Holding myself in dreams of hope, I finally spent a peaceful night. I woke up this morning sans headache, giving me the green light to push on. Mochilas packed, and our belly's full of pancakes we trekked out into the morning sun.
Gokyo is stunningly beautiful. Even if it was under the circumstances of our being sick, I am glad to have spent the extra time here. Instead of one night, three, instead of Em missing out on Gokyo Ri, she was able to see the vista. The time lost in our trek shouldn't have dire results. Because we have so much time, we are flexible, and we will simply have to shorten our return trek from Gorak Shep, our final destination, back to Lukla. Longer days later on, but at least we can continue with our itinerary.
Crossing a glacier, no big deal.
Today we crossed the Ngozumpa Glacier. Dunes of gray crumbled rocks, interlaced with white snow, crater like depressions of rock and reflective pools of green. It felt like we were walking across the moon, the glacier falling away in all directions into mounds of stone, mountains rolling away in the distance. The glacier groaned and shifted, even in our passage. The still surfaces of small lakes were disturbed by the collapsing of rocks, the snow marked and reformed into new paths. If it weren't for Bishnu, we surely would have gotten lost in the passage.
Sadly, a small headache began to pound 30 minutes from Gokyo. At this point, I had already slipped and fallen twice on the snowy narrow paths of the glacier. It just didn't feel right. Stopping, I turned to Em, and I felt like my spark was gone. What a massive breaking point. Turn back now? Go on? Tagnag, our destination was at 4700m, so it would basically be another night of acclimatization before attempting Cho La. In a quiet conference with myself, Em and Bishnu waited. I struggled through endless minutes of indecision. Fear of AMS, of getting halfway up the pass and failing boiled up inside of me. The turning point came when two American trekkers we had met in Machhermo and Gokyo walked by. Knowing I had been sick the day before, they asked me how I was, and when I told them of my headache, they just smiled and reminded me that Tagnag was a short distance away. And with that simple mindset, my decision was made and we continued walking.
Walking behind two porters, we came across a flat trail beside a crumbled steep hill. Suddenly a shower of rocks came crashing down towards the porters. Even under their heavy loads, they scrambled up the opposite slope of the trail to avoid the rockfall. In a flash of seriousness, Bishnu turned to us, saying that we must traverse these next few hundred meters quickly. Taking deep breaths, we moved more swiftly than we had the entire trek, the whole time, warily watching the unstable rock hill. Again, a few rocks fell, and I watched in dread as they tumbled towards me. At the last moment, the largest rock, about the size of my fist, glanced off a boulder and smacked right into Em's calf. "Didn't really hurt, but didn't feel good," was her response to this, as we walked even faster.
Walking across a brush tundra, we reached Tagnag in a little over three hours. More garlic soup, followed by quiet naps on the sun spotted benches of the dining room. My thoughts are swarming, retracting and aggressing over the apprehension of Cho La pass. Is it possible that this may be one of the hardest physical challenges of my life? I don't know what to expect, which is the hardest bit to swallow. Just shear trepidation.
In the gathering dusk, five other trekkers came into the lodge. An America triathlete and a Dutch man wearing a chicken beanie, had just completed the passage over Cho La from Dzonglha, in the other direction. Another, a young man who had been walking almost continually since midnight the morning before from Tengboche in order to avoid the pass, and an American couple from L.A. The two who had made the passage described it as the most "exciting" and difficult day of their entire trek. Beautiful to be sure, but physically and mentally exhausting. They suggested on at least three occasions that we try to secure some crampons before making the crossing. And to top off their tales of slippery slopes, and collapsing snow, the told me that the week prior, four trekkers had died of altitude sickness in Gorak Shep. Needless to say, although they are both very entertaining, they aren't sending our confidence soaring.
In the darkness of the dining room, only illuminated by the flame of the dung powered stove, we passed a lively and communal evening. I think neither Em nor I want to hasten the morning, so we are lingering here, listening to the stories of the Halloween inspired horror company the American couple own, of the wild saga of trekking from the young Czech man, and stories of Ironmans and Amsterdam in Summer. But we must sleep, and inexorably, tomorrow will come, and we shall take in what it brings.
No comments:
Post a Comment