Stok Kangri - The Summit Attempt

Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further

I lie curled up in my sleeping bag staring my watch – the luminous hands are glowing freakishly bright in the pitch dark. The hour hand has just passed 9. We had been sent to our tents at half-past-five in the evening, after a really early 'dinner', to catch a little shut-eye because we are supposed to be walking through the night. But as expected, I have not slept for even a second in the last few hours, and I doubt if anyone else has either. A sweeping range of irrelevant thoughts have gone through my mind in this time. While I lay in the tent, I could hear Anu coughing next to me, and it does not sound good at all. The cold that she caught two days back has only got worse. The moment the minute-hand of my watch strikes 6, the alarm goes off and I pop out of my sleeping bag.

We had spent the entire day at the base camp, and as I sat reading my book in the sunlight again, I was sadly aware that these were my last few hours of luxurious joblessness for the foreseeable future. After a while, bored of doing nothing, Emily and I went for a short climb up the nearest mountain, which lay en route to the summit. We got a view of the trail that we would be following, and got a better look at the Stok Kangri – it looked bigger than ever. On the way back, we met with a couple of foreigners who had attempted to summit the night before. One of them made it to the top and was ‘so exhausted that he felt like a zombie’, to use his own words. The other one could not make it, mostly because of the incompetence of his guide, he said. He was fittingly disappointed, and was describing to us how the trek route was full of huge boulders, and how he slipped and fell on the snow several times. Afraid that his very vivid account of the hurdles on the summit stretch would play on my mind, I quickly said good-bye and came back to my tent to pack up a small bag to carry tonight. It would contain only some food and water, extra batteries for the head-lamp, crampons, and yes, not to forget, sunglasses. Although we would start walking when it was dark, we would need those once the sun came out. I neatly packed all these things in the bag, and laid out all the clothing that I would be putting on at night.

But this uncharacteristic tidiness on my part goes for a toss when I am not able to find my head torch minutes before we have to leave. I haphazardly unpack my bag, search under the sleeping bag, dig out all the pockets of my jacket, and finally find my head torch in the corner of the tent. When I repack my bag, it’s a mess. Not that I care. I put on my several articles of clothing – the thermals, fleece and down jackets, two layers of socks, two pairs of gloves, a woolen cap and my head torch. As I put on my gaiters, I feel like a gladiator getting ready to step into the arena.  Anu has decided to stay back at the base camp, because she is not feeling too well. Ravi, Arun, Raja, Sohail, Shimoj, Mandar, Mubarak and I are in the first group, the slow-walkers, and will be led by Sandeep. We start off at 10 pm. Emily, Bhuvan, Salman, Abijeet and Durgesh will be led by Prakash, and will start later, giving us an hour’s head start.

Zero Hour

The eight of us in the first batch start walking in a relay formation, just like how a pedrail wheel works, ensuring that each of us gets enough rest during the climb, while also covering a good amount of distance. The dog has joined us, of course, and he runs easily along the trail. Ever so often he turns back to look at us, and I am sure I see him laughing at our wheezing selves.  ‘Come on,’ he seems to say, ‘it’s not that difficult’.

Soon enough we reach the top of the mountain that I had climbed this afternoon, and from here, we can see all the lights of Leh shining in the distance. Shivering in the crisp breeze, I imagine all the people sleeping in their warm cozy beds this night. Next time that I sleep in a bed, I say to myself, I will pray for that unknown someone out there on the mountains braving the cold. 

Time seems to be flying by with the speed of a jet plane. It seems like just 15 minutes have passed, when we see a trail of head torches at the start of the trail, undoubtedly belonging to the second batch of trekkers. The dark is somehow making things easier, we can’t see more than a few steps ahead and the treacherous mountains and the steep slope are hidden from us. And as Mubarak rightly points out, you can’t be scared of something that you cannot see.

The second batch is called the ‘fast batch’ for a reason, they soon overtake us. A switch of the leaders happens here, Sandeep now leads the other batch, while Prakash is leading ours. The plan is that Sandeep takes the faster batch to the summit, by when our batch would have reached the ridge, where we have to wait till he comes back and leads us to the summit too. This plan seems feasible enough. The turn-around time is set to 8:30 am, which means no matter where we are, we have to turn around and start on the way back at 8:30, because after this, the snow would start melting and would become impossible to walk on.

We keep walking. The intermittent patches of snow are becoming longer and longer now. I am terrified of walking on the narrow trail chalked out on the snowy patches, and the little dog, whose nose keeps poking at my ankles, makes me jump out of my skin several times. At one point, Prakash tells us to stop and put on the crampons, and I guess we have reached the glacier. All I can see under my feet now is white. With the crampons on, I tread on the snow much more confidently. The head torches from the faster batch keep pulling further and further away from us.

I have no idea what time it is, and I have no idea how much we have walked. When I turn to the left, I see a strange orange glow hanging mid-air in the distance. Must be a forest fire, I think to myself. (Later I realized how dumb that thought was – there were no trees on these deserted bare mountains, so where is the question of a forest fire… ;) ) The orange glow turns out to be the crescent of the moon, which looks unusually large from here.

The climb is getting steeper and steeper, and some of us are really struggling now, and are getting headaches. The number and the duration of the rest stops are increasing a lot, much to my annoyance. I am afraid that we won’t be able to make it to the ridge in time, and say this to Prakash. But he seems to be confident that we have lots of time and that we will make it. I am still feeling reasonably ok, and keep following every step of Prakash. (That is a good trick, as I later discussed with Bhuvan. Keep copying the trek leader to the t - take a step when he takes a step, and do not stop unless he stops.)

At last, I get too impatient with the frequent stops. I can see someone a long way up the slope flashing a light. I ask Prakash if I can break away from the group. He says, okay, and asks me to just walk in the direction of the flashing light. Still, I am not entirely comfortable going alone, and ask Shimoj, who also seems to be keeping good pace, to join me. The two of us decide to walk up the slope 50 steps at a time. As we advance up the slope, 50 steps become too ambitious, and we stop for a rest every 30 steps. In some time, we reach the source of the flashing signals – it is Bhuvan, from the faster batch, who is suffering from nausea and severe headache because of the altitude. I guess gaining altitude so quickly has not suited him too well. If he does not feel better in the next few minutes, he will turn back, he says. I feel bad for him.

The rest of the group is far behind us by now. Shimoj and I keep going on. It is starting to light up now, and I can see the trekkers from the faster group on the ridge. I feel happy. Perhaps we can catch up with them and go for the summit in the first group itself. The slope is so steep that we are stopping after every 20 steps now. It is impossible to keep a foot on this slope without slipping. So we have to painstakingly cut steps into the slope with our toes and our walking sticks. An ice axe would have been handy now, I think. I do not take even half a step unless I have a sure footing. The thought of slipping down and losing the precious altitude that I have gained is too much to handle. The people on the ridge appear bigger and bigger as we climb up.

I glance at my watch. It is 5:15 am. Lots of time before we have to turn around. I feel a little disappointed when I see Sandeep starts moving on towards the summit with the four people. Oh well, there is no need to worry. He will come back soon enough, or Prakash will reach the ridge and guide us to the summit.

Sunrise

As we are about to reach the ridge, the sun peeks out from behind the Karakoram Range in the distance. I stop to look at this glorious display of colors. When will I ever get a chance to witness a sunrise so beautiful! It is 5:40 when we reach the ridge. Sandeep and the others seem to making very slow progress towards the summit. I sit down on the narrow ridge. It’s been hours since I sat down. 8 hours of this difficult climb have taken a toll on me. I nod off to sleep, only to wake up with a start afraid of falling down on the other side. There would be no saving me then. I try to keep my eyes open. Sitting here doing nothing is making me feel incredibly cold. But there is no sign of Prakash and the others yet.

Shimoj suggests we start walking on our own towards the summit. He even starts walking in that direction. But we decide that it would be stupid to go further without a guide, without a rope and ice axe. It is 6:30 now. I pull out some food from my bag, and feel better after a snack. I am all ready to start to the summit now. 2 hours before the turn-around time. Hope still alive.

In a few minutes, Dr. Raja reaches the ridge. He brings some somber news with him. Bhuvan did not feel better and turned back to go to the base camp. The two helpers went with him. Sohail and the others had a difficult time climbing up the slope. With one misstep, he started rolling dangerously down the slope. Prakash had to go sliding after him to break his fall. He was exhausted from helping him and the others, who had decided to turn back, to a safer place. It did not look like he was going to be able to reach the ridge and guide us to the summit. Mubarak, who was walking without a stick, was terrified of going any further after slipping a few times. He caught hold of a rock and was sitting next to it for a long time.

The Ridg

Well, the only option for us now is to wait for Sandeep to come back. I turn to see their progress. They have not made it to the top yet. Suddenly, I seriously doubt that I am going to make it to the top. We keep sitting on the snow, getting colder by the minute.  Finally, at about 7:15, the faster batch of people makes it to the peak of Stok Kangri. We sit in the snow for a further 15 minutes.

For almost 2 hours, we have been sitting in the snow doing nothing, which is making me feel so cold I think my brain is going to freeze. I have to start moving now. In which direction, is the next question. It has already been decided that we cannot go towards the summit. Convinced that there is no way I would be able to summit now, and unable to wait any more, I decide to turn back.

The Way Back

On the entire trek back to the base camp, I was extremely angry. All the effort that I had put in was in vain now, through no fault of mine, I thought. I stood and cribbed to everyone who would listen how I had been denied a chance to summit. Many a times, I had to fight back tears of frustration. Usually the downhill walk is so easy, but today it felt more difficult than the 8 hour long climb. This was probably my only chance to summit Stok Kangri, and I had messed it up. Who knew if and when I would ever come back again?

We reached the base camp at noon. I sulked and stomped around. I almost resented the ones who were able to summit. I just wanted this trek to get over quickly. Sandeep asked me if there was a chance I could stay another day and attempt to summit again that night. But I had a stupid flight to catch to go back to my stupid life and my stupid job. I had to go back. The next day when we started on the way back to Leh, I was still in a bad mood.

But no bad mood, no matter how acute, can last long when one is walking in the Himalayas. The cheerful sound of the Stok River soon mellowed down my temper, and I was able to see the bigger picture again. Not being able to summit was just one of those unfortunate things that happen every once in a while. But summit or no summit, this had been a totally worthwhile trip. And this failed attempt had let me in on one more secretes of a mountaineer’s life – the sweet misery of a peak not summitted, of a job left unfinished!

The Team