GOING TO EXTREMES

WE HAD JUST GULPED DOWN THE LAST OF THE PORRIDGE at our camp on a stony alpine meadow called Robulathang when Tshering Ngoedup, our sirdar (crew leader), burst into the mess tent and instructed us to clear out. A helicopter was expected to arrive soon and he was worried it would spook our pack yaks—the animals could break their tethers and bolt in any direction, with zero consideration for obstacles such as tents. Much better to face down a panicked yak on open ground, Tshering advised.

Emerging into the chilly morning air on day nine of our trek in the Bhutanese Himalayas, we spotted three figures huddled around a fire on the far side of the meadow. Two were yak handlers; the third was a middle-aged American they had been accompanying as part of a smaller trekking group that set out the day before us. The American had turned back because of severe chest pains, requesting an emergency evacuation via