about 30 min. or so before I felt normal again. It could also be AMS that was affecting me]
10 minutes or so later I saw a whole caravan of horsemen, ponies/mules with trekkers on them coming up. The animals kept nodding their heads in unison with their bells ringing ding, dang, ding dang ding ding dang………crystal clear in the crispy morning air.
My pony or mule or whatever was the one that Gan Che’s horseman brought along. It was small for my size and that explained why I nearly got thrown off twice. It was fortunate that I managed to hold on to its long and thick neck, once. In that instance our 4 eyes met, his in anger and hate and mine in shock and fear. I still dread to think what would have happened if the damned it had started to trot down one of those ice-clad slopes!
Fat guy I don't like you
Kelly called out to me- I was just behind Gan Che- to yell at Gan Che when it looked like he was dozing off with his back slightly hunched and leaning sideways. I called “Gan Che!” loudly and instantly heard him shoo at his pony. So I was assured he was fully aware of the fact that he was on a pony scrambling up some Himalayan mountain slopes! Later I was of course stunned to hear from him that he actually dozed off while on that pony because he was too tired, sick and sleepy. He claimed that it was possible to doze off riding an animal. I did believe him. After all he rode horses for exercise back home in Australia. I just wondered if other riders could doze off while riding. He could well be the only odd guy.
It was about 7.30 a.m. when we reached the first tea-house. Mee Poon, Shoo Chan, Chang and Jamie had got there. They took photographs of us sitting gallantly on our mules. With frost on their faces and their headscarves and hats, they looked exhausted and as though they had just emerged from a morning walk in the Antarctic.
After half a few minutes of rest while remaining mounted on our horses, we pulled out again in the direction of a trail cutting across slopes partially covered in ice and snow. We were unmistakably located in the abode of snow. The info that there is no snow on Thurong-La is far from truth!
They say no snow at Thorung-La
Who said no snow at Thurong-La?
We were to trek through slopes and slopes of snow on that narrow trail. On our left were high slopes of snow and our right those slopes continued their descent into valleys several hundred meters deep down. And I didn’t see any guide or horseman carrying ropes that long to haul anyone dropped in there up. I suppose if you were down there you were to die there. Period. Ironically, the scenery was so charming and captivating.
The World of Snow
Being a first-timer on a half horse I did pretty well holding on to the pommel and the reins until the second tea-house where we were allowed a short break. I nearly broke my back dismounting and getting up again that damned animal!
Donkeys and mules left alone at 2nd tea-house while riders gone for hot drinks
There were lots and lots of oohs and aahs from the mostly White trekkers at the tea-house. A lot of them, including many ladies, were around 60 in age, probably had retired from their jobs with savings for some traveling in low-cost third-world countries.
Way back and below, plodding on in the misty freezing air were our 4 teammates. I could recognize them by their outfits. They appeared to be among the last few on the way. They probably needed another hour before they could get up to the second tea-house. In that harsh environment trekking was an extreme endurance exercise. I was full of admiration for the four of them. Chang and Mee Poon are 60 and 61 in age. They no longer look youthful. Shoo Chan and Jamie are relatively young but are petite and gentle in looks. Could they all make it to Thorung-La? I felt guilty because I had failed to live up the ethos among climbing community to keep company with one another throughout the journey and secondly, I moved on ahead on the back of an animal, leaving my friends in the cold, cold world of snow.
It was actually quite perilous riding on a mule up those snow-clad slopes, especially over narrow paths partially covered in ice and fresh snow. But somehow our supposed-to-be stupid half-horses managed to scramble up all those slopes rocking us on their backs. Any mishap would have us rolling hundreds of meters down into the valleys below. Having come through safely I must however admit that I did thoroughly enjoy the ride. Over this stretch it was pleasurable pony-trekking well worth the USD120.
At about 8.30 a.m. we found ourselves at the highest point of Thorung-La where hundreds of excited trekkers were graping, hugging and congratulating one another, yelling and calling friends to take pictures, mostly against the only salient stone benchmark 5416 m, which was draped in hundreds of Tibetan buntings stringing up pieces of cloth of many colors, fluttering and flapping in the swift wintry winds.
Dismounted, I found myself lost of my friends. They had got down from their ponies and disappeared in the colorful crowd.
With trekkers everywhere, men and women all looking alike in their thick layers of colorful outfits, some with faces almost fully covered in multicolored scarves or all kinds of head-gears, it took time to tell if persons around were men or women.
Not wanting to be caught unzipping my trousers in front of or close to any women, I scurried around looking for a spot where I could safely pee. Finally, at the back of the tea-house- the best spot I could see- I quickly turned against the windowless wall of the tea-house and got it done. Behind that wall a boisterous crowd of trekkers were having their very costly cups of hot tea, coffee or chocolate in the dim tea-house.
The lone tea-house at Thurong-La, one of the highest in the world
Thorung-La (Pass)
Kelly came from behind and tapped on my shoulder while I was looking for someone to help me take some pictures. She took that picture of me standing next to the landmark. I asked her about the others and was told that they had probably gone down the long slope because it was too cold to stay any longer up there. Group photo was not possible as we were then all scattered. Four were still plodding up, 2-3 had gone down the slope sliding into the Kali Gandaki valley. Instinctively I sensed that that environment was life-threatening as my headache had gotten worse and breathing heavier. In a short while I too got the hell down the long slopes following colored poles pointing to Muktinath. There was no way I could wait for those on foot to arrive.
Kelly's photo of me at Thorong La. Prayer flags with wishes to be blown to heaven just above
It is all the way down after the pass
We had spent the last 10 days trekking to reach that point. It was so disappointing that I could not stay longer than 5 minutes up there. At the point of writing I have only blur memories of the surroundings at Thorung-La. It is a place that I just rushed through. It is a place where I lost my friends. It is a place I could not stop to find out how those friends behind us were doing. It is a place where I could only look after myself. It is a place where each of us was for himself or herself. The highest mountain pass on earth Thurong-La turns out to be where our esprit de corps was at its lowest ebb. It is a paradox that it should have happened at the highest point of our trek. The treacherous weather at that pass and more than 8 hours of continuous trekking had broken our group into each alone on the way and caused us to arrive one by one at some tea-houses located at about 8 km down the slope towards Muktinath.
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Light winds were blowing up from the Kali Gandaki valley into the Thurong-La. I guessed they would soon gather strength as I could see blades of snow with sharp and irregular edges pointing upwards the pass.
Their sharp edges are pointing up towards Thurong-La
At about 2 km down the long slope I caught up with Keok and Weng who were moving down very slowly, holding on to each other for support. Then I met Kugan Gurung our porter resting on the ground all alone. That was a rare sight for porters normally move together. Using sign language he made me understand that he was tired and giddy and had vomited at Thurong-La. He had no idea where his fellow porters were for he had earlier rushed down from Thurong-La. Well, even the hardy porters were then each on one’s own!
Porter Gagan floored
I stayed with him stopping several more times over the next 3-4 km until he felt dizzy no more and another porter caught up to join him and relieved him of a heavier bag.
All the way down I kept wondering if the four on foot had got through the Thurong-La. I wondered if they would be caught in strong winds had they been late getting there after 10.00 a.m. All features I had seen suggested that those slopes were right on the path of very strong winds sweeping up the slopes. I turned to look back many more times for figures in their outfits or walked like them. But of the many other trekkers walking in between some ponies and mules coming downhill none were my friends.
In opposite direction, several trekkers were trekking uphill. One young cyclist was carrying a mountain bike on his back. He is doing mountain biking.
My legs became numb trudging downhill through pavements covered in pebbles and footpaths trodden on ice and fresh snow. Occasionally I sat down on that long slope to admire the beauty of the mountains partially covered in thin and hazy clouds on the opposite side of the Kali Gandaki valley.
Trekkers resting in the valley of Kali Ghandaki
It’s still a long way down
Slowly and gradually I began to feel better as I came down lower and lower. I stopped many more times just to see if my four friends on foot were coming through, catching up with me.
Finally a few tea-houses appeared at the bottom end of some steep curvy paths. However it was still a long way to get there.
It was about that time Shoo Chan appeared on a slope behind me. I immediately stopped feeling a lump in my throat. At least one was through. When she got closer I just pulled her over and I burst into tears on her shoulder. I knew it was not easy for her to have come that far over the Thurong-La. But it seemed all too easy for her for pretty soon she was ahead of me and soon had disappeared in the wavy slopes down below, leaving me to my own sorrow.
I was then going very slowly for my blisters were hurting me. Then at quite some distance to that tea-house Mee Poon caught up with me. He was very calm and composed, as always, despite the fact he purged 2 more times on the way. At about 3 p.m. Mee Poon and me finally stepped into the courtyard of a mud-walled tea-house where those before us had had their noodle for a late lunch. Old Lee and Gan Che, first there some 2 hours before Mee Poon and me, were getting ready to leave for Muktinath which was about another 4-5 km away. Kelly, Keok, Weng were all exhausted and were resting and nursing their blisters in the late afternoon sun.
Then Jamie came in, exhausted. I hugged her and complimented her. No more tears from me this time for she managed to give me a smile. Quite a while after her the last person on foot Chang came in. I shook his hand in praise of his spirit. I wish I had done it on foot, like him on two trekking poles, slowly and steadily, always last but always there.
Later we all accounted for our falls and slips on that damned long slope down from Thurong-La. On average each inevitably skidded and fell 3-4 times resulting in bruises. While others nearly broke their backs Jamie got a tennis-ball-sized purple bruise on her arm.
It was close to 4 when we all set out for Muktinath.
Slopes from there on were gentle and long. It was quite a pleasure walking in the late evening hours towards more trees and farms and familiar man-made features: houses, roads, hanging bridges, places of worship as we approached Muktinath.
Sunset at Muktinah
We had been trekking since 5 a.m. this morning to make it to Muktinath at close to 6 p.m., exhausted and hungry, in the compound of an exquisite hotel with excellent facilities. We had done about 18 km on extreme slopes mostly covered in ice and snow to have come that far. In terms of altitudes we climbed some 1200 m up and came down 2000 m. all in one day.
We were all expecting to check into our rooms and snooze until dinner was ready.
Sleep was more important than food to us. We felt like ancient soldiers returning from a 48 hours non-stop battle.
As such we were so terribly disappointed when it was announced that we had failed to reserve rooms for the night owing to some miscommunications among employees of that hotel. We had to be driven in 4WD to Kagbeni for dinner and accommodation.
It was already dark when we were on the winding earth road to Kagbeni. Luckily rooms here are of acceptable standard and dinner was good. So whatever our complaints soon died down.
At dinner we brought out the bottle of Green-Label Johnnie-Walker whisky which I bought in KL International Airport. It had been carried in my bag by the injured porter since Besishahar over dales and vales. The idea was to down it in celebration of our successful crossing over the Thurong-La. But as nearly all of them don’t drink, I became the only one enjoying it. Indeed a large portion of it was shared among our guides Sundra, Roshan, Citra and the five hard-working porters. They deserved it.
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