Peeing off the top of a Himalayan mountain
What my first Himalayan trek taught me about gratitude, cardio and Carpe-ing the diem.
“I see the bad moon a-risin’
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin’
I see bad times today.”
John Fogerty crooned through the speakers in our SUV as we wound our way along the face of the Himalayas. “As much as I love this song, this probably isn’t the best time to play it,” Sid suggested as we looked out the windows with clenched buttholes. If you ever leaned too far back in your chair, you know exactly what I’m talking about.
The car was inches from the edge of the road, beyond which lay a 6,500-foot drop. Clouds drifted at eye level, and every few kilometres, half the road seemed to disappear.
“There was a landslide just a few days back,” the driver mentioned casually, gliding past a pile of displaced rocks. “Don’t worry about it. It’s normal.”
We didn’t know what we were getting into, but if we survived it, we would never forget it. The sun was setting, and within the hour, we would arrive at the base camp at Karchi.
“Don’t go around tonight
Well it’s bound to take your life
There’s a bad moon on the rise, alright.”
Day 0 — Bangalore to Dehradun
When Sid told us he had a voucher for IndiaHikes offering a trek at a seventy percent discount, we jumped at the chance. Like any thoroughbred Indian, we loved a good discount. Besides, I had never seen snow in my life. It was time to change that.
Before we knew it, we were boarding a plane to Uttarakhand. There were six of us — Sid, Onu, Jazz, Chung, Hussey, and myself.
Three hours later, our plane landed in Dehradun. Fresh mountain air filled our lungs, and in the distance, the white peaks kissed the horizon. We collectively agreed: best discount ever!
We made a pitstop at a wine store at the airport. A bottle of gin found its way into my hand. Jazz showed up with an expensive brandy shaped like the Eiffel Tower. Hussey and I agreed we wouldn’t touch the brandy; the gin was enough. Starting a trek hammered, hungover, and sleep-deprived wasn’t a good idea.
Well, wishful thinking.
“Not all who wander are lost.”
— J.R.R. Tolkien
Day 1 — Rishikesh to Karchi
Drive distance: 255 km | Drive Duration: 9–10 hours
The traveller shuddered, sputtered and finally stalled. The driver turned the ignition, but the engine refused to start. It was dead.
We were about 40 kilometres from Rishikesh as the sun rose, witnessing our breakdown. The driver pulled the handbrake, and we got out. A replacement vehicle would arrive in an hour or so.
There were about twenty-five of us in the group. As we waited, we got acquainted. It was a mix of people from all over the country. Diverse backgrounds, age groups, jobs, and lifestyles. All were polite at first, but in no time, we were roasting each other. Excellent! This looked promising.
When we left the hostel at dawn, I felt like a zombie after last night’s debauchery. Not anymore. There’s something about being close to the heart of nature with a group of beautiful oddballs that makes time fly. I was filled with energy and wore a smile that refused to quit.
‘Be careful what you wish for,’ echoed in my mind as we ascended the mountain. Raised in South India, the Western Ghats were the highest peaks I’d ever known, mere hills compared to the colossal titan we were now conquering.
With a healthy fear of heights, the view from the window synchronized with the palpitations of my heart, a symphony of awe and dread. Nature was both beauty and terror.
When we reached the base camp at Karchi at five, Amit, our trek leader, greeted us warmly. As we followed him to our quarters, I had a distinct feeling that they were placed high by design to give us a taste of what was ahead. A mere 200 metres walk felt like a Herculean task.
The air thinned out at this altitude. My lungs grasped at every molecule of oxygen, and my heart worked overtime. My habitat had drastically changed. I had to adapt. Quickly.
By seven, we huddled in a circle after verifying documents and assessing our vital signs. My heart rate was around 85, and my oxygen level was 97 percent. The cold was biting despite the multiple layers of clothes.
The briefing commenced, outlining the trek’s itinerary, safety protocols, and the challenges each day would present.
I nodded, pretending to understand everything. I looked around. Everyone else looked as confident as I pretended to be.
Day 2 — Karchi to Akhrotghetta
Trek Distance: 2.75 km | Duration: 5–6 hours | Altitude gain: 7,785 ft to 9,264 ft
When I woke up at dawn, I had barely slept. Normally, cooler temperatures help sleep. But when it is near zero, it’s trial by fire. If the fire was freezing cold.
We guzzled breakfast like hungry animals. The body was expending a lot of energy keeping itself warm. We shared two tiffin boxes between the six of us, realizing that washing dishes in the freezing mountain water was torture of a medieval kind.
By 7:30 AM, we were fully geared up. Trekking bags strapped tight, shoes tied, gloves on, and poles in hand.
Amit pointed out the route to Akhrotghetta. It seemed simple enough as the eye traced the path, but walking it was a different animal.
The sun was bright and relentless as if it had an extra cup of caffeine. We stretched, warmed up, and meditated silently for a minute to prime ourselves for the journey ahead.
And then, we began.
It was hard at first. Every hundred metres, I questioned my life choices that brought me here. However, the more I walked, the more I acclimatised.
Soon, I spent more time enjoying the view and less time catching my breath.
The trail led us into a forest of large evergreen trees with a distinct forest smell and a golden hue. Leaves and dandelions floated by us.
I understood then what people meant when they said a photo doesn’t do justice to the real experience. There is something about experiencing beauty with all your senses that makes it more real in the mind and memory.
When we crested the hill to Akhrotghetta, the weather turned. What was a bright, sunny day became a windy, overcast afternoon. Our tents flailed in the wind as it began drizzling. We unloaded our rucksacks and rushed into the communal tent for lunch.
“There is no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.”
— Sir Ranulph Fiennes
An hour later, with our bellies filled, I saw something I had never seen before — snow. The child in me screamed with joy. Tiny flakes fell on my hands and melted away. They seemed like manna from heaven. I opened my mouth. It would be snow for dessert.
Day 3 — Akhrotghetta to Khullara
Trek Distance: 2.5 km | Trek Duration: 4–5 hours | Altitude gain: 9,264 ft to 11,014 ft
The next day my alarm went off at 5:30 AM, much to Sid’s annoyance. We were sharing a tent. Of course, we didn’t really need an alarm because five minutes later, Chung and Hussey were kicking and cursing each other in their tent. Best friends since birth, their morning ritual involved colourful exchanges, to put it lightly.
Truly awake now, I shed my layers and unzipped the tent. I stepped out into one of the most beautiful views I’d ever seen in my life. Clouds floated around us like a dreamlike mist. My skin was covered in goosebumps and it had nothing to do with the cold.
It was 8:30 AM when we departed Akhrotghetta after breakfast, warm-up, and stretches. It was bright and sunny again. Dewdrops clung to leaves, sunlight crept through the trees, and the air smelled like moss.
But this wouldn’t last long. The forest eventually thinned out, and patches of snow appeared. Before long, there was so much snow everywhere that dirt remained only in patches.
Thud!
Chung already had another snowball ready. The second one missed, but it didn’t matter. Within a minute, everyone had a snowball in hand, targeting the nearest person.
Ten minutes later almost everyone had eaten a faceful of snow at least once.
Khullara was covered in a couple of inches of snow when we arrived. We cooled down with a few stretches and broke for lunch. But not before discovering that piss melted snow like no other.
In the evening, we made a snowman. We dubbed him Smokey, giving him a cigarette in memory of all the cigarettes the smokers in the group had to relinquish until the trek was over.
As I stargazed that night, I felt nervous. Tomorrow was D-Day. The day we would climb to the summit — Kuari Pass.
We didn’t know it yet but we were going to be chased by a snowstorm.
“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”
— Saint Augustine
Day 4 — Khullara to Tali via Kuari Pass
Trek Distance: 7.65 km | Trek Duration: 8–9 hours | Altitude gain and loss: 11,014 ft to 11,053 ft via 12,516 ft
There was an air of seriousness and focus as we walked in a single file. The forests had disappeared, leaving a desert of snow. The weather was calm for now.
Soon, we reached the ridge. It was called Jhandi Top. We took a break while Uttam Bhai, our lead guide, cleared a path along the snow up to Kuari Pass. Onu and I decided to take a leak nearby.
It was windy up on the ridge. We had to point windward or risk giving ourselves golden showers. I began laughing, “Yo, did you ever think last week you’d be peeing off the top of the Himalayas?”
He burst out laughing. “Not even a little bit. But now that I am, I love it!”
We attached crampons to our shoes for traction and began the ascent. The snow got deeper every few meters. At first ankle-deep, then knee, and finally hip-deep.
The climb was slow for two reasons — firstly, the snow felt like treading solid water, and secondly, the altitude was punishing. Breathing became a skill we were mastering on the job, and boy the learning curve was steep.
But like any successful climb, it didn’t help to look at how far we had left to go. One step at a time, we had to focus on just taking the next one.
In the distance, I saw clouds gathering. They looked dark and menacing. The wind blew in our direction. Time was ticking. But I tried not to think about it. One step at a time.
And then.
We crested the top. Kuari pass was under our feet instead of above our eyes. The view was breathtaking even though it felt like we had no breaths left. We had been trekking for days for this vantage. It felt monumental.
And then it was over.
It might’ve lasted all of ten minutes before we trekked back down to the ridge. A weird feeling passed through me.
The culmination of our efforts was over in an instant. It dawned on me like a bolt of enlightenment — the goal may be ephemeral, but the journey, eternal.
The wind howled in my ears, and the chill started creeping through my layers. I looked up.
Storm’s coming.
And it was coming fast. The battle may have ended, but the war raged on. A ridge walk stood between us and sanctuary. We had to hasten our descent before nature’s fury engulfed us.
But there was a problem. My body was giving in. My head hurt and spun. Nausea became my new best friend, and my insides felt like they wanted to come up for a view. Altitude sickness crept up on me silently and hit me like a ton of bricks.
BOOM! The clouds roared its impending arrival.
‘Shit!’ I thought to myself. ‘I have no choice but to grind through the pain.’
If the journey is the real gift then this too is part of the gift, I tried to remind myself.
Easier said than done. With every step, I wanted to return the gift and ask for a refund.
Luckily Amit had a boxful of medical paraphernalia for exactly such a situation. I took a paracetamol, hoping even for a placebo. I wanted to do the trek without any medical assistance, but along with the paracetamol I had to swallow my pride.
“It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.”
— Sir Edmund Hillary
Thirty minutes later I felt better as we descended. My facial muscles eased into a smile.
We crossed the ridge under the Indiahikes team’s expert guidance and beat the blizzard. It hit us while we were in the safety of the lower altitudes, making it a beautiful snowfall instead.
When we reached the camp inside the Tali forest, it snowed heavily.
Hunger and thirst can make anything delicious. And what’s already delicious becomes heavenly. I stuffed slices of heaven into my mouth and downed it with the warm, warm tea.
We laughed and cheered in the tent. There was a storm outside, but we felt snug as a newborn in its mother’s arms. It was the cathartic euphoria of beating a gauntlet and making it to the other side. We sat there for hours, sharing stories and playing games. Every story brought us closer. It was one of the most memorable nights of my life, laughing with fellow soldiers. With friends.
Day 5 — Trek from Tali to Auli. Drive to Dhak
Trek Distance: 8.10 km | Trek Duration: 7–8 hours | Altitude loss: 11,053 ft to 8,546 ft
With the dawn came tendrils of sunlight weaving through the snow-draped trees. This was the last leg of the trek. Soon, we would bid adieu to the mountain deities, returning to the humdrum of cubicles, chores and countertops. But not just yet. There remained time for one last dance.
Tali Lake lay a mere hour’s trek from the Tali forest, its icy waters nestled amidst the desolate snowscape.
Amit gathered us, urging each to express their gratitude. One by one, everyone opened up about their lives. And how they found themselves in a group of soon-to-be former strangers along the trails of an ancient behemoth in search of solace. It was an emotional affair.
When my turn came, amidst laughter, I shared, “I came for this trek thanks to a remarkable discount. But really, I came because of my closest friends. The assholes know exactly who they are. And the rest of you don’t know that you’re assholes yet. My life has had its own share of ups and downs. But if the culmination of all my joys and sorrows is this moment in the middle of a beautiful mountain with all of you, then it’s been a good life. And I’m grateful for that.”
Just then a gust of wind hit my eye and it started watering. And that’s the story I’m taking to my grave.
On the first night at the base camp, Amit told us there would be a ledge walk on the last day. And it was here. When I saw what we had to do, I would’ve gladly walked all the way back to the base camp and endured another cocktail of blizzard and altitude sickness.
The ledge was a narrow path along the mountain’s flank. One misstep spelled a thousand-foot plunge. And the melting snow made each foothold treacherous.
My heart raced, and my breath was shallow. Pure survival instinct drove me forward. Every few steps, the crampons clung to snow, demanding periodic clearing. Silence enveloped us. Speech was a luxury we couldn’t afford.
The ledge walk became an intense exercise in exposure therapy. ‘Carpe diem. Seize the day.’ I urged myself.
But the real secret, I quickly learned, was seizing the moment. Every footstep was an exercise in seizing the moment. Distraction meant mortal danger.
And then, just like the summit the day before, the ledge was over.
When we stopped for lunch near Auli, we were greeted by large green pastures with mule droppings galore. Tiny flowers bloomed with life.
Only the final stretch remained. And it was time to finish strong. We walked down the pastures and through a forest.
It was a pretty steep descent. Excellent for the blood oxygen, but murder on the quads. But burning legs didn’t bother any of us. We were laughing and chatting away. Slipping, tripping and dancing.
An hour later, it felt surreal sitting in a car again. I watched the sunset over the mountain as the wind whispered goodbye. I smiled in reply.
Au revoir.
Home is where the heart is, and now, there’s a little piece of mountain at home.
“Life is the dancer and you are the dance.”
― Eckhart Tolle
