View of Ladhak Range and Karakorams from the Summit
Our mixed bunch of six had got together, joined by a shared dream, under a fruit-laden apricot tree in Kang Lha Chen hotel in Leh on 11th. The reddish blush on the ripening apricots was very similar to the natural rouge on the cheeks of the Ladhaki kids playing on the street, who welcomed wanderers like us with a boisterous ‘Ju-leh’. We broke ice over steaming chai, and started getting to know each other - slowly letting our cultural guards melt like the sugar-cubes in the chai. The others in the gang besides me were a criminal prosecutor from Delhi, a Japanese finance-geek from California, an under-grad from Michigan, a travel journalist from Delhi, and a risk consultant from Mumbai.
While there was considerable outdoor experience and passion pooled between the six of us, we had to overcome the handicap of the city-bound nature of our vocations and the dulling of the edge in endless hours of cubicle-slaving. Pankaj and his team of Chain, Ravinder and Rikzin from Aquaterra helped us do that. They were the giants on whose shoulders we would climb. They and others who had climbed this and other daunting abodes before us! Their pioneering efforts had brought these awesome peaks within our reach. While the confidence they gave us was immeasurable, the joy of their easy and happy banter, the infectiousness of their smiles, their awesome cooking, and their hardy friendship was what made all our shared moments truly memorable.
Our first day, marked for acclimatization, was spent exploring the quaint streets of Leh – this amazing defiantly-green oasis, surrounded by a barren cold mountainous desert which is almost like moon-scape. In one of the eateries, some of us tried the payoo-chha, or salted butter tea, and agreed with a grimace that it would probably be more agreeable if they called it soup. On our way to the equipment shop for our crampons, ice-axes and other gear, we noticed an antiques shop, named quite candidly “Useless Wali’s Antiques”. At the equipment shop, besides the mountain gear “Oracle sessions” were also advertized (not related to Larry Elison’s popular database as we first thought, but to the mystical séances which are more in sync with the traditional Snake-Charmers’ Land image of India).
Stok Kangri – tallest on Leh’s horizon
The following day we drove up to Khardung La, which at 5602m is the highest motorable pass in the world. In a light snowfall, we climbed one of the shoulders, urgently breathing in the sparse, but incredibly crisp and clear air – nourishment for our souls! In a tea-shop on the pass, almost indiscernible in heavy woolens, I met an old friend from college (It’s truly a small world!). She had come here with a group of ornithologists from Mumbai – in this weather the only bird-watching that this group could do was of the human-kind clad in down feather jackets. Since most of these ‘birds’ were sipping tea in this shack, this was the best vantage spot to be in!
Our approach trek began along the Indus the next day. It was humbling to be in the company of the river that gives us and our nation its identity. We trekked up and down imposing crests; through saddles, which have been the Polaris to grazers and traders for centuries; across raging streams, which sound deceptively melodious from a distance, while hiding their wrath that can tear down rocks; through quaint villages like Rombuk; by the side of chortens, prayer-flags, and artistic rock-inscriptions, each of which joined in chorus of “Om Mane Padme Om” and blessed us as we went along.
We finally saw birds – rock pigeons, blue magpies, and the Lammergeir, a bearded vulture-eagle which eats the marrow out of bones by dropping them from great heights onto rocks to splinter them. Standing on a high ledge, we beheld this awesome bird gliding with its 2m wing-span over eddies below where we stood. We also saw large hare-size marmots rushing into their burrows, perhaps seeking solace from the sharp predatory gaze of the lammergeir. There was a large herd of bharals, blue sheep, the biggest amongst them standing in a Simba-like posture over a large rock gazing down on the valley. The yaks and dzos grazing on the steep slopes seemed as if they were pinned onto them – there was no other way to comprehend their sure-footed gravity-defying posture.
Khardungla – world’s highest motorable pass
Three days of arduous trekking brought us to the Base Camp at 4975m. A multitude of tents of all colours and shapes adorned this small flat space by a stream. The jingle of the neck-bells of the mules welcomed one into the camp. Here we had a confluence of climbers from all over – Germans, Israelis, Brits, Americans, a few French (who clad themselves as the Musketeers after the submitted a day later), Dutch (a long way up from their low-lying country),…. Our group was the only one that had Indians – still a rarity in the adventure community! The love of nature and climbing was the common spiritual thread that tied this multitude into one. Uninhibited smiles, words of encouragement, inspirational greetings (Ki Ki So So Larghyalo – The Gods will be victorious!), shared dried apricots and chocolates (and Tibetan medicines), … the hearts open up here, resonating with the expanse of the terrain and the purity of the air!
This unprecedented precipitation this season had dampened the attempts of many expeditions – some of them had turned back even earlier than the base camp faced with flooded streams due to a lake being breached higher up. It has been snowing on the Stok range all of the previous fortnight. So, when we woke up at half past midnight on the summit night to a clear sky with a traffic jam of stars, we were filled with the optimism of the blessed. There was the bright afterglow of the full moon as it sank below the Stok range on the west. Being out of civilization we had lost track of time. Seeing the moon in its full splendor we realized that this was the Rakshabandhan night – a blessed day! Faced with daunting odds, even the most agnostic amongst us starts counting the blessings – they mould the will into a shield against the odds and give us the courage to take the leap….
With miners’ lamps on our heads the first obstacle was a long traverse of the glacier. An easy walk from the gradient perspective, but the benign façade hid yawning bottomless crevasses where temp fell below minus 60 degrees. None of us fancied risking a plunge into that apocalyptic void – so we were very slow and cautious. The caution “Don’t be a Gama in the Land of the Lamas” rang clear in our minds.
Across the glacier a long, steep and exhausting climb began to the ridgeline. The scree and the loose rocks added to the risk and the effort. Many a times the step forward would slip back to almost where it began. Fighting off the severe wind-chill, gulping in the sparse air, our only focus was the next step. One step at a time – that’s what existence reduces to. It’s like a meditative trance!
Sometime after 4 am, the eastern horizon over Ladakh range lit up with alpenglow – a spectacular dawn, slowly vanquishing the demons of the night. It was mesmeric and it breathed fresh life into us. Rejuvenated, we made the final assault on the sharp wall of the re-entrant to reach the knife-edge ridge at 5:30 am. One of us breathlessly hummed the Carpenter song “I am on the top of the world….”, aptly capturing the emotion felt.
It was now when we were so close, that the unpredictability of the mountain started asserting itself. Coco, the Japanese who was on her second attempt to this peak and had been one of the strongest climbers amongst us, developed deep hypoxia and disorientation. She was given bottled oxygen and when she stabilized she was evacuated down from a point just 100m shy of the summit. Pankaj, Amit and Chain affected a very professional and timely rescue, but for which we dread to imagine how things could have turned out. Coco’s maturity and courage was remarkable – it must have been very disheartening to be denied the second time and that too from so close…
Two other climbers who were exhausted and suffering acute symptoms of altitude sickness including nausea also had to turn back close to the ridge after a very brave climb.
Three of us continued towards the distant player flags fluttering on the summit. The climb was literally on all fours on a rocky ridge, where a trip over the shoe-lace would have launched us on a long free-fall of thousands of feet on either side. The lethal verglas (thin sheen of ice formed by frozen melt-water on the rock-holds) was not very helpful either. After wheezing, puffing and panting for short spurts of climbing we took increasingly longer breaks. These pauses enabled us to reflect on our unhealthy living and each one of us made several resolutions, which we knew at a subconscious level we will break soon after resuming our normal lives.
Finally there was no further to climb! We collapsed on our knees and prayed our silent thanks in our own private emotional way! Why were we here? I don’t have an answer. To many, this pursuit may seem irrationally eccentric. It is difficult to comprehend what it means without experiencing it. I believe Walt Whitman caught the emotion right on: “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life! And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” In a metaphoric sense for these brief intense moments in our lives we were emulating the Lammergeir – its enviable freedom and its grace (not to forget the “sucking of the marrow”).
Stok Kangri from Advanced Base Camp
The climb down was brutal and far more dangerous. Suffering from bruised blue toes and trembling knees we finally arrived at the Base Camp at 1530h, 15 hours since we had set off. It took us two more days to reach Stok village – the first outpost of civilization on our path. The first site that welcomed us was a Mobile Tower standing proudly over the lush greenery of the village. I recalled a scene in the old 1968 classic, “Planet of the Apes”, where the symbol of civilization and its fate for the returned astronaut (Charlton Heston) is the Statue of Liberty. A more universal and contemporary symbol today would be none other than the Mobile Tower. Each one of us quickly put on our mobiles and called home to connect with our loved ones …..
By Aman Nugyal
Climber Stok Kangri Aug 11-20, 2008
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