Our insistent watches chimed their alarms at 0350, and Em and I shivered from our beds. At this elevation, the nights sink down to well below freezing, and our rooms aren't but one to two degrees warmer. Wiggling into cold underclothes, our breath coming in gasps from the cold and elevation, we packed up our mochilas in anticipation of a quick departure after Gokyo Ri to Tagnag, and donned our headlamps to meet Bishnu a little before 0430.
In the darkness of pre-dawn, I piled on the layers of clothing. During the warmth and sunshine of day, I have been wearing only my Smartwool t-shirt and Patagonia thermal layer to trek. And even then, I am pulling up my sleeves from the heat of exertion. Layers are key to trekking in the Himalayas. Freezing cold in the morning and evenings, it can sometimes feel like shorts and t-shirt weather during the day. This morning, I was wearing the full arsenal: four layers on top, including my fleece and puffy jacket, and my fleece pants and rain pants on the bottom. Two pairs of socks, ear warmers, a fleece hat, two pairs of gloves and a scarf completed my get-up.
Quietly we followed Bishnu through sleepy Gokyo to the northern edge of the lake, hopscotching over rocks that stuck up from the ice and water of the lakes shore. One benefit of trekking in the dark, although this can also be a burden of imagination, is that you can't see how far you have to go. In the ray of light illuminated by our headlamps, we can only see the area in vicinity of our feet. Immediately we began our steep switchbacked ascent, leveraging ourselves over tall rocks with our trekking poles. Little did we know that this seemingly straight up switchbacks were just a prelude to the hunched over steepness of the direct path on the second half of the climb.
After twenty minutes of breathless climbing, our three headlamps the only light we could see on the hill, Emily suddenly stopped and collapsed heavily onto a rock. She had taken two ominously long rests on the way so far, made even more unusual by the fact that up until this morning, I had been the only one of us to initiate rests. Something was definitely wrong. Her stomach was cramping, close to vomiting and tears, Emily made the call that she could go no further. Without hesitation, we headed back down the switchbacks we had climbed. Crossing the stone pathway across the lake, Emily walked back up the hill at the base of our lodge, back to her sleeping bag, and Bishnu and I turned around for a second attempt. Swiftly regaining our position, the only sounds were of my labored breathing and the swish of my rain pants. It wasn't long before my rapid pace slowed down to a torturous crawl, as the switchbacks ended and we began to scurry up the steep hill. Somehow we found ourselves off the trail, walking in random switchbacks, following long frozen footprints in the mud. Scrambling over some boulders, we began walking over a steep grade of snow, as I dug my trekking poles in to prevent from slipping.
Taking a few rests, I shared my water bottle with Bishnu, as his had completely frozen shut. The pace seemed agonizing, and still I told myself to move slowly and deliberately. With every step I took, I was at a higher elevation than I had ever been before. I felt physically and mentally strong, a stark contrast to the previous evening. Although I was still in a state of severe apprehension regarding Cho La, it felt like every step up Gokyo Ri was a victory for my confidence that I could do it. Granted I was only carrying a day pack, but still, I was pushing my own limits, slowly but surely.
Inexorable. Kelsey and my mantra for the passage of distance and time over El Camino came back to me.
Finally the flag pole at the top of the Ri came into view, distantly waving in the upward distance. We regained the trail, and cairns marked the path. I began to use them as way markers for my labor. Counting my steps, up to ten, then starting over, making it to this pile of rocks, then a breather. The white flag disappeared and reappeared as bumps in the hill were overcome. I tried forbidding myself from looking up at the flag, as sometimes it was deceptively close, and in the next moment, unreasonably far.
I finally admitted an inner and outer smile of near victory, when, with the newly risen sun at my back I could hear the whip and crack of the prayer flags in the wind. The last fifty meters felt an eternity, and what I could have charged up at sea level, required breathing breaks every fifteen meters. After an achingly long two and a half hours, Bishnu and I completed the 563m climb up to the top of Gokyo Ri, standing at 5363m. I felt triumphant, but missed Em. It had felt even more solitary, even with Bishnu's patient and quiet urges and encouragements.
As the sun touched down on the mountains, eating up the shadow of night, I was rewarded with a 360 degree panoramic of Himalayan majesty. It is such an incredible feeling, to overcome a hurdle placed before you. Throughout my time on the Camino, I never once doubted that Kelsey and I would make it to Santiago. It wasn't even a question of "if" or even "when." I just simply saw myself at Finisterre, and it was so. But this trek has felt totally different. I feel sincerely challenged, on both the physical and mental level. I cannot see into the future, the destinations and the goals met, it is hazy with uncertainty. But standing on top of Gokyo Ri, I was awash with happiness. I had made it, my body and mind had not failed. It was a victory, and allowed me the freedom to think more is possible on this trek.
Everest in the background!
Looking down to the South, at the emerald green lakes, to the West at a distant Mt. Everst, Nopse, Makalu, to the North at Cho Oyu and Thame Peak. And more, more peaks. I felt true exaltation.
Bishnu and I spent a cold 15 minutes at the top. A few minutes after we reached the top, another group of four arrived and we clambered around the flag laden hilltop together.
Sadly, I wasn't on the summit more than a few shaky minutes, proud and joyful, when a tiny headache began to creep into my temples. In the act of taking pictures and gazing at the horizon, my head began to pound, everything becoming more intensified. Relinquishing the summit, we began our steep, knee crunching trip down the hill, my headache pounding and thumping, traveling from my temples to the base of my head. Even going downhill, I found my breath catching from any unnecessary jarring movement that sent tiny spots behind my eyes. My breathing was still labored, despite the downhill, but and hour and a half later, we were at the base of the hill. I knew I was off when I took three breaks on the small hill leading up to our lodge. The warmth of the day, the pounding in my head, and I started to feel weak and exhausted.
Em lay cocooned in her sleeping bag, but was feeling better. We have decided to take this day to rest in Gokyo, rather than move on. Had we maintained our planned schedule, we would have walked another three hours today to Tagnag, and been up early again tomorrow at 0430 to cross Cho La. Too much.
Together, Em and I, have spent the majority of the day shuffling to the sunniest spots in the dining sun room. Feeling wasted, I am only focused on maintaining stillness and drinking prodigious amounts of water in an attempt to relieve my headache. It has dawned on me that this headache has everything to do with altitude, and I just hope that by tomorrow I feel up to movement.
We were clued into a hot shower by the German couple, and after a false start, with Em standing in the shower, with only a towel around her, while two male staff tried to fix the water heater, we have taken our first showers in 6 days. Working the all in one Campsuds through my greasy hair, I felt free from my headache for the first time since standing atop Gokyo Ri.
The lethargy of this higher elevation has wrapped its mellowness around us, and we laze about. My headache is simmering behind my eyes, under my scalp, around my jaw. After this dinner of dal bhat, I will try to restore my balance with sleep, 40 more ounces of water, and a strong prayer for health and energy. Till tomorrow...
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