I'm a flatlander!

As Ian stated in his last entry, we left for a 5 day trek on August 30th with 2 other Americans we met. We felt like we had acclimatized well enough by taking it easy for 2 days in Leh (3500m) when we first got here. I wasn't out of breath any more when I walked up the flight of stairs to the hotel. No dizziness, no headache, no nausea, no signs of altitude sickness. So we set off early in the morning. See Ian's account of the first 2 days. The views were stunning, the locals were welcoming, trekking wasn't too difficult the first day, and the campsite comfy, but rustic.

However, sometime during the first day, I began to suffer from a cold - the kind requiring vigorous nose-blowing every 5 minutes or disastrous sneezes. This didn't really become a problem until the second day of trekking when we trekked from 3400m to 4300m (14,100ft). Around the 3800 mark, I felt like I was breathing with a pillow over my face. I slowed down to moving one foot with every 3 breaths, breathing about about 25-30 times per minute, like running at full speed at sea level. Walking was miserable since I was dizzy with blurred vision. Drinking and eating were exceedingly difficult since I couldn't breath during those activities. Ian was right there though, making sure I did. We did eventually get to the campsite, this one more barren and cold than the first since the smaller river could not support vegetation here.

After a long and cold night, the night temperature here being around -5 C, Ian and I decided that it would be best for me to go back to town on day 3. I was loathe to do this, because it would mean admitting defeat. However, it was evident that I could not go over the pass at 5000m since I could not walk up a 10m hill. So I conceded and agreed to the guide walking with me back down to the first campsite then catch a car to town. Ian was to continue on with the group.

The morning of day 3, I left with our guide, one bottle of water, and a lunch box down the valley. Our plan was to walk to the campsite of the first night where there is generally a car that may take one to Leh. Walking down the valley was tough, but it was morning and we went at a slow pace. I wanted a car to be there sooooo badly I began praying the only prayer I know, the Lords Prayer. I must have said a hundred times while walking. Please God let there be a car, please God let there be a car, Our Father who art in Heaven..... We get to the first campsite after walking for 3 hours, and lo and behold, there is a car! Showers, toilets, and tissues, oh my!! To my ultimate dismay though, there was no driver. So I figured I have to start praying for a car and driver, not realizing before that God was so sarcastic and literal. Please God let there be a car and driver, please God let there be a car and driver. Our Father who art in Heaven, Our Father who art in Heaven.... At the next campsite, there is another car!! Showers, toilets, and tissues, oh my!! This time there is also a driver. However, there was no gas!!!! That's it, I realized again why I was finished with the Catholic church years ago.

I'm now getting very tired as the sun is high. Any indecision I had about coming down the mountain is gone now as I know that if I had pressed on over the pass, I would have to be unceremoniously carried down. I'm dizzy again and feeling like I will fall to my knees with every step. This doesn't improve when the guide tells me that we have to walk the 3.5 hours in the blazing desert sun to Spituk for the next car. It takes a supreme amount of energy to just get one foot in front of the other. I can't breathe, I can't see, I'm thirsty with no water.

Another hour or two go by like this. I can only keep walking by tricking myself that there is some dire emergency I have to make it to Spituk for. In my delirium, I begin going though people in my life who would warrant such an effort, conveniently I don't remember the particulars. I am about to tell that guide that I cannot go on until dusk when a car rounds the corner. The car driver says that he will make a drop off then come back to pick us up in two hours. So we wait in the sun. Fast-forward 3 hours, and I am back in our hotel, though still unable to breathe. A 12 hour sleep, some azithromycin, and lots of water later I feel much better.

What happened? I though of this many times while walking down. The combination of small lungs and rushed acclimatization already put me back. However, the bronchitis really snatched the last of my pulmonary reserve away. Also when you are up there, you start thinking of all the other things it could be - could I have the dreaded high altitude pulmonary edema? Now it's easy to say no now, since it's rapidly fatal. But up there, when you are panting while laying on your back in the tent, days away from the nearest large hospital and slightly delirious, it's hard not to worry.

It wasn't all bad. Again, the views were stunning and we will post pictures at the next place with a better internet. The people amazingly hospitable (the trekking coordinator came to check on me this morning). The camping was fun for all the reasons Ian outlined. My belt grew longer by a few inches over the last few days. I learned that I must listen to my body more and give altitude the respect it deserves. I also realized - I am a flatlander, sea level at that.