3/20 – Over the Pass and on We Go

We got up by 4:30 am and were in the dining hall by 5:00 ready to roll. We waited around until there was enough light to see. I didn’t feel it was worth walking with a head lamp and risking slipping over a ledge. So at 5:45 am we headed out. Sadly, it was just after a German group came by. We got stuck behind them and it felt like being back on Kilimanjaro slogging our way up to the summit at a painfully slow pace.

The mountains towered above us on all sides, and while I expected blistering, cold winds it was quite comfortable. The morning temperatures when we started were between -5° to -2° C / 25° to 30° F and rose considerably as we progressed. Along the way there was a false peak, but shortly afterward we reached the sign indicating the high point of the pass.

However, getting to the pass was just the start of the day. It turned out that down was more difficult than the up. The trail became less trodden on the descent and it was significantly more steep and slick. It was not at all fun.

We stopped at a tea house for a celebratory Coke and then headed to Muktinath, which turned out to be one of the more interesting villages on the trek. Padam wanted to get holy water from the temple there, so we walked around it, but unfortunately, it appeared to be closed.

Overzealous hiker that I am, I wanted to pick up a day and try to still have time to make the trek up to Annapurna Base Camp. So, we headed to Jomson, a good dozen or so miles down the road. The extra drop in altitude, promise of Internet access and ability to call my girlfriend also motivated my crazy plan. It was a huge undertaking considering we already walked close to six hours through the hardest part of the trail, but the trail basically followed the “new road,” so I figured we would make good time. We passed a number of scary looking villages as the road snaked along a dry river bed. We were greeted with a bird-like call. I believe you are familiar with it, although I hadn’t heard this call for many days. It is called a horn. There were motorcycles scurrying up and down. It was unsettling after so long without seeing internal combustion.

As we entered the riverbed, the sand-laden wind whipped in our faces at about 30 mph. I was warned about this, but thought it was an exaggeration. This torture went on for miles until we finally reached Jomson.

Once in town I thought we were done, but the town went on and on with the guest houses on the farthest end. While Jomson lacked any real charm, it was far more modern than any other village of the trek.

The story continues...