Ascent to Stok-La Day 2

The second and third days of our trek up to Stok-La began at about 3500 meters, the same altitude as Leh. From the campground we set off to conquer at 40 degree hill that, combined with the thin air, immediately challenged the feeling of confidence (about the nature of the 2nd and 3rd days trek) we had woken up with. Arriving at the time of that hill, Paul looked winded and I was gasping for breath.


A 150 meter climb in just 30 minutes. Having been burned by the sun the day before, I lathered up with some suntan lotion, drank a couple of deep draughts of water and pressed on. The complete lack of moisture in the air made the hike significantly easier. Though the sun beat down on us, all perspiration disappeared within moments. Even at midday, I was completely dry. Negative side effects did accompany this extremely dry climate. By the time we reached 4000 meters (12500 ft), my nose, skin, mouth and lips had dried out completely, driving the incessant peeling on exposed surfaces and a perpetually bleeding nose. These were not severe nose bleeds precisely because it was so dry. In fact, they dried up almost as soon as they began. Paul would blow his nose only to find that his nose had bled briefly and then clotted before he even noticed it. Other undesireable consequences of a lowlander pushing his body to the top of the highest range of mountains in the world included constipation, an inability to let loose a continuous stream of liquid waste, and extremely frequent urination, and most importantly symptoms of altitude sickness. I am inclined to say that the first two were a result of dramatic changes in air pressure. I had mentioned in an earlier post that our symptoms of altitude sickness were limited. However, there were moments, especially the second night on the trail, when my head was pounding from the change in altitude. We camped near the village of Rumtek, a beautiful collection of houses, varying in size and distinctiveness set against terraced barley fields displaying an almost neon-green stalk that was only just recently planted in anticipation of Ladakh's only harvest seaso--late august. The bright green color of the barley was enhanced by the bright sunlight that gave it its iridescent quality. Amidst the fields were stone-fenced pens of newborn kids (goats) and beyond larger enclosures where the spring calves mooed, calling the attention of their elders and the other farm animals. The traditional Ladakhi architecture of chalk-colored exteriors with lintels and and window frames brightly colored in yellow, blue, red, and green nicely set off the verdant barley and the sandy-colored moutains in the background. Old women dashed wet laundry against stones set aside for drying, a couple of old men perched themselves on the stoops of their homes, as if waiting for our party to traipse through, and our guide chatting up some of the young women as their children chased after one another with sticks. It was an idyll of a kind I could never quite have imagined before experiencing it. And yet, the harshness of the terrain was carved into the faced of even the youngest of the village of 96. Even the young brides of the village displayed lines in their smiles. We arrived at camp on the second day in the late afternoon, spending an extra 2 hours on the trail than the previous day on account of the ruggedness of terrain and the increasing heights to which we ascended. About a mile from Rumtek, we made camp and twilight soon set in. I was distracted from my headache by some friendly conversation with a couple of Israelis, who had also made it to our campsite for the evening. Israelis can be found anywhere in India, even on a Himalayan trek, a particularly powerful testement to their ubiquitous presence as the highest percentage of GYT's (Global Youth Travelers). They now exceed even Australians and Brits, I would wager. As the sun set, I downed several Peracetemol to reduce my symptoms of dizziness, nausea, headache and loss of appetite. It was chilly up there. Leh cooled off to about 15 at night but at 4300 meters, I had to wear just about every thing I had brought with me, including the Tibetan woolen blanket I purchased a few days before. When the stars finally came out, they were brilliant, more than I had ever seen before in my life. That night I slept well, my exhaustion from the day's trek overshadowing the bizarre bodily consequences of trekking in the Himalayas.