Thorung La Pass

For ten days, we slowly ascended into the heart of the Himalaya, always wending our way higher towards Thorung La Pass.  This is reputed to be the world's highest pass, at nearly 18,000 feet, and it filled our thoughts as the air grew thinner and colder.  We knew that conquering the pass was the trek's greatest physical challenge, with high likelihood of altitude sickness, at least eight hours hiking in the frigid cold, a 3200 foot ascent, and a 5200 foot descent.  Why did this whole gambit seem like a good idea?

An unforeseen benefit of the physical test lying ahead was the camaraderie that it forged between the trekkers.  The circuit is nearly always traversed in a counterclockwise direction to make the high pass as manageable as possible.  Because of this, many of our fellow hikers became recognizable companions, as we leap-frogged each other by day and gathered around the same stoves in the evening.  Since we were all experiencing the same joys and challenges, there was typically instant rapport and these friendships emerged as one of the trek's highlights.  Our most steadfast companion was Fabrizio, the Italian in his 50s who careened up the trail under his hefty pack like he was in his 20s.  He accompanied us for 10 days and by the end we felt like we had known him, his twinkling eyes, and his wry commentary forever.  We also enjoyed the company and commiseration of Ilana and Linda, an Israeli and Canadian respectively living in Montana.  Their caustic humor toward the physical tribulations of the climb lifted our spirits.  Finally, there was "Poor Tony," the Irishman, whose guide was intent on making the trek as uncomfortable as possible for his client.  There is nothing like watching someone else suffer to make you feel better about your own situation.

The morning of the final push to the high pass, we woke from our fitful sleep in the frigid darkness of 3:30am.  We slept in most of our clothes, including stocking caps and down jackets, so there wasn't much to pack.  After a quick breakfast, we began the climb, dressed for a strip poker tournament with two down jackets, long underwear tops and bottoms, two wicking undershirts, hiking pants, stocking caps, mittens, gaiters, wool socks, and Gore-Tex hiking shoes.  The steep ascent quickly warmed our cores, but fingers and toes slowly lost mobility.  At 10 degrees Fahrenheit, the tubes to our drinking water bladders froze solid within two hours, hampering hydration mightily.  For the last two hours of uphill slog, we trudged into a biting wind that strafed us mercilessly with crystalline snow.  Zombie-like, we reached Thorung La, the pinnacle of the circuit, around 8am.  The word "Himalaya" comes from Sanskrit and means "Abode of Snow"; this was an apt description of our frozen surroundings.

 

 

 After a few hasty pictures, we retreated to the warming shack perched on the saddle.  Here we were both choked up - Carolyn succumbing to the emotion of successfully reaching the hard-fought pass and Ben from inhaling the noxious cloud of secondhand cigarette smoke and kerosene fouling the shanty.  As if the lung-searing elevation was not enough, the porters all huddle with their cigarettes to celebrate reaching the arrival of the downhill segment.  We beat a hasty retreat from the hut and took off down the other side, ecstatic to descend in search of warm, oxygen-rich air.  Pending genealogical verification, we think that standing atop the pass at 5460 meters earns Carolyn the prestigious title of the World's Highest Bruner, which should make for good resume fodder.     

The remaining five days of the trek were surprisingly challenging, though it was more mental than physical.  After psyching ourselves up for the draining attempt on the pass, it took some mental gymnastics to come to terms with the fact that we were safely on the other side....and still had five days on the trail.  After one last rendezvous with our aforementioned friends, we left the village of Muktinath and descended through the alpine desert that surrounds the Kali Gandaki river basin.  Directly to our north lay Nepal's remote Upper Mustang region and eventually Tibet.  This valley, billed as the deepest in the world as the river cuts between two 8000 meter peaks, has served as a main caravan trade route between Tibet and India for centuries.  Due to the topography, each day in the late morning the valley is scoured by a fierce, sandblasting wind as the cool, dense mountain air rushes northward to fill the void left by rising heated air on the Tibetan Plateau.  Trudging through this maelstrom was a challenge that rewarded us with gritty whitened teeth and freshly exfoliated faces.

Because of the importance of this trade route to the North, the government hacked a winding road connecting these villages to lowland Nepal in the mid-90s.  This infrastructure made irreparable changes to both the local residents and the trekking route.  The latter now crisscrosses and even runs atop the road for much of the descent.  At first glance, the towns look the same on this side of the pass, but closer inspection shows much higher consumption of Western media, Bollywood films, and cheap Chinese-made goods.  The trekkers are much different too.  The road enabled an airport in the town of Jomsom and inns to support the higher maintenance jet-setters who drop in for four day treks, so they can check "Himalaya trek" off the list.  We have typically been in their shoes with scarce vacation days, so we felt especially blessed to have had the time to experience Nepal at a slower pace.  There is certainly no "right" way to vacation, however we reflected on the vast difference in conversations on the ascent versus the descent.  Talking to our friends on the ascent typically focused on the wonder of our shared experience, while eavesdropping on the fly-ins on the other side of the pass inevitably yielded hubris-ridden games of one-upsmanship regarding all of the remarkable destinations they had visited.  Regardless of the clientele, the Nepali people were as gracious and friendly as always.

One of our favorite experiences on the descent was gingerly lowering our weary, filthy bodies into the natural hot springs in the village of Tatopani.  The bubbling cauldron is nestled into the river bank and towering peaks are visible in all directions through wisps of rising steam.  We felt fresh and new again after simmering for a few hours.  Another highlight was enjoying sunrise over the entire Annapurna Range from atop Poon Hill.  (At 10,500 feet and higher then anything east of the Mississippi, it is hard to call it a hill, but it's all relative.)  The steel blue of famed peaks like Machhapuchhre and Dhawalagiri erupted along the horizon in the first feeble rays of sun.  Surveying the terrain traversed over the previous weeks, we felt alive in the truest sense.  Day after day filled with little more than walking, eating, and sleeping has a way of chipping away at our typical needs and wants, leaving us with gratitude for the simplicity of warmth and nourishing food.  By this point, Ben's most pressing materialistic desire was simply for a pair of clean socks.

The final day of our trek led us jarringly back to civilization, with its blaring music and incessant vendors.  We celebrated our return by releasing our suppressed consumeristic monsters and loading up on souvenirs for our families.  Don't tell our nephew Calvin, but someone is getting the cutest, snuggliest, little fleece that we have ever seen!  Ben also indulged in the best sub-$2 haircut and straight razor shave that he has ever had.  Against all odds, Carolyn escaped without adopting a darling Nepali child, which would have been a burden on the rest of the trip.  (There were a few close calls on this one.)  Enchanted with Nepal, but happy to retreat to the comforts of the First World, we flew east, in search of our next adventure.