March
30th,
2010 – Me and my Doppelganger. Just to insure my trip across the
Cho La wasn't entirely too easy Mother Nature decided to poop out a
couple of inches of snow on the path. Muchas gracias, senorita!
Luckily, for this portion of The Three Passes Trek I would have a
compadre, a German gentleman named Richard. Two Richards are better
than one…..probably. We did have the benefit of speaking with three
Americans that had come across the pass the previous day (sans
snowfall of course).
Not
the friendliest of folks but one of them did tell me that the trail
was fairly easy to follow……..at least before the snow fell. I was
also told that crossing the glacier from Tagnag to Gokyo could be
tricky as the trail changes due to the shifting terrain and that
guides sometimes kick over a few markers here and there to ensure
their livelihood. Although I did appreciate the advice it was given
with that 'I
am giving you this warning sort of to help you but almost hoping you
get screwed' tone
that one often confronts with people getting a little too much
satisfaction out of giving advice.
The beginning was not so auspicious for Double Rich. As a result of the snow we deviated from the trail a couple of times. As we were in a valley that narrows on one end it was not so much of a big deal as we were forced (eventually) in the right direction. Had we read the guidebook a little more closely we would have avoided wasting valuable energy. But hey, thems the breaks, right? It was nice to have a partner in ineptitude for a change. Instead of me worrying about finding the right path and about ice and snow on the steep section of the trail I had the Other Rich to take care of it. The weather was beautiful, the scenery epic, and I was secure in the knowledge that should something go wrong we had each other. Lovely.
The
Other Rich was a decent guy as well as extremely nice and personable.
Unfortunately, he was about as exciting as a dry donut. I think
exhaustion and dehydration may have dampened his mood considerably.
Can't really blame him for that but it would have been nice to have
someone as excited as I was to be gazing at the natural marvel before
us.
After
getting on the right track we still had the little matter of the pass
to worry about. Fresh snow plus mountain pass equals hardship. It was
possible that the previous day's tracks would be covered and we'd be
wandering around the pass like scared toddlers in a house of mirrors.
But again, worse case scenario: We turn around and go back to
Dzonglha. Yippy-skippy.
But as
luck would have it I saw a lone porter sitting on the rocks above
(and just below the pass) resting in the morning sun. A porter
signifies trekkers. Trekkers from the other direction mean there
would be a trail to follow. That made me happier than a pig in shit,
so to speak. He spoke almost no English so I got nothing as I passed
him but not long after reaching the start of what was to be the pass
I encountered two more Germans and their guide. Halleluiah! It was a
couple whose combined ages may have topped 150. Impressive. Very
impressive. If I am trekking the Cho La into my golden years I will
consider myself fortunate indeed. I think the Other Rich was a tad
disheartened by the encounter as he was a bit wiped and those two
were skipping along like lovers in the park.
Which way? |
As
with the Kongma La the initial descent was less than ideal. Scree,
small boulders, and ice were conspiring against us but with slow
determination we got through the worst of it. Once we found ourselves
on more even ground we took an extended rest, falsely assuming we
were close to the village (as in a group of guesthouses built
specifically for those crossing the pass). Unfortunately, we still
had another hour and a half or so before we reached it. Although
exasperating I fared much better than my clone. He lagged a bit
behind and looked as if he might pass out when we reached the lodge.
I was a bit shattered myself but it was nothing a mini-banquet and
there cups of coffee could not cure.
Although
it was tempting to call it a day and hunker down in Tagnag it was
still relatively early so I decided to continue on to Gokyo. I
figured it was just a hop, skip, and a jump across a glacier (the
Ngozumpa Glacier to be exact). After speaking with a few guides I
discovered that the trail across the moraine was well traveled and
well marked so I would have no problem finding my way. And,
surprisingly, the Other Rich decided to give it a shot also. His
motivation took a serious nosedive when he saw the glacier and the
hilly, rock strewn terrain awaiting us. Too much for one day. He
decided to turn around and head back to Tagnag. I was undeterred and
decided to press on. It turned out to be a wise move as there was
considerable snowfall that evening.
I
found myself crossing a glacial moraine under a misty sky, diminished
light, and gentle snowfall. There was nobody around. All groups had
already made their crossings for the day. I found the walk to be most
splendiferous. It really did feel like I was trekking across the
surface of the moon or some sort of ancient crash site or the site of
a nuclear holocaust. Only me. Just me and the relentless hum of
eternity in the background. Ahhhhhhhh……
At
times like these my head is filled with all kinds of nonsense, funny
nonsense (or so I like to believe). As I trotted along I came up
with Ploomer's Guide to the Himalayas. Now you have to
imagine a tall lanky long-faced American sitting across the table
from you speaking in an exaggerated 'American' voice (Americans are a
bit nasal when it comes to speech so you have to envision a man
speaking almost directly through his nose) wearing a countenance as
serious as a heart attack. Yeah, that serious. It would go a little
something like this:
"So
you want to go to the Himalayas? Excellent. I have two words for ya:
Gore and Tex. Absolutely essential. The only thing more important
than Gore-tex is water, but only slightly so. And the Gore-tex should
be windproof, waterproof, bulletproof, asteroid proof, etc. Can't
have too much. Ever.
I have
another word for ya: down. Again, can't have enough. And it better
damn well be goose down. Goose? Geese? Gooses? Whatever. Get some. In
your jacket. In your sleeping bag, In your ass. Pack it in there.
Hard. 2000 fill or more. Don't f**k around! It's the Himalayas for
the love of God!!
After
years of painstaking research I've discovered the perfect Down to
Gore-tex ratio: 1 to 1.5. Memorize it. It is your code. Eat it.
Breath it. Be it. Some folks like to go 1:1. Yeah, you could do that.
You could also paint yourself blue and tell everyone you're the last
surviving smurf.
Don't f**k around. Go with 1 to 1.5.
Now
look, it is very important that you spend as much money as possible.
Everything has to be new. Brand spanking new. If you spend less than
$500 on a Gore-tex jacket than you just don't belong anywhere near
the mountains. It's not amateur hour up there. This is real. For
keeps. What about your boots? New. Don't even think about removing
the tag until you get to Lukla. And make sure upon returning home you
stuff all of your shit deep inside your closet never to be seen or
used again. Very important.
You're
gonna need to get yourself some trekking poles. And nothing short of
titanium will do. Trust me. I've seen some shit. Bad shit. Be
prepared. Your poles should pass the 400lb fat woman test. That is
you should be able to balance two 400 lb women on each end the pole
with not so much as a kink. Not a kink! Don't be one of these a-holes
that somehow think they can get by with just two poles. Bring three.
Trust me. It is the safe way to go. You get in a bind you can always
fashion a titanium triangle. Can't tell you how many times that
triangle saved my ass in a pinch. Don't f**k around! Three poles.
Trifecta. Do it.
Now
assuming you have followed my instructions perfectly (correct
Gore-tex to down ratio, new equipment, titanium poles, etc.) then you
should have absolutely no problem. None. Altitude sickness? No prob.
Go as high as you want as fast as you want. Acclimatization is for
your grandmother. AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) is just some bullshit
phenomenon cooked up by a crafty Diamox salesman
to augment drug sales. It is all crap. All of it. Crap. Don't be
fooled. Altitude-smaltitude! Anything under 7000 meters is a joke.
Haaa!
Now if
for some reason you fail to follow my advice (don't be that guy!)
don't despair. You simply need to get yourself a Sherpa. Sherpas can
do anything. I am not going to say I believe in magic but I've seen
some serious shit. Real serious. If you get into trouble simply touch
your Sherpa. Bada-boom bada-bing your golden. Shortness of breath?
Headache? Fatigue? Hold your Sherpa's hand. Don't f@#$ around! Touch
your Sherpa.
It is
also imperative that you get yourself a porter so that you can bring
everything with you. Everything. TV, bowling ball, your favorite
rock, books (you'll need something to read while the rest of the
pussies in your group are 'acclimatizing'), bow staff, numchucks,
globe, solar panels, short wave radio, etc. If you think you might
use it, then bring it. Your porter doesn't mind. They love it. They
love carrying enormous loads. I've seen them skipping around with
glee after carrying 60 kilos for 8 hours. 60 kilos? That's for
toddlers. If your porter is carrying anything less than 200 kilos
they don't deserve to be called a Sherpa. Don't even tip them. They
won't mind.
So
there it is. Any questions?
I
arrived in Gokyo a little after 4 pm, tired and hungry. I was more
than happy to get to a lodge, throw down a meal(s) and hit the sack
for my standard 10 hour nap. A good day. A very good day. Two passes
down. One to go.
"Laughter
is timeless. Imagination has no age. And dreams are forever."
—
Walt
Disney Company
i have no words. i am without speech. (george costanza)
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