We Should Have Known Better
The are things you remember about treks you have done before, there are things you compare when you do. We should have known something was up when our travel agent handed the whole trek over to us as we handed over our deposit. What does “well its your trek now” mean exactly? At least the travel agent threw in a helper at the last minute - who also turned out to be his brother. He was the guy that mended the tent every day and was also the cook. I guess if he didn’t find trekking so boring then Amigo No. 3 aka Mr. McGyver may have been better company. I think it all went wrong for us when they found out they would not be back in time for the Independence Day celebrations in Keylong. A big shin dig from what our guide, cum Keylong’s defending ping pong champion, told us. Let me introduce the team. First Amigo, our guide, had things start to go wrong for him gradually. We should have known when we suspected he wasn’t really a guide at all. He knew more of the party life than the life of looking after tourists and so he appears in our photos as a spot way off in the distance, more of hero type leader than guide. Roselin and he had a bit of a personality clash not long after we started. He didn’t like Roselin’s personality and Roselin certainly didn’t care for his - personality clash. Our Horseman, Amigo No. 2 had things go wrong for him all in one go. We should have known when he was late the first day while our guide told horseman horror stories. He got rolling drunk in Pepula, and was the worse the next day. Waiting at a school for our horseman to visit his son. Amigo No. 3 turned up almost two hours late with the horses but without the horseman - he arrived later, drunk again. We should have known. But then this is the adventure of travelling and it certainly makes for the best stories.
The first half the trek from Darcha to Padum had one pass for us “pass baggers” but at over 5000m still significant. I didn’t feel to well on the way up to Chumnik Nakpo just below the pass. Roselin didn’t feel to well after it so we had a rest day at the foot of the holy mountain Gumburanjan. The tent had to be fixed for the first time, it wouldn’t be the last time. The poles were so old that they would simply snap if there was any wind. The Frenchies we camped with a for the last couple of days were replaced by a large group from what we guessed was Germany. They followed us out the next day after our begrudgingly granted rest day, one of them on a horse feeling the worse of the pass. She died that night in Shey, just beyond Kargiak after we drank local beer and whiskey in our horseman’s home and Roselin tickled his children. A sobering thought - yet it stresses the importance of not rushing and being experienced. Two points of conflict between us and our 3 Amigos. It is quite surprising to realize how many people die on these walks - it can only be put down to ignorance or arrogance.
The landscape to Padum is of narrow gorges, rocky and dry. Nomads and farmers live along the valley in traditional flat roofed houses frozen in half the year. Life would be hard, which explains the “party hard” attitude when it is cold. But now students are back from school in the south, houses are being built, peas and wheat are being harvested and horsemen are in short supply ferrying tourists. Antarctic Roselin has decided that she needs to come back when it is cold and the rivers are frozen solid so she can walk on them. The Chadar is the trek on the frozen rivers. We even met a donkey man who regularly takes people for the Chadar and cave camping. With this and the Sikkim walk we missed from Darjeeling only means Roselin has vowed to come back to India. I think she really must love it on some level, even if she won’t admit it.
Day 11 : In Padum we met the road out to Kargil, had our first shower for the walk! The road actually is not far from Purne so there is a fair bit of road walking. From here Roselin warmed to the trek both figuratively and literally. It was hot, 35 degrees in the shade.
Day 15 : Into Lingshet is the pick of the walk and crossing Hanuma La into the Lingshet valley was a highlight. This is the day our ‘guide’ got us lost, his shortcut turned out to add a couple of hours to an already long day. We should have know when he lost his nerve and Roselin had to lead him across a ledge that he was not a guide. It was a good place for a rest day but it was here the 3 Amigos realised they would not be back for the Keylong festival. At exactly the same time the scenery was spectacular where rolling hills met jagged cliffs and the colours were gold and silver. Probably ranks up there with the Annapurna Sanctuary for me.
Day 18 : Singge La was the final 5000m pass to bag. The monsoon caught up with us into Photoskar. And this is when we had McGyver out in the rain, digging a water break around the tent, I was just hoping it wouldn’t collapse. The next day our guide lost us, or we lost our leader - depends how you look at it. We benched Amigo No. 1 and promoted Amigo No 3. to guide picked apricots and we thought our troubles were over.
Day 21 : Having made our get away hitch hiking in truck, I thought we had left the bad mojo behind. There was a bumper sticker that read “I love Rozy” that should have been an omen. It turned out that our truck broke down twice spent the night sleeping by the road, gave up took the other truck, broke down again. The fleet owner, who washed down persimmon with whiskey, invited to his home in Jammu and fed us at the Sikh temple by the road. By the time he put us in a cab for the final few kilometres into Leh I am not sure if he would ever want to see us again.
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