GREAT HIMALAYA TRAIL
Upper Dolpo, Kathmandu to Lake Phoksundo
The flight into Dolpo is notoriously unreliable, often cancelled because of the wild Short Take Off and Landing (STOL) airstrip that requires good visibility and leaves no room for error. But once you arrive, it’s a stunning trek to an astonishing lake through giant cypress and rushing rivers.
Will we make it?
As I planned this trek into the Upper Dolpo, the far-western and heavily Tibetan-influenced slice of the Himalayas, I was warned that simply starting would be its own challenge.
This is because the aircraft that will take us from the plains up into the mountains needs to fly tightly through jagged peaks, threading them by sight alone. It then must land on a STOL or Short Takeoff and Landing remote mountain airstrip.
So for the fun of it, the night before we’re met to fly, I ask the present-day magic eight ball, Dr. Google, if we stand a chance of getting to our destination of Juphal.
The response is not quite I’d hoped for. “The likelihood is moderate to low. This specific route is notoriously one of the most volatile and heavily disrupted flight paths in Nepal.”
Our head guide or Sirdar, Dorji, has an even snarkier response, “You don’t really know if you’ll get there until you get there.”
He tells me this while we’re still in Napelgunj, our first stop en route from Kathmandu and as flat as the Great Plains. Out my fifth floor hotel room I watch a water buffalo slowly lumber along a canal and wonder how a place like this can exist in the same country as Mount Everest.
Not knowing what’s to come, I simply savor my final night in a real bed and prepare for a 3:45 am wake-up call and the first flight out in the morning. All I can do now is keep my fingers crossed for clear skies.
Dorji’s words make sense once we wander out on the tarmac and load into the tiny twin-engine Let L-410 Turbolet. Sure, we can take off, fly around, check out some mountains. But until the pilots actually see the runway and land the plane on it, there’s always a chance we’ll just turn right around and head back — and have to go with Plan B, a 16-hour drive on extremely rough road.
But the gods are smiling today and not only do we take off, but we make it, slaloming for 45 minutes through a canyon of dusty, jagged peaks so close, it seems I can touch them. Snow-capped mountains appear beyond as we bank sharply right and stop quickly — with no room for error — on a wee mountaintop. I must say, this flight is one of the most exciting of my life!
We collect our gear bags, all weight-limited at 15 kilograms or 31 pounds. We then drag them down steep stairs to a lovely terrace where someone serves us tea as we wait for our porters. I’m already feeling the effects of the altitude.
Not that we’re all that high here, but the plane shot us up to 13,000 feet before landing. Hello Nepal! Fortunately, one of the other hikers, Colin, sees I’m a bit dizzy and grabs my bag. Thanks, new friend!
And just like that, the trek begins.
Down and down on stairs past villagers looking on curiously. Every bit of arable land is terraced with low, flat-roofed houses clinging to the incline. We soon meet a road that will take us to Dunai, a bustling town crowded along the banks of the Thuli Bheri Khola (river). Our tents are already set in a shaded courtyard. And there’s Tanka and Suman, two assistant guides who came with me on the Kanchenjunga/Makalu trek. I am so happy to see these two wonderful men!
Home of the Snow Leopard
The next morning, we start walking up a dusty road where motorbikes and even a few baroquely decorated trucks pass us. We then head steeply up through pine, fir and cypress — trees distantly related to our own in North America from a time when the continents were squished together.
The weather is glorious, warm but clear and breezy. We enter Shey Phoksundo National Park, where the welcome sign offers a tantalizing proposition, “Home of the Snow Leopard!”
The trail follows the Suli Gad River most of the way to the village of Ringmo at Lake Phoksundo, its crystalline turquoise properties foreshadowing what’s to come. Still only at 8,000 feet or so, the bushes lining the trail are pomegranate, wild rose and juniper plus fields of cannabis thriving in the hot sun.
Birds crowd the forests, all new to me including the Indian Blue Robin, Green Backed and Coal Tits, Gray-Hooded and Hume’s Warblers, a Streaked Laughing Thrush plus the wonderfully named Fire-breasted Flowerpecker.
What a home they have in this spectacular forest dominated by towering cypress which stand so tall and erect, they remind me of Muir Woods, an enclave of coastal redwoods near San Francisco. The smell is fresh and cool. At my feet is a Jack-in-the-Pulpit, which the Nepalis call a Cobra Lily.
Tonight, our tents again nestle on a narrow terrace at Chhepka.
It’s all uphill the following day, along precipitous cliffs above the river gorge to Amchi Hospital at over 10,000 feet. Amchi is the Tibetan word for traditional medicine, which feels reassuring until you realize there’s almost certainly no modern hospital in this remote place.
We spend the day threading through extraordinary forests, hugging the steep hillside above the river now known as the Phoksundo Khola. Forest of Himalayan birch emerge, their bark peeling back to reveal soft pink layers underneath. Birds provide an all-day soundtrack of impossible beauty while I wander along in a blissful daze, wondering how a place can be this spectacular.
Prayer flags blow in the stiff breeze at Rigmo Monastery on Lake Phoksundo. This gompa is a Bönpo. a religion predating Buddhism and was built in the 15th century as an ecological preserve.
At lunch, our crew collapses into a patch of shade where we’re served hot cabbage and garbanzo beans. Real food on a long trek and the only time — along with my other trek in Nepal — that I don’t lose weight while hiking.
Conversation drifts from food to past adventures and, inevitably, slow hikers. Of course it does. Everyone has a story about that person bringing the group to a crawl. I quietly chew my chickpeas, fully aware that I am almost certainly someone else’s cautionary tale.
The thing is, I’m slow on purpose. I stop to identify plants, listen to birds, take photographs and let a place unfold instead of speed-hiking through it like I’m late for an appointment.
It slowly dawns on me that I’m not exactly aligned with this group’s priorities. On their next trek, I suspect my pace will feature prominently in lunchtimes conversations.
I shrug it off until the following morning.
At breakfast, one of the female hikers sitting next to me announces that she “Can’t handle my personality before coffee.” Fair enough. Lots of people aren’t at their best before caffeine. But then, to demonstrate what she means, she launches into an exaggerated imitation of someone with cerebral palsy. The kind of mocking gesture most people retire sometime between middle school and basic human decency.
Hmmmmkay, I guess we’ve solved the mystery of whether we’re destined to become lifelong pals.
Curiously, once the coffee kicks in, she becomes downright chatty. At one point she thoughtfully informs me that my breast cancer treatment “Wasn’t nearly as bad” as another woman’s because that woman was diagnosed younger.
Ah yes. Nothing builds camaraderie on a remote Himalayan trek quite like the Competitive Cancer Olympics.
Pro tips:
- If you are flying from the United States, give yourself extra days to recover from jet lag. It’s well worth it.
- Use Diamox (acetazolamide) to help acclimate to the extreme altitude. You can easily buy medicine over the counter in Kathmandu.
- Consider setting up a private trek with companions you already know and enjoy. It costs more, but so does spending an adventure of a lifetime wishing for different company.
Mood Lake
So I keep my distance and head to the back of the pack for the final push to Lake Phoksundo, a zigzagging climb fully exposed to the hot sun. I snap photos of the jagged peaks as well as flowers at my feet, like bright magenta Himalayan Primrose. My breathing is heavy, but I move well and am amazed to gain so much altitude so quickly.
The cliff walking is impressive with few guard rails. Soon we turn a corner and there’s a magnificent cataract, the nearly 600-foot Phoksundo Waterfall. Locals stop to take in the sight of water spilling over stair-stepped rock, huge mountains rising above.
And so do I, losing the group as they barrel on ahead. I’m not sure what the rush is, though I later discover many were eager to get to camp and do laundry. I can’t imagine hurrying past a place like this.
Dorji is assigned to pull up the rear (a lot like Bihm on the Kanchenjunga to Makalu section) so we get to know each other better. I learn he’s a dad of an 11-year-old girl and misses her a lot even though he’s excited to be here. “Upper Dolpo,” he tells me, “is heaven.”
Indeed it is, though I feel more grounded when a metal barrier fence appears and I’m not walking on the absolute edge of a deadly drop. It’s up and up and finally over to Ringmo where the deep blue lake appears nestled within the mountains.
At first, the group chooses a place to camp at a distance, but after some discussion, we move camp to right above its shores looking straight at its loveliness.
I’m just fine holding off on laundry and instead head down to its banks to marvel at the color. This spectacular lake is considered oligotrophic, with almost zero nutrients, leaving it free of algae and even fish. Like Oregon’s Crater Lake, it’s crystal-clear in ever-changing hues of azure, lapis and turquoise.
Because of its unusual and pristine qualities, the lake is protected by the Ramsar Convention. Swimming is strictly forbidden. Phoksundo also has a spiritual side with local creation myths speaking of a demoness burying a village in the waters. The area is heavily Tibetan with many chortens, religious monuments covered in prayer flags and one glorious pre-Buddhist Bon gompa or monastery situated on a cliff above.
There’s nothing to do but simply enjoy the moment, which several locals are doing too, posing on rocks in traditional dress. And that includes a couple of teenagers who laugh and point at me. What is she doing here? they must wonder. But when I try to take their picture, they hide their faces. So young and beautiful, but also shy and awkward, just like I was at that age.
Their shyness does not last forever and eventually a whole group gather and try to talk to me in the very few words we share. I figure out they are all 13-years-old and they gasp when I tell them I’m 61.
I know only four of five words in Nepali, but “Can I take a picture?” is quickly understood and they pose for me on one of the benches, hamming it up in a way that reveals their individual personalities.
They remind me of being 13 myself, on the cusp of adulthood, trying on different versions of who I might become while surrounded by a loyal band of girlfriends.
The forests along this stretch are magnificent and Lake Phoksundo is every bit as extraordinary as I’d imagined. Yet what stays with me most is this unexpected afternoon with these girls. We share almost no language, but somehow understand each other perfectly. After a few days of feeling slightly out of step, their laughter is a welcome reminder that curiosity and kindness translate just fine.
READ NEXT
Section 5, Lake Phoksundo to Namgung
This section of Upper Dolpo is one of the most exciting, including a walk around and above brilliant Lake Phoksundo, the first and most stunning 5,000-meter passes and Shey Gompa, an ancient monastery under the Crystal Mountain.
You rock. Ignore those idjots. I, too, prefer the deliberate hike—never a eace, unless lightening, fire or flash flooding is involved. Keep the blog coming. I’m on the HRP now and think of your experience often. Weather has been opposite of yours, and our Kim’s are less than yours were (we’ve been following Tom’s book rather closely—first two days a little ridiculous)
Thanks for the props! It was all in all a fantabulous trek but you gotta stick to your style. Enjoy the HRP! I have one bit to finish at the end but WOW, those huge E passes are absolutely wild and some of the best hiking I have done in my life. Blissful hiking, alison