Southern Passage To Tsomoriri

(A trek from Kiber in Spiti valley to Tsomoriri lake in Changthang plateau in Laddakh, via Parang La pass.)

Tsomoriri means blue waters. It is a beautiful big lake at the average altitude of
15000+ feet in southern Laddakh, close to the international border with Tibet. It can
be approached from north, from Leh Manali Highway or from south, across Parang La
pass (18,300 ft), from Spiti valley. Both ways, one has to trek for about 7 to 10 days.
And both ways, one has to cross some high passes, for which Laddakh is famous- the
Land of high passes. Here is an account which might stimulate the explorer in you.

(the region)

(the trail)

Why do men climb mountains? Motives can be subtle, insidious and sometime simply
puerile. A famous mountaineer, when asked why did he climb Everest, said gravely
..because it is there! In my case, trekking was just a respectable excuse for getting
away from everything and to be quiet. And this is why, I do not take any porter or a
guide with me.
In August 2006, I had trekked to Tsomoriri from the north (see the sketch map
above). This year (summer 2007) I researched the southern route. I came across 3-4
good travelogues on web, giving the description of the route. And then, I was ready.
But couple of nights running, I had strange dreams.

21st July 2007

..I am kicking my feet against the hard blue wall of ice- but unable to get any purchase, any grip. My

ice-axe is holding firm on this frozen wall above my head but my feet are not following the example. I
dont have crampon on (crampons: A metal spike worn under shoes to get a grip on hard ice..) I am in
plain trekking shoes and that is why I am slipping down again and again. I am tiring with every effort
Way up, I can see a little light through the hole- yes, the hole which opened up under my feet as I was
happily trundling along this glacier atop Parang la. I can feel panic rising to my temples-my head is
throbbing- I am alone and ill-equipped to deal with this crevasse- What now?

This was one bad dream I saw just before leaving on this ten day trek in the western
Himalayas. There was another similar one:
I am wading through a mountain stream and suddenly I miss my footing and am being swept off... in
the rushing torrents. There is no one even to see this accident and commiserate; Not even birds or
fishes- it is a freezing stream in a high altitude desert in the Western Himalaya. As I am being swept
away, I am ruing the fact that I never learned proper swimming...

Solo treks are an opportunity to confront such fears and visit the snout of the
existential glacier from where such primitive fears emanate constantly in our mortal
life.
Pare-Chu, the wandering river: A small river, originates at Parang la: Pare Chu. It
flows east, enters Tibet near Chumar village, turns back after a while and re-enters
Himachal Pradesh in India, near Kaurik (Spiti) . In 2004, the sudden bursting of an
artificial lake on this river, caused havoc in Himachal pradesh. Four major bridges
across the river Satluj were swept away.
There are many bus stands in Shimla: but the Main bus stand is the right choice if
you wish to get a proper seat in a bus going to Rekong-peo or Kaza- the first leg of
the journey. There are night bus services also. This is the road which goes east
towards Tibet- enters Spiti from south, moves northward towards Lahaul and links up
with the Leh Manali road, near Rohtang pass. It follows the Satluj river for a great
distance and then, the Spiti river for another half a day.

21st July 2007

Kaza is a small tribal border town in the Spiti valley. Many western tourists are
thronging here after it was opened to them recently. They still need an inner line
permit though. Israelis are around in large numbers. Young people- who probably
never had to fight Hamas, the same way their parents did. Out for just a good time.
Kibber is another 20 km from Kaza. Resembles a painting of a hill village by a six year
old: many shoe-box kind of flat drab houses, almost identical, on a bare mountain
side. A big monastery atop the ridge. Here are approximate travel times by bus:

Shimla to Rekongpeo: ten hours

Rekongpeo to Kaza: ten hours

Kaza to Kibber: under one hour

22nd July 2007

Kibber village has only 3 guest houses offering basic hospitality. The monastery here
is reputed for old Thanka paintings. The cook cum manager of the guest house I

stayed in, pointed out to me a small tourist party, camping out in the field across the
road: they are going to Tsomoriri- follow them.
The first and last village on this trail is Dhumle; There is a dirt road leading to this
village but I took a short cut- which crosses a gorge and climbs the ridge on the east
of this village- and descends on the other side to our first camp site: Thltak. Altitude
14806 ft. The other tourist party is moving very slowly. Finally, when I meet their
guide, he says: The lady (the tourist) is not feeling very well; we are turning back
tomorrow! I was a little concerned: now onwards I would have to do my own trail
reading.

23rd July 2007

The trail descended into a gorge: Pariluingbi river gorge. It moved up-stream for
about 2 hours and then you climb a lateral moraine on the right, to reach the second
camp site: the base camp of Parang la. There was a faint but discernible trail. On the
moraine, water from melting ice higher up, often seeped deep. Here and there it rose
to the surface: two or three such water holes were close to the camp site. Otherwise
there was nothing else in this high windy field, full of pebbles and stones of all sizes,
shapes and colors, surrounded by jagged ridges. I looked at my GPS as I stumbled up
to the camp site exhausted: Altitude 16681 ft.

(Water hole)

(Trail descends in a groge)

(Pariluingbi gorge)

24th July 2007

The trail climbed steadily up towards the Parang la pass- the location of which you
could now guess. Since the pass is a north-south one: this side, being south facing,
was almost totally free of snow- except for one band of snow, which cut across the
valley, almost like a garland. Not much of a problem to cross it. But the north side is
supposed to have a four km long glacier. I sat down frequently to catch my breath.
The view of the unending ranges to south was majestic. Finally, I heard and then saw
the fluttering prayer flags atop the pass. Altitude (Parang La pass): 18343 ft.

(a snow band garlanding the upper slope)

(Prayer flags atop Parang la pass)

The descriptions I had read were right. I looked down: the north side had a lot of soft
snow and a massive glacier. Its surface was criss-crossed by many glacial streams and
pools; Walking on it, meant getting feet frozen and soggy. Also, where the glacier
ended, it may be a steep fall to the floor of the valley. And then, of course there was a
remote but significant chance of meeting a crevasse. The time was about 1 pm.
Another 2-3 hours and it would be freezing and windy at this height.

Fortunately horsemen and porters had made a trail high up on the lateral moraine. I
saw a faint line on the right of the glacier among the rocks. After walking on fresh
snow for sometime, I was able to get on to this safer trail. There were inconspicuous
cairns to mark the poor trail amid boulders. After many hours of walking on shale,
stones, pebbles, ice etc. the trail brought me safely down into the valley- but I still
had to cross the glacial stream.
It was about 5 pm and due to high snow melting rate in the afternoon, most streams
are in spate around this time. So was the case with this one- the baby Pare-Chu. I
selected the right spot for crossing over; put on my sports sandals, took out the iceaxe for support and stepped in: small rocks were coming down like bullets with the
force of water; I took a second step and my right sport sandal was whipped off my
foot, by the strong current in a flash. I retraced my steps to the bank, put on my
trekking shoes and re-entered the stream. Hardly three steps in the stream, I toppled
backwards!
I had opened my legs in a wide V for better balance: the water entered the V with
inconceivable force and suddenness: I was spun round like a top- and before I
realised it, I was 15-20 feet down stream in a blink! The backpack somehow stayed on
my back and acted like a float- as well as a cushion, protecting my back and head.
A wild flailing of limbs. A sudden gasp. Next moment I was on the other bank lying on
a boulder three quarter dead. I heard a voice in my head: Doctor, follow the
Hypothermia protocol! Soon!
I felt cold, weak and very Old! But I was on the other side- was I not? Even if the
manner of crossing was somewhat unconventional and not very dignified! I moved to
a dry, less windy spot- changed into dry clothes, ate some snacks and walked on to
the campsite. Once in the sleeping bag, I felt comforted. Altitude: 16145 ft. I had
minor nasal bleeds and an early morning bout of breathlessness, around 2-3 am.

(A cairn marking the trail on the lateral

moraine)

(The 4 km long glacier)

(North side of the pass)

25th July 2007

Next morning I examined myself carefully for injuries. There was a little crick in the
right knee- some bruises and grazing of knuckles on the right hand. I stirred in my
sleeping bag. Alone in a vast valley. I decided to just rest. I could not see the trail
onwards across the wide dry river bed yet.
As the sun rose, the spot became unbearably hot; strong UV rays seemed to pierce
through the tent. At 16145 feet, I had to remove all the layers except the shirt, to
keep cool. This is one of the paradoxes of Laddakh: You can be very hot and very cold
in just a matter of hours. I did some reconnaissance of my surroundings, looking for
the trail ahead. Over the geologic ages, the river must have cut through the valleylike a stream of hot tea, flowing over a block of butter. Add to this, the action of frost,
wind and sun. And the result was- huge cathedral like erosions on the banks and up
on the mountains. These structures appeared like ramparts of some ancient forgotten
fort.
I washed my two blood stained hankies. Nasal bleeds are due to cold dry air and
altitude. Liberal application of Vaseline to the inside of nose is the recommended
treatment. Finally, I buried my head in a book. Towards the evening, I again went out
for a walk- and noticed a fine line on the opposite mountain: ha, that must be the
trail! I thought with some relief.

(Lone camp in a broad high valley near Pare chu)

(Cathedrals)

(A typical campsite)

(The trail in wilderness)

26th July 2007

Today I had to cross Pare-chu again, so I got up early in the morning with some
trepidation; Walked across the vast river bed, came to the stream, took out the iceaxe for support, faced up stream and waded through. I had no problems this time
being early morning. On the other side (true right of the Pare-chu river), I found the
trail. It turned gently east.
Many small grassy campsites are there on the banks of this vast dry river bed. I
wanted to cover as much distance as possible, since my stove was giving trouble.
After walking for about 25 km, I came across 4 colourful tents under towering
cathedrals. The porters were busy cooking for the foreign tourists, which appeared
to be a family. Since they were traveling in the opposite direction, the porters and the
guide asked me about the condition of the trail and the pass. They offered me gur-gur
tea (Yak butter salt tea) and Khichri, which I accepted gratefully- being too tired to do
my own cooking. And yes, they told me about the up-coming crossing of Pare-chu
near Norbu Sumdo, where the trail turns north, for Tsomoriri.
At visceral level, I was getting ready for this big show down with Pare-chu! Because I
knew that at that point, it is not just a stream: joined by many tributaries, it becomes
a river, spread over 50+ feet ..
I walked a little further and camped in solitude. Altitude: 15194 ft.

(Yellow tent under the cathedral)

(An unwilling mule on the trail)

(Pare-chu river)

(A quiet evening by Pare-chu river)

27th July 2007

The stove situation was causing me worry. My appetite had returned with all the
walking! I wanted to get to a spot where I could ask and get some Tsampa (roasted
barley flour) from nomads, if my stove were to conk out completely. But where were
they? The landscape was bare. Nothing moving, except clouds against an intensely
blue sky. The last group of porters had told me that I might find them south of
Tsomoriri, 3-4 days hence. Could I do it in 2 days?
I started early in the morning. There was a fork in the trail: one climbing up. Other
just hugging the stream. I followed the lower one: came to a point where the trail was
swallowed up by the rushing water: Saw some foot marks clambering up the steep
side, as if to bypass this bad section; I followed the example and clambered up about
30 feet, then discovered it was going absolutely no where!
Now, I could go neither forward nor turn around; at my feet, about 30 feet below was
the rushing Pare-chu! Moral: When you come to a fork in the trail, dont let your tired
legs do the decision making: use your brains and follow the upper trail!

I turned around and retraced my steps, from my high perch- with a prayer. As I was
about to climb the higher trail, I saw two black dots moving in the distance. Two
porters going to Kibber village stood face to face with me few minutes later.

How is the river crossing? I asked anxiously.

-Oh no problem. We crossed it yesterday evening around 5 pm.
But is it not better in the morning when water is low? I persisted.
No- the melting water from the glacier takes about 12 hours to get to Norbu Sumdo.
So, water is higher in the morning- not evening. Anyway, when we crossed it last
evening, the water came up to our thighs. But do take care- it is a wide stretch,
choose your spot carefully
Finally, I reached the cross over point - Norbu Sumdo. No, there was no sign to mark
it. I just saw a small group of porters and couple of mules, gingerly moving up and
down on the other side of the Pare-chu river; apparently they were searching for a
suitable spot to wade through. This gave me the indication that this must be the spot
for crossing over.
I hurriedly moved towards them, looked at the wide stream with rising fear. I
requested the porters, who had crossed over to my side meanwhile, to help me cross
over by putting my back pack on a mule. But that would mean unloading the mule
first. No, no- they responded with alarm. They did not hide their consternation at my
foolishness of wandering about alone- at my age! Finally I requested one of them to
hold my hand and help me across- just in case.. This was based on the practice of the
locals to make a human chain and cross dangerous rivers. But the young porter shot
back: How do I come back alone then? I realised that he was more scared than I!
Leaving me to my fate they moved on. I decided to take the plunge. Feel the fear and
do it anyway. With my ice-axe as a third leg, I waded through cautiously. Also, very
prayerfully. I was across without any accident. I turned around and waved to the
three porters who stood on the far side, still watching me, mouth agape, both shocked
and fascinated.
A little walk- brought me to the Norbu Sumdo. It is a ruin of a small rock shelter, on a
wind swept plain, on the junction of Pare-chu and Phirtse phu river. Pare Chu
continues eastwards to wards Chumar village in Tibet. I turned north.
From here, the land rises in a gentle plateau to the banks of Tsomoriri lake. On both
sides, there are mountain ranges. Small streams flow down out of these ranges and
drain into the lake. This is why the water is not saline- unlike Tso-Kar lake, further
north. But many of the streams were dry, and suddenly I realised that I had no water
and my surroundings were becoming drier and drier. An hour before, I had passed
Kiangdom, which is a grassy campsite in this desert. But it did not occur to me to fill
water then. My GPS showed that lake was at least 20-25 km away but I did not expect
a desert here. The range of the mountains to the south kept on changing shape;
Hours passed by, and there was no sign of water. It was time to pitch tent and call it a
day- but without water, how can you camp?
I stood for a while scanning my surroundings, then, I saw in the distance a blue line.

Water! I moved towards it steadily, in spite of limbs getting numb with weariness; It
kept receding and reappearing in the undulations of the intervening land. I arrived at
the southern banks of Tsomoriri only after another two hours. The water was full of
black insects. To be on safe side, I pressure cooked the water. But all said and done, I
noticed in the fading day light that it was a beautiful spot: a vast stretch of meadow,
next to the blue expanse of the lake- fringed by snow capped mountains. Altitude:
14886 ft.
I had often smiled inwardly at the Buddhist prayer wheels. What a mechanical device
to pray! You just keep turning it around! What effect can such mechanical prayers
have? But on the two occasions of river crossing in the previous days, and again that
evening, I had realised that all the praying I had known hitherto, were no less
mechanical. Only when our life is in real danger, we pray as we should. Only when I
had come out of the stream, had I noticed that I had been praying, non-stop and very
earnestly!

28th july 2007

In search of water, I had made a detour on the previous day. So, today I reverted to
the main trail, at the west bank of the lake. Now I just had to move along the bank of
the lake to reach Korzog village- where, I could imagine hungrily, fresh Momo and
Thukpa awaited me! But this was not easy: The bank had many twists and turns and
the trail was often buried under the debris falling from the mountains.
The water displayed many shades of blue. Nearer the banks, lighter and even green
at times, depending on the depth, to deeper and intense blue towards the central part
of the lake, ringed by mountains in various shades of brown: it was worth noting that
the lake was huge: 25 km by 8 km. No wonder, it takes almost a whole day, walking
from Kiangdom to Korzog, both on the same bank. Tsomoriri has an altitude of 15066
ft. near Korzog village. Even when you laugh, you have to take a deep breath soon
after- air is so thin. Blowing your nose too is a big effort for the same reason. Of
course some acclimatisation does take place after the first few days and you feel
better.
I saw two or three kinds of migratory birds on its bank, busy raising their youngs.
Also, a group of wild donkeys - locally called Kiangs. Finally, I saw a low, flat roofed
white building, next to the lake, with Buddhist prayer flags atop: A meditation
complex built by a Lama. A little more grind on my tired legs and I saw Korzog
village. At last!
I bypassed the camping ground near the stream, crossed the footbridge and climbed
up to a central clearing in the village, just next to the monastery; A big white tent
made of Parachute fabric yes, this was Tsering Hotel, run by an energetic Laddakhi
lady from Leh. There were seats arranged in a semi circle, along the periphery. Next
to central pole, was a waist high work surface: constant cooking went on that. Next to
it, various merchandise were on display: Chewing gums, biscuits, chips, cold drinks
cooling in a bucket of water, soap, Kingfisher beer, potatoes, onion, fruit juice
pouches from Srinagar, Hand knitted socks and gloves, fancy peak caps, Cooking oil
packs, other odds and bobs required by trekking parties planning to cross
Changthang plateau.

(wild asses- Kiangs)

(Camp by the lake)

A lad called Chhotu looked like a native of Nepal or Bihar was constantly
running around, attending to various needs of the customers. Many people from
Nepal and Bihar were working here on various construction projects. Most people
sported a faded hat or cap, sitting jauntily over a weather beaten face- often smiling!
Once in a while, a serious and important looking man would walk in: He would be
the police or ITBP personnel or some petty official, who had come for his evening
dose of drinks; Chhotu or Ms Tsering would pour him a peg, which he would quietly
finish, with an omelette and retire for the night.
I too ordered my food with great anticipation: Momos! These are finely shredded
vegetables or meat wrapped in dough, which is then lightly fried or steamed. Very
popular. Some of the faces seemed familiar; they too looked at me for a fraction of
second longer and then smiled:

Were you not here last year too? About this time only?
Yes! Last year I came here from the north- via Rumtse. I smiled back and responded.
And this year?
Well- this year I came from the south. From Kiber in Spiti- across Parang la.
I began to feel the excitement, well known to travellers as they start their stories of
strange lands, people and adventures. But wait, more questions were coming.

Are you with a party?

No.
Where are your porters and guide?
I had none. I trekked alone. I surveyed the incredulous faces around me as the cold
winds sweeping down the mountains merrily drummed the tent.
Most of them were surprised. Some had the expression: This is highly irresponsible

deviant behavior in an elderly gentleman. Just imagine- roaming around like this!
I am 50 and look 70 and am quite proud of it. But I did not want to be censured by
these very well meaning kind people and so did not launch myself on a colourful
recounting of my adventures! I just smiled and attacked the momos with an earthy
relish.

Wind up: 29th July 2007

I had walked about 110 km in seven days. Had crossed an 18300 ft pass. The trek was
over. Now, a different kind of adventure awaited me. How to get to Leh and from
there, home?
There were two ways: If I could get a lift via Tso-Kar lake, I would reach Leh without
any problem. But few tourists were going that way. They were going via Mhi bridge
on the Indus river. At Mhi bridge J&K police asked for Inner line permit, even from
Indians. I had none. I made up the mind of a wavering driver on 30th morning, to take
me and dump me at Mhi bridge if there were any complications. There were none
and so we drove on to Leh; We saw Chumathang on the banks of Indus river, famous
for hot springs.
In Leh, I stayed at Rainbow Guest house in Changspa for a few days. A hot water
bath. Proper medication for my grazed knee and fingers. Wonderful food. And
beautiful mornings and evenings in Leh valley. Shanti stupa overlooking the town.
Into this perfect holiday- emails made their way one day and I was back in touch with
the world of appointments!
The GPS which I had to use sparingly in the wilderness- I had to use somewhat
desperately in Changspa, almost every evening: The lanes are all crooked. After
sunset there is not much street lighting; there are few public signs or people to give
you instructions. To return to my guest house every evening, I had to use my GPS!

(the Leh town from Shanti stupa)

(Shanti stupa)

Yes, you dont talk to anyone for days- and dont even realise it.. I was talking to

another tourist in a chance conversation. This is what he commented. And then I

realised that that was exactly what had happened to me in those seven days. I was
quiet. I was quiet! And was not even aware of it!
But an inner dialogue had gone on. I had talked about many things to myself- work,
life- and what lies beyond both. It was a good walking meditation, in the fashion of old
Lung-gom-pa: Lamas covering great distances while in deep meditation, giving
semblance of levitation.
There is a one day Manali (Tata Sumo) taxi service from Leh. It leaves about 2 am and
is in Manali by 6 pm. A distance of 400+ km over 4 major passes are covered in 16
hours. A tiring journey. I got the Dehradun bus from Manali soon after. I was home
next morning. Humid hot Herbertpur- but home too! Invigorated and calm.
The best journeys are those which bring you home!

Aerial Insights: 6th August 2007

I look at my computer screen excitedly-

Yeah- that does look like the wide river bed- and that Parang La? Cant believe it!
I am using Google Earth (free version). And in spite of connectivity constraints, I am
able to see the spots I had been to. I transfer longitude-latitude data from my GPS for
the 6 campsites and the Parang-la pass manually to my computer.

Lo and behold- it pinpoints the spots on satellite images and I can see the 4 km long
glacier, I carefully circumvented and also the stream, I took a tumble in! It shows on
its own, places like Dutung and Norbu sumdo. Both are not at all inhabited. They are
just campsites in wilderness. I can see Tsomoriri; even the trail which I used last
year! Leh valley and Khardung la pass..
I never thought technology would make such strides in my own life time! But are we
changing as fast as our technology? A last word of caution: please take couple of
porters, if you trek this route. Trekking solo on this route is highly irresponsible and
deviant behavior!

(Walking meditation...author)

(A google earth image, showing the route and the camps: ignore
the red line)

Sachin is running a Self Help group for people who stammer in Herbertpur,
Dehradun. He is a trained mountaineer. For more information on this trek, he can be
contacted through emails: satksri@gmail.com
(Thanks Marian- for patient editing!!)