India & Southeast Asia

Beneath a luminous [nearly] full-moon, David, Harim, Santosh, and I began our projected 7 hour climb of Stok Kangri just before midnight. We began at 5000 meters and gained the nearby ridge with our final view of the base camp and windless shelter that we were leaving behind. A calf injury to Harim slowed our progress, but we reached part two of the climb, the glacier at the feet of Stok Kangri, by 1:00 a.m.. Stok Kangri towered over the camp, the glacier, and the surrounding Ladakh region and was fully illuminated in the saturated light of the moon. At the mercy of our headlamps we traversed the slanted glacier, avoiding ice-patches and crevices into the subglacial current, in a half hour. By 1:30 a.m. it was clear that Harim's injury and pace would jeopardize the group's ability to safely ascend the looming ice wall and rock outcroppings. He began his return to the base camp shortly thereafter, maxing his elevation at a personal record of 5500 meters.

David, Santosh, and I fastened our cramp-ons and readied our ice axes for the next stage. Over the next three hours, we confronted the many ice-coated stony crags of the first ridge. The moon reflected in the snow-covered mountain-side and lit our way, with our shadows accompanying us for the better part of the climb. In those three hours we realized 300 vertical meters, reaching 5800 meters by 4:00 a.m., much ahead of schedule after our pace increased following Harim's conscientious withdrawal. Whipping gusts of sub-freezing winds and the prospect of an incoming ice storm gave pause to Santosh, who had ample experience with summitting Himalayan peaks. As he evaluated the situation, David and I huddled for warmth behind rock ledge and attempted to consume our pack-lunch of potato and boiled egg. Santosh concluded that we should wait a half hour before resuming our climb in order to minimize our exposure to the elements. The sub-freezing temperatures made sitting still more difficult than climbing further. Around 4:30 a.m. we decided to move onward. We linked ourselves together by tightly fastened a single rope around each of our waists for the final segment of the climb. It was to be about an hour and a half of increasingly technical manoeuvres according to Santosh, who led the way.

Our progress was periodically impeded by loose rocks and strong winds that threatened our balance. As I lifted myself from a patch of ice onto a rock, my front foot cramp-on gave way under a lack of friction. The cramp-on sparked against the unwilling platform and slipped out over the open air above the glacier. My weight quickly shifted to the back foot, which was on an unstable portion of ice. Grabbing for the collection of rocks in front of me, I caught myself from crashing down along side several football-sized boulders. The rope connecting our group was taught and the absence slack unnerved the others. Decreasing our pace, we succeeded in traversing the vertical portion of frosty rocks and icy mountainside. By 5:00 a.m. the summit emerged from its thin cloud cover and revealed itself for the first time since 2:00 am. We had only 100 meters of altitude between us, but at this point emerged the challenge of only ascending gradually in order to avoid further respiratory difficulties. The rope tied around our waists increased the pace, however, and the pressure in our lungs became more challenging. We reached the summit at the crack of dawn, the sun peaking out under a layer of clouds and revealing itself and its golden orange rays, which danced in streaks over the other Ladakhi Himilayan ranges and extended into Chinese ranges to the east. From 6153 meters - 20,187 feet - the air was no longer just crisp, but painfully thin. Despite this, David and I enjoyed sunrise at the summit for 20 minutes before fear took over that his headache would evolve into full Acute Mountain Sickness. The descent was not as nervewracking, even with me being designated the lead man for the downward journey. Reach the summit by 5:30 a.m. and managing the unbridled and unforgiving terrain the Ladakhi Himilayan region was amongst the most challenging endeavors of my life thus far. Later hearing that a well-known Israeli mountaineer perished climbing Stok Kangri several weeks ago did no help my comfort level with the climb, but did bring gravity to the dangers of mountaineering and the care that needs to be taken in approaching high altitude expeditions. Last week I set my personal record at 5200 meters, this week I achieved 6153. If the addiction to high altitude trekking and climbing continues, the next few years may bring as many great experiences as awful headaches.

[credit to David for the photos]Læs mere