Crying – Trekking from Marshin to Mone-le

30. September 2024

3.950 m -> 3.920 m / 5 hiking hours / 12 km

 

 

In the morning I woke up very cheerful: hardly any sore muscles! Now it was only going to be 3 days down the river (it was the Tsarap Chu again) until we hit the road. That should be pleasant and easy! I happily packed up the tent so that Lobzang could saddle everything up.

 

 

And then I set off on my walk. There was already an abandoned village opposite and I passed more empty farmsteads and fallow fields.

 

 

 

 

The river continued to glisten turquoise through the barren, stony landscape. Sometimes the trail went a little higher, sometimes down, sometimes closer to the bank, sometimes further away. The path opposite was clear, as was ours. But not a soul in sight.

 

 

 

 

Where there is a mani wall, there is usually a house. Here is another abandoned one.

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes you had to walk on thick pebbles, which was difficult.

 

 

There were always wolf tracks to be seen, mostly on the path. I was already imagining a drama with the horses, but Lobzang said it was nowhere near. And yet it looked so fresh. But maybe he was just trekking and had a day’s head start.

 

 

Also opposite abandoned houses:

 

 

So it went up and down and was pretty and relatively varied to look at.

 

 

 

 

 

And then my misfortune took its course. We came to a side river and Lobzang had been waiting for me to say that we had to cross and not follow. The Indians had said something about a bridge, which I also saw in the distance, but I couldn’t get there from where I was. Lobzang had already crossed the river with the horses and I was standing there like a fool. Where should I go and how? The river was too wide and deep for me. How could I get to the bridge? I called for Lobzang, but he was too far away and didn’t hear anything. Above me were steep rock faces. How could I get to the bridge?

 

Then I remembered that I might have passed a junction some time ago. I went back up and had to climb quite a bit. But ah, that was right! And then very steep and slippery down again to the bridge.

 

 

The path downwards is barely recognisable here.

 

 

 

Opposite, a clear path led upwards. Quite exhausting. And somehow it didn’t look like anyone had walked up it recently. But it would be right. I climbed and climbed and became exhausted and unsure. Is this the right place? Who knows, it might break off somewhere and as there’s another path along the river. Maybe I’d better try that. So I climbed all the way back down. And yes, there was some kind of path. Not so great, but the tracks seemed fresher.

 

I was exhausted from climbing up and down without making any progress and from the midday sun and the uncertainty – and probably still from the day before. The path along the river was the right one and went on and on. But heavens, it was really very difficult and slow going with lots of scree and ups and downs.

 

I was cross unhappy, my mood had completely changed. How was I supposed to make it to the road when I was already so miserably exhausted? How was I even going to make it to the day’s destination? Would Lobzang rescue me at some point? The huge landscape suddenly no longer seemed fascinating but threatening. I cried a little. And dragged myself on powerlessly. And expected to arrive in the dark.

 

I scolded myself: just today, one of my shoes rubbed and gave me a blister. And I had the blister plasters in my luggage. I’d also packed my head torch in there. How daft of me! I cried a bit more. And dragged myself back up. And nasty boulders. And a narrow path on the slope. And anyway. I was barely making any progress.

 

But what was that? There was Lobzang’s tent! Far ahead of the agreed destination for the day. And he had set up mine too! I dragged myself there and actually just fell onto the mat, exhausted. Man, what a day I’d had! It was much worse than the pass day. In the evening, Lobzang had gathered all the vegetables together and cooked a delicious meal. To make up for the stupid rice pudding the night before.

 

 

But the road was still a long way off. And the next day there were 5 passes marked. Probably not high, but who knows how they could be managed with my wobbly legs. Maybe we should add an extra day? Even if I then had to rush to my flight home almost non-stop. Worried and exhausted, I fell asleep….