I told the nuns I was interested in hiring at least one person to guide me, and they assured me not to worry; two nuns were planning on going to Leh and might as well trek with me. This seemed at the time like the perfect opportunity, but as the trek was approaching, the nuns flaked out on me. It took me two days to convince them to follow up on their word, for there was no time to hire a guide at this point. July 7th was our departure date, and the nuns informed me we would get started at 5 am sharp. This was most definitely at "local pace." I was slightly apprehensive, as one of the nuns informed me that this trek was "like walking the outline of your hand."
The first portion of the trek from Zangla (or Padum) to Lamayuru is completely flat, through a beautiful valley dotted with quaint villages. As we were hauling ass through this portion of the trek, I started to believe that everything was going to be alright for me in the next few days. I couldn't have been more wrong. Long after we took lunch, I encountered my first la (or mountain pass), the Parfi La, an endless switchback of rocky trails and thin air. With my 70 L pack carrying about 35-40 lbs of gear, I was starting to hate everything. I hated India, I hated mountains, and I hated trekking. This la, after a full day of trekking since 5 am, seemed almost impossible to accomplish. When I painstakingly reached the top, I simultaneously received two massive "charlie-horses" in each leg. What the hell was I doing? This was day one! When I regained my composure at the top, the nuns informed me that we could see our final destination for the day, a campground called Snertse. When I turned around, I didn't expect to look up at our destination. We had to go all the way down the other side of the mountain, back down to the elevation we started from, and then climb all the way up the next mountain. I was hosed. Utterly and completely hosed.
I used the time going down the mountain into the next valley to try and collect every last bit of strength I had for the next pass. Coming back up was slow going, but I was delirious enough to not be in as much pain. As a group, we finally gave up just a few hundred feet short of the top, and decided to set up camp where we were. The sense of relief I was expecting did not come, for I was only breathing at about half capacity. This was not due to altitude sickness, for I was well acclimated, but due to the fact that there was just not enough oxygen in the air to support this abuse. I felt very sick and light headed, and took a seat next to a rock. I asked the nuns kindly how far we had travelled today, knowing it must be a personal record. 35-40 km they told me. Over two mountain passes, carrying my 70 L pack, this explained everything. This is madness! No, I thought, this is Ladakh.
The nuns left to go collect water and bathe in the river (I'm not sure in which order), and I appreciated the alone time. Then, in perhaps my weakest moment, I received the greatest gift of all. At a time when I had no faith in anything, I had an opportunity some people would kill for: the glimpse of a snow leopard. This gleaming, long, grey beast slithered through a collection of rocks some 300m away. The unmistakable white tail and low profile, as well as its sensible location in a collection of boulders, verified it's identity. In my daze and in its distance, any detail escaped me and all of my pictures were pixelated. But this was the exact kind of inspiration I needed to get up the next morning, for this beautiful animal reminded me of where I was and how lucky I was to be there. I wouldn't call it a miracle, but it's damn close. I pitched a tent and dropped onto my sleeping mat like a rock.
The next morning I received my next gift: two monks were heading with a convoy of empty donkeys to Lingshed, our next destination. I loaded up my pack on a donkey, and carried a small day pack filled with my Camelbak, daily Cliff bar, passport and money (if the donkey took a tumble), and my camera equipment (which was pointless because I never had much energy to use it). I walked with one of the monks, who was 13 years old, and he was having a difficult time with his stomach and breathing. This got me thinking, does anyone enjoy this?! This obsession with trekking at super-human pace formulates the irony of Ladakh: every local pushes for maximum efficiency on the trails, yet wastes so much time doing absolutely nothing once they get where they are going. It's kind of funny actually, but not while you are trekking with them.
When we arrived at a "hotel", a tarp pitched over a mud-brick house, we stopped for breakfast. There I met a man I had seen in Zangla and he gave me dal on rice, which was half-cold, half-hot. You would think I would gorge myself, but because I was feeling sick with exhaustion, I didn't have an appetite. Then he blew my mind. He pulled out an ice-cold Coca-Cola! How is it that my first coke in Ladakh was here? Am I dead? It didn't fix all of my problems, but it gave me a little slice of home to keep pushing for. After breakfast, I had my next pick-me-up guiding the donkeys. The next several hours of trekking were a blast, negotiating these donkeys through white-wash and tight-rope mountain passes. It was a bit like driving a car for the first time, slapping a donkey on the ass with a walking stick and yelling at it in Ladakhi. One of the nuns was relentless with the latter, keeping me laughing the whole day.
When we encountered the tail end of our full-day-la, the older monk basically said screw this and hopped on a donkey, riding it to the top. I was not as fortunate. However, I could feel my body adjusting to this amount of physical activity, for although it was challenging, it was slightly easier than yesterday's armageddon. When I reached the top and started to rest, I got a hell of a cramp in my left shoulder, and realized it might be smart to take a rest day in Lingshed to hire a pony for the next portion of our trip, for today's camp was my current caravan's last stop. My shoulder wasn't my only problem, as I had about four blisters on each foot and wrecked every bandage I made for them. Lingshed, like the previous day, was at the top of the next valley we had to negotiate and in plain view. I wasn't nearly as exhausted as the day before, and I had the encouragement of literal "ass-kicking," so I knew it was going to be alright. It was getting quite dark however, and by the time we reached Lingshed, it was about 9 pm. We did about 12 hours of trekking that day. The elder lama invited me into his home at the Lingshed monastery, made me my daily, insufficient fix of Indian Top Ramen, and then he and I both crashed.
I spent the next day at the Lingshed monastery soaking my bloodied and swollen feet in the ice-cold river (I have pictures, but not for the faint-of-heart) and hanging out in the kitchen, drinking tea and speaking with monks. There I met Lex Latkovski, a world traveller from Kentucky, rich off of the Phoenix housing market in '06 and divorced for 15 years. He had seen it all, and was the most interesting person I had spoken with since coming to India. His next stop is China by rail, and then he's off to Mongolia to buy a horse and ride it all the way to Kazakstan. Now there's a good idea for my next trip! I cruised around the monastery for the rest of the day, helping one of the monks sand an oversized, ceremonial drum. For dinner I returned to the lama's residence to discuss pony plans with the nuns. They said they had it taken care of, whatever that meant.
After having a restless night of sleep overhearing the lama's incessant coughing (undoubtedly from the trek), I woke to meet my 1.5 donkeys. I received, as a gift from the lama, a weak mother and her hyperactive son, who were as slow as slow can be. Feeling good from the rest day, I decided to trek far ahead, pacing myself for the three la's I was to encounter this day, two of which nearing 5000m. I set a solid pace for myself, but was consistently hungry throughout the day. I felt my appetite returning as I acclimated to this trekking onslaught, but unfortunately Ritz crackers and Top Ramen can't quite fuel a 30km+ daily trek. I was rather disappointed the nuns didn't bring the traditional Ladakhi trekking food all made of energy-rich barley and whole grains, but instead opted for what was easy. This was totally inadequate, and I ended up losing a bit of weight on this trek. Normally, trekking in the US 10-12 miles a day, you burn about 6,000 calories daily. Trekking about 20-25 miles a day through the Himalayas, I could have been on the Michael Phelps Diet. Instead, I was eating about 2,000 calories a day of pure white flour products and heaps of salt and MSG. I was starting to think that I would have been much better off without a guide, for these trails were pretty straight forward, and home-stays are plentiful throughout the Zanskar region. Even still, as the trekking continued, I realized the nun's itinerary was rather sporadic. We spent that night over the Sengi La, which made a long yet consistent day of trekking. The next day, however, we trekked only 10 km to Photoksang, where the nuns had plans to hire a jeep the next morning and drive through unfinished roads all the way to Lamayuru. Although part of me was completely spent and eager to get home, I was hesitant about this decision. We cut our day of trekking short at 11am, finding a home-stay in the village.
Despite this logistical nightmare, I remained calm. I realized these exhausted nuns might have had no intention of ever finishing this trek, and instead expected me to shell out the rupees for an uncommon jeep route to Lamayuru, or even further still, all the way to Leh. We met the jeep driver, a Kashmiri scumbag, who was bent on ripping us off. I had a really, really bad feeling about this, and the nuns and one other local assured me we would be driving to Leh the next day. Yeah right, I thought, with these drivers I'll be lucky even to get to Lamayuru in one piece. The home-stay we were at was pleasant and had wonderful food that filled me up well. Then, when all was starting to turn for the better, I had my next curveball thrown at me. A bunch of domestic tourists showed up at the home and payed a bit more, so I ended up getting the best bedroom in the house - the patio. At least the freezing night sky was clear.
The next morning, now July 12th, was jeep day. We were all packed up and ready to go, waiting for the jeep to appear from the mountain roads. When enough time passed, the local we were traveling with decided to go into the nearby village, asking where the jeep was. When he returned 30 min later, he informed us the driver wanted to sleep in, take a wash in the river, and have a nice breakfast. Wonderful. This really ticked me off, although this is pretty common Indian inefficiency. I needed something American, fast. Bruce Springsteen on my solar-charged iPod saved the day. Two and a half hours passed by, and finally the jeep appeared, full with Kashmiri Muslims and a local who was piss drunk. The driver came out to shake my hand, and I asked him, "Lamayuru, 300 Rupees, yes?" "Oh, no no no," he told me, "Pengi La." I turned to one of the nuns, furious, and asked, "Where the heck is the Pengi La?" "It's OK. It's OK," she returned. I had a bad feeling about this, and was also upset with the nuns for wasting a full day of trekking only so we can take a rip-off jeep driven by a bunch of scumbags to some la I could have walked to yesterday. I took a deep breath and got in the car, knowing it was my only option.
This was another occasion in which I learned that being desperate while traveling will most definitely end in you getting ripped off. I've heard from many travelers their stories of getting stuck somewhere and having to pay their way out. Riding in the car with these scumbags had me on edge, but as we rolled through the mountains, I did feel better as each minute passed, getting closer and closer to Lamayuru. Even if they dumped me out right here, I thought, and even if I had everything stolen from me, I could still trek to Lamayuru in a day. I never felt my life directly at risk with these guys, except when they floored it on the paved portions of the roads, almost running over, believe it or not, poor Lex Latkovski. If I felt these guys were truly dangerous, I never would have gotten in the car. But I did always have the feeling that I was, at some point or another, going to get ripped off. And sure as hell, they dropped us at Panjilla, some random village along the way, and asked for double the price of 150 Rupees we agreed upon before departure. Surprisingly, this tall, strong Kashmiri Muslim turned to me and just said blatantly, "200 Rupees." I was relieved. I was not going to piss this guy off over 50 Rupees, or, $1. I think he just had a thing against Buddhist nuns, which, for a Kasmiri Muslim, is not one bit surprising.
The nuns, completely spent, wanted to go have lunch in the Panjilla village. They walked me over there, wearing their casual sandals and socks, and sat down for tea. I never sat down. Disappointed with how this expedition was turning out, I decided to take charge. By this time it was 1 pm, and I went over to one of the locals and asked how long it was to Lamayuru. "Ohh, not possible. Two hours to Wanla then six hours to Lamayuru." Lex, however, showing up 20 min later, told me it was possible but wouldn't recommend it. I figured I'd rather trek in the dark then wait in this village for one more day to get ripped off by another jeep driver. I went over to the nuns and told them, "We're trekking to Lamayuru. Let's pack lunch and head out." "No, no, no," one returned, "we will stop and take lunch first." "With all due respect, Ane-le, the shortest lunch we have taken thus far has been two hours long. I have to make sure we have enough time to get to Leh so I don't miss my flight, and one more day here would be a serious waste." "OK," the nun said solemnly, "we will go." I had a hard time holding myself back from reminding this young nun that we were indeed on a trek, that she willingly signed up for it, planned the entire itinerary up to this point, almost got us in serious trouble with the Kashmiri's, and that I assured her for over a week I knew of another guide in Zangla who could take me to Lamayuru. We all were here, buried in the mountains, so we had to see it through. Coming from my experience on day one, however, I didn't think I was going to have to play coach on the final day. Unfortunately, the nuns over-exerted themselves and never could recover.
I trekked ahead with my renewed sense of independence, and got to Wanla in one hour. If I could keep this pace, I could get to Lamayuru before nightfall, and maybe even find a good home-stay. I waited in Wanla for 20 min for the nuns to catch up, and there we took a really quick lunch before heading off. The trekking got increasingly harder as we approached our final la, and it was quite concerning to see some tourists at 4 pm coming over the other side of the la from Lamayuru. They asked me how far it was to Wanla, exhausted. Some even got upset with me when I told them it was a mere 7-10 km away, all downhill. I was thinking we weren't going to get to Lamayuru that day, and that I had made a bad call. But when we reached the top, I saw, not far in the distance, how close Lamayuru was by this trek's standards. We could easily reach it within an hour. I was relieved, and Lamayuru was quite beautifully welcoming. We ended up trekking the eight hours from Panjilla to Lamayuru in just under five.
When the trekking was finished, I attempted to make as many decisions for the group as possible, for the nuns seemed exhausted and surprisingly inexperienced. They wanted to stop at the first home-stay we encountered, but I insisted on looking around. We ended up finding a home-stay for 200 Rupees, or about $4 a night. There I had a comfortable bed (my first bed in a month) and a luxurious bucket of hot water for washing. They also had the nicest Ladakhi toilet I have encountered thus far, which I'm sure would still be a stretch for most. The next morning, I also took charge getting us to Leh. The nuns insisted on waiting for the bus that I was 95% sure drove right past Lamayuru earlier that morning. I found a jeep driver who would take us to Khaltse for Rs. 100 (a steal), where we could find a Khaltse-Leh bus for Rs. 100. When we arrived at Khaltse, the bus was just about to leave when we hopped on and headed off. That's some American efficiency for you!
Trekking Itinerary:
July 7 - Zangla to Snertse
July 8 - Snertse to Lingshed (with donkey)
July 9 - Rest Day in Lingshed
July 10 - Lingshed to Sengi La North Base Camp (with donkey)
July 11 - Sengi La North Base Camp to Photoksang (with donkey)
July 12 - Photoksang to Panjilla (in jeep), Panjilla to Lamayuru
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