Land of the Thunder Dragon, Part 5: Thangthangka to Jangothang (Chomolhari Base Camp)

When we were preparing for our trek, Patrick had decided to buy two expedition-quality sleeping bags, the Marmot Trestles 0. This bag is rated to 0 degrees Fahrenheit (-18 Celsius), which seemed like too much bag for a trek with expected lows around 40-45 F (4-7 C). However, Patrick knew that Jennifer gets cold easily, and he reckoned that it would be easier for him to unzip the bag and cool off than it would be to pile on more clothes in a lighter bag.

Thanks to these big, heavy, warm bags (and the mules who carried them for us!), we slept very well despite the cold, wind and snow. We emerged from our tent at 6:00am into a fantasy realm of ice.


The small green tent next to ours was the toilet tent -- a nylon shell propped over a hole dug into the ground. We had a love/hate relationship with the toilet tent. It wasn't the most pleasant place to spend time, but being out of the wind and snow while vulnerable (if you will) was a real comfort.



We were outrageously stiff and sore from the previous day's hike. Patrick's stomach cramps had quieted down, but he decided to eat only small amounts of very plain food -- mostly rice and bread. Jennifer's left ankle, which she'd sprained badly several times over the years, had begun to ache. Still, we felt much better than we'd expected 12 hours earlier.



We saw that we had been sharing the campsite with the European group we'd seen the day before. Namgay, who was starting to fight a cold, seemed determined to beat them to the next campsite. We packed quickly and proceeded on.



The morning was beautiful, and as soon as the sun came out it began to melt the snow. Our pace was quick, but that didn't stop various trail dogs from accompanying us. Whenever we reached the limit of their territory, they'd stop and pass us on to the next dog.








We also passed two small military encampments a stone's throw apart. The first belonged to the Bhutanese Army; the second, to the Indian Military Training Team (IMTRAT). The Bhutanese Army is trained and equipped entirely by India. An Indian officer came out to greet Namgay and ask him who we were and where we were headed. Patrick surprised him and Namgay by answering the officer's questions in his limited Hindi.

The scenery was spectacular, especially once we started to rise above the treeline. We walked through meadows flanked by massive mountains; later in the spring these meadows would be filled with wildflowers. Yaks grazed on the hills, and we saw a few stone cabins used by roaming yak herders.








About halfway through our morning, we met a group of American trekkers who were headed back the way we came. They had planned to do the same trek we had, but were turned back at the mountain pass at Bhonte La. "Too much snow," one of them said. "We heard there could be as much as six to eight inches up there. But who knows -- maybe it'll all be melted away in a couple of days." They were all outfitted with expensive gear: expedition-grade jackets, deluxe trekking poles, snow gaiters, and sturdy mountaineering boots. We were a little worried that the weather had turned them back -- what would it mean for us?


Namgay's cold got worse through the day, so it was left to the indefatigable Sonam to keep up the pace. We passed through a village -- really just three or four small stone buildings -- that included a clinic and school for the families of the yak herders in the area.


Before we realized how far we'd come, we arrived at the ruined dzong of Jangothang. Alpine choughs flew up to greet us, and behind the fortress lurked the sacred mountain Chomolhari. It was 1:00pm.


We couldn't understand why we'd raced through the morning -- after less than five hours of hiking, we were at our next camp. We did seem to secure the best campsite: isolated, next to the river, and out of the worst of the wind. We set up our tent, treated some sore spots, and decided to have a look around.


An archery contest was going on in the midst of snow flurries and a constant 20-mile-per-hour (32 kph) wind. Later Namgay told us that these were local families who had come to the base of Chomolhari to have a small, week-long festival -- we'd just caught the last couple of days. Two guys from another trekking crew had also come over to watch.


Archery (datse) is the national sport of Bhutan. Traditionally archers used bows and arrows made from bamboo; today they import aluminum gear from the U.S. The field is 460 feet (140 meters) long, and the target is only about 30 inches (76 centimeters) tall and 10 inches (25 centimeters) wide. We were stunned to see these young men hitting the target despite the spiraling winds coming off the mountains. Whenever one scored a hit, the others would shout and yelp -- and often our trekking crew back at the campsite would echo them.




We were even more stunned when we realized they were drunk. Archery contests and alcohol go hand-in-hand in Bhutan. While one competitor takes aim, the others shout insults and jokes at him to spoil his concentration. Anything short of physical contact is fair game. As Michael Palin writes in his brilliant book, Himalaya, "I suppose that's the ultimate macho achievement: to be able to drink yourself silly and deliver a bull's eye while being told by your opponents that they've been shagging your wife for the last three weeks."


The cold eventually crept into all of the layers we had on and we retreated to the dining tent. We hadn't seen Namgay since we'd arrived, but we could hear him coughing and sneezing in the kitchen tent. We began to wonder if his cold had pushed him to get us to camp so quickly; we also wondered if he'd be well enough to keep going. Sonam brought us a thermos of hot water, freshly boiled from the river. We never knew the life-affirming properties of a cup of tea at 13,000 feet (4,000 meters)!


Every resource we'd found recommended that our sleeping elevation should not increase by more than 1,000-1,500 feet (305-450 meters) per night, and that for every 3,000-foot (915-meter) increase, we should spend a second night at the same elevation. In fact, the National Institutes of Health recommend stopping for a day or two of rest for each 2,000 feet (610 meters) above 8,000 feet (2,438 meters). "Climb high, sleep low."

The day before we'd gained almost 2,500 feet (760 meters) -- twice the recommended amount -- and we had ascended another 1,575 feet (480 meters) on this day. We were now at 13,386 feet (4,080 meters), and our combined total from the first three days of the trek was 5,253 feet (1,600 meters). We were well overdue for a rest day to acclimate.

At this point we were taking 500 mg of Diamox per day. We were thankful to have the medication with us, but we were starting to feel the side effects. Tingling in the extremities is common, as is more frequent urination. As we huddled in the dining tent that evening, we contemplated clambering out of our sleeping bags at 2:00am to brace the wind, hop over a ditch and squat in the toilet tent. "OK," Jennifer said, "no more water after 6:00pm."


Snow flurries and clouds thickened around our campsite as the sun set. We knew we were in for our coldest night yet, so we dressed in thermals before climbing into our sleeping bags. We tried to relax -- tomorrow was a rest day. We just hoped we wouldn't be visiting the toilet tent before dawn.



Distance: 11.8 miles (19 km)
Altitude gain: 1,575 feet (480 meters)
Final altitude: 13,386 feet (4,080 meters)
Estimated time: 5-6 hours
Actual time: 4.5 hours