Goecha-La Trek Day Seven

From Lamunay

We camped this night in between the cacophony of the river and the silence that hangs around Mount Pandim. It never got above 8 degree Celsius all day and the night, of course, was colder. We decided, with Suresh, that after the Goecha-La trek we would have breakfast at camp and then head for Kokchrong due to my intolerance to the cold and the Bear's high altitude headaches.

From Kokchrong

I never knew cold until this morning standing on top of a 5000 meter Himalayan peak in -14 degrees Celsius. My toes and fingers pained to the touch-no amount of stomping or dancing in place would thaw them. But, as seems to be the mantra of this trip: was it worth it? YES.

We woke at 2:30am, drank hot water as per Suresh's suggestion the night before to combat my cold weather stomach cramps, ate a few small biscuits and stepped outside of our tent into a lunar landscape. The moon, almost a perfect half, shone onto the alpine meadow where we slept and illuminated the paeaks embarcing us. The white of the snowcaps and glaciers gave even more light to our journey, which began at 3:45 with Suresh in lead and the Bear as the caboose. The first hour of the walk was a familiar path of rocky low brush and the clay surrounding Samiti Lake, the only other sign of life for miles the tiny hoof prints of the blue sheep that come to drink its water.We scrambled small rocks and boulders along a skinny ledge over the blue-green water and it felt impossible that  anyone other than the three of us existed in the world, or that the world even existed beyond what we could see in front of us. Mount Pandim hovered to the east and we marveled at how, not so long ago, we first spotted the revered mountain from a distance at Tsokha. Suresh told us that in summer months Lepchas come to a small temple carved into the side of the mountain to worship the very peak.

The sky was spotless, turning slowly from midnight blue to gray to cerulean. I was grateful that our hard work was being rewarded with a clear day. After passing Samiti Lake, the course began to climb and we slowed our pace. Near the top of a very steep path of slippery rocks the craggy peak of Kanchenjunga popped over the top of our cliff wall. We climbed higher and more of the range showed itself. The sun, just rising, shone pick in the south along a low cloud shelf that threatened to rise and cover our view, and orange to the north onto the white sheet of peaks. Once the entire range came into view, presented so clearly like an unwrapped gift, I became overwhelmed with tears.

The rest of the path to the main viewpoint teetered along a slippery slope threatening to topple unsteady hikers to the frozen river thousands of feet below. We rounded the most treacherous corner and saw cairns and prayer flags indicating the first viewpoint. At one point I heard thunder and looked with worry to Suresh who pointed out an avalanche at a far glacier, which made the Himalayan experience more real, and yet surreal.

At the top the Bear snapped hundreds of pictures and Suresh passed around hot water and popcorn. I collected rocks for my Dad and a friend and danced my feet away from frostbite. The world, that which existed at that very moment, was silent and full of meaning.