March 10, 2004 - Hiking the Himalayas

Today is Tibetan Uprising Day, so there are no teachings in memorium.

Whew am I bushed - I got up at 5:30 AM and did the kora (the circumambulation of His Holiness' temple and residence) and made it back for breakfast.  After that I went on a 35 km (there and back again) hike with a 6500 foot vertical ascent - we climbed from  McLeod Ganj (about 5000 feet) to a saddle just short of the path to the pass between the Kangra valley and the next valley (don't know its name right now.)  I was hip deep in snow at the saddle (around 11,500 feet) when we decided to turn around.  To put this in perspective, I climbed higher than the Sierras rise to in one day and returned.

The path we took (Dale and I) seemed as though it was a couple of thousand years old, but apparently was built by colonial British in the 19^th century  - It's built up out of stone blocks, and most of the difficult parts that would have entailed climbing are bridged with stairs, ramps, or causeways.  It was spectacular.

Climbing through 7,000 feet we hit our first rest stop - a tea house where the proprietor has hauled up a small store by burro or donkey.  Peering down into the hazy valley below, the entire hill side was covered in rhododendrons - most in full flaming red/pink bloom.  We met up with an Aussie (Cory), who's lived here for the past year who told us that they would be in full bloom in about 2 weeks, covering the hillside with their flames - we won't be back up here for that unfortunately.  At this point we also picked up with a couple of young Monks from Nepal that were climbing today.

Climbing higher we got to 9,000 feet to a plateau called Triund where there was another tea shack awaiting us where we had lunch (beats carrying it up ourselves).  We had the tea shack proprietor make us chais and an egg - pancake omelet (sort of like a crepe), and shared the meal with the monks and Cory and admired the alpine meadow we were in, the ravens that swarmed about, the gwas that soared even higher than us, and the bright blue flowers that had pushed up out of the grass, despite the snow pack still on the ground around us.

Above us is a stupa, high on a rocky crag, surrounded by prayer flags.  Immediately below it are a few caves, complete with rocks forming walls to cover their entrances.   Cory and the Monks tell us that that's where travelers spend their nights - Cory tells us how he spent a few nights in one the previous summer, and how a large black dog (which happens to be sitting next to us trying to score a meal too) joined him and enjoyed some crackers, but refused to eat the chocolate he offered.  Later he tells us that it was foolish of him to let the dog sleep with him - apparently the leopards that inhabit the mountains are very fond of dog, and might have gone into the cave to eat him.

We climb up out of the alpine meadow - itself a saddle on the climb up.  Above us - to the east and west - stretch mountains - the pass we're heading for is 14,500 feet height, and the peaks go up another few hundred feet - this is the first range of the Himalayas and it's already taller than just about every mountain in North America.  The entire surroundings are awe inspiring, especially as I'm here climbing.

Dale and I head off a few minutes ahead of the monks and Cory - we're on a strict timeline as we need to make dinner with Rinpoche tonight - we've agreed that, no matter where we are, at 1 PM we're turning back - shooting to climb down in 3 hours what took 5 hours to get up.

We get lost - somehow we miss a turn on the path and head down some goat traces.  It's sort of scary - we're holding on to tufts of grass, traversing a slope that drops off at maybe 60 - 70 degrees for at least 2000 feet - if we slipped I don't think we'd be coming back.  We scramble up several hundred feet and I see a flash of a crimson robe above - a sigh of relief.

Up on the trail we chase after the monks - my head is pounding - we're at about 10,500 feet now, have climbed about a mile, and every step up the mountain is painful.  I have to stop for a while as altitude sickness sets in.  Resting a while, we press on - we have to traverse an area where the snow has completely covered the path, and there's a 200 foot cliff at the edge of the snow.  Things get very vivid to me - every step is a live moment - step forward = I'm here = step forward = I'm here.  Not a single thought except the focus on the next step - I feel totally alive in the moment in a way that I understand my walking practice is supposed to get me.

Somehow we traverse the field (understanding we'll have to do it again on the way back) and head further up.  It's 12:40.  Dale asks if we can turn back at the next switchback if we don't see the saddle we're shooting for.  I'm non-committal.  We reach the switchback, round the curve of the mountain and - no saddle, but it looks like a clear shot now - the trail is leveling out, well defined.  We're above the tree line and standing in snow.  I say I want to try the next one and take off.  Quickly I walk until we hit a clear filed of snow.  Amazingly I have a burst of energy and run across the field - I want to make it - I'm jogging, then running (it's 11,000 feet or more now) with no ill effect.  I crest the horizon and there we are - the monks are resting in a snow field on some rocks and beyond them the pass stretches into the sky - its top obscured by the clouds that are precipitating off the snow melt in the sun.

We get to the monks, wading hip deep through the snow (I'm in sneakers and a short sleeve shirt).  On two sides of us it heads down, behind us there’s a summit, maybe 500 feet above where we are, ahead of us the pass heads up - a 60 degree angle, completely covered in snow.

There are some little stone huts a little below us - I'm told for those making it this far and needing to shelter for the night.  It's a four day hike into the next valley.

We have a snowball fight, take pictures, and then turn around to head back.

On the way back we're hit with a hail and rainstorm - all that snowmelt precipitating out of the sky on us.  I meet a woman (Ol'ga) from Yaroslavl (Russia, outside of Moscow) who's been traveling in India for 6 months when we get to the tea shack and get a chance to use my Russian for the first time in a decade - I'm pretty good she tells me.

We pause for photos and then head down from Triund. 

 

All the way down my knees and ankles ache.  But we make good time and are back to the rooms by 4 PM - right on schedule.

After a quick shower we head down to the Ashoka – supposedly the best Indian Restaurant in town (but we find a better one later).  As today is Tibetan Uprising Day, all of the Tibetan businesses are closed – which means that most the restaurants in town are shut down.  Fortunately we’ve reserved a large table for dinner – we have about 20 people in all.  Rinpoche, his brother and family (including Tsering and Phuntsok) and the rest of us fill almost the entire second floor of the restaurant.  Dinner is a fixed menu (Terry and Greg picked the menu for everyone) and the dishes arrive sporadically through the meal.  For almost 2 hours we eat and talk – every five minutes someone pokes their head upstairs in search of a place to sit, wide eyed views the spectacle in front of them (this looks a lot like the Last Supper with some humor), and heads downstairs.  I’m tired and worn out from the hike, and the meal can’t end soon enough for me.  About 4 liters of water later, we’re settling the tab (Rinpoche and family having departed), and I’m free to head to the Internet Café and write this up, and then to head back to the room for another shower and a brief bit of reading before turning the light off.

I'll sleep well tonight.