The wake up that was supposed to happen half past seven is more than half an hour late.
I forgot that white sahibs drink their morning tea in bed and should not leave tent before that. So we confuse the loor cook who does not understand who lives where.
The beginning of the walk follows the rives on a level landscape. Mountains are folded in mainly orange and purple. Marmots don’t let themselves be bothered by passing tourists. We meet some locals who have been collecting fire material or checking on their fields. The trail is covered with tiny hoof-prints.
Around eleven the guide announces that we have about one hour to go. Seems a good idea to consume our lunchpacks. There is some confusion with the itinerary because somewhere was a landslide and we follow some other route. The guide speaks not the best English and his stories are not the most logical. We probably arrive somewhere some day.
After lunch break we start ascending and before the pass that is towering far away there doesn’t look like to be any suitable campsite. It starts to rain. We reach a hilltop, rain stops and guide goes to look for our horse caravan. It should have passed us long time ago. Finally we see them far below. Yelling the itinerary is discussed. There are two options, one pass is difficult and our guide hasn’t been over the other one. Views are filled with colorful rough mountains and it seems unbelievable that not long ago we looked up to these. Some thunder, it really starts to rain now. Trail turns into mud and Mari’s boots into ice-skates. Guide and helper shovel with their hands loose stones on the trail. The trail is a narrow soft strip on steep mountainside. Behind the mudsliding prayerflags on the pass come into view. Cold wind, trousers have begun to inject water. Once up there is no victory dance because of cold wind and rain that make enjoying the situation impossible. It should be another Kanji La, according to unchecked information 4700 meters above sea level. We have ascended more that a kilometer compared to this morning.
Descent is pleasant for a change. Rain stops. Horses catch up with us and go past. Going down seems to be a total waste now but this is not it. Smaller descents are mixed with smaller ascents. Nowhere we see anything remotly reminding us of a campsite. Only other passes and sharp snow-vovered peaks. When I feel dead-tired while going up, the pace improves significantly when landscape is turned into level position. Heart wants to beat my ears off. We cross some humble streams and then finally is visible where the caravan is setting up camp. Horseman and his son already sleep on their stomach. We have been walking over eight hours and about eleven kilometers.
Our tents are soon up and toilet hole digged. We get tea, cookies and to put on warm underwear. A gentleman makes massage. Getting up from the tent for dinner requires enormous willpower and fighting with gravity.
Our cook has been trekking guide and cook in Nepal and speaks the best English of all the staff. He deliveres one tasty dish after another. Carrying our stomach back to our tents is a challenge. After nightly round in the surroundings the two illuminated tents look really cosy in the middle of the yak shit field. It rains.
The beginning of the walk follows the rives on a level landscape. Mountains are folded in mainly orange and purple. Marmots don’t let themselves be bothered by passing tourists. We meet some locals who have been collecting fire material or checking on their fields. The trail is covered with tiny hoof-prints.
Around eleven the guide announces that we have about one hour to go. Seems a good idea to consume our lunchpacks. There is some confusion with the itinerary because somewhere was a landslide and we follow some other route. The guide speaks not the best English and his stories are not the most logical. We probably arrive somewhere some day.
After lunch break we start ascending and before the pass that is towering far away there doesn’t look like to be any suitable campsite. It starts to rain. We reach a hilltop, rain stops and guide goes to look for our horse caravan. It should have passed us long time ago. Finally we see them far below. Yelling the itinerary is discussed. There are two options, one pass is difficult and our guide hasn’t been over the other one. Views are filled with colorful rough mountains and it seems unbelievable that not long ago we looked up to these. Some thunder, it really starts to rain now. Trail turns into mud and Mari’s boots into ice-skates. Guide and helper shovel with their hands loose stones on the trail. The trail is a narrow soft strip on steep mountainside. Behind the mudsliding prayerflags on the pass come into view. Cold wind, trousers have begun to inject water. Once up there is no victory dance because of cold wind and rain that make enjoying the situation impossible. It should be another Kanji La, according to unchecked information 4700 meters above sea level. We have ascended more that a kilometer compared to this morning.
Descent is pleasant for a change. Rain stops. Horses catch up with us and go past. Going down seems to be a total waste now but this is not it. Smaller descents are mixed with smaller ascents. Nowhere we see anything remotly reminding us of a campsite. Only other passes and sharp snow-vovered peaks. When I feel dead-tired while going up, the pace improves significantly when landscape is turned into level position. Heart wants to beat my ears off. We cross some humble streams and then finally is visible where the caravan is setting up camp. Horseman and his son already sleep on their stomach. We have been walking over eight hours and about eleven kilometers.
Our tents are soon up and toilet hole digged. We get tea, cookies and to put on warm underwear. A gentleman makes massage. Getting up from the tent for dinner requires enormous willpower and fighting with gravity.
Our cook has been trekking guide and cook in Nepal and speaks the best English of all the staff. He deliveres one tasty dish after another. Carrying our stomach back to our tents is a challenge. After nightly round in the surroundings the two illuminated tents look really cosy in the middle of the yak shit field. It rains.
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