Alea iacta est ("the die has been cast" you illiterates!). That's what I thought when I got up from my bed after barely 3 hours of sleep. Nerves, cold, AMS or perhaps all of them together didn't let us sleep the night before D Day. It was 4am when I got out of my sleeping bag fully dressed. I put a second layer of gloves and socks on and visited the toilet hoping to wash my light headache with some cold water. No luck, the water in the bucket sitting next to the crap hole was completely frozen.
Bodo, Benny were already in the dinning room when I entered the dark space. I was surprised to find no one else there, apparently some expeditions had already left while others where expected to do it around 5am. In contrast to what most people would think, that morning we didn't order a highly nutritive breakfast. Previously we had experienced that at high altitude heavy intakes consume more time and energy to digest than they actually provide. However, I thought that the occasion well deserved having one of my precious and limited fixes of
Cola Cao. Although my magic powder dissolved in the hot milk as it has always done since I was a child. That sight was unable to make me feel home, the chapati resting aside transported my mind to were I really was.
We left Phedi shortly after five o'clock with the moon crowning the clear Himalayan sky and enlightening the narrow track. The silence of the trek was only broken by the arrhythmic sequence of steps of our convoy. Sixty minutes of disheartening climb to
High camp (4850 m) put us in our place. One of us was having an especially tough time which urged continuous breaks during which I had to hit my toes with my beloved stick to ensure that I could still feel them. The group was making slow progress when a sudden scream awoke my sleepy brain. It was Benny,
his nose was bleeding! Although none of us wasn't completely sure we guessed that the haemorrhage had to be the result of the cold air and the accelerated nose breathing. Trusting on this we proceeded to High Camp. Once in Camp we asked some local fellow to ensured that it wasn't serious, he gave us the green light.
Ready for the second round? I shouted. After taking a few pictures we resumed the walk. Then something we had been waiting for finally happened: the sun rose over the snowed peaks! Feeling the sun warming my back was like plugging a laptop to the power supply; my legs no longer had to work half speed, now they were
ready to eat that goddamn mountain! My pace increased which resulted into m
e gaining meters over the Germans. I used my waitings to take some of the most
breathtaking photos and videos of the trek (for which I would like to apologise beforehand!). During the following two hours I tried to encourage my teammates by telling them that every post that appeared beside the trek pointed a 100 m section, which had to mean that we were close to summit. I was already running out of arguments when we finally saw it, the prayers' flags! the
Throng La! Just like the
gentle cyclists do before crossing the finish line, we took hands and proceeded to take the last steps to reach the commemorative board. We made it! yes, we made it! Five thousand four hundred and sixteen meters
(5416 m), that's how high one must climb to escape the Marsyangdi valley. Time for congratulations, photos and bullshitting, lots of bullshitting, we deserved it after all!
The freezing cold wind shortened the stay on the summit. Bodo was having problems in his fingers which propitiated that the two Germans left soon. I stayed a little bit longer enjoying the moment and then headed the west face of the pass.
At that point no of us -at least not me- was aware of the fact that the way down was going to be as hard as the way up.
Four endless hours to Muktinath during which we descended
1600 m of rough terrain infested with irregular stones that threatened my bare ankles (my trekking shoes lack specific support fact that I tried to counteract with some tight dressing). In an attempt to ease the descent I overtook the Germans and set a moderate to severe pace that should take us to
Charabu (4230 m) in less than three hours. And that -2h45- is what it took us to reach our first warm cup of tea of the second leg of the circuit. To avoid overrelaxing our muscles, we set off for our final destination within 15 minutes. Another hour of hike to arrive to
Muktinath (3800 m) by 2pm, nine hours after leaving Thorung Phedi.
We spent the rest of the day recharging our batteries by plugging our bodies to the fire place of the 'Bob Marley' lodge. Although we still had half of the circuit ahead I remember having a smile in my face before closing my eyes that night, I had made it, I had climbed over five thousand meters!
¡La suerte esta echada!, pense cuando me levante de la cama la madrugada del dia D. Eran las 4 y apenas habiamos dormido por culpa de los nervios, el frio y el dolor de cabeza. Mi intento de quitarme la caraja a base de agua fria sucumbio ante el bloque de hielo que encontre donde la noche anterior habia agua. Me dirigi al refugio donde Benny y Bodo me esperaban sorprendidos de no encontrar otros trekkers alli. Al parecer un grupo ya habia partido hacia la cima mientras que otros debian hacerlo un poco mas tarde, a las 5. Trate de reconfortarme en mi tazon de colacao pero esta vez ni si quiera eso me devolveria a casa, el frio y el pan indio que escoltaban mi pocion me trasportaban de vuelta a los Himalayas. Asi, deayunados y con una segunda capa de ropa encima de la que habia usado para dormir, iniciamos la marcha. Los primeros 40 minutos del dia D, los mas duros del trek sin duda alguna, nos pusieron en nuestro sitio. Uno de los alemanes lo estaba pasandolo especialmente mal por lo que los otros dos debiamos parar cada medio minuto a esperarle. Durante estos parones yo me golpeaba los dedos de los pies con mi amado palo para comprobar que todavia los sentia. Poco a poco, la marcha asincrona de nuestros pasos se habria paso lentamente en la montaña. De repente oi un grito, era Benny, ¡estaba sangrando por la nariz!. Mientras fuese la nariz no habia problema, posiblemente se debiese al aire frio y a la hiperactividad de sus fosas nasales, otra cosa seria si fuesen sus oidos los que sangrasen... En fin, reintauramos la marcha y procedimos hasta High Camp (4850 m). En High Camp nos cercioramos de que no habia problema con la hemorragia, sacamos algunas fotos y continuamos la marcha. Nuestro animo se encontraba bastante alto (unos 4850 m), pero en cifras relativas este se encontraba literalmente por los tobillos. Asi hasta que sucedio lo que tenia que suceder, ¡el sol se abrio paso en el valle! Sentir el calor del astro rey sobre mi espalda fue como enchufar el portatil a la corriente electrica, mi cuerpo abandono el estado de semiibernacion para pasar a trabajar a pleno rendimiento. Sin quererlo ganaba metros sobre los alemanes, lo que me obligaba a sacar fotos y videos (por los cual pido disculpas de ante mano). Asi, liderando y motivando al equipo llegamos hasta el segmento final. Un paisaje de otro mundo que se rompio cuando vimos las banderas que indican la llegada a la cima. Como los caballeros de la bici nos dimos la mano y procedimos a dar los ultimos pasos hasta la placa conmemorativa. ¡lo habiamos logrado, habiamos coronado el Throng La! Alli, a 5416 m se desato la locura, fotos, abrazos y sobretodo muchas gilipolleces saliendo de mi boca tanto en ingles como en castellano. El frio obligo a los alemanes a abandonar la cima pero yo me quede un rato disfrutando del momento. Cuando enfilabamos la cara oeste del Thorung ninguno eramos conscientes de que la bajada iba a ser tan dura o mas que la subida. 4 horas para descender 1800 metros de terraplenes atestados de piedras irregulares que amenazaban mis tobillos (poniendo a prueba el vendaje preventivo que mi hermano me enseño). Sin comerlo ni beberlo me puse lider del convoy, al cual guie hasta Charabu (4230 m) en un nada despreciable tiempo de 2:45 horas. Alli, un te y carretera! antes de que los musculos se relajasen y se nos subieran las bolas. Serian sobre las 2 de la tarde cuando culminamos nuestras nueve horas de caminata en Muktinath (3800 m). Alli, en el refuguio Bob Marley, nos pasamos el resto del dia recargando batterias a base de hamburguesas de yak al calor de la hoguera.Sin duda alguna el 16 de Marzo de 2009 sera una fecha que dificilmente olvidare. Pocas experiencias me han dejado tan buen sabor de boca como escalar por encima de los 5000 m, pero no era el momento de vender la piel del oso, todavia nos quedaba la mitad del recorrido hasta completar el circuito.
After taking a few photos of the still shady mountains the team split. The Germans took refuge from the freezing wind while I decided to find a lonely spot on my own. Good decision, the forthcoming 30 minutes would carve my wooden journal of memories for the rest of my life.
