Day 8: Khangsar to Tilicho Lake to Tilicho Base Camp 22km (117km total)

We awoke at 5:30 for our hike to Tilicho Tal. The early rise was pointless as we did not leave until after seven. Our first section was the four hour kike to the Tilicho Base Camp, where we would spend the night. I felt fresh from the lax day and it was an easy 10km climb up 400m.

The trail was fun and energetic, crossing little rivers, climbing up steeply only to drop down suddenly. About halfway through, the trail went along a 3km stretch of landslides. We had to walk delicately along the scree, as losing balance meant sliding to the river 300m below. Some parts of the trail were a mere set of footprints through the gravel. Great rocks stood as fingers out of the sediment. The trail then wrapped around the hill and descended to the tiny hotel below.

We booked a room, dropped our packs and filled up with some noodle soup for our 800m ascent to the lake. Since the sky was clear in the distance, we knew it would be best to head up that day.

Nothing before had prepared me for the tough hike that lay ahead. The trail headed straight up the hill behind the hotel and skirted the edge, always stretching higher and higher. The last of the green faded fast, being replaced by pink nettles and rust-colored shrubs. Much like the earlier part of the day, most of the trail was across loose scree, just hard enough to support walking. It climbed up until it passed beneath a cluster of curiously shaped rocks. They stood as a fortress, looking down to the trail below, defending the lake from the eyes of the unworthy. For those who were, they were but curiously shaped rocks. The test was just after the fortress, a stretch of steep switchbacks winding out of sight, climbing to the top of the towering crag above. This was not even the end, the trail then veered left, still rising. Himalay nonchalantly walked up, one small step at a time, arms crossed in front of him, showing no signs of fatigue. Finally after three hours of climbing we had rounded the top. There before us stood not a lake, but more hills.

They were pretty mild and along the way we passed two teasing ponds. After ten more minutes, the trail made what to be its last ascent, beyond was only mountains. My judgement proved true; I was finally staring at the Tilicho Tal, standing at 4900m, the highest lake in the world.

Lake Titicaca, which most seem to think is the highest is 1000m lower, than this glacial filled wonder, surrounded on all but the south side by six and seven thousand meter high peaks. No mountain in Colorado stands higher. It is a fantastic sight and stands as one of the most incredible things I have seen in my life. Knowing I walked eight days to get he probably added to the wonder.

Himalay rolled a joint at the improbable restaurant and the workers, him and I retreated to the pantry to smoke. I took a polite hit and declined the next pass.

"You are at Tilicho my friend!" Himalay pointed out the tiny window to the view that I thought only existed in postcards. "This is nature. This is the best of nature in the world. You need to smoke nature to truly see the nature."

I gave into the argument and finished the joint with them, not considering the two hour drop to base camp. Admittedly, there are few more unique experiences than sharing a joint with a group of Nepalis, standing in front of the world's highest and possibly most beautiful lake.

"We walk slow and careful down," said Himalaya, this time walking with his hands behind his back, each foot taking one careful step at a time.

It was scary at first, walking along the ridge, knowing one false step could twist an ankle or force a 500m slide. Walking slowly and carefully did the trick. I made sure to stop whenever I felt like admiring the snowy wall of the Tilicho ridge, perfectly lit by the evening sun. Anon, I passed the switchbacks and the fortress. I thanked the guards for safe passage and floated the rest of the way down to the base camp.

The place had filled in our absence. I ordered my mediocre dal bhat, actually the worst I'd had yet--so bad in fact, I even had to throw in some more masala, which I wisely purchased a few villages earlier--and sat down at the last available seat in the crowded dining room. The hotel had rooms for 20, but at least that many could not get beds and were forced to sleep on the dining room floor. Himalay spent a chilly night in a friend's tent; there was no room inside for all the guides and porters. There were also no blankets. A few in the dining room also had no sleeping bag. I only had my Australian summer sack, so I wore my full winter gear to bed. I eventually fell asleep, despite the cold and awoke warm, curled into a ball, my gloved hands tucked between my legs. It was thankfully only a little cold that night.