Distance - 7 miles
Time - 6 hrs
Elevation - from 11,236 feet to 12,700
Equivalent flights of stairs = 150
According to the itinerary this was going to be a much easier day. Shorter, with less climbing but MB warned "you are still going to feel it." It helps when you sleep like a log and date a lighter sleeping girl who documents it. The blanket was wonderful, I bet it weighed ten pounds. Last time I slept at this altitude in Peru, I tossed and turned all night.
When you order a chapati for breakfast, they make it from scratch. They mix the flour, salt and water quickly and throw it on top of the stove. Delicious. Especially with two deep-fried eggs on top.
We set off late in the morning, around nine.
Langtang II, Lirung's little brother peeked down at us from 21,000 feet.
He looked grander from this angle.
I looked back after twenty minutes - Langtang was already way below us and I was very much out of breath. I had a nice high-altitude headache brewing too. You feel it in your temples. It was talking to me "hi there, get used to me."
Though clear and sunny it was a cold day. We scrambled up the rocky trail, following a wild horse. The wind was in our face and constant.
Langtang sunk further below us.
After an hour of climbing we crested a hill to find a series of long Tibetan prayer walls made from stone.
Custom dictates that you walk on their left. There is path on the other side of the wall for people walking the other direction.
.The carved stones that comprise the walls are called "mani" stones. They're carved by Buddhist devotees to earn merit. Most are inscribed with the mantra "om mani padme hum"' written in Sanskrit, which means "hail to jewel in the Lotus."
At this elevation, everything thins out. Few buildings and fewer people. It's very peaceful, almost zen-like. The wind clogs up your ears, reflecting back the sound of deep, even breaths. You silently march on, one step, another step...... Nothing really hurts any longer, you're used to this rhythm. This is why you came to Nepal, for this view. There is no other view like it and it wouldn't be as beautiful from a helicopter or from the back of a horse. The struggle to get here on foot makes it special.
There were snow-capped mountains on either side of the river but I was surprised to find they're not all named. This one doesn't have a name. Considering there are close to 4,000 mountain peaks in Nepal higher than 16,000 feet, it would be tough to name them all.
After a few hours we reached the edge of a small trekking village.
It was aptly named, I thought.
It was only a matter of time before I was going to try yak curd and seabuck thorn juice, though I admit this ad didn't do much to entice me.
The old lady was extra quiet today. I think she was hurting pretty bad.
I shoulda stacked up some prayer rocks for her. Strange - they do this in the Peruvian Andes too.
The higher you go, the more prayer walls and prayer flags you see.
At our first rest stop we took a photo looking back downhill.
The views got better and better.
When we began to see prayer wheels and stupas (that white statue in the distance) we were close.
The stupa signifies that there is a monastery nearby. The shape symbolizes Buddha sitting upright with a crown atop his head.
We were finally here, Kyanjin Gompa.
Just past the stupa we caught our first glimpse of the glacier, in the upper right of this photo.
I borrowed Dodo's bamboo stick for my official glacier shot.
It's a sizable trekking village, larger than I expected.
First thing I did was jump in the solar-powered shower, it was so hot and nice. Dodo made the mistake of waiting. An hour later I heard her screaming "hello, help, the water stopped!!!!" She had a head full of lather and no way to rinse. I sat still pretending not to hear. What do I know about solar-powered shower plumbing. A young worker jumped up and re-attached a loose hose but the hot water was long gone.
After lunch I wanted nothing more than to lie down under my heavy blanket and sleep. My head hurt, my pulse was above 100 and I kept yawning. But there he was, at my door, barking "hey, come on, get up, you gotta move around." I knew he was right - I knew I was paying him for this very reason but it didn't make it any easier. We struggled to our feet, put on three or four layers of clothes and took a hike towards the glacier. At one point we had to cross a rock slide. I was so tired I was hoping for it to start up and carry me off.
Twenty years ago you could walk right up to the glacier and touch it but now that was no longer possible. Global warming has chased it up the rock face. It took us a few hours to get this close.
We were really hurting so we sat down next to the river, taking shelter from the wind behind a large rock. My smiley-faced girlfriend, the happy-go-luckiest person I've ever known, looked about as unhappy as I've ever seen her. It is this exact moment when I began to worry about the ascent to Gosaikunda Lake, four days in the future. It was even higher than this and the climb up from the valley was even steeper.
"Come on Dodo, one selfie to remember this moment!!" She rallied, put on her best fake smile and then we were off, back down to our tea house.
Seemed rather straightforward. Milk some yaks (ok, that might be a bit challenging), add some kind of citrus, grab the curds out of the whey and press into a wheel for storage. MB bought a big bag and opened it up for me to smell.
Guess what it smelled like? Yep, yak. No, wait, worse - it smelled like a yak who'd jogged through a rain storm then slept in a hot barn all night.
I bit into a piece - it was mild. Subtle, kind of like a very young cheddar. No hint of yak. Caught me off guard so I asked for another piece. Delicious. One more piece. MB was smiling ear to ear. In all, I ate about 500 grams, probably 400 grams more than I should have at high altitude. This cheese would later take up residence in my stomach and play a kind of dueling banjos with my throbbing temples as I tried in vain to sleep.
On the way back to the tea house, MB laid out our plans for tomorrow's "rest day." "We'll take a small hike up there" he said pointing to a stupa on the hill above us. I wanted to be clear "to that stupa?" No, he replied, to the top. Dodo laughed out loud. The top of the mountain next to us, Kyanjin Ri, is 15,600 feet, 2,600 feet higher than where my legs were currently shaking. This photo doesn't even do it justice, it's like standing next to a brick wall. Back at the tea house I had an internal chat. My cowardly half talked to my other cowardly half. "We don't have to go up there, we're the client. We can tell MB 'NO' and that's that."
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