By Henry
We were about to climb a mountain in the Indian Himalayas, and the signs were not auspicious. Our instructors took one look at the clouds, and could tell something was coming. We’d also seen flashing lights on a mountain further up the valley where an American expedition was moving (not a good sign). To make matters worse, a screw in another hiker’s boots randomly snapped in half! Luckily, we had a quick fix. After talking with the local holy man, we managed to both repair the boot and obtain some more information on the weather forecast. Operation Ascent was a go, though we found out that the American team was pulling out after their head porter fell down a cliff all the way to the river’s edge. The flashing lights had been the crew searching for him. Luckily, he survived. Despite these poor omens, we mustered our strength and began shuttling our gear up to a campsite we’d selected at about 14,000ft. The path was almost impossible to identify, but we zigzagged our way through the grass, sometimes grabbing it (we called it the “vegi-belay”) to pull ourselves up the more treacherous sections. Just as we were arriving, so did the storm. Since we had no idea how far away the nearest water was, we quickly set out a tarp to gather the hail and proceeded to set up our tents before the ground was covered. Our campsite was a flatter section of the mountain slope, clear of any snow drainage zones (avalanche safety), though right next to a cliff. It was better than anything else in the area, but it was still at 14,000ft with all the associated problems.
When we awoke at 3 am in the morning, we realized we had to cancel our plans for an immediate climb to the glacier. Some members of the expedition had altitude symptoms, and climbing up another three thousand feet wouldn’t make that any better. The hail from the previous day had switched to snow, and there was already at least three inches on the ground.
By the next day it was almost three feet. During the night our cooking shelter–a tarp propped up by hiking poles–had collapsed, one pole bent into a C shape. We were officially snowed in. We spent the next three days digging out our tents, melting snow to drink, and creating a snow wall to support our new cooking shelter. At night we heard booming crashes, just like thunder, from small avalanches all over the valley. Someone had to wake up every hour to clear the accumulated snow away from the sides of the tent. In the morning, the snow had stopped falling, so we took a moment to look out at the white valley, with the river a string of blue curling below. Eventually, after being pinned in place for three days, we had only two days’ rations left, including emergency supplies. We started to beat a path through the snow towards the glacier. We stopped at a stream to bring water back to our camp, but while filling my water bottles, my hiking pole got stuck between two rocks. As I pulled to retrieve it, the snow beneath me gave out, and my feet slid into the stream. One of my boots was soaked. The best we could do to dry it out was to put hot water bottles inside it. Unfortunately, the timing was the worst it could be. We were setting out to climb the glacier late that night. As the leader for the day, I got up at 0:45 AM to confer with the others and see if Operation Glacier was a go, and we set out soon afterwards.
It was a freezing hike through the predawn snow, though everything was so reflective we didn’t even need flashlights. We were wearing heavy layers and working hard, but the cold still pierced through. Eventually, ahead of us we saw a line of light in the snow. The sun was peeking over the mountains on the far side of the valley. As we emerged into the world of light, we were instantly overcome with heat. We shed every layer we could while protecting from the sun, but I still got a sunburn on the bottom of my nose due to the reflective snow. As we trudged our way through the drifts of snow, we looked up at the blue ice of the glacier above us, and eventually we reached the glacier itself. We had to rope up in case someone fell into a crevasse. Unfortunately, this slowed progress considerably as we had to maintain completely even spacing at all times. Finally, after 10 hours of hiking, we were approaching our limit.
Before us was the top of the glacier covered pass, but in front of that was a newly exposed crevasse far too wide to traverse. We were blocked. We did manage to climb a hill to the side of the crevasse and look over the top. Our final height was 17,250 ft. With that, we turned around and spent another 5 hours hiking back. By the end, I was stumbling down the steep snow-covered paths and collapsed into camp. After scrounging up some emergency rations for dinner and breakfast, it was time to return. By the time we got back to our bridge over the Pindari river, it was dark. It had barely brightened back to dusk when I remembered to take off my sunglasses! We crossed the river by the light of our flashlights, but by the time we made it across I was nearly collapsing after the long hike combined with the trials of the previous day. We stumbled into camp next to the holy man’s hut and were going to fall asleep without dinner, but he kindly made some food for us. Eventually, after dismantling the bridge and seeing a herd of 20 Bharals, a strange animal that looks like a goat-deer hybrid, we set off down the valley to return to the world we knew.
When we were approaching Khati, we saw a troop of around 30 monkeys all chilling by the road. As we entered the town itself, our eyes fixed on the general store. While I am slightly ashamed to say it, we rushed in and bought every single candy or snack we could. Within an hour we were sick to our stomachs. However, we happily continued our journey back down the valley, even enjoying some goat meat from a shepherd in Dakhuri. Eventually, we boarded the jeeps and waved goodbye to the receding peaks of the Himalayas.
