Ascent

September 7: Today’s trek is not terribly far either; on the descent tomorrow, we are planning to return all the way to Gangotri from Topovan.

The first leg of the day we spend continuing up the trail to Gomuck at the snout of the glacier. The ascent is, overall, gradual. I realize that I am no longer cursing those downturns in the trail that at one time screamed to me “for each step you go down, you are going to have to go back up again!” The trail, like life, requires ascent, as well as descent, to reach its destination.

We stop to rest at Gomuck. There is an open-air shrine (“please no shose in tempel”). From here we can see the glacier as it is calving, breaking and falling into the emerging Ganga. Aaron reminds us once again to watch our step, remain on the trail, allow the proper distance between one another. We will be crossing the glacier, which is covered in rock and dirt. Then we will be ascending rather sharply. The terrain, which has been largely stable, will be anything but stable until we reach Topovan. We will be climbing in sand, loose dirt, and gravel. The face of the mountain is littered with boulders, left when the glacier retreated, or melted. Now they are perched in anticipation of gravity calling them down. Attention becomes our mantra: attention to our steps, to our footing, to those around us. There is no margin for error, or for carelessness.
Once again, I am positioned as the pacesetter, directly behind the guide.

I pick up my trekking poles, and look up to my right. Across the mouth of the Ganga is the face of the mountain we will be climbing. I think of the climb up the mountain from the lake at Camp No-Be-Bo-Sco. That was an ascent that challenged me at eleven, energized me at fourteen, empowered me at sixteen. That ascent would barely get me from where I am standing up to the top of the glacier and to the base of the climb that I am now facing. I no longer feel the adrenaline rush that had challenged me earlier in our trekking. Now I feel the steadfastness of myself—heart, body, mind, breath, the physical and the spiritual—stepping forth in unison. My feet, my poles, my self move as one.

There is no question, the climb is challenging. It is difficult to not be distracted. The views are otherworldly. When you look up, all you can see is the very top of the world, and it is very far away. Looking out you see postcards from the Himalayas, the pictures that were in the encyclopedia when you wrote your report in the sixth grade. Looking down and behind, you see the otherworldly terrain that you are slowly crossing. My mind turns briefly to the lunar rover; it seems that this would be the type of surface it would need to be prepared to traverse. I allow myself these thoughts, these looks, only when I stop and stabilize myself.

At one point, we stop to rest along the trail, and allow the porters to pass. They have dissembled last night’s camp, and have now caught up with us. They are carrying all of the equipment on this trek; there are no donkeys. Each of the adult men is carrying about 100 pounds on his back; the two young teens accompanying them have 50 pounds apiece. I marvel.

Later, still ascending, we find an area that is large enough for each of us to find a seat. From my position in the lead, I am one of the first to be seated. As he approaches me, Robert points out a large fissure in the ground between where he is standing and where I am sitting. Perhaps it was there and I stepped over it without seeing it. I am careful to move around it when I stand to begin climbing again.

Perspective is a funny thing when you are climbing. Over the horizon may only mean that the angle of the climb will moderate slightly, or that the next sharp ascent is set back a bit from the one you are on. I learn not to anticipate the top, only to appreciate the climb.

When I look up once more, I see the porters walking back and forth across the ridge. I know that we are nearing our destination. We all gather as, one by one we come over the top edge. We marvel at the view. I glow with pride in my accomplishment. Aaron asks if I understand why he considers this place heaven on earth. I certainly do. And, I posit that “you just have to go through hell to get here.” We both chuckle, and we move out toward the campsite.

I realize how tired and hungry I am. I began the day with an empty system and a light breakfast. We have only stopped to snack. I find a tent and lay down to rest. Others set out to explore the area. Later I will join them in a visit to Mata-ji, one of the sages who resides here. We bring her chocolate. Even sages have a sweet tooth! As we sit on the ground outside the entrance to her cave, she serves us tea and tells the most marvelous stories. I walk away with many lessons, as do each of us. The most important for me is a story that reminds me, the fire of my potential is inside of me. Only I can unleash it.

I sleep in peace.