Our guide Dustan allows a break and I devour the second Snickers like it is made of dust. We’re confused as to how we get down as we can’t see a path, but when he pulls out a rope we realise now it’s time for shit to get really real.
Dustan, all grit and no nonsense, lowers us down one by one past the 10 metres or so of slippery snow that marks the first part of the ridiculously steep descent we must make if we want to get to camp and not perish on the mountain. We then perch precariously on self dug spots wondering just how we will scale the next 500 metres and how much time we have left before the dirt collapses beneath us, sending us to our inevitable, skull crushing deaths. At this point I can only converse in expletives and wonder how I will be portrayed in the documentary they will undoubtedly make about our disappearances.
The instructions from Dustan are brief. We have to dirt ski down. I didn’t even know that was a thing. Daniel manages to slide down on his backside before mustering the courage to get upright and use a walking pole to ‘ski’ the last leg (and even take a picture). Phil gracefully runs down as if he was skipping through Hyde Park. That leaves me, quivering, whimpering me.
Dustan means business. He is going to take me by the hand the whole way down. I stumble and refuse to get back up. He is not happy. We try again. We stop and he tells me off for screaming. He says I shouldn’t panic because he is the one in danger, not me. He is carrying his backpack and mine, after all.
So we try yet again. Deep breaths. He creates mini landslides with his feet so gravity can help us rather than kill us. I have to follow with sideways squatting slide steps. It takes me a long time to get used to the fact that falling rocks are not a bad thing in this situation (small ones anyway) and that we need to skid rather than step.
We mercifully reach the bottom. All that’s left is a mere trudge through some flat snow and stroll through some rolling hills and we are at camp.
I hug the porters and cook as if they are long lost family. God knows how they did what we just did with their giant packs. I don’t care. I’m alive and the hell is over and that’s all that matters.
The open valley that is our campsite feels like the four seasons and our grubby two man tent for three the penthouse.
As we get ready to collapse into bed Dustan utters the most magical words: “Breakfast at 9. Tomorrow easy day.”
Day three and four
This is more what I had in mind. After the two previous full days, it’s a relief to do a mere four hours ambling down lush green paths with the odd river crossing to spice things up.
We reach the small hot springs settlement of Altyn Arashan, kicking off our shoes as we collapse into our yurt. The hot springs are too hot to submerge your whole body, but slowly pouring the warm water over our weary muscles is delicious.
On the last day we hike down a dirt road, bringing us ever closer back to the outside world. We pass fresh looking day trippers and smugly assess whether they could have survived what we did.
At the end, lunch is laid out on a picnic bench like the last supper. Our gold toothed driver can’t arrive soon enough. We wearily pose for a group photo and head silently back to Karakol, too drained to talk. But Dustan has one question for me: “Did you like trekking?”
(PS Phil loves hiking, so we will be doing more of this in China and Bhutan. Maybe after this experience I’ll have hardened up a bit and be less dramatic about those ones. Probably not.)
I’m sure you’ll look back and laugh at this one day, but I can imagine at the time it would be pretty scary! The scenery is so worth the pain though! My type of trekking! I’ve enjoyed your photos and story. Cheers.
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Thanks! Yes we managed a laugh once we got to the bottom safely! The scenery was unrivalled and wouldn’t have been viewable without the pain!
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Sounds exactly what my inner dialogue would have been… And I certainly would have panicked at the sight of ropes!!! Here’s hoping for some less intense trekking as the adventure continues!!! X
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That makes me feel better, Phil was so chilled about it! The guide didn’t speak loads of English so couldn’t talk us through stuff at length but I think he thought he had done it loads before so it would be fine. I’m getting off easy in China actually with just the Great Wall which we did yesterday and at just 3 hours was a walk in the park in comparison! But who knows what Phil has up his sleeve!
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looks like a top drawer country for the treeheads, love it
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Thanks Al, you would like the Stans!
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The story sounded scary and the pics worth watching. I loved all the pics! Wonderful clicks!
I hope you’ll enjoy the trekking less dramatic as you said! Or probably more!
Cheers!
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Thanks glad you liked it and thanks for commenting! I’m psyching myself up for Bhutan which will be a 3 day trek but it’s not for a while at least!
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🙂 🙂 Looking forward for the post
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This sounds crazy!! What happened to the old Marylou? What has Phil done to u??
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Yeah it was crazy! The old me was very much present the entire time especially during the screaming and panicking when we did our steep descent. Phil has made me climb mountains which I never would have contemplated in the past so when I’m old I guess I can thank him but at the moment it’s quite painful!
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