Words begin to fail when attempting to describe the pull that mountains exert on one’s being. Try as I may to couch my adventure in words, words lack the fidelity that experiencing the real thing brings. So, my goal in writing about it is limited only to hopefully sparking the reader’s curiosity; that they may embark on their own adventure into the high mountain reaches.
When should you go? It wasn’t easy to pin down an answer to this simple question. Locals and other trekkers provided vague and often inconsistent answers. Taking into considering clouds and blood suckers, this is what I finally discerned:
November-December: This is the winter climbing season (before winter truly sets in and the snow swallows up the trekking paths). Cold no doubt, but this is the best time to avoid view-blocking cloud cover. Especially at higher altitudes you are almost guaranteed clear skies. (Imagine trekking all that distance only to not see what you yearned for.) Also, the locals said that the cold weather kills all leeches or at least drives them underground. I don’t care where they go as long as I don’t come across one and I indeed didn’t. The only bummer is that you won’t get to see a single rhododendron flower during this time of the year. You can’t have it all.
The words that galvanized me to undertake the Goechala trek were penned by Arjun Majumdar of India Hikes in this article. But I couldn’t empathize with his experience since I embarked on my trek in the winter season when not a single flower is in bloom. “Romantic” was not the word that came to my mind as much as did “contemplation” and “inner peace” (intoning Hoffman’s voice for Master Shifu).
May: While you don’t get to see a single rhododendron flowers in Nov-Dec, the rhododendron trees carpeting the mountain sides present the tantalizing possibility of what could have been had they been in bloom. If flowers are what you wish to see while having to deal with as few leeches as possible, May is the time to trek. Apparently, the millions of rhododendrons with their varied colors is a sight to behold. I presume you will have to expect clouds and rain.
August-September: If voluntarily donating blood is your kind of thing then this is the time to go. The leeches wouldn’t disappoint and would not be disappointed. As an added bonus, the rains will make the trip even more “memorable”. The icing on the cake would probably be the innumerable clouds you will get to see.
This's what I could deduce about climbing seasons. However, I am not an expert and so please check with your tour organizer and others knowledgeable folk before making your call.
How did the support staff do? They did great. We often tend to take their presence and effort for granted. They, and the horses, always left before us so as to reach the next camp in order to pitch our tents and prepare our meals. The only saving grace was that they got to stay (and work) in the relative warmth of the trekker huts at all campsite. The meal preparation, washing, etc. must have been tough beyond comprehension in the bitter cold, but they were always on time and always did a great job. In the early mornings they would prepare our breakfast and packed lunch before loading up and moving on to the next camp to rinse and repeat. All in all, good people who labored hard to make our trekking experience that much more comfortable.
Food was always presented well, served warm, tasted good, and wasn’t monotonous.
Day -1. Gangtok to
Yuksam
Shared taxis are the predominant way to get into and about Sikkim.
I took mine from Gangtok at 7:30AM and reached Yuksam in 5 hours. Uneventful
journey.
Upon arrival, the trek agency’s owner gave a traditional Sikkimese
welcome (draping a ceremonial scarf or khada
around the neck) and offered a warm beverage before blithely announcing that the
trek has been delayed by a day. Graciously though, he compensated for the delay
with a day-trek the next day. Checked into the hotel, met the other trekkers, tucked into a nice outdoors dinner, and then hit the sack.
Day 0. Yuksom to
Khecheperi Lake and back
(You may skip reading about this day as it is
not part of the Goechala Trek.)
We bundled into a vehicle for a 15 min
ride to Leythang from where the trail leading to Kacheperi Lake begins. It was
an easy and enjoyable trek that also served as good warm-up for Goechala. We
passed through a small pastoral settlement and got to see huge roosters, pigs,
cows, and genial folk. After trekking
for about 3 hours we reached the Lake which is shaped like a giant footprint (of
the abominable snowman (or Yeti)?).
The Sikkimese believe the
Yeti to be not only real but also a holy being. So, whatever your own beliefs
are, refrain from making any inappropriate remarks.
Like all (most?) lakes in Sikkim, Kachepuri too is
considered sacred. An interesting experience was watching the frenzied
feeding of its resident fishes on any food dropped into the water. Having
always wanted to see a school of piranhas feeding, I imagined this is how it
would be and checked that off my list. We followed the road for our return
journey and stopped on the way to spend some refreshing minutes on the banks of
the fast flowing Rathong Chuu river. After finally trudging into Yuksom, we had
a nice dinner, packed our gear for the big day, and retired for the night.
Although this day-trek was enjoyable, the highlight for me already
occurred earlier that morning. The rising sun had lit up the far off mountains
giving us a tantalizing preview of things to come. (Kanchenjunga isn’t visible
from Yuksom and won’t be until Day 3.)
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Early morning view from Yuksom of a few distant mountains. |
Day 1. Yuksam (1780 m)
to Tshoka (2950 m), 17 km
By now our group was 5 strong, including a guest each from
Japan and Canada. Our support team comprised ~4 horses and their minder, a cook,
a helper, and two guides (the extra guide was meant to accompany the Canadian back
as he intended to trek only till Dzongri). At 7:00 AM we left by jeep for a short ride to the trail head from where the actual trek commenced. For the
most part the trail was human-made (a long time ago) using rocks although log
trails covered a few stretches that presumably get boggy during the rains. These trails weren’t quite designed for Yak caravans so the introduction of
these beasts of burden gradually led to the partial decimation of its surface. Such
is the path almost up to Tshoka and a little beyond, if I recall right, after
which you hit a dirt trail.
After crossing a couple of bridges you reach a green-colored
gateway marking the official entry into the KNP (Kanchenjunga National Park). Nothing
too exciting happened during the trek. We crossed a few more bridges, and admired
a small lagoon glistening in the morning light, but we did not get to see any wildlife
barring a few birds.
KNP is home to many
animals such as the rare red panda (Sikkim’s state animal that
looks nothing like a panda bear), snow leopard, Himalayan tahr, civet,
black bear, blue sheep, etc. and quite a few colorful bird. However, except a couple
of bird species, we didn't get to see any wildlife. I
suggest you allot a day to visit the Gangtok zoo to see these creatures. There's no joy in seeing captive animals. One leopard was continuously moving left-to-right-to-left...,
a clear sign of mental distress, and the lone bear was emitting heart wrenching
groans. Nor is it fun to watch some visitors taunting the
animals. But this is probably going to be the only way you can see the
Himalayan wildlife if you don’t get to see any on the trek. Tip: Go on a working day so as to avoid noisy humans scaring the animals
into hiding. Also, approach the enclosures quietly.
12 kilometers into our trek we had lunch at the Sachen
campsite (2189 m) followed by a brief rest stop at Bakhim before reaching
Tshoka (2985 m) for our night halt. Tshoka is a big campsite with several
trekking huts and an old Buddhist temple. The support team had already pitched
our tents, prepared a small meal for us followed later that night by a full-fledged
dinner, all very tastefully organized.
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View from Tshoka looking towards Darjeeling.
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Day 2. Tshoka to
Dzongri (3950 m), 9 km. 8:30AM to 2 PM
With breakfast and tea out of the way, we resumed our trek
at 8:30AM. Unlike Day 1, today was overcast and the cold started to make its
presence felt. We passed through Rhododendron (called Chimal in the local Limbu language) forests that looked eerie yet magical in the fog. Sadly, the
flowers were absent as this was not the blooming season.
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Trees on the way to Dzongri.
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We reached the Dzongri campsite at 13:00 hours. The trek
itself was uneventful (not saying it was boring though) but the stay at Dzongri was
quite memorable. The campsite was pretty crowded as there was another 30+
strong trekking group shadowing us (or were we shadowing them) and a young couple with their
own mini entourage.
Hüzün
There was no point in venturing out as the campsite was draped in thick fog/cloud. So, we firmly planted ourselves in the hut as it was much warmer
than our tents thanks to a constantly running wood burner. Hot noodles,
tea, and interesting conversations were on tap. Luckily, the clouds began to
roll away just a couple of hours before sun down giving me the first opportunity to
explore the neighborhood. The Dzongri campsite is located in a sort of
bowl-shaped valley. A short (sub-5 minute) climb up to the top of the
neighboring hillock reveals decent views: Looking up, the distant mountains and
a huge glacier can be seen and looking down, the valley below is equally
enchanting. With the gaggle of trekkers remaining below, solitude
was abundant paving the way for some contemplative and melancholic time. The clouds kept intermittently
rolling in and out but even they were entertaining to watch. With the cloud
tops at eye-level, you can see wisps of cloud rise and tumble mesmerizingly,
like a giant Astro lamp. Soon, the sun had sunk low enough to begin casting those
scarlet and saffron rays that seemingly turn snow into gold and rock into
molten metal. It is the time that I eagerly wait for on any trek and kept my fingers crossed for some decent views. At that
moment, there occurred a fortuitous parting of a section of persistent cloud in
the east revealing three peaks bathed in that "s&s" light. There are moments
when your thoughts freeze in the face of natural beauty. This was one such
moment. Unfortunately though, twilight is ephemeral. As the ground beneath our feet relentlessly turned East, the sun’s golden light faded off the mountains. Fleeting
no doubt, but the imagery gets etched in the mind’s eye forever. (The
accompanying picture does no justice to the real thing.)
Night soon followed and after dinner (pizza (you read that
right), and soup) in the relative comfort of the warm hut, we retired to our
tents. The cloudless sky may have amplified the sub-zero temperatures but it
also revealed our luminous galaxy in all its glory. It was the second time
that I got to see the Milky Way (the first time was in the mountains of Ladakh) and hopefully
will not be the last. The things we miss living in polluted cities….
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The aforementioned “golden” peaks.
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Day 3. To Dzongri Top
view point at Dablagang Pass (4200 m)
At 5:00AM more than 30 of us began to trek in the dark
towards Dzongri view point to get our first glimpse of Kanchenjunga. Make sure
you start early so as to be there before sun up. It was still dark by the time
I got there. The rising sun had still not broken above the sheet of altostratus
clouds that lay beneath us. The mountains seemed like slumbering giants in the
pre-dawn light waiting to erupt into view when the light hits. And they didn’t
disappoint. As the morning light grew in intensity, a panoply of mountains
revealed themselves: Kanchenjunga, Pandim, Narsing, Kabru, and many others. The
winter climbing season, cold as it is, is the best time for this trek as you
are almost guaranteed cloudless early mornings thus granting you unhindered
views of the mountains. This was one such morning. With today being a scheduled
rest-cum-acclimatization day, I was in no rush to leave the view point. After everybody
had left, I lingered there for a long time before returning to camp for
breakfast.
Later, I went back to the top of the hillock near the camp and
was lucky enough to see a lenticular (saucer-shaped) cloud over one of the mountains. That was another first. As it was cloudy (and cold) again
for most of the day, we confined ourselves to the hut to commiserate ourselves on
the harshness of mountain life while munching on steaming hot Tibetan momos, and noodles for lunch, and macaroni, soup, papad for dinner. Poor us.
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View from Dzongri top before sunrise.
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Kanchenjunga (left) and Pandim (right) after sunrise as seen from
Dzongri top.
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A near lenticular cloud over one of the mountains as seen from Dzongri
camp.
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Day 4. Dzongri to
Thangsing (3880 m), 8 km. 8:30AM to 2:30 PM
It snowed about an inch overnight which meant that we had to
rely on our guide to lead us as the snow had covered up the trail. Although persistent
cloud cover (capricious as mountain weather is) denied us views of the
mountains that we were heading towards, there were enough surreal views along
the trail to keep our senses engaged: low hanging cloud over the trees, snow
covered branches, etc. The route involved crossing a bridge over the Prek Chu
river (easy) and a short stretch of boulder hopping (a tad tricky but a lot more
fun), and a small bit of tiptoeing on thin ice covering frozen streamlets. There
were brief moments of excitement after we came across separate sets of footprints in
the snow that belonged, according to our guide, to a snow leopard, blue deer,
and bear. The vegetation began to imperceptibly reduce to shrubbery as we
finally began to leave the alpine forest behind us. The Thangsing campsite is located
right in the lap of the giants (very close to the base of Pandim), but as
it was still fairly cloudy we barely got to see them. We would have to wait until
the next day to be rewarded with better views. All in all it was a thoroughly
satisfying trek
Nights at this altitude were guaranteed to be a lot colder but we still chose to spend the night in the tent rather than the huts. Quite the exciting night it was as one
of the trekkers from the other group disappeared. We had already been warned
that disappearances in these mountains and forests are not mere folk tales. So
the missing trekker unnerved everyone. Search parties (comprising
only the guides) fanned out into the night and he was ultimately
found (it was a case of an errant trekker disregarding instructions
and heading out into the twilight to take snaps). But boy did it dampen the camp's mojo.
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Whiteout. |
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Shrouded forest. |
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Boulder hopping near Kokchurong (snap taken on sunnier Day 6 on the way
back)
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Day 5. Thangsing to
Lhamune (4200 m), 6km
The early morning began with some disconcerting excitement around our tent as the horses had decided to indulge in a mini stampede. Thundering hoofs sped past our tent and we were pretty sure it would be mowed
down.
As it was a cloudless day, we had come to realize just how
close we were to the mountains. The north-east ridge of Kanchenjunga was
visible (even the evaporating snow was discernable) and so were Tenzing Khang, Jopnur,
and Dzongri top.
But what stole the show for me was Mount Pandim. The
short trek to Lahmune brought us ever closer to it and it isn’t a sight one will easily forget. One begins to lose perspective
as to the massive scale of these mountains when standing right amidst them. For
lack of a better description, it as if how an ant would feel were it riding an
elephant’s back – it can’t really get a sense for the massive scale of the
animal. And yet, standing at Lhamune camp you are quite close to Pandim and yet
far enough from its base that you are able to clearly see both its peak and prominence.
(When you get to its base on the next day’s trek, you would be too close to
discern either).
Despite not having seen that many peaks, I felt Pandim’s
peak has a visually usual structure. It appears as though something took a huge
bite out of its side (think of the Apple logo). (I hope the pictures help make
my point clear). On closer inspection you will see that this effect is created
by a slight rock overhang that prevents snow from falling on to and covering up
the rock face beneath it. This fact combined with other precipitating factors
such as the surrounding bright light, the angle of the sun’s rays, the glistening snow/ice, and perhaps the dull luster of the exposed rock result in the exposed rock
almost merging into the blue sky thereby giving the impression of an ever
bigger gash below the summit than actually exists. The resulting visual effect
is quite unusual.
There is a truly rare quality to these mountains that you
probably won’t find anywhere else on Earth. For me, this is what makes Pandim (nearly
7000 m) and the other mountains around so much more special. That rare quality
is the fact that these mountains have been (nearly) untouched by humans.
Mountains lying on the easternmost fringe of the Himalayas -- for e.g., the magnificent
Namcha Barwa (nearly 8000 m) -- are also mostly untouched by humans but for a
different reason: They are extremely remote. But there is a different reason for
why the mountains around Kanchenjunga remain (largely) untouched: These
mountains and lakes are considered holy by the Sikkimese. No doubt
their king (Chogyal) gave permission
to the first summit expedition in the 1950s, but he also apparently
extracted an assurance that they will stop several meters short of Kanchenjunga's summit.
Apparently, that team kept its word and presumably so did subsequent expeditions from the Indian side. However, I am not sure if that promise is still
honored when Kanchenjunga is scaled from the Nepali side. Unlike Kanchenjunga, Pandim
lies completely within India’s borders and I am told climbing it is not
permitted. Not sure how far this is true, but I am inclined to believe that it most certainly is. To see something that’s been untouched by any humans…to me that is
something very rare in the modern world and is something special to behold.
There was no serious cloud cover all day and towards evening
the golden twilight sun lit up Pandim and Kanchenjunga. Words can’t describe
the visuals. Hopefully the pictures help convey some of that beauty. With
nightfall, all of us retired to our tents.
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Pandim as seen from the
Lahmune camp.
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NE ridge of
Kanchenjunga (L), Goechala peak (M), Pandim (R) as seen from Lahmune.
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Close-up shot of "Fiery" Pandim taken from Lahmune camp. |
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Goechala Peak, which lends its name to the trek. We don’t actually go up to it but rather to a place called Goechala viewpoint. |
Day 6. Lhamune to
Goechala (4950 m) via Samiti Lake (4300 m), Zemathang (4500 m), 3km. Then
retrace our steps all the way back to Kokchurong
Crescendo
We started in the dark at 4:00AM. The winter night sky
was crystal clear (despite the presence of a gibbous moon) which augured well
for unhindered views of the mountains. The starry views were, as usual, great
but we could not afford to stop and admire it for too long as we had to beat the sunrise. (We passed
by Samiti lake in the dark). Unfortunately, the Sun had already risen before we could reach view point #1. Mount Kanchenjunga began to gradually come into view as we made our way up the steep slope. After
scrambling around a bend and clambering over a few rocks, we finally reached vp #1 and could settle down to catching our breath and drink in the
views. Looking back, you can now start to see Samiti Lake revealing herself as she reflected the sky.
Although only a 3 kilometer trek, the thin air made it
difficult to sustain a brisk pace. The first of us reached vp #1 at
5:50AM (an hour and 50 minutes after we started), well after the Sun had
started to cast its rays on the peak. I really wished I had made it earlier so as to watch the first rays hitting the third highest point
on Earth. So, please plan on budgeting at least
2.5 to 3.0 hours and start much earlier
than 4:00AM. We stayed at the vp #1 till 7:30AM before making our way back
to Lahmune (took us about…..well it doesn’t matter how long it takes to go
back, does it?)
Since Day 1 and right before making it to the view point, the
trek was not too difficult in the sense that you always found a firm foothold.
However, the final bend leading up to vp #1 was tricky to say the least
(at least for me). The narrow path round the bend was strewn with pebbles thereby
ensuring that a proper foothold is non-existent for those few feet. One has to
resort to literally hugging the mountain side to move their center of gravity
away from the sheer fall into the deep glacier pit on the other side. I am not
saying this was difficult, but one can't underestimate the danger of a fall.
If you made it, feel humbled. You have just gone higher than the second highest
mountain in Europe (Mont Blanc, 4809 m).
According to our guide there are three viewpoints from where Mount Kanchenjunga can be viewed. The second was a few kilometers down the “road” but what is unclear is whether the views would be better. Reaching the third
viewpoint apparently involves a bit of boulder-hopping. But, unlike some of the
boulder-hopping on the way to Lhamune (immediately after the Kokchurong hut on day 4), these boulders
will be likely treacherous due to the presence of black ice (ice that is
crystal clear to the point that you cannot detect that the rocks are covered
with it. One wrong step and you are guaranteed to go sliding to some place
unpleasant.) Maybe you don't risk this in the winter trekking season.
I had mixed opinions about my experience at vp #1. It
felt exhilarating and yet anticlimactic. I didn’t feel that the view of Mount
Kanchenjunga on offer from here was the most impressive one available. Although
very close to her, there was no feeling of awe. Perhaps I lacked the taste to
appreciate it. Or, perhaps one begins to lose perspective as to the massive
scale of the mountains when standing right in their midst. Another reason
probably has to do with the fact that even the most beautiful mountain can look
rather dour when not viewed from the proper side. (Mount Kilimanjaro, for instance, arguably
offers better views from the Kenyan rather than the Tanzanian side). Perhaps Kanchenjunga
is not best viewed from vp #1. (I'am still wondering about what the views
from vp #2 and #3 would be like.) Also, you don’t actually get to the see the
third highest peak in the world (Kanchenjunga Main) as it is hidden from view from vp #1. (If I am wrong about this, I would like to be corrected by you.)
We got a very clear view of the glaciers directly beneath vp #1. The lateral moraines were distinctly discernible. Our Japanese colleague pointed out that it seemed like we were standing near a gargantuan construction
site. I agree. The two glaciers had gouged out so much of the rock at the base
of these mountains that it did seem like a massive construction site. And with
the Himalayas still rising, it probably is a “construction site”.
As for Mount Pandim, we were literally standing at her base.
Neither was its peak visible, nor its prominence discernible. It was just rocks
and boulders all the way up when you look. It doesn’t get any closer than
this.
Since I seem to paint a not so “pretty” picture one might justifiably wonder
why go through all those days of trekking only to have an anticlimactic
experience? But you would be wrong in thinking so. What you see here is nature
in her utmost raw form -- massive and rugged; cold and lifeless; perhaps a
bit dangerous too; and unconquered and largely untouched by humans. You
feel privileged to be standing amidst it all. There is a certain beauty to this
rawness, the kind that is more humbling in its effect upon your being than it
is eye popping. And remember, not many get to see and feel this so one must feel truly blessed to be up there.
Coda
The group spent an hour at vp #1 before turning
back while I stayed another 10 minutes for the solitude. We retraced our steps
to Lhamune (brief halt for breakfast), Thangsing (30 minutes rest stop), and
finally to Kokchurong (night halt). With the trek in its wind down phase, we
unanimously agreed that we had enough of spending nights in tents. For 100
rupees (the reverse of the note incidentally features Kanchenjunga) a head we got to
spend the night in the trekker’s hut. It was perhaps the most tiring day of the
entire trek.
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View of Samiti Lake
while trekking towards the view point.
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Kanchenjunga as seen
from Goechala view point #1.
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A glacier. Notice how
distinctly visible the lateral moraine is, as if human hands had built a wall.
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Looking
up at Pandim from its base. The peak and prominence are no longer
distinguishable. That’s how close you get.
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A frozen part of
Samiti Lake. The raised hands of the figure atop the bell look like the Goechala
peak (M). Unintentional?
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Making our way back to Lahmune from Goechala. We had earlier trekked this way in the dark. |
Uneventful trek. We were taken by a different route and this
induced an element of novelty to a part of the return trek. As we made our way back,
the snow-capped mountains slowly receded from view. A brief stop for lunch
at Phethang before moving on to Tshoka for our final night halt in the
mountains. Again we ditched our tents for the hut. As this was our last
dinner the cook had a little surprise for us - a freshly baked cake.
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A quite unromantic candlelight dinner.
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Day 8. Tshoka to
Yuksom, 17 km
Uneventful again. We retraced the same path we had taken on
the way up. Came across a team of horses, including some young. It is always
a joy to be near these creatures. As we neared Yukosm, there was some concern
with rock fall that never materialized.
Trek ends.
Day 9.
After breakfast, we boarded our respective shared jeeps to go
our separate ways.
* * *
A big thank you to the mountains for treating us well and
hope they will treat you the same when you visit.
Please don’t litter the trail.
Have fun.
* * *
A few facts about the trek:
Distance: 43km one-way
(17+9+8+6+3)
Time: 6 days/5 nights up (including
an optional rest-cum-acclimatization day/night) and 3 days/2 nights down (the
last of the 6 and the first of these 3 overlap).
Date: Began trekking from Yuksam on November 30
Our itinerary:
Day1: 17km; Yuksam, 1780m to Tshoka 2950m.
Day2: 9km; Tshoka to Dzongri, 3950m via
Kokchurong.
Day3: To Dzongri Top view point at
Dablagang Pass, 4200m and back. Designated rest-cum-acclimatization day (the other
trekking group chose to move on).
Day4: 8km; Dzongri to Thangsing, 3880m.
Day5: 6km; Thangsing to Lhamune, 4200m.
Day6: 3km; Lhamune to Goechala, 4950m via
Samiti Lake, 4300m, Zemathang, 4500m. Back to Kokchurong the same way.
Day7: 17km; Kokchurong to Tshoka.
Day8: 17km; Tshoka to Yuksom.
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Obviously the slopes
aren’t so silky smooth. The axes are as true to scale as possible.
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Just the X axis isn’t
to scale.
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Data shown throughout are approximations and were either provided by the organizer, clarified online, or taken from signage along the trek. Hence, pardon any inconsistencies.
November-December: This is the winter climbing season (before winter truly sets in and the snow swallows up the trekking paths). Cold no doubt, but this is the best time to avoid view-blocking cloud cover. Especially at higher altitudes you are almost guaranteed clear skies. (Imagine trekking all that distance only to not see what you yearned for.) Also, the locals said that the cold weather kills all leeches or at least drives them underground. I don’t care where they go as long as I don’t come across one and I indeed didn’t. The only bummer is that you won’t get to see a single rhododendron flower during this time of the year. You can’t have it all.
The words that galvanized me to undertake the Goechala trek were penned by Arjun Majumdar of India Hikes in this article. But I couldn’t empathize with his experience since I embarked on my trek in the winter season when not a single flower is in bloom. “Romantic” was not the word that came to my mind as much as did “contemplation” and “inner peace” (intoning Hoffman’s voice for Master Shifu).
May: While you don’t get to see a single rhododendron flowers in Nov-Dec, the rhododendron trees carpeting the mountain sides present the tantalizing possibility of what could have been had they been in bloom. If flowers are what you wish to see while having to deal with as few leeches as possible, May is the time to trek. Apparently, the millions of rhododendrons with their varied colors is a sight to behold. I presume you will have to expect clouds and rain.
August-September: If voluntarily donating blood is your kind of thing then this is the time to go. The leeches wouldn’t disappoint and would not be disappointed. As an added bonus, the rains will make the trip even more “memorable”. The icing on the cake would probably be the innumerable clouds you will get to see.
This's what I could deduce about climbing seasons. However, I am not an expert and so please check with your tour organizer and others knowledgeable folk before making your call.
How did the support staff do? They did great. We often tend to take their presence and effort for granted. They, and the horses, always left before us so as to reach the next camp in order to pitch our tents and prepare our meals. The only saving grace was that they got to stay (and work) in the relative warmth of the trekker huts at all campsite. The meal preparation, washing, etc. must have been tough beyond comprehension in the bitter cold, but they were always on time and always did a great job. In the early mornings they would prepare our breakfast and packed lunch before loading up and moving on to the next camp to rinse and repeat. All in all, good people who labored hard to make our trekking experience that much more comfortable.
Food was always presented well, served warm, tasted good, and wasn’t monotonous.
Anything to see in Yuksom? Yuksom was Sikkim’s first capital (established in the 17th century). Given this historical importance there are a few things to see. The coronation throne and Dubdi Monastery should probably top your list and both are within walkable distance from the main street.
Food? While there are a few restaurants in town, our group patronized the “Gupta Restaurant”. It has a surprisingly eclectic collection of food that also tasted good without the cost leaving a bitter after taste. The fact that a lot of foreign trekkers pass through Yuksom has left its mark on the menu.
Stay? Quite a few hotels around town, even a fancy one. Our trek organizer arranged our stay in a spartan yet satisfactory hotel.
Trek Agencies? There're quite a few based in Yuksam. The one we went with seems to have had a long operating history and quite a few foreign patrons. I made my booking through Bikat Adventures, but discovered that the trek was actually organized by Red Panda Tours based in Yuksom. Red Panda did a good job although I felt that some of their equipment could do with an update. Bikat's website had helpful information and they kept us informed right up to the hand off to Red Panda. Both agencies were very courteous in their interactions.
Stay? Quite a few hotels around town, even a fancy one. Our trek organizer arranged our stay in a spartan yet satisfactory hotel.
Trek Agencies? There're quite a few based in Yuksam. The one we went with seems to have had a long operating history and quite a few foreign patrons. I made my booking through Bikat Adventures, but discovered that the trek was actually organized by Red Panda Tours based in Yuksom. Red Panda did a good job although I felt that some of their equipment could do with an update. Bikat's website had helpful information and they kept us informed right up to the hand off to Red Panda. Both agencies were very courteous in their interactions.
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Thanks for your time reading through :)
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