Thorung La la land!
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THORUNG PHEDI, Nepal — My high-altitude Colorado lungs are no match for the mighty Himalayas.
I never knew I’d miss oxygen so much. I’m panting like a dog with every pathetic step I take.
This, coupled with the fact that I haven’t eaten due to a stomach bug, is making life difficult.
Skip sees that I’m destroyed and offers to take my bag. I should take his offer, but I wave him off: “I’m fine, man, couldn’t be better.” Confused thinking is one of the symptoms of AMS, acute mountain syndrome. Maybe I’m confused, but I’m probably just being stubborn.
We reach Manang at the end of a hard day. It looks like a Star Wars village, with rows of dust-colored huts tucked in the brown hills.
Our plan is to stay two nights to acclimatize; my body desperately needs to make more red blood cells to process the lack of oxygen in the air. I’m exhausted and jump into my icy bed at 3 p.m. I lie there shivering, dreaming of warm beaches in Thailand.
I awake with my first inkling of an appetite in two days. No more daal bhat. I go for macaroni with yak cheese instead.
Today’s itinerary includes a hike to 14,000 feet to Praken Gompa to visit the 93-year-old lama. The mission is twofold: to get my body used to higher altitude and to receive a good-luck blessing at the monastery.
After two miles of steep switchbacks, we arrive at a stupa covered with colorful prayer flags flapping around in the chilly wind. In every direction are huge snow-covered peaks towering over the valley.
I’m standing at 14,000 feet and have never felt so small in my life.
Behind the stupa is a small hut built into the mountain. I quietly tap on a rickety wooden door and call out, “Namaste.” A little old woman in red robes appears and waves me into a small room where the lama is waiting.
I kneel in front of his warm, smiling face, and he begins the ritual. He slaps my head a few times with some sort of holy book and ties a small string around my neck. He’s barely audible, but I make out a faint, “Good luck, Thorung La.” Thorung La is the 17,769-foot pass that we’ll be crossing in two days.
He smiles and points at a pan filled with money. Nothing is free in Nepal.
I’m not a religious person, but the warm energy in this little cave fills me with joy.
The next day, I’m feeling much stronger, and we easily cruise the 15K to base camp.
It’s freezing, and we’ll be sleeping at 14,600 feet, slightly higher than the summit of Longs Peak. The sun retreats behind the mountains early, and we escape to our beds to stay warm.
I awake some hours later to go to the bathroom and am rewarded with the most beautiful stars I’ve ever seen. I feel like I’m in a planetarium, and the snow-covered peaks are glowing under the full moon.
The long hike to the pass begins in the dark. My lips are frozen, and I can’t seem to make coherent sentences come out of my mouth as I talk with Skip. I’m waddling around like a drunken penguin as I slowly make my way up the steep switchbacks.
At 17,000 feet, the breathing gets spastic. I hyperventilate and have to rest, but the power of the mountains motivates me to keep on waddling up. After what seems like all day, I can finally see a swath of prayer flags in the distance. We’re here!
I give Skip a frozen-finger high five, and we dance around like maniacs.
