round the world in sixty days

After a short two days in hot humid cities surrounded by people we were off to remote Kashmir for some trekking in the Ladakh region of the Himalayas.We flew into Leh, our home base situated at 11,562 ft. The treks only go higher from there.We anticipated that we would want a relatively easy experience given that we had very recently pushed our bodies on Kilimanjaro.  So we signed up for a Markha valley trek – 6 days along a picturesque river, with little climbing.

Upon arrival at the trekking office, we were told there had been some flash floods and the Markha river had destroyed the trails used on our trek (a group of British teens had to be rescued by helicopter during the flood). We needed a plan B (below, the swollen Indus River).After about 30 offers of black tea, it was time to get down to business. Our trekking guru/salesman, Javeed, looked us up and down and offered an alternate trek, billed as “challenging”. He waved his hand over some blank spaces on the map with no trail markings and our fate was decided. I am pretty sure he made up our route on the spot, like throwing darts at the himalayas or better yet himalayan trekking roulette. Our trek didn’t even have a name.

Instead of walking along a scenic river we would wind over 3 different mountain passes staying at camps of much higher altitude than the Markha valley. With trepidation and few other options we put our faith in Javeed’s magic wand and agreed.

Walking around Leh, we noticed that the tourists seemed a very different breed than on Kilimanjaro – nearly all European, extremely fit, and decked out in serious trekking gear. We got nervous…

That night we tried to relax and enjoy some local traditional dancing – actually the troupe started drumming at a deafening tone a few feet from our bedroom. The show was great though.Jesse particularly liked the dance celebrating chang, the home brewed liquor of the local Ladakhi nomads. In the clear dry morning, we set out for Zinchen with our guide Tsering, where we met our pony man (who turned out to be a donkey man) and started hiking. In retrospect, planning a high altitude trek on the back of Kilimanjaro was probably not the wisest decision. Jen: I was exhausted, my legs were jello, and the hot sun was relentless. I took a nap at the first opportunity, a tea house (obviously). Jesse: Jen’s ability to insta-sleep on any surface was uncanny. We dubbed it Ladakh narcolepsy.The first day was a steady but gradual uphill along a river. We were told it was a warmup, as the next day would be a tough climb up the first mountain pass.We passed through the village of Rompak. Here, our donkey man with our cook Ngima following shortly behind him, as they caught up to us as we neared the campsite.In Ladakh, horses, mules, or donkeys are used instead of porters to transport all the tents, food, and gear. Those little donkeys were impressive, and feisty! Their packs were bigger than they were.We reached a beautiful campsite with a view of the next day’s mountain pass.And a stunning glacier.We promptly took another nap.Then watched the sunset.We noticed that there was some sort of disagreement between Tsering and the donkey man. Neither would tell us what it was about, but Tsering told us the next morning that after the second day we would be switching to ponies. Apparently, this trek was too difficult for the donkeys.After breakfast…We started the climb up Stok La, our first mountain pass, which tops out at around 16,000 ft.Our bodies kicked into the pole pole rhythm we had discovered on Kili, and once our hearts and lungs caught up we started to feel better. The scenery didn’t hurt:As we neared the top of the pass, we noticed a group of four young Dutch trekkers that had been leapfrogging us since Rumpak. Though they were younger, fitter, and about a foot taller than us, they took longer and more frequent breaks, so we always ended up passing them again. Given our weak understanding of the Dutch language we nicknamed them “the Germans”. They became our nemeses and a motivational tool. “Jen wake up! The Germans are coming!” Here are 2 of them at the front with a line of ponies. At the top of Stok La. Prayer flags mark the end of a climb.After a short rest we continued along the mountain sideAnd then gradually descended to Mankorma, where our next campsite was.The campsite was along a river, and we were introduced to river crossings. Jesse began taking photos of these with the hope that he would be able to catch me falling in.The camp was in the shadow of Stok Kangri, which at 20,182 feet is the tallest peak in the area. Tsering told us we were strong and steady, and we would have no problem summiting it if we wanted to try someday. Then he also told us that the mountain had only a 50% summit success rate, and that just last week a climber died on Stok Kangri after a fall. So, maybe not in the cards for us.At the campsite we were still very high up at 14,435 ft. We were informed that the next day would be no easier as we were climbing another pass to 16,000 ft. We rested up…