All photos take by Bishal Sigdel Photography: Instagram @bishalsigdelphotography @photosbybishal

There was a basecamp feeling at our Dharamsala. Everyone was talking about when to head off between cups of tea and meals of Dahl Baht. I was assigned a metal box that I shared with two German trekkers. One was in his late twenties and was a doctor. His companion was a retiree who was feeling the effects of Altitude sickness. I offered to fetch tea and food for him but after several hours he made it to his feet and ate a small meal in the dining area. We were all there for the same reason. Determined to make it all the way up the pass, and thus be in the position to finish the Circuit trek that we were now just days from completing.

I felt good. No signs of headache. No feelings of nausea. I drank lots of peppermint tea and ate up everything on my plate. Tomorrow, I was determined to put the camera away, and just focus on the single purpose of making it up and down the Larkya La Pass. I went to test my head torch. Dead. Luckily being bunked together with Germans has its advantages. The Doctor had with him brand new AA batteries. Check! Then there was the nagging pain on the outside of my right hand ankle. The German Doctor came to the fore again and provided me with strapping. Check!

Now it was just a matter of getting some shut eye and staying calm for the morning ahead. I packed my bag. Went over my gear. Double checked with Prem and Prakash on breakfast time. Then drifted off to the sound of the wind blowing outside.

It was dark and cold as we started our way up the pass. We could see the glow of head torches coming from the people ahead of us. They looked a little like light sabers as they danced in the night sky. Overhead was a blanket of stars. It was calm. Perfect conditions. Inspired, I started off strong and confident. I got into a rhythm and walked past those who were lagging. Prem warned me to rest and take water. After half an hour, my camelback was frozen solid. I thumped my other water bottle spraying Prem in the process. “Sorry mate!” I took a swig before setting off again. Then my head torch went dead. No problem. There was enough light from the morning sky. Then I lost Prem. He had fallen behind a group of trekkers behind me. Oh well. That just means I have to wait if I need hydration.

Then I got caught behind a group of ten. As we trudged up a ridge they pulled off to the side to take a breather. This was my chance to get in front. I so didn’t want to get caught in a logjam if the weather were to turn. I strode off and continued up the ridge and was greeted by the morning sky. The mountains rose up on both sides and the snow lay like a thick blanket ahead. This place gave me associations of Norway. Only there was much less air up here.

As I got to the top of a ridge I looked up to see Prakash with a scattering of porters moving just ahead of me. Did I feel an oncoming headache? Should I wait for Prem and drink some water? Nah, let’s keep going. Don’t want to fall behind that large group again, I kept telling myself. Then, suddenly an all too familiar cautious feeling started to grow at the pit of my stomach. I began to recognize the first beginnings of bowel movements.

“Not now! Just hold on. Only three more hours,” I said to myself.

But it persisted. I have had the privilege of soiling myself before in minus twenty degree conditions and I did not want to go there again! I began to repeat the Tibetan Mantra,

“Hom name padme hom,”

to try take my mind off the feeling of going to the toilet but it was to no avail. I had to go! And sooner rather than later! Then I remembered, Prem had the toilet paper! No way I was going to wait for him!

I looked feverishly around. No way was I going to walk a ways of the path. Snow in my boots and the fear of not being able to hold on were a too greater factor. It had to happen here and now! I found a rock just off the path and thought that it would be wise to position my deposit just behind it, so that it wasn’t an eyesore for fellow trekkers, guides and porters, who numbered in their hundred behind me. I pulled down my pants and took the best squat that a middle aged man can do in minus 15. I looked back at the ridge behind me. If anyone came up now, that would get a birds eye view. As my contents came out, I noticed to my horror that instead of falling gently behind the rock, I had miscalculated and it had begun accumulating instead on top, resembling one of those Tibetan stupas that we had passed by in the villages. I certainly wasn’t going to move it from this rock. I finished up, cleaned myself as best as I could, before putting on my gloves and taking a last look at the ridge and then back to my work of art on the rock.

Doing a shit at 5000m in minus 15 was now ticked off the bucket list!

We arrived at the pass in a plethora of prayer flags and the sun shining high in the sky. A woman broke down in tears, porters and guides were high fiving their clients. I put my arm around my two nepalese brothers and gave my phone to a porter to document our arrival. It was a beautiful moment between us and no better people to share it with. We continued on as more people arrived. We were now the only people coming down the path. It would take another two and a half hours of sliding on snow on really steep slopes before we would come down below the snow line. Then it was another hour and a half before we would arrive at the 3500m town of BimThang.

I was shattered! So glad to get off the mountain and yet, if you had of asked me if I wanted to go back the next day….

…. well

…. maybe next year!