Gaumukh Glacier in a Day!

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The Town Came to Life

As is often the case when you know you need to be up early, I slept poorly the night before we set off for the trek and loathed my alarm for existing when it went off at 5am. Part of the reason I was awake so late the previous night was my dodgy stomach And I soon found that morning that it hadn't improved. I apologised to the girls for being late and told them my stomach was off. They understood. I'd noticed by now that talking about bodily functions was very much the norm when travelling in India. People get sick all the time and diarrhoea, farting and occasionally vomiting is just part of day to day life; I'd worried about it at first but now I'd just accepted it and learned to deal with it as it came. Plus, being open about such things takes the pressure off when you're not feeling great. For me, my current state meant another day of Immodium dependant travel and cautious eating.

As we sat next to a big statue over the bridge awaiting our shared Jeep to Uttarkashi, I could focus on little but the overwhelming tiredness I felt. The fifteen minute wait seemed to go on forever, as the town came to life around us. Children were setting out to school, men led caravans of mules up from the river, loaded with bags of stones and shop keepers lifted their shutters and began setting up their displays for another day of trading.

The taxi picked us up around 6.15 and began to amble around town picking up more groups of people and seemingly endless amounts of post and other goods. The back of the Jeep was stocked full of people and newspapers. Still, we managed to squeeze ten of us in along with the driver. I sat on the middle bench, crammed in with three more people for the six hour drive to Uttarkashi, where we would pick up our trekking permits and find the next Jeep up to Gangotri. For most of the drive I tried to sleep, squeezed awkwardly with minimal leg room and no room to manoeuvre between the people either side of me. I managed some sleep, but it was all through a veil of pain and discomfort. I observed our driver also seemed to be the paper boy and post man for the settlements in the mountains between Rishakesh and Uttarkashi – he'd periodically beep his horn before lofting a rolled up newspaper or brown paper parcel out of his window to a doorstep or waiting recipient by the roadside.

Incredibly Rude

We stopped for food, but I didn't dare eat and it wasn't long after that that we arrived in Uttarkashi. We had to find the permit office and began to ask around. I spotted an English guy I'd seem briefly in Rishakesh. My last encounter with him wasn't great as I watched him being incredibly rude and obnoxious to a shop owner as he tried to buy some cold chocolate. The guy always had his top off regardless of where he was or the offence it might cause. He was distinctive too, with half his head sporting curly long hair and the other half shaved clean. I spoke to him briefly; he and the group he was with already had their permits as someone had done them a favour in Rishakesh – they were able to head straight for the park. As we left to continue looking for the permit office, he was once again being incredibly rude to one of the locals that was trying to help him find a shared Jeep.

Few people in the town seemed to speak English, so getting directions to the permit office proved difficult. We knew from our Jeep driver that it was 2km in a general direction, but we needed a bit more than that to actually find it. Eventually we did find it however, at the top of a massive hill a little way out of town. We were all dripping with sweat when we finally reached it. Processing our forms took an age; we were sent to find photocopies of our passports which we hadn't been told we needed and the men processing the forms were so slow, leafing through random pieces of paper, it appeared they had no idea what they were doing. We were told by another man waiting for his permit that the last chance to get to Gangotri village that day was at 3pm from town. It was now 2.20 and the walk was a good twenty minutes. Sensing our increasing impatience, the man with our paperwork began to slow down further, looking increasingly smug until the point of almost laughing to himself. The final thing to do was stamp our sheet and as he was doing so we all shouldered our packs and made ready to leave. He didn't just stamp our paper however, he began stamping each of the hundreds of forms in the pile next to him that had yet to be used. Smiling broadly he said something to his friend and they laughed together. If I had to bet, I'd swear it was something along the lines of “Do you think they're getting annoyed yet?” - “haha; yes”.

After a frustratingly exaggerated length of time we left with our permit and made our way in the now dripping rain back to town. The rain drops were massive, but infrequent – just enough to cool us on the walk. We picked up a loaf of bread and a few packs of crisps before locating and jumping on a shared 4x4. As we waited for other passengers to fill up the 10 spaces we sat, surrounded by hundreds of flies, and ate crisp sandwiches for lunch.

Sulphuric Heat & Disappointment

The drive through the mountains was long and bumpy, I tried to get some sleep but it was futile – I was sat in the back of the Jeep with 3 other people hanging on to the car to stay in it. Each time I rested my head back I was soon rattled around banging from side to side as we hit potholes and cracks in the road. I was also getting excited at this point as I k new our journey would soon be at an end and I'd get to see Gangotri and prepare for the trek.

After some hours we stopped in a small village on the side of a steep hill, where the driver told us we had 20 minutes at the thermal pools. Curious, we followed the crowds up into the village. Jasmin, the Israeli girl we met in Rishakesh, had told us of these pool and how lovely they were. It was to our disappointment we found they were in fact housed in big concrete square holes inside a building with concrete walls. The hot, sulphuric water was pouring naturally from the hillside but captured in small pools in which many Indians were bathing. The water was dirty and the people in the pool looked at us as though we were aliens. We dipped our toes to confirm what the steam suggested about the temperature (it takes a lot to make steam when it's 40 degrees out) before leaving to meander the shops and get some food before heading back to the Jeep. We drove on through the afternoon, climbing higher into the mountains, now faithfully following the ever narrowing Ganga. As we climbed, we began to get vistas of snow capped peaks and villagers dressed in heavy wool. We were entering the foothills of the Himalayas. The cold was hitting us in the Jeep also and as darkness drew in and the forest around us thickened and grew dense and green, we were each adding layers of fleeces, socks and boots.

It had been dark for around half an hour when we arrived in Gangotri, into a dark car park area full of buses and Jeeps. As we routed around with the lights of our phones to find the last of our things in the back of the unlit Jeep, we were accosted by a horde of people offering us accommodation. Perhaps it was a quiet day. I've never been a fan of people trying to rail road me into staying somewhere and Tamsin and Kate seemed to be of the same opinion; we asked them how much to gauge the local rates then walked into the village to find somewhere else. The village centred around one narrow dirt track, but was illuminated by brightly lit stalls selling all manner of useful things for the passing trekker. Bags of nuts and trail foods were available everywhere, as were small white plastic containers for bottling the holiest of waters flowing from the source of the Ganga. We looked around for some time, repeatedly bumping into the touts from the car park who tried persistently to take us with them to their hotel. In the end we asked some passing travellers if they had found a good place to stay and got a recommendation for a guest house back across the car park. The suggested one was full, but we managed to find a nice one next door for just 200 rupees a night (about £2.50) which we were splitting 3 ways. It was one bed, but made from two singles pushed together so there was enough space for the three of us. It had thick duvets too, which were necessary because of the temperature at the altitude, but also an exciting luxury, as for the past couple of weeks it had been too hot to even sleep under a sheet. The thought of being tucked up and cosy was an exciting one. We arranged with the guest house owner to have a heavy breakfast of vegetable burger and chips each ready for 5am, along with some potato parathas to take for lunch. We had to get an early night, so we had a short walk through town, Tamsin and Kate picked up some thermals and we stocked up on nuts and sugar snacks before finishing the night in a small open restaurant, each enjoying a thali (3 dishes of vegetables, daal and curry served with chapati and rice).

The Ganga Sings

That night I slept very soundly and was in a good mood when multiple phone alarms began to ring out at 4.30am. Despite our arrangements, breakfast wasn't ready for 5am and we had to wait a little, but this gave us time to pop into town and full up my Sigg bottle (flask-like water bottle) with hot masala chai tea to take with us. Breakfast filled me completely and I was a little weighed down as we set off in the cold, early morning light, before the sun had cleared the mountains around us to warm us. Looking up and around we were struck by the scale of our environment. The silhouettes of the mountains around us that we'd seen in the moonlight some hours earlier were now revealed as towering snow-capped peaks. In every direction there was steep mountain sides, the lush greenery of the ancient trees on each giving way to sharp rocky faces reaching up to the inspiring snow line and jagged peaks. Over the noise of the waking town, as shop keepers busily arranged their elaborate displays in the street, the young Ganga could be heard singing, it's light roar echoing from the steep surroundings, making it's presence known. Looking up the valley from which the Ganga was flowing, I could see an enormous white peak, dominating the horizon, on a scale I'd not seen with my own eyes before, even in the New Zealand or The Alps. I felt a growing sense of excitement as I stood in the chilled air looking into the distance. I also felt a touch of apprehension, as the monolithic peak was extremely far away and I was fairly certain that this would be the mighty heart of snow and ice that gave birth to the mightiest river in India.

As we took our first steps on the trail it was just passed 6am; later than I'd hoped but early enough that our mammoth hike might still be possible. We talked excitedly about the day ahead and I made no effort to hide the fact that I though we were mad for attempting such a huge trek in one day. It was 18km each way and I was keen to assess our pace, there was only one chance to stop for the night and that was 4km from the glacier, so we'd have to make the call on that early in the afternoon, when it would be easy to assume we could make it back – only by knowing our pace could we be sure we could make it down safely. The first two kilometres flew by and before we knew it we were at the park entrance, once again dealing with paperwork. It might not have taken too long, but for us the clock was ticking and we were keen to get moving. First we had to go through a bag search as each piece of plastic and paper was inventoried and a deposit taken to ensure that each piece also came back with us. This fantastic scheme had been introduced after a monumental clean up effort had removed several hundred tonnes of litter from the park and the park authorities had become determined to keep it clean from then on.

As we passed into the formal area of the park the sun was just peeking over the summits in the distance, warming our faces with each inch it crept upwards on the horizon. In the glow of the fresh sun we walked briskly along the dirt trail, passing in and out of forests and making our way round the caravans of mules taking supplies and elderly devotees into the mountains towards Gaumukh.

Lethal Trails

We'd been walking fairly uneventful trails for around 4 kilometres when suddenly a gap in the trees revealed a stunning vista of a mountain ridge we hadn't been able to see before. We stopped for some time to take photos, jumping in the air for shots like overexcited kids; we were loving it. We'd been overtaken by several mules during this so we once again had to negotiate our way past them on the narrow path as we left what was to turn out to be the final stretch of forest on the trek. We stumbled upon a little hut in the trees where a softly spoken man sat in an old chair outside offered us breakfast as we passed; there was no time for this though. Leaving this final stretch of forest we found ourselves high on a steep cliff side, on a narrow dirt track with a 70 foot drop into the river valley below. The edge of the track was fitted with railings, though each one was little more than a metre long and there was a gap of probably four metres between each; they offered little protection and caution was a must. Despite this though, it became increasingly hard to pay attention to where we were walking as each step revealed more and more of the stunning mountain landscape around us. Every peak moved aside to reveal a bigger and more imposing one behind it. As the peaks grew in scale, so did the amount of snow on them. We were above the tree line now and so all that was above us was sheer cliff faces, scars from rock falls, huge crags and buttresses of rock, all topped by pristine white snow, often with little glaciers running down from the snow line. Waterfalls dotted the hillsides, flowing into the Ganga, strengthening its flow behind us as we walked along it's increasingly narrowing width.

As the mountains grew ever more imposing, so too the sun began to strengthen; the day was ageing now and we were getting to ever higher altitudes. The hillsides became sandy, the rocks baked dry with in the intense sun and thin air. Kate was the first to feel the altitude. We believed we were at around 3,200 metres at that point, though the symptoms of altitude began to seem stronger than one might have expected. Soon we were resting frequently, Kate was feeling thirsty and dizzy and I too was beginning to feel a weakening within me. The sun was intense now and my eyes began to sting from the rays reflecting of the dusty, dry landscape around us. I'd forgotten my sunglasses and had to squint to ease the dry ache of my eyes. Tamsin gave me a small blue cloth, which I tied around the top of my head to ease the sun's impact. We stopped repeatedly to apply factor 50 sun cream, though my legs were already feeling sore as I'd not thought to apply any when we'd set off in the frigid half light of day break.

Rocking Out in Thin Air

We stopped for a break and I climbed into the rocks above to try and ease the pressure in my insides from my perpetually dodgy stomach. As I climbed back down I struggled to stay on my feet, the simplest of steps became a challenge and I repeatedly stumbled into thickets of dry, thorny scrub. I realised now I was more affected by the altitude than I thought. This had never happened to me before, even in the Alps, but on this occasion we'd made no effort to acclimatise and were pushing ourselves hard in the intense heat and thin air. My mind raced as I tried to work out whether it was the altitude, the sickness that had been with me for weeks or simply dehydration. I imagine it was a combination of all three, but I knew we had to keep a close eye on ourselves. Kate was now feeling very weak and having to take frequent breaks and lots of water. I told her to tell us the minute she felt any further nausea, headaches or cramps as we'd have to turn around instantly if that happened. She insisted she'd not hesitate to let us know if she became any more unwell.

Pressing on along the thin dusty trail, we passed through a narrow gap between several huge towering spires of light brown rock, each almost a hundred feet high with a thin passage through the middle into the mountains beyond. We were now feeling a true sense of adventure; the India we'd known was long gone, the forest now out of sight and the river was a shadow of it's ultimate self, flowing along gently hundreds of feet down the mountainside on which we were walking. Suddenly we all ground to a halt as a shower of boulders rained down the mountainside just a few metres ahead of us. It became clear that the side of the mountain was in the middle of collapsing, a huge trail of boulders and dust led from up beyond or view right down to the river below. As we waited to gauge the danger, several more rockfalls pelted down ahead of us. Tamsin and Kate were walking in flat shoes so I went ahead across the stream of loose rocks to flatten a path. As I stood amidst the rubble I heard a clattering above me, I looked up to see a shower of stones bouncing down at me. I dropped to my knees and covered my head with milliseconds to spare as a rock about 6 inches across whizzed by the top of my head. I stayed down until the cracking of boulders stopped before quickly getting out of the firing line. The rock falls continued and Tamsin and Kate had to time their swift crossings very carefully but we all made it onto the next section of trail safely.

A little while and a few more rockfalls later Kate really needed to rest so we found an overhanging rock that seemed a safe place to shelter, however it was on the side of a ridge as the trail curved around the mountainside and the wind was whipping through us so we moved along a little further just out of the wind. Looking up we spotted several mountain goats stood up high curiously watching us. As one of them moved to get a better view it kicked a rock loose which tumbled into more loose boulders and sent another cascade of rocks our way. We ran from the tumbling debris and returned to the windy shelter. As we sat there, a young Tibetan man came along the trail, a strap around his head held a huge load on his back, it looked as though it weighed as much as he did and he walked very slowly, labouring under the weight of his burden in his tattered sandals, trudging through the mid day sun with no food or water. He asked us for a drink and we handed him a bottle. In desperate thirst he gulped down half a litre in seconds. I'm sure he could have drank triple that to be honest, but he didn't want to take any more. He let me take a photo of him before he continued his march. I couldn't help but wonder what minimal fee he was getting for making this epic, arduous trek and how many times a week he had to do this. He put on a smile for the camera when I took a photo, but it did little to hide his deep pain and this is clear in the shot.

Half Way No Way

After resting for a short time more we continued on the trail and soon overtook the weary man-mule. The altitude was clearly affecting me too now, as each time I stood up I grew dizzy to the point of near feinting, I had to take care to remember to move slowly each time I rested. Kate was really suffering now. It took us about an hour more of walking through the baking dusty hill sides to reach the small village 4km from the glacier. I was walking with one eye open at just a squint as the sun was really hurting my eyes, the water on them turning to syrup and my vision was blurry from it. Tamsin lent me her sunglasses for a while which really helped, I could soon open my eyes again and it made the situation much more enjoyable. We stopped by the village for some time waiting for Kate to catch up and then discussing with Kate whether she would continue or wait in the village for a couple of hours until Tamsin and I had been to the glacier. In the end we reasoned we had plenty time to get there at a comfortable pace and Kate decided to finish the task at hand. We knew that this was in fact only the half way point, but figured the way down would be faster and easier.

After stopping to eat our lunch 2km from the glacier we reached the end of the trail at around 1.30pm. The trail finished 500m from the glacier and was marked by a small shrine, with a waist high stone circular wall and no roof. The shrine was decorated with colourful flags and inside were images of Hindu and Hare Krishna gods. A bell hung by the log entrance frame was rang as people entered the temple to pray, before bathing in the frigid holy waters. We didn't enter the temple as it seemed inappropriate, but we went down to the river to bathe and drink. I took of my boots and my feet thanked me instantly for the fresh air. I sat by the river for a moment to let me feet dry off and grow accustomed to the open air. As I stepped out across the boulders in the Ganga, which was now a mere stream, I could feel the cold coming from the water and wisping around my feet. Stepping into the water I was hit by a stabbing pain as I dropped knee deep into the water which just a few hundred metres ago had been frozen solid into the mighty Gaumukh glacier. I tried to ignore the pain as I washed my face and head in the water, but never the less I was quick to get out of the water; it took a good 10 minutes for the pain to properly subside. I again stepped out into the river, but this time it hurt less as my feet were slightly more accustomed. I bent down and drank several handfuls of the brown water. It was discoloured from the silt and sediment being brought out from under the glacier, but it was ice cold, safe and tasted fantastic. Each of us took turns to do this before we sat around in the sun for a short while, resting on the rocks strewn around the dusty flats from which the glacier had receded over the years. Before we left the water, I filled up a bottle with the holy water, to replace the bottle I'd taken in Rishakesh to send home for Lorna. We posed for some photographs by the distance marker at the top which read 0km, then again on the other side of it – 18km. We realised now the battle of endurance was far from over and started off back towards Gangotri at pace.

We made god time for the first few hours of the walk back; passing several lone wanderers with each asking how far they had left. Many people had avoided walking in the midday sun which had been bearing down on us so intensely for most of our trek so far.

The Long Kilometres

As the sun got low in the sky we were aware we were only half way back, but we'd passed the village which was the only option of refuge and were committed to the walk. Kate was now really sick, stopping every ten minutes with diarrhoea, constantly dry retching and struggling to walk at more than a crawl pace. At one point Kate stopped by he trail to go to the toilet again, which seemed fine as we'd seen no one for a while by then. Unfortunately as soon as she set about her business, two Indian men came walking by and to their horror found her squatting by the path. Kate was past caring and soon came around the3 corner too us to carry on. Tamsin and I walked close by, I stood cliff side on the narrow path and Tamsin was behind her, both ready to grab her if she feinted or fell. We believed we were around 4km from town when we saw a marker post which to our dismay read 7km. We were all very tired and there was little light left, but we were walking at less than 2km per hour and only likely to get slower – we still had a very long walk ahead of us. The grim reality of this realisation stood out to me in stark contrast as I looked ahead of me at an amazing sunset beginning to blast out between the mountains down the valley ahead of us. I had to take photos of the incredible view, but I had to do it as I kept walking with one eye on the camera and one eye on Kate. The route was peppered with small rivers to cross using bridges made out of no more than a couple of branches; these had been a challenge on the way up in daylight with fresh legs, now we were tackling them in twilight with barely any strength left. After the heat of he day, we found the small streams of melt water we'd crossed in the morning had turned into gushing torrents and waterfalls. Luckily, we all managed to safely cross the last of these in the final drips of daylight. We didn't want to turn our torches on as this would ruin our night eyes and limit our vision to the tiny area of torchlight ahead, though when we reached the forest again we were plunged into total darkness and had no choice.

Continually we thought we could see the forest commission office up ahead on the hill side, wishfully we pointed ahead at nothing, knowing that when we reached the office we'd have just 2km left to go. About an hour after dark we stumbled wearily into the office, barely able to talk we were so tired. The young guy at the desk started to leaf through paperwork, pretending he couldn't find the entry for our litter deposit from that morning. He could see we were shattered and was clearly hoping we'd leave it and he could take the money. I was sick of people taking the piss like this though and refused to let it go. I threw some litter down hard on the table, not so angry but trying to make a point. I couldn't keep it up though and just stood there waiting. Tamsin grew tired of it and left to wait outside, she'd given up on the deposit. I stuck it out though and after something of a battle of wills I got our money back.

The Hardest Footsteps

The last 2km of the trek, up and down the hilly forest trail were some of the hardest steps I've ever taken in my life. Each time I lifted my foot it took all my might to keep it in the air and make a step. We were walking slower than a crawl now, sharing two torches between three as Kate had no torch. I'd given my head torch to Kate and I walked slightly ahead in darkness, only occasionally getting a glimpse of the track ahead as one of the torches behind flicked up and I saw the terrain around my shadow. We were so tired that by the time we neared the village it became difficult to work out how to get back down the track we'd started on. We stood above the village in the forest and had repeated confused debates about which way to go. Emerging from the forest I was approached by a tout from the night before. “You like room?” I couldn't even muster the energy to look at him, let alone respond as I made tiny steps to our guest house, which was now in sight.

As we neared the guest house, the owner came bounding over in a very animated fashion, “YOU MADE IT BACK!! SO FAST!!” He couldn't believe we'd done it in a day, let alone got back in 14 hours altogether. I felt like the walk back had been the slowest and most arduous I'd ever done, but I guess everything's relative and slowly finishing an “impossible” trek is faster than not finishing it at all.

As I undressed to get in bed, my body suddenly let me know what it thought of me. The sunburn began to sting intensely, my head started spinning and I began to shake violently, shivering uncontrollably with chattering teeth yet burning flesh. I got under my duvet and lay there, curled up in foetal position shaking, my eyes watering and every bit of my body feeling like you might expect if you were lying on your deathbed with bird flu. I dozed off in a haze after a long time of shivering and shaking but before I knew it I was awake again and light was beaming through the windows. I was desperate for the loo and felt just as bad as I had when I went to bed. The light meant it was morning and there was no way whatsoever I could get myself anywhere in that condition, let alone negotiate 12 hours of Jeep rides to get back to Rishakesh. I felt like I could cry until I picked up my phone and saw the time. It was only 11pm; in my state of confusion and sickness I'd mistaken the electric lights in the hall outside for the morning sun. I still had 8 hours to sleep. My intense dismay turned suddenly to elation as I curled back up in bed and quickly returned to slumber.

The following morning I felt so much better I could barely believe it. I was still tired, but my muscles didn't ache and the red flesh on my legs no longer burned at all. I couldn't believe my luck and was quick to tell Tamsin and Kate about my amazing recovery. I soon wished I hadn't though, as Kate's expression of misery told me before he mouth did that she'd been up the entire night being sick and running to the toilet. She said she was able to make it back to Rishakesh though as she'd been stable for a couple of hours now and would just avoid food all day.

Slow Starts & Private Taxis

It took us a long time to prepare to leave and we missed our intended departure time by over an hour. This meant we arrived in Uttarkashi well after the last Jeep had left for Rishakesh. We tried for over half an hour to arrange another shared Jeep but had no luck. The only option we had was to pay 4x more each to hire a Jeep for ourselves. Tamsin and I had to be at the ashram the next day and the thought of another 4am start was terribly unappealing, so we begrudgingly took a private Jeep. I tried to take advantage of the space I had in the front seats by writing my blog, but the road was so bumpy and the air so dusty that it was basically impossible.

We arrived back in Rishakesh just after 8pm, in the dark. We crossed the Lakhsman Jhula footbridge over the once again enormous river before going our separate ways, arranging to meet the next day to go to the ashram.

Back at the Ganga View hotel I found the young guy that managed it and got my big rucksack back from him. I told him about our adventure and he listened eagerly. As I went to my new room, a tall bald man came from the room opposite and asked me if he heard right that I'd just been to Gaumukh. He asked if I could spare some time that evening to talk with him about it, which I agreed to. I went to my room and scoffed a Nutella sandwich on stale bread before getting a much needed shower. I scrubbed hard at myself with the flannel and turned the water grey. It felt great to be clean and I got dressed into some of my new loose and comfortable clothes. After popping into the village to stock up on water I went to chat with the guy opposite.

He was Russian and was with a Russian girl, preparing vegetables for their dinner. I took of my shoes and sat on the bed. There was a relaxed feel about the pair of them and I talked slowly with them. They finished cooking and offered me to join the meal. They'd made a fantastic soup and a fresh salad, which they served to me in generous portions with fresh warm chapatis. I ate until I could eat no more, they were so generous and the food was fantastic, I was very grateful. It turned out that Serge, as I learned he was called, was a devoted Hare Krishna follower and had spent years as a monk studying the faith. He'd been to Gaumukh often in the past and was considering another trip. He was dismayed to learn there was no an exclusion zone and that the costs to get in had gone up five fold. He'd previously gone up on to the glacier, staying up there for days on end with a baba (a sort of guru figure) who lived a very simple existence on a plateau half way up the glacier. His friend left us after dinner and we continued to talk for hours. We talked at length about the world and modern society; he had some great views and insight and I really enjoyed the conversation. He told me he was convinced from the way I spoke that I'd been very enlightened in a past life. I'm not sure about the idea of past lives, but I took the comment as a compliment. He asked if he could take a little of the Ganga water I'd collected at the glacier, so I refilled the bottle I had prepared for Lorna and obliged him with some of the remaining water. He seemed as though I'd given him the best gift in the world, “A gift from god” he said, as he eagerly drank the water I'd poured out from him, before pouring the remnants over his head, rubbing it over his face and praying to himself. His gratitude was deep and genuine. I could see what this meant to him, so I left him the rest of the bottle. It meant much more to him that it possibly could to me and he was incredibly thankful. It was past midnight now, so I thanked him for the delicious meal, his hospitality and the great chat, before going across the hall and going to bed.

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Photos

Mountain Menaces
Mountain goats triggered most of the rock falls we had to contend with

Waterfalls of Melt Water
Many of these waterfalls formed during the day as the sun glared at the snowy peaks