Ladakh - part 3 - Mountains: dangerous love

 

Ten centimeters of mud in the dining room. Jan vomiting in the corner. Robert wants to pee again and I am still a bit shaking from cold after walking to the Nimaling camp at 4900 m.n.m. one hour in the rain. At least we took the rain jackets and one down jacket with us. Guides say that tomorrow should be whole day rain, not only showers as today. This is the heaven where I wanted so much to go, the high altitude desert with basically no rain in the summer. 

 

I try not to feel desperate too much. We are almost at 5000 m.n.m. My romantic idea that we can anytime rotate and go back was put to pieces after seeing yesterday a horse that was taken by the stream away and 5 people had hard time to rescue it from the river that we were crossing. River, which we were able to cross only with the help of other people holding hands as a chain while water was above our knees. One of the many crossings. I don't know how high might get the water after the today rain, but I don't think I want to test it. 

 

In front of us is pass over 5200 m.n.m. How are we supposed to manage it when Jan couldn't even walk the few meters from the tent to the dinner place today having the high-altitude sickness? Everyone says that you should be careful about exhausting yourself too much at the high altitude. But what should you do when your toddler falls asleep on your shoulders and then it starts to rain? Well Jan carried Robert for more than an hour in a row to the camp (and before basically whole day as he refused to walk above 4500 m.n.m. uphills and I had enough to manage my backpack) and only there realized that it might have been too much…Since we arrived he is sleeping, vomitting and feeling totally weak and dizzy. 

 

Even if he could tomorrow walk, I doubt he will be able to carry much. How should I carry backpack and Robert whole way up and down? Most probably screaming Robert, if it rains? 

 

Breathe in, breathe out. Don't worry about things that you cannot now change and enjoy the amazing countryside which after the rain looks way more like Scotland than desert. Horses, donkeys, cows and yaks wandering between streams on the green meadows among one of the most beautiful mountains I have ever seen with a glacier on the background. In the middle of it three groups of tents now bathing in the evening sun. 

 

I observe old lady with a stick how she jumps over the river, finding the best stones to step on so I know how to cross the river tomorrow without getting too wet. Guides are unpacking horses, opening the transferable toilet seats for their customers and preparing tea, dhal and rice in the big metal pots. I quickly wash in one of the streams, jump via grass and stones among the moos towards the toilet hut and then quickly go back to care for Robert. 

 

But the most challenging moment of our trip is still to come next day on the way to the pass.

Jan wakes up way better, but still weak. Maybe it's because of the responsibility I feel towards my family, maybe it's because of the half of high-altitude pill I took in the morning just to be safe, but apart from short-ness of breath I manage walking up the hill with my backpack and Robert around my neck quite easily. 

 

Until first drops of rain come. And Robert starts yelling, that his legs are freezing. I sit down and breathe on his feet. However after 10 deep breaths my head starts to spin and I feel like fainting. We walk on. Rain turns to hails. I ask (well, maybe rather yell to) Jan to unpack the poncho and put it over us. 

 

Robert yells like crazy, not because of the altitude, not because of the rain, but because he definitely doesn't want poncho over himself. We manage to put it over him, but he starts hitting me to my head. Imagine that you almost cannot walk uphill because of 25 or 30 kg on your shoulders and back and too little oxygen, you get hails to your face and someone is kicking and hitting you and yelling to your ears like if he is dying. Fortunately there are not many people around us and who passes cares mainly for himself. 

 

Pass is maybe 500 meters in front of us, so I just hold under poncho Roberts hands and feet in socks and walk on. Using all my energy to walk, heat his legs and talk to him. He responses by yelling "Nechci pláštěnku. Nechci pláštěnku!"("I don't want raincover") interchanged by "Mám studený nožičky" ("My feet are cold"). I take it as a good sign that he is still ok and walk on. When his voice gets lighter, I am a bit afraid if he is really too cold or sick from high altitude, but he just comfortably finally falls asleep on my shoulders. When I get to the top we don't even stop for a picture and just go down. It feels like flying. I almost run and with every meter down my lungs get more and more air, hails magi-cally stop and sun is trying to get among the clouds.

 

Together with a caravan of donkeys and ponies I run with sleeping Robert lower and lower. Until we reach the place where in mapy.cz is signed "tea tent". We look around, but see only a circle from stones, but no sign of any tea tent. We have to laugh that we were considering to actually sleep here. Guides from ponies look at us with some respect and offer us their masala tea. It is the best thing ever. We enjoy so much this tea and the tiny apple we get offered to it. I feel gratefulness. For these nice people. For the sun that appeared after the short hails storm. For managing this quest. 

 

This was definitely the most physically challenging part of our trip to Ladakh, but also the most beauti-ful. It might sound crazy and dangerous and it maybe was. However the fact is, that we were all the time surrounded by many people (some even having their kids with them – ok, kids, but not toddlers), horses and guides who are also walking the same Markha valley trek, so it was not life-threatening. If Robert would not consistently refuse nice offers from people around to sit on the pony, we would have life way easier. We were also only 2km from the last camp where we could anytime go back. 

 

All this anyway doesn't change the fact, that in that moment the danger felt totally real and it gave a good taste of how adventures in Himalaya might look like. We also didn't know, that we were super lucky. When we arrived to Leh, we found out, that there were flash floods and the main rain hit just the neigbouring valley to us. Instead, we got only one hour hails and then super nice weather for the rest of the day while walking down to Chogdo. 

 

Well slept Robert enjoyed jumping over the springs there and back so much and walked most of the way down while managing approximately the speed of other two groups walking down - four Indian girls accompanied by ponies and 4 guides (carrying even their day stuff) and Swiss family with two teenager girls (one of which seemed all the time she will collapse) with two guides and ponies carrying their luggage. Sometimes we helped each other over the river and we got even some appreciation from their guides when they once tried to help us with our backpack over the spring and found

out it is not that lightweight (the one who doesn't carry Robert always gets the lighter one). After arriving to Chogdo, we got a lift to Leh in a minibus which the Swiss family that Jan organized for us (annoying the local taxi driver waiting in Chogdo for customers). 

 

Next two days in Leh I realize how much energy I actually used for the trip. I have hard time to even walk uphills in the city or make few steps. Half a day that I spend alone lying in the bed is helping a lot. Would I go again? Definitely, but only if the weather forecast would be better. After seeing pictures from floods in Leh, I realized that we underestimated the danger rain could have. However, it was amazing. After years I felt again alive. Doing some real thing to test my abilities.