Dawn at 15,000 feet.
Blue sheep.
Maybe a third of the way up and not a whole lot going on in my brain at this point.
More pretty pictures of big mountains. Not pictured, me wheezing for air.
I don't know how Connie had the energy for that kind of display, but this is the top. The sign reads "Congratulations for the success."
A prayer flag elevation bump for the Thorong La Pass, plus mysterious prayer jeans. Not sure if that means someone descended pantless.
Lonely descent into the desert.
TREK DIARY DAY 10: Take a pass (Thorong Phedi to Thorong La Pass to Muktinath, 14,982 to 17,872 then all the way down to 12,540)
THORONG PHEDI - Wake up is at 4:30 for this, the longest and hardest of days, and the sky has just shed its black cloak for the first deep blue of morning. It's well below freezing and no one has slept well but we are relieved to see just a dusting of snow on the ground and clear skies.
We drag our feet, grab a snack, find more reasons to delay and finally face the mountain.
After nine days of ceaseless trekking everyone in our loosely affiliated group is in peak shape, but all of that work is beaten down by the altitude. It is hard enough to breath just standing around at 15,000 feet; it feels impossible when heading uphill. Each unsatifsfying breath pierces my throat. It is the day of many breaks.
Our destination is the Thorong La Pass and the route is as stunning as it is unforgiving. A steep, loose rock trail takes us to vistas of fortress-like glaciers and triangular peaks high above us, shimmering in the oxygen-starved air. Just getting my camera out of its bag seems a devastating waste of energy.
Up and up we stumble until we're simply zombie-walking in silence, thinking, 'One foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other.' I'm so far inside my own brain at this point that a snow leopard could stage a full frontal assault and I wouldn't notice untl claw met jugular. The fact that this actually crossed my mind at the time tells you how high I was on thin air.
Altitude squeezes your brain, your muscles, your innards. Every internal organ seems to be begging you to turn around. It also squeezes your bowels. There's nowhere to hide this far above treeline so I have to squat over a boulder. Two trekkers look my way from a highpoint across the valley. At this point I simply don't care.
I have to keep reminding myself to look up, appreciate where I am. Fortunately I do and we see a herd of blue sheep, two males butting heads, unfazed by the elevation, which is infuriating. I make a note to order blue sheep on my next trek if I ever see it on the menu.
Suddenly there's the flapping of prayer flags in the distance and the outline of a stone building. We've reached the pass.
There we find an absurdely large tangle of prayer flags hung around a wooden sign congratulating us on our fortitude, one greasy pair of prayer jeans, and numerous plastic water bottles left by people who should be throttled and made to climb the pass naked in mid-January while being chased uphill by rabid yaks.
We take a few minutes to admire our accomplishment and the view, snap a few photos, and then it's time to descend to saner altitudes where humans can breathe.
Down we go through one of the world's highest deserts, a silent, lonely, haunting strech of trail, where our only companions are a few hardy vultures eyeing us hopefully. We see no one for two hours while bouncing down the knee-buckling trail amid a barren, white-capped tan landscape. The silence is broken by a rumble and Connie and I wheel around to see a massive glacier split, causing an avalanche. After a few seconds admiring the snow and Volkswagen-size chunks of ice tumbling down the mountain I realize it's close enough to be concerned, so we duck behind a boulder, but it never reaches us.
For more than 5,000 vertical feet we descend, passing only a couple mule trains and a hopelessly unprepared Russian heading up dangerously late in the day. Finally we get to the religious pilgrimage site of Muktinath. It's clogged with Indian religious tourists and the scooter and jeep traffic is jarring after the peace of our roadless trails.
Riverside hot springs? Yes, please.
One way to get across the river. Not pictured: nasty rapids, just downstream.
TREK DIARY DAY 11-12: Good karma = hot springs and cold beer at the end of the road (Muktinath to Tatopani, 12,540 ft to 3,960 ft)
MUKTINATH – We’ve reached the section of the Annapurna circuit where the government has recently built a road, leaving us a choice: keep walking along the dusty, highly trafficked track, or take a jeep and skip it. We choose the latter.
We grudgingly accept extortion prices for the jeep (not much choice) and start bouncing down the hairpin curves, peering over sheer drop offs of over one thousand feet. Buddhists believe in karma, the idea that past deeds will determine what happens to you next. In essence they believe that if you’re going to get struck by lightning, you’re going to get struck by lightning, if the jeep goes off the mountain, it was going to happen, etc. Unfortunately Nepalis drive like everything is predetermined, passing on blind curves with abandon and paying little heed to gear shifting on tight corners.
A quick survey of the group of 11 trekkers in the jeep revealed that 10 were unemployed and the other was a prosecutor from San Francisco. I came up with a headline: “California prosecutor, 10 vagrants, killed in jeep plunge disaster.”
Eventually we have to switch to a bus, whose driver has a similarly karmic attitude toward the road. At one point we are driving in a river. We shudder along for several hours before dropping into the jungle oasis of Tatopani, where our spirits and muscles are soothed by hot springs and cold beer. It is so relaxing and peaceful, we spend another blissful day there doing absolutely nothing, retreating to the hot springs once more for a beer in the evening.
View of Dhaulagiri (26,795 ft), the world's seventh highest peak, from our hotel room.
TREK DIARY DAY 13: Stairway to Kevin (Tatopani to Gorepani, 3,960 ft to 9,570 ft)
TATOPANI – Climbing up more than a vertical mile sounds doable until you’ve already trudged 3,000 feet up through sticky, cloying jungle air, over boot-sucking mud, and realize that you’re only halfway there.
Early monsoon rains have halted just in time for us to hit the trail for our last two days, a dizzying climb and descent to and from the famed Poon Hill (yes, it’s really called that). The path is nearly vertical, essentially one giant staircase, and the up seems to wind up forever. It is slow going toward the top. A cow passes us.
As we get higher we see an oddly juxtaposed snowfield that runs down to the jungle - a reminder of how high we've climbed in one day. When we pull into Gorepani, our resting place for the night at the base of Poon Hill, we are blasted, and in no mood to go hotel hopping. We run into our much faster friend, Kevin, who has been there about 30 minutes and has graciously booked us a room, saving us the trouble. At the tea house we are greeted with a perfect view from our room of the snowy, bloated pyramid of Dhaulagiri, the seventh highest peak in the world and one of several in its class dominating the skyline. A view of the sunset over the world's highest peaks eases the aches.
Maturity.
I envied this baby's leisure.
Lizards always seem to pose perfectly on the edge of a rock.
It was brutal, but beautiful.
TREK DIARY DAY 14: Bound feet and a blind finish (Gorepani to Poon Hill to Naya Pul, 9,579 ft to 10,593 ft to 3,531 ft)
GOREPANI – Morning comes much too early, with a 4:30 a.m. wake up to climb hilariously named Poon Hill for a sunrise panoramic view of some of the highest peaks in the world. We trudge by headlamp, the 900 vertical feet and are rewarded with a crystal clear view and predictably overpriced coffee.
It’s an idyllic start to a hellish last day.
After Poon Hill we start our final descent back to civilization, a joint-shredding 6,000-vertical-foot staircase in broiling jungle heat. My slightly-too-small shoes are coming back to haunt me now, crushing my toes against the front with each step down, and towards the end of the descent I think I know what it feels like to have bound feet. It is difficult properly appreciate the radiant green foliage, pristine jungle creeks, and tumbling waterfalls.
An hour and half from the finish, a screw pops out of my glasses, sending a lens hurtling to the earth. Having neither the energy or clean hands to put in contacts, I finish the trek in a blur of greens and browns. It's been days since I showered, the same since I changed my shirt, and the entire trek since I shaved. I'm half-blind and crippled, smell like a yak and look like a yeti, but I'm victorious. The Annapurna Circuit is in the bag and even in my weakened state I'm able to get our cab ride back for a third of the absurd original asking price - perhaps the cave lama threw in an extra bargaining blessing for my generous donation.
TREK STATS:
Elevation gain (start point to the pass): 15,265 feet to Thorong La Pass, plus another 6,600 feet to Poon Hill.
Low point: 2,508 feet
High point: 17,872
Distance: 150 km
Squat toilets: yes
Yetis spotted: 0
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