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A Journey into the Unknown
Sikkim had been on my mind since I had met Phursumba Sherpa climbing
Mt. Rainier in 1994. Phursumba, who loaned me his climbing gear,
which was about 10 sizes too big, when I had needed it, had wooed me
with wild stories about climbing and trekking in Sikkim.
Phursumba himself had been on the first American ascent of Mt.
Everest in 1963, and his brother-in-law, Nawang Gombu, was the first
man to climb Everest twice. Phursumba, who at 15 went to 27,000
feet, and Gombu lived in the Sikkim region and were the lead
instructors of the highly respected Himalayan Mountaineering
Institute (HMI), which began as a military training ground for high
altitude mountaineering in the Indian army.
At 21, Phursumba moved to the United States and became one of
Rainier Mountaineering's (RMI) premier guides. Gombu, a highly
respected high altitude mountaineer, is also now employed by RMI.
When I met them, they were in the first stages of organizing their
first trek to Sikkim.
I longed to see another part of Asia — I had already been to Everest
— especially an untrammeled one and with my relationship going
south, it seemed like a good time to go someplace really remote.
Sikkim, at the crossroads of Tibetan, Nepali and Indian cultures,
was it. For me, the Tibetan monastic culture holds the most
fascination because I know the monks have not been repressed and the
monasteries remain fully functioning links to the past.
The rugged environment of the Sikkimese Himalayas is equally
alluring: remote, forested, extremely beautiful and largely
unexplored. Looking at unclimbed peaks was somehow comforting as it
gave me a perspective that some things in life still remain sacred
and untouched. For example, Kabor, a large granite pyramid visible
from Darjeeling, could offer 3000 feet of spectacular rock climbing,
but, like much of the region's peaks, is off limits. The government
is extremely strict as to where travelers can go and Indian military
personnel man the uplands of Sikkim to enforce these rules. It's not
a place to be cavalier — ending up in an Indian jail would be a big
drag.
My journey began in Delhi, and I was as happy to leave as this
teeming city would not be my first choice in places to hang.
Bagdogra, a rural airport outpost and gateway to the Sikkim region,
and just a two-hour flight from Delhi, is better. Despite its state
of chaos and pollution, it is more interesting than Delhi because of
its "out there" feel.
On the Jeep trip to the Sikkim's capital city of Gangtok , I quickly
developed the defense mechanism commonly known as the art of
detachment. Time and again I thought my life might be snuffed out on
the winding one-laners full of recklessly speeding vehicles.
Curiously, it's only 39 miles from Bagdogra to Gangtok , but it took
nearly five hours of weaving and bouncing to get there.
"The trail climbed steeply to 13,000 feet, where we emerged from
the forest to our first views of Pandim, Kangchenjunga, Kabur, Kabru
and the other 7,000- and 8,000-meter peaks of this part of the
Himalayas..."
The trek itself began at the end of the road in Yoksom. After a
night at the HMI base camp (5,800 feet), we trekked through lush,
tropical forests which are at a latitude roughly the same as
Florida, to Bakim (9,200 feet). Here we spent the night in a large,
two-story cabin.
Beyond Bakim, we entered a temperate forest that was similar in
scenery of the Olympic Mountains of the US's Pacific Northwest,
except that the forest was loaded with huge rhododendrons. The trail
climbed steeply to 13,000 feet, where we emerged from the forest to
our first views of Pandim, Khangchendzonga, Kabur, Kabru and the
other 7000 and 8,000 meter peaks of this part of the
Himalayas.
On arrival in the yak pasture of Dzongri later that day, we met out
first travelers. As Phursumba had reserved the hut for us in
advance, a fact which relegated other travelers to rougher
accommodations, I can't say they were too happy to see us. Local
connections, and baksheesh (hard currency), always work wonders in
Asia.
Mysteriously, our next stop in Bikbury was included on the
government's maps, despite the fact that with a population of zero,
it doesn't exist. Bikbury consists of a single run-down hut, a
pasture, and a few boulders, but it can boast a remarkable view. The
snow-covered mountains form a veritable string of peaks surrounding
the Bikbury hamlet and the Ratong Valley. So, from here, the
incredible mountains of Sikkim are truly "in your face."
We were now in a very remote area, and our isolation was quite
obviously real when it started to snow, we hoped that it wasn't the
beginning of a huge Himalayan snowstorm like those that have wiped
out trekking groups. We were relieved when we awoke to a mere four
inches of new snow capped by brilliant sunshine. We soon headed up
valley a few miles to the HMI advance base camp training ground
(15,000 feet). The setting was spectacular with Kabru, Ratong,
Kotang, and Frey Peak towering above us.
In just three days we had climbed 10,000 feet. I have been to 18,500
feet before and had not experienced an altitude headache, but
because I didn't drink enough water, climbed too quickly, and ran
around taking photos and video, I got spanked. Around midnight, my
head felt like it was going to split and I could hardly lift it from
the pillow. I barely pulled myself together and started to pressure
breathe while my buddy Lesley shoved a few aspirin down my throat.
By early morning I felt a little better.
After two nights, we headed back to Dzongri, but our plans to see
Gocha La Pass were dashed by nasty weather, including two feet of
fresh snow. So we returned and spent the night in the Tibetan
village of Tsokra, above Bakim. There, to make a long and amazing
story short, I met with a famous local Tibetan monk known for his
ability to predict the future. He knew nothing about me, yet
categorically, and with astonishing accuracy, explained exactly what
would happen to me in my personal life over the next three months.
Whew! I'm not really a "believer" but can't help wonder how accurate
his next set of predictions will be. I'm psyched.
After the fascinating, albeit slightly disturbing, experience with
the monk, we went directly back to Yoksom and had an enriching time
with the locals. No doubt, mixing with the villagers is about as fun
as travel gets. Sikkim remains an isolated mountain kingdom; there
are no trinkets to buy, the food can be risky if not carefully
prepared, the sanitation is Third World, the roads more so, but the
people are wonderfully friendly. Because they have had little
exposure to Western influence, they are not jaded by the material
demands of tourists.
I often reflect on the lovely people I met, the pristine virgin
forests and the untouched, sacred mountains. I hope to return and
travel further into this enchanting area.
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