11.6.11 The night
before we leave
This mountain, she keeps winking at me. I’ll be sitting on a
rooftop café, drinking Tibetan Tea, and I can feel her presence behind my back.
I’ll be walking down the hill from my guesthouse & I’ll catch a glimpse of
her summit, peeking flirtatiously above the treetops. Her name is Stok Kangri
and she’s 6153m tall. She casts shadows over Leh, all snowy curves and jagged
peaks. Tomorrow I will set out on an expedition to climb her.
Lured by an expedition sign looking for more climbers, we
were ridiculously attracted to the prospect of our first summit. After reading
numerous climbing books in Nepal, and freaking Mum out by telling her I’d one
day love to climb Everest ,I’ve been a little bit spellbound by the peaks of
the Himalayas. The highest in the Stok range of mountains, Stok Kangri is an
extreme altitude but not overly technical climb. It take 2 days to climb up to
base camp then an overnight, pitch black attempt on the summit. I’m regretting
all the beer and pizza I have consumed in the past month and I’m hoping my body
remembers some of the fitness I once worked so hard for!
12.6.11 Day 1, 1700
hours
I’ve got a wee bit of a headache, and my legs feel rather
heavy. Today we climbed over 1km into the sky. Closer to Stok Kangri, I can
better make out her ridges and her angles, and she seems to loom larger than
ever. Along the trek this morning I kept on seeking her summit with my eyes –
snow capped and glistening in the sun’s rays, reminding me of how far I have to
go.
This afternoon we pitched tents on a flat, rocky outcrop
next to a fast-flowing river. This is camp one, about 4100m high. When a
climber is working with altitude they must ascent slowly to let their body get
used to dealing with less and less oxygen. Stok Kangri’s 6153m has one third of
the oxygen found at sea level . Altitude sickness can strike at random, and it
is more common for people who have been brought up at lower altitudes. Born and
bred by the beach, this was definitely a large concern of mine.
13.6.11 Base Camp
1400 hours
The oxygen-starved air at 5000m is amazing – clear, cold,
sparkling. We walked 3 hours this morning, through snow and ice cold rivers, to
reach Base Camp. It was a rather steep climb and we ascended a further 1km into
the sky. Base Camp itself is a barren, flat outcrop sandwiched between two snow
capped slopes. Raul, our Ladakhi guide, pointed out the beginning of our route
to the summit – a 700m ridge that’s about a 80 degree slope. I’m preparing
myself to have to dig pretty deep to make it! There are two expeditions
attempting the climb tonight, myself and Diego and also a party of 5 Israeli
men.
I’m enjoying the deep peace of the outdoors more and more.
When we arrived at Base Camp I spent half an hour with our Pony Man tying
prayer flags to bamboo sticks to string above our tents. These ward off evil
spirits and bring good luck for the climb.
So far I’m coping with the altitude remarkably well. One of
the main affects it seems to have on me is bad diarrhea - everything I eat goes right through me.
This is due to the fact that digestion demands a lot of oxygen, which is not
available at 5000 + meters, so my body refuses to digest anything at all. I’m
suffering from really bad indigestion too, so it’s becoming almost impossible
for me to eat anything. I’m so nervous – scared of the pain, and questioning
whether I can actually do this.
13.6.11 Base Camp
2330 hours
Our guide has just woken us up. It’s pitch black outside and
minus zero – the wind flies off the mountain snow in great, bone-chilling
gusts. We scramble for our climbing gear, shrugging on 4 layers and then lacing up the uncomfortable snow boots. I
chug down two cups of hot, sweet coffee. I feel like I’m dreaming.
We start the climb to the ridge. Diego is having a hard time
with the altitude – he’s sick, breathless and a little delirious. At the top of
the ridge he decides to go back. Now it’s just me and the two Ladakhi guides,
but the Israeli’s are hot on our heels.
After the ridge we make our way along the ice-covered side of one of the
smaller slopes. Raul slips in the darkness, plummeting about 300m down the icy
slope. I panic – if our experienced guide can’t do this, I don’t have a hope in
hell! Raul laboriously climbs back up the ice, and insists we put our crampons
on our shoes now. Crampons are spikes attached to the underside of the soles,
and they make clinging on to the side of mountains a hell of a lot easier. After 3 hours, we
finish the slope and stumble on to the glacier.
Because it is June, the thin ice has begun to melt and we
have to cross this part of the mountain fast – no stopping. This freaks me out
a bit, it’s dark and I can hardly see where I’m going, but I pump it and don’t
break for over an hour. Now we’re at the base of the final slope. I can see the
summit – it’s beautiful; tantalizing; and so inspiring. By now the sun is
casting shadows of light into the sky, basking the slopes of snow in a golden
haze. I can’t recall ever seeing anything quite so beautiful.
2 hours later and we are halfway up the summit ridge. One of
the Israeli guys has given up already. I trick my body by counting my steps –
two hundred steps for every rest. It helps me forget the pain. I can’t remember
my lungs ever burning this much. We make it to the very top ridge. We’re so
close. Raul fixes ropes to the rocky outcrops and I dangle precariously over
bottomless drops while I climb. I can’t feel my fingers, my toes are numb. More
rocky outcrops. The summit is so close I can almost touch it! I see the rest of
the Israeli group turn back below. Now it’s just me and the two guides.
A final, soul-destroying climb with ice axes up a 90 degree
ice ridge. I can’t make myself look down. Finally! We make it! It’s the roof of
the world – I can even see the top of K2 all the way in Pakistan. It’s
absolutely beautiful, magical, breathtaking. I sit on the summit grinning like
a madwoman for ages before Raul suggests getting the camera out. We take heaps
of photos and tie prayer flags to sticks as an offering to the mountain gods.
Then we do a small chant, kindly asking the powers that be to help us climb
down safely.
The way down is terrifying. I’m so exhausted it’s hard to
keep my eyes open. It took us 9 hours in total to make the summit and I have
nothing left. I’m so thirsty but the water in my drink bottle is frozen. We
scamper down snow, ice, rocks. I slip and fall countless times. I whimper, cry,
I sound nothing like an athlete. We make it over the glacier and onto the ice.
I slip again, falling all the way to the bottom of the slope. I gather myself
and climb up with my ice axe. I’m so cold, so exhausted. Finally we make it
over the ridge and I can see base camp. I stumble, shivering and muttering to
myself, down the steep hill. Everyone in camp comes out clapping, shaking my
hand. I’m completely numb, I seek the comfort of my tent, take off my gear and
fall into a dreamless sleeping bag slumber.
15.6.11 The day after
I wake up the next day with a fever, vomiting, sunburn,
diarrhea, frost nip on my fingers and toes and muscle aches so bad I can hardly
sit up. But I did it – I climbed Stok Kangri, the only person and the only girl
within two expeditions to do so. No matter how much pain I’m in, nothing can
wipe the grin off my face! Although, I’m a little bit concerned – as I lie
here, unmoving in my tent, I’m already thinking of more summits. I know I
heard of another 6800 meter peak that’s close to Leh.
This mountain climbing business – it’s bloody addictive!
