Agony & Ecstasy

On her first high altitude trek, Leela Alvares attempts the Stok Kangri peak. Muscles aching, exhausted, out of breath, afflicted with altitude sickness, she is certain to return…

Pic: Vineet Sachdeva

I had Mount Everest on my mind when I signed up for the high-altitude trek in Ladakh last year. The media had been agog with the 50th anniversary of Everest's conquest. Plus, I'd just watched the electrifying IMAX movie 'Everest'. At 20,506 feet, the peak, Stok Kangri, stopped 9,000 feet short of Mt. Everest. But when you've lived all your humdrum life at sea level, you don't quibble about a few thousand feet. So, along with 16 others, I signed up for the five-day trek. Were we experienced? Only six from the group had experienced altitudes above 10,000 feet. Were we fit? Most of us got our exercise running against time. Were we prepared for extreme temperatures? Some of us quivered in the oxymoronic 'Bombay winters'. But that didn't stop us from chucking up our nine-to-nine schedules, slipping into trekking shoes and heading north.

There are two ways to get to Ladakh - the quick way and the scenic way. A flight from Delhi, Chandigarh or

Pic: Shridhar Iyer

Srinagar will bring you to Leh, Ladakh's headquarters, the quick way.

We chose the scenic route - a two day bone-jarring bus ride from Manali to Leh - in order to acclimatise. Poor acclimatisation could bring on Altitude and Mountain Sickness (AMS). The symptoms range from headaches and nausea to asphyxiation and death. With this sobering thought, we lined our insides with Avomine and jounced away all the way to Leh. Leh is a picturesque town hemmed in by mountains on all sides - the Himalayas, the Zanskar and Ladakh ranges. It was from the crumbling ruins of the Stok palace that we caught our first glimpse of Stok Kangri. It looked impossibly tall and ponderous against the cerulean sky. We couldn't wait to begin.

Mission Stok Kangri: Day 1

Pic: Shridhar Iyer

A bus brought us to Spituk, the starting point of the trek, where six porters and 14 ponies awaited us. The porters quickly loaded our rucksacks, tents and rations, leaving us to carry a backpack with essentials. The trek leader had airily announced that the day's walk was a 'honeymoon'. For a while, only the heavy crunch of boots and the soft murmur of the Indus could be heard. As the terrain got steep, irregular, rasping breaths became audible. The surroundings were stark, desolate yet utterly beautiful.

Four hours later, we crossed a stream and came to a halt at Zingchen. Blisters were examined, aching muscles massaged and tiffins opened. The high-energy but austere contents: a boiled potato and egg, a slice of cheese, a few biscuits, some chocolates and a fruit.

Post-lunch, cracks began to appear in the 'honeymoon'. The terrain was uneven, uphill and unending. Putting one leg in front of another was no longer the unconscious act it used to be. 'How much longer?' suddenly everyone was asking. The muted mellow sound of pony bells, a few hours later, was sweet music to our ears. We'd reached our camp at Rumbak. The bright tents against the deceptively benign mountains, the sparkling brook and the aroma emanating from the kitchen tent sent the blood rushing once more through our fatigue-numbed limbs. We'd survived Day 1.

Mission Stok Kangri: Day 2

Pic: Shridhar Iyer

An arduous 10-hour walk awaited us. We were to ascend 3,200 feet to a pass, Stok La, descend on the other side and hike to a plateau called Mankarmo. It was impossible to walk for more than 10 steps at a time. Conversely, taking a break was unthinkable, because it took twice as much effort to begin again. The solution: a slow but even pace, deep breaths and short pauses. By the time we reached the 15,800 feet high Stok La, we thought the worst was over. But that was before a flurry of hailstones assailed us.

Past Stok La, the mountain metamorphosed into something more inviting. Dusty brown rock gave way to soft, crimson earth. Bright green lichen clung to the expansive slopes. Going downhill was so much fun. 'I could do this all day', I thought gleefully. Ironically, my wish came true. A few of us got separated from the group and ended up on the wrong trail. It took us two agony-filled hours to retrace our steps and make the endless journey to Mankarmo.

But there was no respite yet. A light drizzle turned into a persistent downpour and invited itself into our water-resistant tents. The chill worked itself into the layers of woollens. Worst of all, AMS began to rear its unwelcome head. Cold, wet, squashed and miserable I asked myself why I didn't settle for the holiday in Goa.

Mission Stok Kangri: Day 3

Pic: Sachin Chaudhary

We woke up to bright sunshine and clear skies. And best of all to the prospect of a three-hour walk to Stok Kangri Base Camp. Rashid, a guide who was to lead the summit attempt, joined us here. Rashid had scaled Stok Kangri five times that year alone. 'Beginner's peak', he gently dismissed it. But by that day, we'd turned pro. We strode up to Base Camp almost an hour ahead of schedule.

Was it a trick of the afternoon light or did the mountains exude shades of mauve, grey-green and crimson? At 16,500 feet, Stok Base raised such interesting possibilities. On one peak, a crisp white glacier snuggled against grey rock. Mist hung around like a protective curtain. Stok Kangri itself was invisible from Base Camp.

As noon progressed, so did some AMS symptoms. Three members who showed severe affliction had to descend to Mankarmo. As they left, the mood turned solemn. The mountain had sounded the first warning. Only six members were declared fit to attempt the 4,000 feet ascent to Stok Kangri and they were instructed to turn back at the first signs of AMS. 'Climb to Climb Again', was a life-saving rule in mountaineering. The route to the summit was gruelling. A snaking vertical path led to the first ridge, and then to the Advanced Base Camp. A 250 feet wide glacier, filled with treacherous crevasses came next. What followed was a four-hour walk along the ridge, and a 90-minute steep climb to the summit. If that wasn't daunting, setting out at 2 a.m. surely would be. We wished the six climbers good luck and crossed our fingers.

Mission Stok Kangri: Day 4

Pic: Bijal Shah

While I slept, a huge boulder rolled over my head. That's how it felt as a splintering pain shot through every nerve ending. My eyes felt like they would burst out of their sockets. AMS had struck, and how! None at Base Camp was spared. We crawled out of the tents, hoping for some sunshine. But the sun stayed put behind grey clouds.

The waiting game continued all morning. Finally, at 2.30 p.m., tiny figures emerged on the ridge. Six exhausted but jubilant climbers shuffled down the side of the mountain, all looking like they'd aged a few years. Except for Rashid, who looked as chipper as though he'd been for nothing more than a brisk morning walk.

Over bowls of hot soup, we heard of their harrowing 12-hour summit. Of torches dying out. Of feet slipping into glacier streams. Of falling asleep while walking. Of almost giving up 100 feet short of the summit. Of the incredible vistas from the prayer-flag festooned Stok Kangri. We listened enraptured, our reactions tinged with horror and vicarious triumph.

Mission Stok Kangri: Day 5

Golden sunshine streamed into our tents. Grey clouds, fatigue and altitude sickness were history. In a way, we'd all conquered our personal summits. From jelly-legged first-timers we'd metamorphosed into hardy trekkers with a newfound sense of our own abilities. We revelled in this discovery on our five-hour trek to Stok village. From there, a bus brought us back to Leh. And back to a humdrum existence at sea level.