This continues where the other entry left off, in Himachal Pradesh on my way to Shingo-la. I'll be posting these regularly until the entire thing is transcribed with photos and videos. In the first year of my travels I used a cheap camera, but you can find information about this trek in many guidebooks for the area. I unfortunately didn't take many pictures on this day, as I was really sick. I did do a lot of journaling, though.
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July 25, 2014
Finally, daylight. Wind gust steadily, the valley breathes as the pressure changes. Out tent is wet with condensation. I stumble outside, Philip and Sergey ask me if I’m alright. I have no energy and can’t hold anything down. Philip convinces me to swallow another Diamox. Two hours pass and I don’t vomit. My comrades move on. They say the next camp is five hours away, I’ll meet them in Chumik (4450 meters), higher than our current camp. For the time being, I’ll lay in the valley and rest. Philip says that one of them will come for me if I’m not there by two in the evening. I don’t count on it but I do stay behind.
Hours pass, after some time I'm able to eat a raisin, then a cracker, and then two raisins. I fall in and out of sleep, slowly regaining an appetite. I sit outside the tent for a while and meditate. Eventually I gather enough energy to walk over to the shepherd’s stone hut to meet some backpackers traveling by — most people are going the opposite way of our party, from Padum to Kalding. I ask them for the distance to the next camp and about altitude sickness. Their guide tells me its best to wait 48 hours after the first dose of Diamox before having another. He also says the next camp is a few hours away and a small shop is just ahead which may have some ginger tea to help my stomach. I bid them the best of luck and return to the tent. More rest, more raisins and crackers. I slowly pack up the tent, throw on my backpack and set off up the trail.
The exercise reenergizes me. For an hour I walk the trail in solitude, regaining control of my thoughts from the previous night’s delirium. I was thinking of a lot on that trail, but mostly I let those thoughts be carried along by the wind and brush the mountains all around me.
The valley twists again and again, beautiful treeless landscapes, low-lying shrubs and flowering plants, revealed at every bend. The trek takes a heavy toll on me, I lose my vigor again. I have to rest often. I’m hungry but cannot eat. I drink as much as possible, refilling whenever I find a clean source of glacial melt.
I never see anything resembling a camp — a caveman sort of enclosure made of boulders fixed against the rock face of a metamorphic fissure, that’s all I find. I feel very alone out here, and I'm getting weaker. I’m not fearful, mainly annoyed. I need to rest and recover, but I’ve obligated myself to reconvene with the others.
It’s 3:30 in the evening, I should have seen my partners by now. I have to walk slowly because of the altitude sickness. The trail climbs up the mountains, revealing the distant Shingo-la (a legendary mountain pass). I begin to think that my comrades may have taken the trail that cut off low into the valley a ways back, following the river. Most signs of civilization seem to be down there rather than far up at my level, on the narrow mountain trails.
At a point I pass a strange white tent on the path. Construction equipment unguarded outside, with an electric lantern and solar charger. I call out, nobody answers. Again, I have a sense of being the only person for miles. I take a long rest there before moving on.
I’m crossing a large river when I see a slender black figure far off on the hill. I’m sure that it’s Sergey. I call out, no answer. I make it across the river with some effort and surmount the hill, only to find yet another sprawling landscape. A few horses graze on the hills to the left, I see no people. The black figure was a mirage. Just me out here.
I cross one final pass and see an arctic desert of slate and glaciers that stretches for many kilometers in the distance, and I reason that there will be no more flat land beyond the next hill. I see birds flying above — crows and some endemic species. Perhaps they are a sign of an encampment. There could be food…rice, dal (a basic lentil curry). Something I can keep down. Regardless of what lay ahead, on the next flat land that I find I will set camp, and tomorrow I’ll cross the Shingo-la alone.
I cross the hill and down below is a stone dwelling with cow manure and tarpaulins insulating the rooftop. Luggage sits on the stone slabs outside, a thin cloud of smoke rises from the entrance. I see a rubbish pit to the backside of the camp, where the land rises into a steadily rising hill. To one side of the trail is a horseman’s tent and further down the hill towards the river is an encampment of tents.
I cannot believe my eyes, I see Sergey’s tent. I caught up after all, looks like I’ll not be trekking alone tomorrow. An old shepherd steps out of the dwelling to greet me, a big smile over his face. “Hello! Namasté!” I reach out to make sure he’s real, nod and drop my luggage and go inside. I’m greeted by a group of horsemen, a shepherd monk who lives here, a traveling German woman, two French ladies, Sergey and Philip. I nod to everyone and sit to rest for a long time. Philip tells me they have dal and rice, my eyes light up.
We spend the evening drinking tea, eating dal and rice. I don’t talk much but I listen to everything. I learn that Sergey isn’t eating anything more than honey — he’s fasting. If he has his way, he’ll give up food entirely and derive his energy from the sun and vodka alone.
The German lady introduces herself as Nina, she gives us all homeopathic cocoa from Austria. She says it will help with altitude sickness. Philip and I take five tablets. Even as my energy returns, the headache comes back in full force. The Diamox seems to have worn off but I refuse to take more for the night. I don’t want to push my luck with a chemical that depressurizes my eyeballs.
Philip, Nina and I sleep in the stone dwelling with the shepherds that night, Sergey sleeps in his tent. I’m not nauseous, but I know the air pressure outside is pushing a hole through my cranium. What I’m doing is dangerous. I can’t sleep, finally I decide to take an aspirin to mask the pain. After a while, the symptoms subside and I manage to sleep.
By morning the headache is gone, though there is dried blood in my nose.
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