A New Dawn at Thansing
I zip open the tent and immediately feel like I’ve emerged from a cocoon into a bright new world!
The first rays of the sun are about to erupt from behind Mt. Thinchenkhang. I stumble out, still recovering from a wonderful night of slumber at the campsite of Thansing. Right in front, the glaciated eastern face of Mt. Pandim is shining. The cracks and the cornices twinkling.
I turn a little and the ridgeline of the third highest mountain in the world comes into view. The summit of Mt. Kangchenjunga is hidden away in the folds of the mountains. The campsite is a contrast between excitement and silence. While many of us walk around, aware that we’re less than a day away from reaching the zenith of the Goecha La Trek, a few groups of tents lie still.
Hours ago at midnight, the setting here was the complete opposite. Those tents were buzzing with activity. Trekkers grabbing their backpacks & headlamps as they rushed towards their dining tent. Huddled together, escaping the wind in their down jackets, forcefully gulping down porridge. 12 am is late for dinner & far too early for breakfast. This was neither. That meal was purely fuel. Nutrition as they began their much awaited walk to the Goecha La Viewpoint 1 at 4600m.
Why were they gearing up at such an ungodly hour you ask? Well, having the fortune of witnessing the south-eastern face of Kanchenjunga being bathed in divine, golden light was the reason.
As I watched the rest of our team taking in the panorama, I smiled thinking what the night would bring and what the mountains had in store for us!
Kangchenjunga Awaits
Today was Day 6 on the Goecha La Trek. We were at 4000m, at Thansing, and blue skies were a welcome sight. We’d had overcast weather, occasional drops of rain and misty clouds swirl in on each evening since we began our walk from the village of Yuksom.
A relatively short walk lay ahead to the quiet clearing of Lamuney. Only a couple of hours away, it was a small, secluded clearing by the riverside, under the foot of Goecha Peak.
The day was all about rest and recuperation. A gentle trail. Only 150m gained and a hearty lunch thereafter. The plan was to spend most of the afternoon relaxing before an early dinner and hopefully a long, undisturbed evening of sleep. Later, we’d snuggle out of the comfort of sleeping bags to depart by 2.30 AM towards Goecha La as the world slept.
Taking advantage of the pleasant morning, we organized breakfast in the open.
An assortment of beverages lined the table. Parathas were quite literally inhaled.
Meanwhile, I found comfort in beating a cup of strong and soon to be frothy, coffee!
A leisurely trail awaited and we set course around 10 AM.
Along the way we crossed paths with those returning from one of the most glorious experiences of their lives. Tired. Sleepy. But content and joyful.
We hoped next morning would bring the same for our tiny bunch!
A Shade of Blue Enroute
The giants were drawing closer. Kangchenjunga was visible in all its glory.
Spindrift flew off the slopes near its lofty pinnacle at 8586m.
The mountain looked deceptively close. If only.
A few minutes later, I snapped a picture of the team dwarfed by Goecha Peak in the background.
It was hilarious to think that the Kangchenjunga (right behind it) was nearly 2500m higher!
As we neared Lamuney, we were stopped dead in our tracks.
It was a sighting we had not expected in the slightest. One that made everyone thank their stars!
On the opposite banks of the Prek Chu River were a small herd of ‘Bharal’. More widely known as, “Blue Sheep”. While not as elusive as the Snow Leopard, opportunities to gaze at Blue Sheep are far and few between because these animals are absolute masters of camouflage.
For the initial few minutes after the group stopped, I was still trying to spot and keep track of their movements. Each time I would move my eyes to my camera to tweak the exposure, they’d be lost in a sea of brown grass.
We spent the better part of thirty minutes admiring those glorious creatures and snapped up some memories before finally setting course.
Solitude at Lamuney – The Last Campsite
By 12.30 PM, we arrived at Lamuney and for the first time on the trek, were completely alone.
Goecha La is one of the oldest and most famous trails in the country. Due to this, you invariably have others trekking alongside you on most days. Most trekkers attempt to push for the viewpoint from Thansing itself. But adding another pit-stop at Lamuney, aids acclimatization and allows for an extra day of rest. More importantly, it also reduces the distance on the final push owing to which you can also sleep a little longer before you depart.
A peaceful afternoon followed.
Some of us napped, others chatted away in the dining tent.
While some documented their journeys, the old fashioned way.
I simply walked across the river to explore a few boulders that had inviting lines definitely worth climbing.
Darkness enveloped us early as camp was deep within a valley with high mountains on each side.
The residue of sunset was also nowhere to be seen as a thick layer of clouds descended down on us.
As I walked to my tent after a final briefing about the night’s schedule, I held on to hope.
A hope that the mist would disappear.
A hope that there would be no thunder.
Faith that we would not awaken to a landscape bathed in white.
Nature Takes Its Course
I slipped out without waking Pranav, who I was tenting with, and ran to the stone hut nearby.
It was raining. Heavily. And by God was I thankful that I’d carried an umbrella up.
It was 1 AM and I could spot Bishahang’s (our lead guide) headlamp. The light was illuminating a few cracks between the stone walls. The only other source of light for miles apart from the one I was carrying.
Our conversation was brief. It was time to wait and watch. Fingers crossed.
An hour later and I was wide awake. The pitter-patter of raindrops had stopped.
Every few minutes, you could hear the wind howl.
I peeked out hoping to spot a star. Pitch black.
Popped my head back in and lay down once more.
The mountains didn’t follow a schedule.
Another half hour passed and I stepped out to answer nature’s call.
The rain was gone. Phew. Maybe there was still a chance we could catch sunrise if we hurried.
But to my absolute dismay, it began to silently snow.
Then, silence no more. Heavy, loud, snowfall.
3 AM – A Sea of White
Within minutes, the world around was transformed.
Our attempt to visit Goecha La was over before it even began.
Bishahang and I spent some time tightening the cords holding the tents up.
It was also crucial to dust off excess snow which was settling on top, threatening to collapse the tents.
Everyone was wide awake by this point. And it was truly disheartening to inform them that we’d be spending the night tucked in the confines of our sleeping bags instead of snaking our way up the mountainside.
Nonetheless, it was still quite the experience.
For some, it was even their first time being caught in fresh snowfall.
Always a silver lining, if you look for one.
It was the end of April but you could’ve easily confused it for deep winter if you looked outside.
It snowed for about 2 hours with 6-7 inches of snow covering the areas around.
By 5.30 AM everyone was awake and it felt like each of us had left our tents via a hidden portal and entered Narnia!
The sheer beauty of the landscape helped dampen the blow of missing out on the glorious sunrise we’d all hoped for last evening.
Delayed. Not Denied – Samiti Lake
We were all safe. Still smiling.
I was reminded of the saying “everything is success, when the goal is to experience.”
Holding on that sentiment we decided to make the best of what the mountains allowed.
The weather had stabilized and less than ninety minutes away lay an absolutely gorgeous tarn (a high altitude lake).
Samiti Lake at around 4300m is a glacial pool located under Mt. Pandim and falls smack dab in the middle of the trail to Goecha La. We were originally meant to cross this tarn in the dark hours before dawn and would have stopped there on the way down.
Instead, looking at the weather, we decided that it would now serve as the high point of our excursion.
A reflective, icy consolation prize.
We grabbed a quick bite and were on trail by 7.45 AM.
Mist whirled all around the higher reaches of Mt. Pandim, Jopuno and Tinchenkhang.
It was quite an ethereal atmosphere as their summits remained hidden.
We passed another camp a few minutes ahead of ours. A group from Pune who had been moving up from Yuksom completely parallel to us. Having spent ample time sharing campsites, we were all great friends by then.
Their neon-yellow tents shone like beacons. But only the kitchen emanated sound and movement. They too had called off their attempt to visit Goecha La and it seemed were still sound asleep.
The Final Ascent
The trail began to steadily climb thereon and multiple layers were shed by our group in quite a flurry.
As we turned around, the top of the huts at Thansing were faintly visible at the edge of the valley.
It had stopped snowing a few hours ago and surprisingly, the snow pack was starting to melt quite quickly. The hues of the valley floor were slowly returning to their original shade of brown.
We were almost at Samiti Lake and the silence was only broken by the sound of our footsteps. Footsteps that were beautifully intertwined with delicate bird tracks.
Several tiny, species floated around and tip-toed on the layer of ice formed on the banks of the lake. Of them all, the resplendent Grandala stood out. Famously known as the ‘flying blue gem of the Himalayas‘, it was the only speck of colour in an otherwise monochrome landscape.
We spent the next hour breathing in the crisp cold air around the lake as we completed a parikrama (clockwise circumambulation) of the lake. The teal blue surface of the water reflected the hillside around but Kanchenjunga remained a mystery on that day.
The mist ahead never fully cleared and the goddess stayed hidden. Despite the happenings of the last few hours, it’d been quite a memorable morning.
The parikrama was a relaxed, peaceful walk, one that we commemorated with a few pictures at the edge of the water.
The surroundings made for a mystical sight. One that was apt for the apex of this trek!
A Fitting End. A Momentary Goodbye!
In today’s digital age, everyone seems to place an inexplicable sense of importance on singular moments of their journeys. The summit. The snapshot at that one location which they’ve seen all over social media. The amount of pressure placed on these brief moments to justify an adventure is unbelievable.
And when nature takes its course, we turn around, disappointed. Moping, that it was all a waste.
Clichéd as it may be, the journey is truly the destination.
It is not one singular moment that we reminisce over after our return home.
But it’s several tiny passages of time that make their places in our hearts.
It is these that make each adventure worthwhile. Each experience another facet of this wonderful world.
On this occasion, we weren’t destined to spot the glow of sunshine on Kanchenjunga.
But for those who shared an unexpected summer night being painted white in a remote corner of Sikkim, the story was all the more memorable for it.
As we descended to the valley floor, the pace slowed.
The pull of the mountains was palpable.
Every few steps and one of us would turn around.
Pranav had stopped, capturing Mt. Pandim as its slopes came into view once more.
His red down jacket contrasted beautifully against the landscape.
I couldn’t resist.
A frame within a frame.
It’s hard to survive in the mountains, it’s harder to say goodbye.
Till next time, Goecha La.
