Lost in the 'Layas

It's normally a beautiful trek, though, with great views and a certain, magical feeling you get, knowing you're actually crossing the Himalayas, and you may even live to tell the tale.

Many people actually get up at 2 or 3 in the morning and start walking in the darkness, to get as much time as possible to reach Muktinath on the other side of the mountains. My legs were in good shape, so I decided I could wait until it started to get light outside, and didn't start walking until about 6:30 in the morning. What had seemed like a tough mountainside for trekking the evening before had changed into something huge and white, as it had been snowing for most of the night. I knew where the path was, though, and since it was possible to make out some footprints from a group having left a while before, I set out on the climb with some of the Dutch people.

Walking up through the snow was the hardest part of the whole trek. But it was lovely. And it was lonely. After a couple of hours of walking, I discovered I was developing a headache. Uh-oh... This was most probably altitude sickness. Being so close to the top, though, I decided to press on and rather go down on the other side than going back to the base camp. I started walking faster, and put some distance between me and the Dutch. In the heavy snowfall everything was white. The only sound I could hear was the sounds I made myself. It was like being inside a huge, white, soundproof box. Some places I got momentary views of peaks and valleys, huge rocks and steep cliffs. Even though my head hurt really bad, I enjoyed it. Actually, I enjoyed it so much, that all of a sudden I realized I wasn't on the path anymore. And I couldn't see anyone else. And I wasn't really sure about where I was, or where I was supposed to go from there.

It was a slightly awkward situation. Luckily, I used to be a boy scout, and I had a fairly good map and I knew how to use my compass. Panicking would be a very bad idea. I had the equipment to stay outside for a night, but that would probably be dangerous, judging from my headache. So, walking around up there until I found people or the path again was the only option. Now, walking around 5000m isn't exactly like walking at sea level. You can only walk up a small hill, or part of a larger hill, before you just have to stop, rest and catch your breath again. The air is completely different, and your body may react strangely to the atmospheric pressure up there. I didn't really see this in my own body, but a bottle of sunscreen I brought from sea level to 4000m before opening it gave me an idea of the effects the pressure has. The moment I removed the cap, close to a third of the bottle's content just flew into the air, never to be screening my body against anything.

30 navigating minutes later I found something that could be the path, and not much later I saw the Dutch behind me again. I was very relieved. We were close to the top of the pass by now, and at 10:30 I was higher than I'd ever been before, and quite possibly higher than I'll ever get again. Incredibly, there is a man staying in a small stone hut up there, selling tea and noodles to people hiking over the pass. It isn't very good, as water boils at such a low temperature there that you don't get proper tea or noodles from it. People don't care about that, and buy some nutrition anyway. I felt so bad, though, that after having taken some photos up there, I just started running down towards Muktinath.

I caught up with two Nepalese carriers pretty soon, and when they saw me running, they decided to race me. I don't know what I was thinking. Actually, I probably wasn't thinking at this stage, so I just ran, ran and ran. The only stops I made was to take a few photos. There was a very dead horse lying around, that illustrated the harshness of the area very well. And as soon as I came down under the clouds, there was the most amazing view of a huge valley and gorge in front of me. Still, I kept moving, and I beat the Nepalis to Muktinath by almost an hour. Two hours after arriving there I was fine. Well, make that apparantly fine. As soon as I gathered enough strength to take off my hiking boots, I discovered I had killed my feet outrunning the Nepalis.

Somehow, I still think it was worth it. A couple of strange things happened up there, though. At just about 5000 meters, on my way down, in heavy snowfall, a fly got into my ear and buzzed madly. Also, at one stage I was quite certain I could smell sausages grilled on open fire. Boy, was I tired of the daal bhat rice! I had to spend a couple of days in Muktinath to recover.