I have not had an entire night sleep in a week. Nonetheless I am happy to spend less time in the bed and get up at 5 am.
My usual muesli with black coffee and I feel full and ready for this journey.
We follow the river upwards in an effort that takes the best of us. Many trekkers are on the same way. On the top we see a new valley that reminisces western film views.
Brown grass, a great expanse, and a river created from the melted snow in the distance, to the east.
There is an ice formation to the west, a valley to the east and a wall of rocks in front of us. That is the Chola Pass. I struggle breathing, forcing me to focus on each step, I remember the book of the Navarra expedition and how they needed to stop after every 5 steps.
We trekkers smile at each other not sharing the language but knowing the feelings we are experiencing with the shared experience. The sherpas, doubling or taking 3 or 4 times or more the weight that we carry, pass us at what is for me nothing less than humbling.
Soon, the sun smiling at us again, and some meters above everyone is celebrating. When we reach the top, we take the photos together and I even take a nap. I remember the Torrecilla trek the past year and how I tried to do the same but was awaken by a snowball.
While going down we start now walking over the ice. Somehow we don’t need crampons and it is beautiful to see streams of water running under our feet.
The next part consists on following a narrow ledge on the rock to our right and very soon a wonderful valley open itself around us.
It seems like arriving to a secret valley, protected and surrounded by giants. Amadablan, on of them, in front of us.
From this height I can see two settlements on the distance.
On each stop to rest I notice the peeps joking with X. about the female nepali guide that he was speaking to yesterday.
It is sunny and in this prairie, even the porters are at the same time enjoying a little pause.
I take the chance to talk a little bit with a french gentleman saluting him in french and promptly being forced to tell him that I don’t know much french and continue in english.
In our Zangla Inn, my remaining strenght only allows to put the cellphone to charge, the necesary visit to the bathroom and taking a nap.
An hour later, Tundu wakes me up to have some masala tea that revitalizes me. It is 2:30.
Soon, another expedition, older men, fills the room.
This has been hard, and surely would dismantle the image some of my friends have of me of being strong.