First light, the air is crisp, but bitingly cold. It’s five am. Most of us haven’t slept a wink or seen a shower for the last week. At High Camp the dining room is a hive of activity as people fill up on carbohydrates and caffine to prepare for the day ahead. We’re at the edge of the world, at an altitude of 4800 meters, today we’ll go 5400.

It’s taken us twelve days to get here, walking through rain and snow, suffering at times from fever and a mild case of disentery, but being blessed with some of the most stunning landscapes that our planet has to offer.

We strap on our packs, adjust our walking sticks to the right height, fill up our water bottles with boiling hot water. There’s a nine hour journey ahead of us, a climb through ice and snow, to the highest altitude that most of us will ever reach on foot. This is the pinnacle of the Annapurna Circuit Trail, crossing the pass at Thorung La.

Where it all began…

Our journey began more than a week earlier in the town of Besisahar, on the the foothills of the Himalayas. My wife Michelle and I had decided to trek from there to the town of Jomsom in lower Mustang. The journey is the first two thirds of the Annapurna Circuit, one of the most popular treks in the world and for a good reason — it’s absolutely stunning.

The town of Besisahar

During our first two days we’re trekking in the rain. The landscape is beautiful but marred by the construction of a road that gives motor access to the remote mountain villages in the Annapurna region. We have a map that shows the New Annapurna Trekking Trails(NATT), which have been developed avoid the road, but our first day we share the road with jeeps and trucks that thunder on by, splashing mud and water in their wake.

As we cross through the village of Nadi Bazaar the landscape feels almost apocalyptic — a beautiful mountain meadow has been turned into a muddy construction site. A Sino-Nepalese Hydro electric dam is being built here. Hopefully it will do something to alleviate Nepal’s power woes, in Kathmandu we scarsely had three hours of power a day.

We decide to brave the rain for a bit longer. We’re rewarded by spending the night in a beautiful mountain village where a young entrepreneur (age 8), convinces us that his mothers’s place offers the best accommodations in town, The Hotel Superb View.

Our next day is rain filled as well but we are thankfully spared the road. We walk through a series of meadows and rolling hills. The mountains are clothed in wisps of fog and fine mist. We stop repeatedly to take shelter from the rain and to drink steaming cups of lemon ginger tea. All along the Annapurna Circuit there are tea houses at regular intervals where you can eat and sleep. There is no need burden your pack further with food and camping equipment.

In the evening we arrive in the village of Chyamche and have a waterfall as backdrop for our dinner. We’ve picked up another hiker, a large dog that faithfully accompanies us for hours during our trek up the mountain. At night it takes shelter in the tea house as the weather becomes more severe, the rain is now pouring down sheets. The tea house owner tell us it’s a sign of good luck for the dog to follow us. However, he also informs us that soon we’ll be trekking in the snow — while it’s been raining down on us, it’s been snowing higher up.

That night I fall ill, I’m throwing up and running a fever. Something that I ate is attacking my system. The most likely culprit is the butter that I had at breakfast which smelled like blue cheese.

The next day is agonizing, I’ve barely slept, I feel nauseous, and I’m running a light fever. We keep walking, I have a flight back to India in 10 days so we’re on a tight schedule. Thankfully, the rain has finally stopped. We pass through the villages of the Tal, Jagat, and Karte. The landscapes become more dramatic — we walk through ravines, cross hanging bridges and encounter our first steep climb. The landscape changes dramatically, the mountains are larger and more imposing, the air is crisp and sharp.

Towards the end of the day my pack feels like it weighs a ton. I have to stop every 20 minutes to rest. I’m stumbling over my feet and my shoulders ache. The sun is setting as we arrive in the village of Bagarchap. I collapse on the bed exhausted.

The next morning my nausea has been replaced by diarrhea. We continue on but I feel weak. When we arrive in Chame that evening I’m running a fever and I’m exhausted. We’re now at the snow line and it’s cold. None of the tea houses are insulated or have heaters in their rooms. We’re trekking in off season, everything was built for the milder temperatures of spring and fall when the Himalayas fill up with thousands of hikers from all over the world.

I’ve have every medicine with me in my backpack except for something for diarrhea, but fortunately we’re not alone. We keep meeting fellow trekkers as we hike up the mountain. A spanish woman, Irene, gives me anti-diarrehea pills and I start taking antibiotics. Friendships blossom rapidly on the road and I’m heartened by the generosity of people that were strangers just hours earlier.

As I lie awake that night my stomach bubbling ominously, I’m no longer cursing the road, I no longer hate it. I understand how important it is for the people who live here to have faster access to medical care and supplies.

That night, I realize that if I don’t get better I’ll have to end my trek, I’m getting weaker each day and I’m loosing weight. The trek will only get harder as we gain in altitude. But as I lie there reading Return of the King, at the part where the city of Minas Tirith is under siege and hope is almost gone, I make up my mind:

Tomorrow I will be better, I will keep hiking, I want to cross that pass, no matter what it takes.

Reborn

Just like in the book, new hope comes with dawn. I feel better, I can keep food down and I’m filled with energy. After being sick you understand how fortunate you are to be healthy, to be able to partake in the simple pleasure of life without feeling nauseous or sick. To be alive is glorious and to walk in this landscape is a gift.

When we break for tea, we meet a couple who have had to turn back from the pass. Days earlier they had tried to cross at 4.30 in the morning in a blizzard.

The weather is the great the uncertainty in crossing Thorung La during winter. It can change in the blink of an eye, dumping so much snow in a few hours that it becomes impossible to cross.

I wonder if the weather will permit us to cross. Do we have the right equipment to handle the cold and the snow? We’re still a number of days away, the weather could change for the better or worse. We can only hope for the best and keep walking.

The Trail to Manang

Day six, we are walking from Upper Pisang to Manang. The mountains have grown impossibly tall and the sky is so bright and blue that it almost hurts to look at. I feel small and insignificant next to the awe inspiring peaks that rise in front of me.

We take the high road to Manang, climbing for the better part of an hour almost straight up. We can feel the first effects of the high altitude. After our first climb we’re breathing heavily and feel light headed.

The path continues up and down the moutain side, some of the highest peaks in the world keep us company. They’re terrfyingly beautiful.

We walk through mountain villages that feel timeless. They are rustic and hardened by nature, hidden away in the folds of the mountain.

As the sun is setting we finally stumble into the town of Manang — exhausted. Here we will take our first rest day in a week, the altitude demands it. We are now at an altitude 3500 meters. That morning we started taking Diamox. It’s a drug that enhances your ability to produce oxygen and one of the measures you can take to safeguard yourself against Acute Mountain Sickness. We’ve also increased our water consumption — we’re each drinking more than three liters of water per day.

That night Michelle gets sick. In the morning she’s unable to keep any food down. During our trek I saw more people forced to turn around due to stomach illnesses than altitude sickness. Sanitation is poor in many of the tea houses and your immune system gets worn down by trekking and sleeping in cold rooms at night. To stay warm at night I would sleep with three layers of clothing on, tucked into my sleeping bag and with a giant quilt on top.

When I awake the next morning I know immediatly that it has snowed during the night. Everything is silent, stores are shuttered close and the streets are empty. Manang feels like a ghost town in the winter, yet people live here year around. The Nepalese are some of the toughest, hardiest people I’ve ever met.

I spend the day taking short hikes to try to acclimatize. It keeps snowing heavily through out the day. Though it makes the landscape even more beautiful, I pray that it stops so that we can cross the pass. Neither Michelle or I can imagine walking back down the mountain the way we came.

After two days of rest in Manang and thanks to a Chinese couple who kindly shares their treasure trove of medicine with us, Michelle is finally better. We begin our trek and the weather is crystal clear. The landscape is now more reminiscent of the arctic, the mountains gleam with snow and ice.

We’re now dealing with a whole set of new challenges. The melting snow, means slippery ice, mud, and wet shoes. A journey that should take an hour becomes three. We pass a herd of Yaks. The beautiful beasts are shy and startle easily.

That night we stop in Ledar. It’s feels like the guest house at the end of the world. The lights don’t work in our room, the floor in toilet is cached with ice. A group of us huddle around the radiator all night drying our socks and boots, desperately trying to keep warm. Every so often one of us will shout: “somebodies socks are burning.”

In our room at night the water in our water bottles freezes.

The next morning a number of trekkers are forced to turn back from stomach illnesses and flues. Our numbers are dwindling, but our friendship is growing. We’ve become united in our desire to undertake this challenge, to see it through to the end. We share information, medicine, and stories of other treks we’ve completed. We make a pact to meet up somewhere warmer for a reunion.

That day we plan to reach High Camp. There are two places from where you can attempt the crossing: Thorung Phedi and High Camp. If you start at Thorung Phedi you have to begin your journey before day break and you add another 300 meters to your ascent. If you cross from High Camp the chances of suffering from altitude sickness increases, but your climb shortens. Either way you have to begin your journey early in the morning. The winds become too strong after eleven and temperatures can drop to -25 Celcius.

The road to Thorung Phedi is frightening. We pass through an area with a warning sign for rock slides and narrowly escape being hit by falling rocks ourselves. We arrive at Thorung Phedi where we have lunch. It’s remarkably well outfitted for the altitude at which it lies. We meet a group of Nepalese soldiers who are crossing the pass carrying their bikes. They’re performing a dry run for a bike race that will take place here the first week of March — biking across the pass seems both absurd and wonderful at the same time.

The ascent to Thorung High Camp

In the late afternoon we reach high camp. The climb was grueling and we’re all bone tired. We again huddle around the heater and try to eat something and keep warm, at high altitudes you begin to loose your appetite as well. We all have one thought in our minds — tomorrow we’re crossing the Pass.

Thorung High Camp, 5.00 AM

First light, we’re ready to go. The sun slowly begins to rise as we begin our climb. The trail is narrow and treacherous in parts, a misstep and you risk sliding down into a ravine. We walk slowly using our hiking poles to pull ourselves forwards and up. I lighten my step to maintain my balance and my focus becomes absolute.

My fingers are freezing and it’s so cold that I don’t want to stop even for a second. I keep moving, hoping that each time I climb up a ridge I’ll finally see the sign that tells me that I’ve reached the top of the pass. No such luck, the trail keeps winding upwards, across more snow dunes and in between blue green glaciers. The landscape is other-worldly, harsh and beautiful.

At 9.30 am, three and half hours after we began our trek we finally reach the top of the pass, we’re at 5416 meters. The sun is shining bright, we kiss and hug each other with joy. The cameras come out and we continue taking pictures for the next half hour. I break out a bar of Lindt Chocolate that I’ve been saving just for the occassion. It tastes amazing.

Thorung La — altitude 5416 meters.

If we knew how hard it was going to be to get down, we would have happily spent the 50 dollars for the crampons that a tea house owner in Manang sold. Our descent takes us down impossibly steep trails covered with treacherous ice. I fall down so many times I loose count. At times I sit down and slide down on my rear end to avoid throwing out a knee. I run and stumble through snow so deep it comes up to above my knees. When will this day end?

A journey that usually takes three hours stretches to six. Our bodies ache from the pounding we receive from the moutain. The descent feels never ending. But at 3.30 in the afternoon we’re finally down in Muktinath, surround by chocolate brown hills and snow capped mountains. We race through the little town to catch the last jeep of the day with only minutes to spare. It’s feels strange to sit in a moving vehicle after walking for so long. An hour later we’re in Jomsom, the next morning we fly out. Our journey has ended.

We have trekked more than a 100 kilometers in the span of 12 days. We have seen landscapes that defy the imagination and pushed ourselves beyond boundaries we thought were possible — we have crossed Thorung La.