A Typical Day on the Trek, the Ladakh Version

Seeing as this was only my second big multi-day trek, it may be difficult to keep from comparing this Ladakh trek around the Ripchar Valley to last year's trek to Annapurna Base Camp.

While last year's trip to Nepal seemed to have more routine each day, there was still a basic formula to a day on the trail in Ladakh. The trekking days were shorter that last year, as in we started later and ended earlier, but when you take into account the terrain, the altitude (we were over 12,000 for all but the first night in camp before we started actually walking) and the lack of organized stops along the way, the days seemed both longer and more difficult than Annapurna.

So I don't have to completely reintroduce the characters, here's a link to that post. As is the case with most things on a trek, all times are approximate. 

6:00am - Tea, Coffee?

Each morning at 6:00am, our faithful guide and kitchen dude Sarbu would approach the tent vestibule with a welcoming hot beverage. The intent of this beverage is twofold; (1) it's just a nice touch to have an instant coffee or black tea delivered to your tent and (2) it's an insurance policy against campers not getting moving in the morning.

Not a bad morning view

6:10am - Washing Water
Shortly after coffee, two bowls of warm washing water were placed outside the tent. The stated intent of these bowls is that they're for any morning washing you may want to do; however, since I tended to do most of my washing (these are the things you want to know) with the "arriving in camp bowl of washing water", I really just used this water to soak my hands and warm up a little. I'm a delicate little flower.

Once my digits were warmed up, it was time to visit the facilities, brush my teeth, quickly reorganize the tent, stuff the sleeping bag, repack the trekking duffel, and make sure the daypack, which was the only thing we were responsible for carrying, was stocked appropriately. The stock included my daily allotment of Crystal Light or Gatorade poweder (but usually Crystal Light, I'm addicted to that stuff - on a quick side note, the four of us were suffering the withdrawal effects of not having wine for so long and quickly assigned grape varietals to flavors, as in White Grape = Sauvignon Blanc, Fruit Punch = Malbec, Cherry Pomegranate = Cabernet; these are the things you think about when you're walking around the wilderness for 10 days) and a Clif bar, rain gear (which wasn't nearly as necessary in the world's highest desert as it was in Annapurna, and any expected changes in layers throughout the day. Not a bad deal.

6:30 or 6:45am - Arrival at the Dining Tent
Once ready for the day, it was time to hit the dining tent for more coffee. Like last year, I tended to be the first to hit this stage. Either I'm extremely efficient or disgustingly unhygienic.

Lindsay approaches

7:00am - Breakfast
Breakfast was two courses of guilt-free calories. The first course consisted of a bowl and a half of porridge with honey and sugar. The second course consisted of 2 - 3 small omelets and 4 - 5 pieces of some sort of carbohydrate. The default carb was toast; however, Judith (a lover of fine dining and pancakes) would give Sanjeev a subtle hint like, "Hey Sanjeev, I really love Deepak's pancakes." Magically, the next day pancakes would be on the menu. Freshly brewed coffee gets consumed through this entire process. Sanjeev also picked up on the fact that my caloric intake increased on days we were climbing passes so on those days there was just a little more food.

Warm breakfast morning

After breakfast, we actually had a little free time. Since there weren't cooking facilities along the trail at lunch, Deepak had to cook lunch right after he cooked breakfast. If we started trekking for the day right after breakfast, it wrecked the timing. Most mornings we sat around and talked, wrote in journals, or made final preparations for the day (making sure we had the right varietal of Crystal Light for the day, making sure our water bottles were full, checking which layers we had included, making a last stop at the toilet tent). One or two mornings we continued the previous night's game of canasta.

9:00am - Start Trekking
There were far fewer villages than last year's trek. As a result, there wasn't a destination stop to make during the morning where we'd sit down at a tea house and stop for 20 - 30 minutes to relax with a tea, Coke, or Everest beer (you know, on the days that were mostly downhill). Instead we would just figure out a time when everyone was getting tired around midway through the morning and, at a spot that looked comfortable, take a quick break that included sitting rather than just catching our breath. After that break, it was back to the trail. Most days, around break time or slightly after, Deepak and Surya would catch up with the food, stop for a quick minute, and quickly scurry out in front of us. You really have no idea how slow you are as a paying customer until you see somehow appear from the distance, catch up and pass you (all while carrying our lunch), and then have that lunch set out for you when you finally "catch" back up.

Starting the final day toward Kanji

Noon-ish - Lunch
The time varied depending on the day and whether we were at a spot that wasn't too exposed (i.e., on most days that we climbed passes we ate a later lunch). On last year's trek, there were actual kitchens along the way and lunch actually took a lot longer because of it. I remember days when they would purposely slow us down because lunch wouldn't have been near ready when we arrived. This year, lunch was cooked at the previous night's camp, packaged, and then served while on the trail.

Short catnap after lunch

The blue tarp (which doubled as the evening yoga tarp) would be set out and we'd gather around. Surya would first hand us a box of mango juice, which was perhaps the sweetest, most sugar-filled juice I've ever tasted. I thought it was delicious. Others on the trek did not. In addition to the juice, lunch typically consisted of salad (which is pronounced "salat" in the trekking world, and if you ever take a trek with Sanjeev you'll be pronouncing it that same way within the first couple days), some sort of protein (usually a canned meat like tuna or cooked Spam), some sort of carbohydrate (my favorite was the aloo jeera Deepak whipped up one day), and a bread. The breads were fantastic, plentiful, and typically region inspired. Parathas some days, Tibetan sweet bread on others.

12:45pm - Afternoon Trekking
After a brief rest, it was time to hit the trail again. Depending on the location of the next camp, the afternoon trek could be anywhere from two to four hours. The trekking days seemed "shorter" than last year; however, based on the lack of "long" stops at tea houses, I feel like there was just as much walking, the days were just more compressed. Regardless, the trekking was at higher altitude and seemed more difficult, so early arrivals at camp weren't necessarily unwelcome occurrences.

3:30pm - Arrive at Camp
By this time in the day, you started looking in the distance for any signs of camp. The most obvious sign was typically the blue dining and kitchen tents off in the distance. Some days you could see the tents for the last 45 minutes, some days you didn't see them until you were actually in camp. Most days, camp would only be partially set up, so we would get to the dining tent and just hang out there and relax a little bit while our tents were set up. The reality is that the sleeping tents aren't terribly exciting places to hang out, so the dining tent was, in my opinion, the preferred spot to be.

The blue tent (it's there, I swear)

4:00pm - Yoga (i.e., more resting for John)
My other trekking companions tried to make a point of doing yoga for a little while each day. I participated on two days but haven't quite caught the yoga bug. Plus, on the days I participated I had a tendency to make jokes, which apparently isn't typical while doing yoga. I don't think I was technically not asked to participate, but I think it was better for all parties that I typically didn't.

Before I wore out my welcome

4:30pm - Setting up the Tent and Washing Water
Once yoga was complete and/or the tents were ready. It was time to hit the tent and get organized. They would lay out a sleeping mat inside and have our bags set out. Sarbu, the guy responsible for setting up the tents, would even have our respective bag on the correct side. This year there was less rain, so it wasn't so much a race to the tent and we typically took turns getting set up.

Once you had your sleeping bag out and got reorganized, it was time for the washing water. Each evening two warm bowls of water would be set next to the tent. I would bring a bowl inside the vestibule, zip that shut, strip down, and let the washing begin. "Washing" really just means adding some camp suds to the water, dipping a towel into the water, and trying to wipe your self clean. We've also found that wet naps can be quite effective. The last step is trying to dry yourself off with another towel, which never seems to work. The goal is to get no water in the tent, and after a couple days, this goal is reasonably attainable. Thankfully, no pictures exist of this entire process.

Once clean, it's time to put on "camp clothes". My camp clothes consisted of an extra pair of hiking pants, a white long sleeve t-shirt, an extra pair of hiking socks, low-top hiking shoes, and my black fleece vest (i.e., the frat vest). I wore the same clothes for all 11 nights at camp. In addition to this, we would fill a stuff sack with warmer layers like our down coat, thicker fleeces, gloves, and hat. The other important thing to not forget in the "evening bag" was the headlamps. As you can probably imagine, it gets cold and dark when the sun goes down.

5:00pm - Tea, Coffee, and Canasta
Shortly after the comedy of the washing process concludes, it's time for a nice warm beverage and cookies. We would head to the dining tent where Sarbu would be eagerly waiting for tea and coffee hour. The choices were plentiful, including tea, instant coffee, hot chocolate, and some mocha-coffee-vitamin drink called Bourne Vita that Sanjeev seemed to enjoy. In addition to the warm beverage, there would be some sort of snack. All days that included packaged cookies and on certain days that consisted of fresh popcorn. Yes, it is possible to pop corn on a trek at 13,000 feet.

Lindsay ponders her next move as Glenn prepares to ridicule it

The warm beverage quickly became secondary and the next couple hours were spent playing cards. Canasta, to be exact. Boys versus girls (yes, the boys basically dominated the trip, winning six of nine games) and lots of trash talk. My journal quickly became not only a set of notes of what happened during the day but the book of record for scoring our canasta games. Thirty years from now, the canasta scores will be infinitely more interesting when opening that book.

7:00pm - Dinner
I can't say enough good things about the food on the trek. Dinner was no exception. The first course was some sort of soup. Last year it seemed like we alternated between chicken and vegetable (and it was tough to differentiate). This year there was more variety: tomato, vegetable, chicken, mushroom, and fresh lamb. After a bowl and a half of soup, Sarbu would bring the rest of the meal. In general, there would be between four or five different things to select from. Typically, it was carb-heavy. One night, we had pizza, spaghetti, and roasted potatoes. The final four nights, it included the sheep purchased along the way. There was never any shortage of food. Sarbu continually circled us with serving dishes and made sure our plates weren't finished. Again, you'd think a high altitude trek would be a good way to lose weight. It's not.

Pizza!

7:45pm - Tea, Coffee, and Canasta
Following dinner there was one last round of tea and coffee. But rather than tea and coffee, we'd top it off with a hot chocolate. Mmmmmm dessert.

The first few nights we were dead tired at this point and headed to the tent very early. Unfortunately, when you start to get ready for bed at 8pm, you tend to wake up very, very early. By the third night or so, we decided that an hour or more of canasta never hurt anyone. From my and Glenn's perspectives, it just gave us more time to dominate. Throughout the evening, the layers start to come out. By the canasta hour, especially on the nights at higher altitude, fleeces, down coats, hats, and gloves had all made an appearance.

Yep, she's wearing two down coats

9:00pm - Prepare for Bed
When it was time to call it quits, it was time to get ready for bed. We would grab our water bottles and head toward the toilet tent. There must be something about creating a bathroom because most nights we brushed our teeth near the toilet tent, much like your sink is very likely near your toilet. There is no explanation for this. In fact, I can't think of a worse place to brush your teeth. After visiting the tent and brushing teeth, it was time to head back to the tent

9:10pm - Bedtime
Depending on the temperature, there were some nights when the time between the toilet tent phase and the bedtime phase was far less than ten minutes. Depending on the temperature, I might elect to keep most of my layers on or strip down to an appropriate level. This year I used a sleeping bag liner which served two purposes; an extra layer of warmth when cold and a thin layer when hot. Genius. I fashioned a pillow by wrapping my down jacket in a fleece. It was comfortable enough, though I'm semi-allergic to down filling so I'd often wake up with eyes as puffy as the jacket. Judith was the smart one of the group. She borrowed a pillow from Lufthansa when she arrived in India. She's the real genius.

Once situated in the tent, it was lights out. I tried to read a couple nights but the reality is you're just too tired. Lindsay tried to stick with the reading a little bit longer but I think she read about 45 pages of "The God of Small Things". Glenn had coincidentally brought the same book and got through about 9 more pages. Not exactly a ringing endorsement for the award winning book

Moonrise over camp

When you repeat this cycle for ten or eleven days you find a rhythm. The days are long (almost as long as this post) but rewarding. In fact, when all is said and done the 21 total days I've spent trekking in Nepal and Ladakh (plus the 5 more I have planned in November) will be some of the most memorable days of this experience.

The Diamox Darling

For my 30th birthday (which was a few years back) my family agreed to join me for a climb up Quandary Peak in Colorado. It was my first (and to this point only) summit of a fourteener in Colorado. Until the trek in Ladakh, its 14,265 foot peak also marked the highest point where I had ever stood. Other than making it to the summit that fine September day, my second priority was to get a good picture of Lindsay and I at the top. Lindsay, always the trooper, made it to the top that day. The picture? Well, here's the evidence:

When she sees this picture on the blog, there will likely be issues at home

Maybe it's just me, but one person looks a little happier to be sitting on the summit. In hindsight, she probably shouldn't have summited; she had both a headache and was nauseous, the two most basic symptoms of altitude sickness. Luckily, other than those symptoms and the accompanying crankiness, there were no other issues and we made it down with no issues.

The altitude was one of the main reasons we elected to make our first trek to Annapurna Base Camp. In Himalayan terms, the trek maxes out at a relatively low 13,500 feet so altitude wasn't an issue. Once we knew we were comfortable with the other aspects of the trek (like princess camping for multiple nights without showering), we figured we could always try higher altitude. Our Ladakh trek had that higher altitude. We started around 10,500 feet, camped just about every night at 12,000+ feet, and crossed four high passes, the highest of which was 16,500 feet.

So how do you change a smile from being the very epitome of forced at 14,265 feet to this very genuine reaction at 16,500 feet?

It's simple. Diamox.

After acclimating for two nights, first in Leh and then in camp in the village of Chilling, we started our trek. The first day of walking was short but we climbed a couple thousand feet. Strategically, we got to camp before lunch and had a lengthy rest before the next morning. The next day was our first "high" pass with an elevation of around 15,500 feet. After about the first hour or 90 minutes that morning, each step up the hill set a personal altitude record for both Lindsay and I. Right as we got to lunch (pre-pass), everyone had started to feel the altitude a little bit, as can be expected on your first day. I had a mild headache but nothing too serious. Unfortunately, Lindsay had both the headache and was a little nauseous. It was time to start the drugs. It was for the Diamox.

There are differing opinions on Diamox. Some doctors will tell you to preemptively take it before you get to altitude. Some doctors will take you that starting it too soon might mask more serious altitude sickness. She decided to listen to the doctors in the "don't take it until you think you need it" camp. The correct dosage is somewhere between 125 - 250 mg taken twice per day. She had 250 mg pills that she was forced to cut each morning. We made fun of her for looking like a drug addict as she cut the pills, but whatever chemical was in those little tablets seemed to do the trick as she had no issues for the rest of the trip. There were even smiles. Real smiles.

I'm sure there are all kinds of differing perspectives on the usage of this type of drug when at altitude. If you're from a low elevation location and planning a high altitude trip, I'd highly recommend finding a doctor that has knowledge of altitude-related sickness as it's very possible your general practitioner has little or no experience treating or prescribing this type of medication.

The Longest 15 Minutes

This post is entirely out of order with my other planned Ladakh posts, but it's all the energy I could muster this morning before work....

Leh is situated at an elevation of 11,500 feet, which means that its airport also rests at or near that same height. All flights in and out of Leh are early in the morning to reduce the chance of weather impacting the flight. As an example, our short Jet Airways flight landed in Leh at 7:55am. That was the later of two choices, the first had departed Delhi at 5:30am and arrived before 7.

Outside arrivals at the airport in Leh where I'm not sure photography is allowed

This isn't a story about landing at the high airport (though the flight from Delhi to Leh is magnificent, we had clear views of the Himalayas nearly the entire way and you land between two mountain ranges that seem closer than they need to be). This is a story of our flight back in Delhi. The only "odd" thing about leaving Leh is the strict security at the airport (they encourage you to carry nothing on the plane except valuables). Off course, given the fact you're technically in Kashmir in a city with a heavy military presence, the strict security makes sense.

The flight back to Delhi was uneventful until our approach. As we descended near the airport, we entered a very dark cloud which happened to be a monsoon rain cloud hovering over the airport. Almost immediately, the plane hit heavy turbulence and was violently shaken. Quickly, we felt the plane gain altitude again. My first aborted landing.

A couple minutes later the captain came on the loudspeaker with the following message (and I'm paraphrasing for the most part here as Jet refused my request to listen to the little black box):

"As you could probably tell, there were heavy rain storms situated above the airport in Delhi and we've had to abort our landing. We'll be making a quick circle over the region and then give it another try."

He continued, and this isn't a paraphrase, this is a direct quote:

"We have fifteen minutes of fuel left."

And then there was silence. He didn't say "we have 15 minutes of EXTRA fuel before we need to land at a different airport"; he didn't say something more general like, "there are extreme weather issues in Delhi, we're going to stay in the area for a short time before heading to an alternative and safer location to land." He was specific. The reaction on the plane was a nice mix of bewildered looks between people where they were obviously thinking "did he just say that" and outright nervousness.

Strangely, in the moment I wasn't worried about death (regardless of how remote that chance actually was). I was worried that I had 1300 (in my humble opinion) awesome photos documenting an unbelievable trip that our family and friends might never see.

That thought quickly vanished as we made a run at another landing. The heaviest of the clouds had cleared, and as you can rightly assume since you're reading this post, the plane landed without issue.

Note: Not a good month for the Luth children and planes as my younger sister and her husband were on a flight from Moline to Denver that had to make an emergency landing somewhere in South Dakota, fire trucks and all. I think she wins the "who had the worst flight" award.

As we were taxiing, our friend Judith heard a passenger in the row behind us nervously state, "that was seventeen minutes."

I guess we'll never know how close we were.

The Children of Hanupatta and Kanji

Most places you travel in India you'll come across a curious child or two. Typically, the children approach you and we've found that they really just want to interact a little, have their picture taken, and most importantly, see their image on the screen. It's really quite a pleasant experience. Ladakh was no exception.

Following Rule #1: always let them see the picture

At camp outside the village of Hanupatta, a roving gang of boys approached us. Usually, a roving gang is up to no good. These were nice kids. So nice, in fact, that when we gave them a package of cookies the oldest took control and rationed out two or three cookies per kid and tried to return the remaining food. Without taking any for himself. We assured him it was fine for him to take some as well. These kids were also no exception to the "you're how old?" double take we found ourselves making when asking how old the kids were. They claimed to be between ten and thirteen. I would have cut three years from each of the kids' responses.

The children of Hanupatta

On the final night in camp in the village of Kanji, the campsite was "the" place to be in town. As such, our campsite was swarmed with the village children for most of our stay. My favorite kid was a young monk that first tried to endear himself to us by acting cute and trying to sell us a snail fossil and a geode looking rock. The monk was sixteen. He didn't look a day over eleven. Once he realized we weren't the suckers, we seemed to take an interest in the strange rituals we performed in camp.

The children of Kanji

First up was the daily yoga routine. Since I had been banned from yoga a few nights prior for making too many jokes, Glenn, Lindsay, and Judith took their familiar positions on a blue tarp and started a series of stretches. Quickly the children gathered next to them and quizzically watched the strange white people in strange poses. Then something else happened. A few started to imitate the poses. Before you knew it, the ancient art of yoga had been exported from India and reimported to a small village in one of its northern states.

Imitation is flattery

After the imitation yoga session, Lindsay and Judith decided to see if the kids would imitate something else: padddycake (or least a variant thereof). They sat opposite one another and started to clap their hands and, in English, describe in songlike fashion what they were doing (i.e., "Down, together, left, together, right, together, down"). Slowly but surely the kids gathered around and the older girls sat down next to them and started to imitate. Glenn even got the young monk to try it out with him.

The next ten to fifteen minutes was just kids having fun playing games. A couple of the elder women from the village, whom we suspected to be grandparents, sat close and looked on with silent approval. The entire scene made for one of the more memorable moments of the trip.

As the paddycake was coming to a close, one of the young girls leaned over to Lindsay and asked, "Why just one song?" Apparently, they were confused why they just were chanting, "Down, together, left, together..." and were ready to move to more complex moves. Next time we'll have to add the baker's man.

"My Dinner Looked Me in the Eye"

As fair warning, if you think meat comes from cellophane packages at the grocery store, this might not be the post for you. I can also say that if what follows didn't turn me into a vegetarian that I'm pretty confident in saying that I'll eat meat for the rest of my life.

As we approached camp on the fifth night of our trek to Ladakh, we noticed something just further down the valley from our tents. A flock of sheep. Then we noticed our cook (Deepak) and his assistant (Surya) standing in in the middle of the animals. Immediately, Glenn and I knew what was up; they were negotiating for our dinner.

Now let me tell you something about Glenn. The man likes his food; he's not afraid to admit it. I'm pretty sure the first thing ever heard him say, was, "So did Judith tell you that I eat a lot of food." This was addressing Sanjeev at the trek introductory briefing in Kathmandu last year when meeting him for the first time. Of all the foods out there, lamb is his favorite. To say he was excited about the prospect of a fresh lamb would be an understatement.

Unfortunately, our guys weren't able to strike a deal. Apparently, the shepherds didn't have "selling" power and the owner of the flock was down the valley in the next village, a couple hours away. We would have to wait at least one day for fresh lamb. That night, instead, we "settled" on pizza, a staple camp food.

Someone likes Deepak's pizza

The next night, we stayed in the village of Fangila (much more on this village in a future post; well, less about the village itself and more about the joys of using the word "fangila" for various purposes). As we settled at the camp, Lindsay made mention to Sanjeev that she had seen a chicken in town, which is apparently uncommon based on the elevation. As soon as she mentioned it, his eyes lit up. It was obvious he was going to try and buy the chicken. Apparently, it was the only chicken in town. Fail.

The following day we camped in a beautiful canyon which, as luck would have it, had yet another herd of goats and sheep approach as the sun set. Negotiations ensued (which I asked Sanjeev if I could document with photos but unsurprisingly he said it would only drive up the price); however, that day was some sort of holy day or someone spiritual's birthday (these are the details you forget when you're a carnivore in hot pursuit of a fresh lamb). No lamb that night either.

Camp on our eighth night (i.e., Lamb Night)

Our luck changed on our fourth night of trying. It's cute how I say "our" night of trying; I was more an observer and beneficiary, less an actual participant. In late afternoon a herd of sheep and goats again approached the camp. A very large herd. And by "approached" I really mean "meandered within." Sanjeev immediately dispatched two trusted party members, Sarbu and Galpo, to find the shepherds. Sarbu returned with good news. The shepherds were having tea two kilometers up the valley but were coming soon, and they were willing to part with a sheep.

That's right a "sheep." The entire time we had heard the word "lamb" and had expected a young sheep and had visions of New Zealand lamb chops. This is the part where we learned "lamb" meant sheep in these parts and that "mutton" (which I had always associated with older sheep) actually meant goat. Whatever, at this point it was more about the getting meat. Of course, I say that like we were starving, which wasn't the case at all.

Deepak takes stock before the shepherd's arrive

After another cup of tea with our kitchen staff (this is starting to sound like a Craig Mortensen book, well, except for all this really happened), a deal in principle was struck with the shepherds and the "hunt" began. They had a specific sheep they were willing to sell, which also doubled, we believe, as their oldest sheep (also known as the sheep with the lowest net present value).

The shepherds approach

Catching one specific sheep in a large herd is harder than you might think. The entire process of chasing, cornering, and capturing took about thirty minutes. Part of what makes the process take time is that sheep don't really want to get caught. Something tells me that a sheep knows what's going to happen when it gets caught. I'm not giving the effort it's entire due in words here; however, the guys were more tired from the chasing and cornering than from the full day's trek. Of course, as customers we lazily sat in our camp chairs and watched the entire scene unfold. There's a morbid curiosity that goes along with this type of thing along the same line as the gawker's delays we've all sat in with accidents on the highway.

Sarbu during the chase

Surya with the unluckiest lamb

Begrudgingly leashed to a rope, the sheep was marched past us on the way to the kitchen tent. This was, admittedly, awkward. Judith really wanted no part of seeing the actual animal we would later consume. She did a great job of hiding her eyes. For the most part. Unfortunately, she turned at absolutely the wrong instant and caught the sheep's eye directly. So yes, Judith's dinner looked her right in the eye.

The sheep perp walk (before Judith's dinner looked her the eye)

There were final negotiations on a price, and the shepherds departed our camp and took the rest of the herd down the valley. How much does a sheep cost? We never found out the price of our sheep; however, Sanjeev had previously mentioned that a sheep would go in the 3500 - 4000 rupee range (approximately $77 - $88). This seemed expensive to me before I started doing the math. There were 11 people that were able to eat 3 very big dinners, so well under $3 per serving.

Final negotiations outside Sanjeev's tent

I'll skip past the actual butchering. Just know that the staff did it professionally and quietly and, is the usual case in this part of the world, no part of the animal went to waste.

A couple hours later we had a feast. That feast continued for the two subsequent nights on the trek as well. We had lamb soup, lamb curry, fried lamp chops, lamb momo's. What Forrest Gump was to shrimp, Deepak was to lamb. And see how easy it is to say "lamb" instead of "sheep". Lamb-loving Glenn was in heaven.

Even though I was a mere observer to this process, I can say with a fair degree of certainty that it's as close as any Luth male has been to catching his own meal (with the exception of fishing) since my Dad's childhood days on the farm in Ohio. While some will consider what I just described as barbaric, it's a good reminder that the protein you consume doesn't originate from the grocery store.

Ripchar Valley Trek - The Cast of Characters

I like to think of myself as adventurous. Then I realize that both of my Himalayan treks (Annapurna Base Camp last year as well as Ladakh) have been heavily supported and portered. Last year, there was a staff of 23 supporting our group of 6. I thought we were making progress when this year's the staff was limited to 7 people to support the 4 guests. Then I realized there were also 14 horses.

Pack animals weren't used last year based primarily on the terrain. Annapurna's trail is primarily a set of large ancient steps between numerous villages that are too tough on the animals; whereas, Ladakh's Ripchar Valley is more traditional trail where the animals make both geographic and economic sense.

When compared to the few other groups we encountered, we seemed "heavy" (especially with horses), but then again, we knew we were "princess camping" (a phrase pioneered by our friend and trekking partner Judith) so no complaints.

The Other Guests
We were lucky enough to be joined by our friends Judith and Glenn, whom we met last year in Nepal. Obviously, we got along with them well enough last year that when we learned they wanted to visit India at some, we hatched a plan. They could come do some touring in northern India for a couple weeks followed by the trek. A masterful plan, except when you realize that that "couple weeks touring" was in India in late June. Not exactly prime tourist season. They persevered and (from their account) had a great, if not hot, time.

Even after 14 days in Ladakh (and however many portions of days they were in and around Delhi before and after Ladakh), we still seem to be friends. They've even invited us to Calgary for some Canadian Rockies hiking and (more importantly) Stampede, which has been described as the rodeo invading Mardi Gras. That's a trip I'll be taking.

The final morning in camp, everyone is still smiling

Sanjeev Chhetri, Lead Guide
In my opinion, Sanjeev is the best. He was our guide last year and we made a point to hire him again. He owns his own guide service called Ramailo Treks but also guides for Mountain Travel Sobek and National Geographic. I don't have a wealth of information on Himalayan trekking guides; however based on other guides and camps we've encountered on the trail, I can't imagine doing a Himalyan trek without him.

Deepak, Cook
The food has quickly become a close second to the actual trekking on these trips. For that, we can thank Deepak. For the past 18 years, whenever Sanjeev has done a trek in India or Nepal, he's hired Deepak when available. Thankfully, this was our second trip with Deepak. What he's able to do in a camp kitchen is, simply put, amazing. One night he cooked pizza, spaghetti, and roasted potatoes. A carb lovers delight, for sure, but also a little necessary for the trip. On the final night he baked a cake. Again, we were in a small village at 12,800 feet and his cooking utensil included only a gas stove. Deepak plays well as the introverted cook genius to Sanjeev's extroverted guide genius.

Deepak quietly plans his next meal

Sarbu, Dining Attendant and Tent Put-ter Up-per
Sarbu did a little bit of everything. Sarbu was the "front" man at all meals, was responsible for putting tents up and down, and woke us up each morning in the tents with a selection of tea and coffee. He often walked with the horses (not a great job) as an extra set of hands. Basically, he worked his ass off for 10 straight days and seemed to enjoy it. He quickly learned that Lindsay likes cold water (on these trips, you often get hot water in your water bottles because it takes so long for boiled and treated water to cool down). What did he do? He'd filled her bottle, then place it in a stream so that it cooled down. Unnecessary and ridiculous? Of course. Appreciated? You betcha. We also learned that in the event that Deepak was not able to fulfill his duties as the trek cook, that Sarbu was trained and willing to take his place as necessary.

Surya, Deepak's Assistant
Surya was Deepak's kitchen sidekick. Each day, after we left camp, he'd help prepare lunch, put it on his back, and (with Deepak) catch up to us so we had a semi-warm lunch on the trail (in Nepal, they actually set up a kitchen at lunch but such facilities weren't available in Ladakh). He was a trusted extra set of hands and, on one of the final days, stayed behind to help us find our way to camp, which more was difficult that you'd expect when last year's flood wiped out the existing trail. If Shane Battier were a cook's assistant, he'd be Surya.

Galpo, Local Guide
While Sanjeev was with us at all times on the trail, he tends to bring up the rear of the group. Galpo, who was from the village of Kanji (where we ended) was intimately familiar with the terrain so he lead the group each day. He didn't talk much, got in the way of a few pictures (there are a lot of shots with him standing cross-armed, staring off the trail as he waits for us to catch up), but ultimately got us where we needed to go. Plus, he kept us dry but moving a lot of rocks in streams so we could hop rather than break out the sandals.

Galpo, at the Lamayuru Monastery

Taschi and Zigmat, the Horse Guys
In addition to the group Sanjeev had hired, he had to go through some sort of agent to find the horses that would actually haul all the stuff. We didn't interact too much with them, but they were friendly enough to exchange a "joolay" (the Ladakhi equivalent of "aloha") on the trail, and Zigmat always sang as he was loading up the horses. When we finally found a lamb (much more on that later), they made some lamb sausage, which Glenn never really forgave them for not sharing. I was not so disappointed.

Zigmat and Taschi look on as a campsite owner shows them how to dance

The Horses
The group wasn't complete without the 14 horses that accompanied us, and by "accompanied" I mean carry nearly all the gear. I was somewhat skeptical about sharing a trail with horses for 10 days and the smell that may or may not accompany them; however, when you haven't showered yourself for days, you're quickly desensitized to most olfactory stimuli.