I woke up on D-Day to the noises made by a Bengali group of trekkers who were getting ready to hit the top. I woke up the rest of the trio and put on as many layers of clothing as possible, to prevent the imminent lash of harsh cold and wind chill. The three of us were concerned about being late already and feared that we would miss daybreak and the first light on the peaks. Sujoy was the last one to appear from his tent, by which time we were raring to go. Each one of us had borne too much hardship to let anything go wrong now.
We embarked upon the trail with N, for a change, without her contacts, walking safely between P and myself. The climb was definitely tough and the three of us had similar thoughts – descending such a steep decline would be an even tougher ask. Only Nandini was voicing the concerns and we were irritated to hear OUR thoughts aloud. What kept us going was the fact that there was no way we could call it quits after days of effort. Meanwhile, the climb did not seem to be leading anywhere yet. We were walking along a ridge and had to overcome two ascents before Dzongri top could even be visible.
An hour into the hike, N was clearly sagging and had started complaining of exhaustion and headache. Over the past two days, altitude had taken a toll on N. Her appetite had drastically reduced and so had her liquid intake, which is crucial for fighting against altitude sickness. My jovial self had by now stopped egging her on but was literally pushing her to the top, my walking stick acting as the cane that hits the cattle to force them to keep moving. Given that she wasn’t as easy-going and placid as a cow, this approach did not work for too long.
That’s when P unleashed the carrot of the ‘carrot and the stick’ methodology. As she sat on the side of the trail, P tactfully drew out a finger of Kit Kat from his daypack and offered it to N. She was more than happy to accept it and the chocolate bar gave her the mental satisfaction and physical energy to continue to the top. Sujoy allayed our fears of being late by suggesting that there was enough time for daybreak. Soon we were at the top and we were well in time. The summit had been achieved. The mission was accomplished. We jumped in joy, rejoiced, clicked hyperactively, huddled and made videos of the view with our voices in the background, before the first light of the sun hit the range.
Right infront of us were Black Peak, Kanchenjunga, Kabru North, South and Dome, Pandim and a host of unnamed peaks, all above 7000 mts, some above 8000 mts. On the left were ranges of mountains partly snow-capped, partly covered with mist and clouds, and on our right was a deep valley with streaks of clouds, all below us. It was a weird view to behold - weird enough to let the Almighty’s name slip out of my lips !
Kanchenjunga fanned off the mist from in front of it to stare at us and soon all the peaks were glistening with the first rays of the sun. By now, we had stopped clicking as we had realized that some things could be captured only by the non-digital wide angles of the eye.
The wind was biting my toes through the two layers of socks and shoes, the cold was freezing the blood in my veins, but we refused to leave until there was not much of the peaks left to be seen (they were slowly getting mist-clad again). Meanwhile OUR tea-boy reappeared like an angel from down below, holding the same kettle and glasses. We rejoiced and drank two glasses of the best hot drink I have ever had. Eventually, the mist started to reappear and Kanchenjunga was behind the cloud cover. It was now attacking the Kabru family and Pandim simultaneously. Heaving a sigh of total satisfaction, we started retreating back to Dzongri and soon discovered the beautiful trail we had taken to hike up, the trail and the surroundings that were not visible at 3 AM. At one instance, we found ourselves walking on a very narrow ridge connecting two hills, while one end of the ridge went down very steeply, with of course, beautiful snow capped mountains in the background. At another descent, we saw a flat stretch of land covered with dwarfed rhododendrons. A recent snowfall had painted the plain with white, as if the trees had literally grown out of white snow.
We reached Dzongri and did our victorious breakfast. N rushed into the tents to put her contacts on while P sped with sheer determination towards a small piece of land covered on all four sides. I simply sat, totally convinced that I was now suffering from pneumonia, figuring how long a person suffering from pneumonia could survive without medical aid.
We rushed down soon after finishing breakfast as we had to reach all the way to Tsokha before the nightfall. The summit having been conquered, there was no stress, no qualms and no negativity. We stopped once in a while to rest and listen to music from P/N’s Sony Ericsson, while I played the judge on the topic of whose phone had better speakers.
Pines started reappearing and pneumonia seemed to be disappearing. Each of us was feeling better with the decrease in altitude. We reached our destination before nightfall and related all the stories to Z and S. Photographs were seen and reseen. Anecdotes were re-narrated. The feeling was that of three musketeers returning home after a long journey. We retreated to our tents after a lively dinner. Tsokha to Yuksom was not going to be easy; our knees and calves had already cracked up.
As expected the next 16 kms weren’t the easiest. Even after reaching Yuksom, the distance from the start of the town to Hotel Tashigang seemed terribly long. Once we reached the hotel, I instinctively lay down flat, flat on the road and the two fellow musketeers followed. The last few clicks were now being clicked. S arrived a little later and Z arrived a little into darkness with Sujoy.
We soon had our relaxed dinner with a few drinks before we raced to the comforts of pillows and mattresses of Tashigang. The journey was over and we were now waiting to break the news of the trip to friends all over.
By,
Gaurav Jain
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