(Sept 2007) Ladakh, India Maps & Facts
Stok Kangri Summit
(Sept 2007) Ladakh, India Maps
& Facts
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Summit of Stok Kangri, 6,240m / 20,473ft
Beaten By A Mountain
Stok Kangri is a six-thousander located south of the town
of Leh, in the Indian state of Ladakh. It is officially considered a trekking
mountain, but that definition depends on the amount of accumulated snow and
resulting rock climbing. I determined to summit Stok because it would give me my
first six-thousander and because there appeared to be no permit restrictions
(even though various trekking sources indicated otherwise).
I started my inquiries at the Trance Terra outfitter. They
put together summit groups of 2-4 persons for a fee ranging $40-$45 a day (four
day trips). The fee included guide, donkeys, cook, food, tent, and gear (gloves,
down jacket, boots, crampons, ice axe, etc). This is a remarkably reasonable
price for a climbing package, especially when compared to Nepal. Unfortunately
no groups were forming due to the late date (the season effectively ends
September 1), plus I was informed that it was snowing in the mountains. I
resolved to wait up to three days for a group to form or I would simply rent the
equipment and attempt to summit solo.
As the days passed and the snows continued to fall it
became apparent that a group wouldn’t form so committed to do it solo. I
rented the gear I needed, purchased four sandwiches and eight hard-boiled eggs
to go at my favorite restaurant, stocked up on chocolate bars, and orange
flavored Tang for good measure. On Tuesday, September 11 (day
1) I caught the local bus to Stok village at 8:30am. Stok village is the
same trailhead for both the Stok Kangri and Markha
Valley trails. It was an overcast morning and I could see that it was still
snowing in the mountains as I boarded the bus.
By 9:30 I was at the trailhead teahouse (across from the
washed out bridge). It was noticeably colder here so I stepped inside for a warm
chi to warm my insides before starting what I knew would be a long wet day. My
goal was to reach base camp 1 before day’s end. I pushed off resolutely after
chi and made it to the circus tent tea stall trail split around noon just as it
started to rain. Here the side trail crosses the slow running stream to the
east, winds up a hill to a small pass and then heads southeast following the
river valley to the base of Stok Kangri. The alternate route takes you up to the
Stok La Pass and into the Markha Valley. I stepped into the tent for chi and to
put on my windbreaker.
Cold and damp, but in high spirits, I stepped out into the
drizzle to start the next leg. By 2:30pm I reached another circus tent tea
stall. Once again I stepped in for a chi and to dry out a little. The old
proprietor suggested (via hand signs) that I setup my tent in his camp area
rather than go on since the rain was turning into sleet and snow. I politely
declined and set out once again.
Very quickly I began to doubt the wisdom of my choice as
the rain turned to heavy sleet, and then to wet snow. Soon all signs of a trail
disappeared, and my running shoes grew wetter and heavier. In spite of the snow
I was not cold because my constant upstream direction caused moderate but steady
exertion, which kept me warm. Stopping at this point was out of the question due
to my wet feet and, one way or another I was going to have to set up my tent in
the snow. So it might as well be at base camp. As the shadows lengthened I began
to grow tired and concerned. It was getting dark quickly in the narrow valley
and the snow was getting deeper. Finally around 5:30pm I rounded a bend and
spotted a group of tents and a string of donkeys in an open snowfield.
I trudged about the camp, as it grew darker, in search of a
suitable spot for my summer tent. I cleared as much snow from the selected spot,
but still had to setup the tent on snow, rather than dry ground. I knew it was
going to be an uncomfortable night because of the cold, my wet state, and the
extremely thin sponge mattress I had brought. As soon as the tent was up I
tossed my gear inside, peeled off the wet clothes, running shoes, and my damp
socks. I put on all the dry clothes that I had available, crawled into my
sleeping bag, fully dressed, and stayed there until I stopped shivering.
Eventually I got up and ate my “day 1” sandwich and
then turned in for the night too tired to get the tent squared. Even though I
was tired, I was still hoping it would stop snowing and the skies would clear by
early morning so that I could attempt to summit the following day.
At 3:20am I awoke to the call of nature (an extremely
demanding issue when it is really cold outside of one’s sleeping bag).
Eventually I coaxed myself outside to do my business and then noticed that the
sky was clear. It was also pitch black since there was no moon that night. The
following night the new moon would start to grow, but on that bitterly cold
night it was as dark as a coalmine. I quickly crawled back into my sleeping bag
to consider my options. After shivering for a while I decided to get up and
prepare to set out at 4am.
By 4am I was reluctantly ready. I stuck my head out and
noticed very little activity in the camp. Regardless, I put on my plastic
climbing boots (my running shoes were frozen solid), collected some snacks and
my frozen 500ml bottle of Pepsi. I walked through camp with difficulty due to
the cold, the deep snow, and the weight of the climbing boots. I notice activity
in one of the cook tents so stuck my head in and asked if anyone was going to
attempt to summit. The cook told me (in broken English) that they would be
setting out after breakfast. I continued through the camp until I found a crazy
but enthusiastic German that had introduced himself to me the previous evening
while I was setting up my tent. He was just getting ready to leave and said he
had a fair idea of the route, but that the depth of the snow would make it
challenging. I asked if I could follow along in his tracks. He agreed happily.
We set out (day
2) by 4:15 in the wrong direction (up the sheer west valley wall, but too
far along). Eventually we spotted the outline of a trail and corrected our
track. Very quickly I fell behind. I
found his pace much to quick and my stamina very low. It is difficult to explain
the feeling of complete exhaustion that overwhelms the trekker at altitude. It
is like trying to explain sea-sickens. No matter how articulate you are it is
still impossible to fully explain the feelings of altitude exhaustion to a
novice. Very quickly my German friend left me behind. In time I saw the steady
stream of two sets of headlamps moving up the slope in snake fashion. These were
the other two small groups in the camp (two guides and three clients in each
group). By the time I reached the small pass at the top of the rise both groups
had already caught up and passed me. One of the issues I was facing was a
complete lack of knowledge of my terrain. I had arrived late in the day in a
snowstorm, so had no idea of how high the rises were. It is intimidating to
simply trudge along, by the light of your headlamp, following upwards in the
footsteps of others.
Once I reached the small pass at the ridgeline I turned to
the south for a long winding and steady ascent along the east valley wall. By
8am and after many rest stops I finally made the prayer flags that mark Advance
Base Camp. It had taken me four hours to cover what should have taken two.
Things were not looking promising, but at least the sky had grown light, even
though I was still in the shade of the valley wall. I could now clearly see the
glacier and the snow bowl up ahead. Unfortunately, the clear air made distances
deceptive. I continued to trudge through the ever-deepening snow to the large
crevasse where the trail then turned west across the glacier and to the foot of
the mountain’s east face.
I was still very cold, even though I was moving and
generating lots of body heat. I jumped across a few fishers to the sound of
running water below the ice and then at 10am I finally emerged into sunshine.
The thin air at that altitude and the reflective qualities of the snow made me
begin sweating almost immediately. The snow was now so deep that any sign of the
trekking zigzag trail was obliterated. As a result the first climber (the
enthusiastic German) had kicked a trail pretty much directly up the snow bowl of
the east face. I followed in the steps as best as I could but by the time I made
it to the first level area I was panting and steaming. I sat on a rock and
stripped off my layers of outer clothing and laid them there for later
collection. Now the going was even harder, steeper and the day hotter. I had
started to drink from my half liter of Pepsi and was very aware that it was
insufficient. The going got so hard at this stage that I had to adopt a
four-count step. This consists of taking a single step and then four deep
breaths. Then another step and four more breathes. This slow approach acts as a
trance to distract the mind from the numbing and exhausting work, but I still
had to stop and pant like a dog at short intervals. I tried not to look up or
back because it was so disheartening to see how little progress I was making.
Yet every now and then I had to look and each time it pained me to see how much
more there was to go and how little had been covered.
At 12:30pm I finished the snow bowl ascent and started on
the rock and scree slope that lead to the ridgeline. By this time I had drank
most of my Pepsi and had started to put snow in the bottle and then tucked it in
my shirt so that my body heat would melt the snow within. It was a slow way to
gain a mouthful of water every 15-30 minutes. Each step was an effort and I kept
telling myself that the ridgeline would be easy so all I had to do was make it
that far and then I could cool down and my constant thirst would diminish.
However, half way through the slippery scree area I met one of the groups
descending. I didn’t ask them how much further I had to go because I was
afraid the answer would be too discouraging. Even so, one of them volunteered to
say that I had just finished the easy part of the climb in comparison to what I
faced when I reached the ridgeline. That statement was enormously disheartening
and affected me like a kick in the gut. I tried to dismiss it, but within a
short time I was buckled over panting and realized that I simply couldn’t go
on without more to drink and more reserves of energy. So at 1pm, nine hours
after starting and still 400m below the summit, I gave up. The mountain had
beaten me. I simply sat on a rock too tired to even turn around and look
directly at my nemesis. I drank down the last of my snow water and then started
the sliding, tumbling, falling, slipping, and labored descent.
When I reached the glacier I stopped, dizzy from
dehydration, at the first fisher and dug violently with the ice axe until I had
a small hole that exposed cold, clear running water. I sat at that spot for a
long time refilling my small Pepsi bottle and drinking the teeth numbing cold
water. Eventually my senses cleared and my mouth contained saliva again. I still
felt weak and was easily tired, but I attributed that feeling to the altitude
since I was at 5600m and sitting in the sun. I thought about my day and realized
that this was not an easy 4 hr summit trek as I had been lead to believe by one
of the trekkers I had met on the Markha Valley trek the week before. This was a
much harder trek that required better planning and a full-scale effort. Slowly
it dawned on me that the battle was not over yet. The mountain had won the
battle, but would it win the war?
By 3:30pm I was safely back at Base Camp asking the guides
questions and planning my strategy for the following days. I found out that the
average trek time is 8-10hrs and that only three people had made the summit that
day. Everyone else had either turned back at Advance Base Camp or on the ridge.
Rather than tucking my tail between my legs and returning to Leh, I resolved to
move my tent the next day to Advance Base Camp. This would put me two hours and
300m closer to the summit. I now had a plan of action and felt stoked as I ate
my second sandwich and then turned in early.
I slept late the following morning (day
3), knowing that I had all day to break camp and move to Advance Base Camp.
At noon I got up and visited the tea tent for a chi and a hot noodle soup
breakfast. At 1pm I started to pack my gear and break camp. By 2pm I set off
from Base Camp 1 in high spirits and with all my gear. This time I could see the
west slope trail (the snow had been steadily melting all day) and reached the
pass at the ridgeline without stopping. This was a positive start since I had
stopped at least five times to reach this same spot on that first ascent morning
(and without gear in that instance). I kept my pace slow, but steady, as I
followed the now almost clear trail to Advance Base Camp. I reached it at 4:15
pm and had my tent up by 5 pm.
My previous issues with dehydration still concerned me. I
had enough water for the night but what about the next day? I had filled my
1.5-liter Pepsi bottle with river water the previous evening but would be low by
morning. I needed more water the day when I planned to make my second ascent
attempt. There was no water at this camp so I was counting on re-filling my
bottles at the snowmelt fishers on the glaciers, but that depended on the skies
being clear and the sun melted the snow. As I ate my third sandwich I changed my
next morning’s departure time to 6am. This would ensure that I reached the
fishers shortly after they became exposed to sunshine. Resolved to the new plan
I turned in early hoping to fall asleep before the sunset and the cold of the
glacier started me shivering. I fell asleep quickly.
I awoke a few minutes before 6am (day
4) in high spirits and a little cold. I stripped off much of my clothing as
I ate my fourth and final sandwich for breakfast. I was going to travel light so
would only wear a few layers and my windbreaker. I would wear the rented plastic
climbing boots again (even though they were heavy) and take the ice axe, but I
would leave the crampons behind. It was a risk, but I simply didn’t want to
carry anything that I might not need. So the crampons were jettisoned. I set off
to clear cold skies at 6:30am. I reached the crevasse without stopping for a
break (another good sign in comparison to my previous attempt). I crossed the
first two fishers without detecting the sound of running water and grew a little
apprehensive. I only had a third of a liter of water at this stage. Fortunately
I could hear running water under the ice at the third and final fisher, so spent
a short time hacking an opening with my ice axe and then refilling the large
Pepsi bottle. With my thirst quenched and ample water, I then cleared the steep
snow bowl ascent using a two-count step (rather than four) and with only two
breaks. I was slowed down at the scree and boulder fields due to the slippery
state of the trail that late in the day, but did not stress. I patiently worked
the trail or made up alternatives when the trail looked doubtful. I used the ice
axe on many occasions for support or to arrest my sliding. It was tiring and
slow going, but I kept remembering that painful statement, the other day, about
the ridge. I was determined to go slow and save my reserves for the ridge.
By 11am I crawled, exhausted and sweating, onto the ridge.
At this stage I felt great relief because I had at least cleared my last
turn-around point. It was a psychological boost. I rested and snacked on a
chocolate bar while looking over the ridge at the sheer valley walls on each
side and the panoramic views of the surrounding valleys. After the break I began
the slow and treacherous ascent, climb, scramble, and balancing act along the
ridgeline. In many places the width of the ridge was less than a meter, with
sheer drops on both side, and tormenting wind gusts from both valley. Many times
my footing would slip and my heart would pound as I secured myself with the ice
axe. At other times forward progress seemed blocked by walls of rock that
required scaling or tricky bypasses out and along the scree and snow slopes.
Each step had to be considered and the alternatives calculated. All this mental
and physical activity was taking place in scorching and blinding sunlight at an
altitude above 5,900m. Even so I felt mentally strong and focused on each short
phase and ignored the summit (which I had lost view of anyway). Finally just
before noon I stepped into a cavity between a high rock wall and snow drift at
least two meters high. Kicking careful snow steps in the hollow I made my way up
a steep slope and emerged on a ledge. I sat there panting and surprised. I could
now clearly see the summit prayer flags. It was the actual summit. I had assumed
the snow dome visible from the east face was the summit, but it was actually a
false summit. It turned out that the real summit was not visible from the east
face of the mountain. Only now could I tell that there was a second domed rising
to its west and at the top of this dome sat the prayer flags that marked the
summit. I rested on that ledge and enjoyed simply looking at my objective a mere
50 meters away.
Slowly I rose and even more cautiously worked my way to the
flags. The summit was narrow and heaped with snowdrifts. I used my ice axe to
probe the snow so that I didn’t foolishly step through a cornice and tumble
down the west face in record time. Once I had scoped out the edges of the summit
I sat and let the accomplishment sink in. I had made it to the summit of a 6240m
(20,473ft) mountain. I had beaten the mountain and yet I also felt that the
mountain had let me have my way with it. I was respectful of the prayer flags
and the nature of summit, (both the Buddhists and the Christians consider
summits sacred because they are places closest to God). I took photos, filmed a
little and then sat and enjoyed the moment. I had reached the summit by 1pm (six
hours after leaving Advance Base Camp). Time now slowed down and moments, like
the clouds, seemed to stretch out slowly before me. Eventually I realized that
it was time to move on and re-join the world. Reluctantly I left the summit at
1:30pm and began to long cautious and slippery descent. Once I reached the
bottom of the snow bowl the anxiety and caution left me. My pace and me picked
up and by 3:15pm I was back at Advance Base Camp, at 4:30 I cleared the Base
Camp ridge, at 6:50pm I reached the trail split tea tent, at 9:30pm I crossed
the washed out Stok village bridge, and finally at 10:30pm reached the valley
floor where the road leads to Leh and I hitched a ride on the first (and only)
vehicle on the road. The driver dropped me a short distance from Leh so I walked
the final two kilometers to the main bazaar and reached my Guest House by 11pm.
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