three passes trek journal - part 4

Day 6: Pangboche to Dingboche, side trek to Nangkar Tsang

Sleep didn’t come easy to me the night before. Even the afternoon I planned to use for a long nap was spent staring at the ceiling. Still, I refused to acknowledge that I was already showing symptoms of AMS. I assumed I was just overthinking things, hence the lack of sleep.

The trail from Pangboche was cutting through the old floodplain of the Dudh Kosi river, with a very gradual ascent that I never felt like I was gaining elevation. Dingboche is at an altitude of 4410m, which meant climbing more than 400m. But the only time I remember feeling exhausted because of walking on a steep trail was after crossing the river. And it didn’t even last very long.

It took me less than two hours to reach Dingboche. I easily found the teahouse where Dierk and I were supposed to meet but he wasn’t there. The guy who I assumed to be the son of the owners, gave me a note. It was from Dierk and it said that he decided to leave for Chukkung that morning. I didn’t want to make a decision at that moment if I should stay or go so I opted to have my lunch even though it was still too early.

Going up Nangkar Tsang.

Chukkung is less than three hours’ walk from Dingboche. Even if I lingered for an extended siesta, I had enough time in the afternoon to get there. But it is also 300m higher and in terms of acclimatization, proceeding would be a wrong move. Nangkar Tsang is also in the Lonely Planet list of detours. So I opted to stay. And besides, the old woman running the guesthouse seemed very kind.

After a quick rest, I went up to Nangkar Tsang, the hill behind the village. The map I had said it was 5600+m. If I could make it there, it would have been the highest I had ever been. But the people at the guesthouse said it was only about 5100m. Bummer. But it didn’t deter me.

The first part of the climb wasn’t steep. I reached a low ridge with chortens and prayer flags in no time. From there, I had a full view of the village, which was also situated on an old floodplain. The land is parceled with walls. Some have buildings, but most are empty. They’re probably cultivated during the season and it was already post-harvest time.

I continued going up. It was disheartening seeing everyone else already on their way down. I looked behind me for some encouragement but couldn’t see anyone. I looked at my phone and realized it was only half past noon, although people going the opposite direction made it feel like it was already late in the day.

The village of Dingboche. If you could see the orange tents, the one in front of it was the guesthouse I stayed at.

The trail was winding on a steep incline, making lots of switchbacks. I got impatient sticking to it and chose to go straight up, trail or no trail. The trail vanished among a jumble of boulders. The pole with prayer flags attached to it signaled where I needed to go. I found a group of young people when I reached the pole. But farther, I could still see higher peaks. I looked for a way to get there but was told by a guy that we were at a dead end. I glanced past him and saw the ridge has gone too narrow with a sharp drop on both sides. I moved back and found a comfortable spot to enjoy the view. To my left is Chola Tsho and the village of Dragnag, where I would be treading the following week. To my left is Ama Dablam, which looked like something else viewed from that angle. I sat there for about an hour doing nothing else. But actually, I was waiting for everyone to leave so I could have a moment up there on my own. When I heard someone said they’d wait for sunset, I stood up and left. 

Day 7: Dingboche to Chukkung, side trek to Chukkung Ri

No one else came to the guesthouse the previous day and for the first time on this trek, I was the lone guest. So when I went to the dining hall for breakfast, the woman asked me to dine at their kitchen. I didn’t mind it though. It was such a waste of precious fuel heating a large room for just one person.

The kitchen was just starting to heat up. I asked for some muesli with hot milk. I was prepared to receive a measly breakfast but the bowl given to me was so full that she couldn’t put enough milk in it. So instead, she gave me a mug of milk and said that if I needed more, there were still some in the kettle. When you’ve been on a trek where you were made to feel like people want to squeeze every penny out of you, generous acts become strange and at the same time heart-warming.

I didn’t leave the guesthouse well after 9am. Chukkung was only three hours away as I was told. And like the previous day, the trail was only gradually rising that I didn’t feel the 300m increase in altitude. The only challenging part was when I had to go up and down little hills of boulders that didn’t seem to have an ending. And there was a little stream to cross before getting to the village, but it was deeper than my boots could handle. There were planks of wood across the water but their surface was covered with ice so using them was out of the question. I waited for other people to cross to see where they step foot but they all had a pair of trekking poles which made balancing less difficult for them. I took my pole out and started the slow, nervous crossing. There was a guy leaning on a huge rock at the other side of the stream, which made me feel a bit better. If in case I slip and fall, someone could help me. I kept my head bowed down the whole time, carefully choosing the rocks on which to step on. I made it without any incident and when I raised my head, there was no sign of the guy. The thought of me needing any help probably never crossed his mind.

A little hill in Chukkung.

The first guesthouse in Chukkung didn’t feel inviting. The next seemed okay but looked too big that the dining area may get so busy. And besides, I saw the young couples ahead of me went in there and I didn’t feel like being near couples. The third was locked. I knew there were at least four guesthouses so I kept walking towards the end of the village. Even though Chukkung is small, I didn’t feel like going back so when I found the guesthouse, I entered its gate. There were two buildings, the other one looking more like a small annex. I noticed men hanging out in the sun in front of the smaller building and asked if I could get a room. One of them stood up and told me to wait while he gets the key. I followed him but I stopped when I realized that they were drinking. In the middle of the day. It didn’t feel right. But instead of walking away, I just stood there until the man came back. He showed me my room which was located in the annex and it was so sunny, it made me stay.

When I came out of my room, the men weren’t there anymore. I went to the dining hall which was on the second floor of the main building. I took a seat on a sunny spot and ordered daal bhat for lunch. The men I saw earlier arrived and one of them took the table next to mine. He started chatting with me but I was a little apprehensive. He must have sensed my uneasiness so he went on explaining that they were just having one bottle of beer, trying to kill time. It turned out that Mann, the guy talking to me was a guide/coordinator for people who were doing the same trek and also climbing some peaks. The other guys were their porters who were already getting bored because one of their clients took another acclimatization day before climbing Island Peak. When Mann learned that I was trekking on my own, he suggested that I go with his client Brian on crossing the pass the next day. He then went on telling me that Brian is just crossing the three passes; he was also climbing three 6000+m peaks. All in a span of three weeks. Mann added that he was currently the fastest to climb Island Peak among their clients. I knew that I would be too slow for him so I told Mann that I was planning to spend an extra day in Chukkung to see Island Peak Base Camp. Which was true anyway.

In the afternoon, I set out to go up Chukkung Ri. At 5550m, it would be a 700+m ascent from the village. There was also another peak at an elevation of 5800m but it’s less popular. I had some trouble finding the route. I knew I needed to cross the river but couldn’t find a bridge. I searched for it downstream but got no luck. Fortunately, I found a man who walked on the shallowest part of the river. I traced his steps and successfully reached the other side.

The trail that leads to Chukkung Ri.

There was no definite trail from the river. The man just pointed me to where Chukkung Ri is. I could either follow the paths going straight up or those almost parallel ones which were slowly ascending, separated only by lines of dwarf shrubs. I might have chosen the easier path but every step I took was taxing. It wasn’t AMS, I was sure of that. I ate so much daal bhat for lunch I felt so heavy and I was having a hard time breathing. Daal bhat is said to give you “24-hour power” but in my case, the daal bhat decided to hibernate in my stomach and stole all my power. In the end, I only reached a ridge way below my target. From there, I could see the trail to Chukkung Ri. I felt there was no way I could get there so I settled on a defeat. The view was good enough though. And I had the place all to myself.

Day 8: side trek to Island Peak Base Camp

When I woke up, I decided that I would stay another day in Chukkung, even if it meant not having someone to cross Kongma La with. Why worry about tomorrow when I could enjoy today?

I found Mann in the dining hall, smiling at me. It turned out, his client decided to have a rest day which meant we would be crossing the pass on the same day. I could not escape his generosity. But the thing is that it was only Mann making the offer. What if it was not okay for Brian? That was what’s bothering me.

I set off for the base camp. Mann gave me some directions but after crossing a tiny stream, I was already unsure where to go. Good thing I saw a few people walking a little ahead of me. There’s nowhere else to go in that route except the base camp so I just followed them. The whole time we were walking on a hodgepodge of semi-loose rocks which based on what I observed from Nangkar Tsang were a confluence of glaciers that had long melted and were now actively eroded by glacial fed streams. (I may be wrong though.)

After crossing the glacier, I emerged into another valley. The stream had some ice cover but it didn’t stop a group of yaks from hanging around the area. I caught up with the people I was following and confirmed that they were also going to the base camp. They were going a bit too slow for me though so I went ahead. When I encountered a junction, I opted to take a higher trail rather than cross the stream. Upon reaching the lower bank of Imja Tsho (lake), I took out my map and confirmed that I was on the right track. But I had a sudden change of mind. I wanted to take the longer trail, leading to the Amphu Labsta Base Camp which was on the opposite side of Imja Tsho. So instead of turning left, I turned right.

Imja Tsho and I.

It was a surprise to see an excavator (backhoe for my fellow Pinoys) parked near the lake. I also saw a group of men working on some sort of installation and bridge across the stream running from the lake. I read somewhere that the government of Nepal along with UNDP had this project of draining Imja Tsho. Being fed by a glacier which is continuously melting, this lake is one of the fastest-growing in Nepal. This could lead to the lake water breaching its banks causing flash flood which could adversely affect mountain villages. Those men may be part of that project.

The only way for me to get to the other side was through the bridge. I could retrace my way back to the riverbed but it was too far. So I approached the men, half-expecting that they would stop me. I said Namaste and some of them acknowledged my presence but no one seemed to care that I was there. So I just quietly crossed the bridge and went my way.

The walk I took actually wasn’t that interesting. Imja Tsho with its grey colored water wasn’t exactly stunning. My goal that day was to walk as far as I could. I walked past the other guys again, whom I found idling by the edge of the lake. I wasn’t even halfway towards the other end of the lake when I started feeling jittery. No, it wasn’t the men I saw earlier that was causing me worry. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of a yeti suddenly showing itself, abducting me and taking me to god-knows-where. I don’t even know how it looks like. And getting face to face with a yeti has about the same probability with me stumbling upon the love of my life in that place. Still, it caused me the base camp and I grudgingly retreated.

The view on my way back to Chukkung.

When I reached the guesthouse, I saw Mann sitting with a guy who I assumed was Brian. He was busy writing, most likely a journal. A big book was in front of him. At least we had something in common. I still wasn’t determined going with him though. The guy paid premium for trekking and climbing guides and porters and I would be having some sort of free lunch. Somehow, it didn’t feel right for me.

Before I went to bed that night, I pre-ordered my breakfast. When asked what time I wanted the food served, I wasn’t able to give an answer right away. By chance, Mann was standing beside me and he told the guy to have it ready the same time as Brian’s. And so the morrow’s been decided.