Ladakh Trek

Ladakh Trek: Lamayuru to Chilling.

So we set out (somewhat tentatively) on our first trek. Just the two of us setting off for a simple walk in the valleys.
With our guide.
And our cook.
And our horseman. And six horses.
We were sitting enjoying a final beer in the village where we were starting the trek and saw a horse wander by with a bell around its neck going “dingly dingly dingly”, then another horse, and another etc. etc. dingly dingly dingly in the middle of a very small and quiet village. The major event of the day I'd say. Then we noticed that they were all led into our campsite. That's when it dawned on us that they were our horses. Ah the embarrassment of the white, colonial, ruling classes setting off on some crazy expedition. And to make it worse we were drinking outrageously overpriced beer stamped with “Possession by other than defence personnel is punishable”.

Travelling light

Fabulous trek. Five days walking, six nights in a tent, wonderfully pampered with great food, stunning landscapes and not a soul around but ourselves! On the first morning we met a couple from New York just finishing their trek but other than that for the whole time the only people we came across were (very few) locals from the (tiny) villages we passed through. The horses and cook would start later than us and pass us at some point during the day and for the rest of the time it was just me, Karl and the guide in vast, barren, silent valleys and mountains.

 Me at Lamayuru before the trek.

 Karl trekking.

 Bridge.

 Dinner in the shadow of the pass we have to cross the next day.

 Just me and the yaks.

Spot me walking through this valley.


The landscape here is amazing. It's mainly dusty desert but such a variety of dusty deserts! Worn, rounded hills of brown dust. Mountains streaked with red, torquise and purple rock. Pointy jagged brand-new mountains. Mountains of mud. Snowy mountain tops. Valleys full of apple, apricot and walnut trees. Trees and mountain grasses turning bright yellow and red in autumn. Some cows, some yaks, some goats. Villagers collecting yak dung for fuel. Villagers (mainly women) wandering around carrying shovels. Not sure what the shovel thing is all about but it seems that now self-respecting Ladakhi woman is seen in public without one.

 Mount Rushmore.

 Karl and variously coloured rocks.

 Mountain Kara!

 You feel like you've definitely achieved something when you find a chorten with prayer flags at the top. This pass is at 4900m!!! Well the map says 4880m but 4900m has a better ring to it I think.

 Arabian Karl lunches atop a pass.

 Just trekkin'.

 Proud Kara makes it to the top(ish).

Top of another pass, another chorten, more prayer flags.


This is a tough, tough place to live and these are tough, tough people. After the very short summer that allows people to harvest food on their limited and carefully irrigated terraces there is a long, long, cold winter with temperatures of minus 20 degrees. Apparently the second lowest temperature ever recorded (after Antarctica I assume) was in this region. Farming is subsistence. Toilets are outdoors! I know this is pathetic to mention in the greater scheme of things but I couldn't even get myself out of my warm sleeping bag overnight to venture to the toilet in summer when the temperature never really dropped below zero. The villages are making good use of the tourism boom. Many seem to be approaching it from a whole village perspective and are sharing the tourist business between all the families, the government is providing education on how to meet tourist expectations. Demand on limited resources is a problem, as is pollution (both by locals and tourists).

 Our horseman, Tshering. We passed through his village on the trek and so stayed in his home that night.

 Me and dogfriend, Tommy, taking some afternoon tea. Karl wants to mention that Tommy was awesome. He had learnt tricks and could shake hands and stand on his hind legs to plead for our biscuits. Karl gave him biscuits of course. And rubbed his belly on demand. Tommy has replaced marmots in Karl's affections.

 Tshering's house.

 Karl's morning ablutions.

 Karl chills in tent.

Cow sneaks up on me at breakfast.

One particularly cold morning we were hiding in the kitchen tent eating breakfast and heard loud thuds from outside. Horses stampeding? Wild animals stampeding? The guide and cook ran outside (into the path of marauding animals?) and started yelling at us to get out of the tent. There was a rockfall. Enormous rocks were bouncing down the mountain towards us (for size imagine Karl describing the fish that got away). We got lucky and avoided damage but one poor horse got a nasty gash across his nose. Our guide has never experienced this in his over ten years of guiding in the Himalaya. Guess we're just lucky. And that's how we almost died, number 2.

 Mountain Karl at the end of the trek.

Babyface Karl after his first shower.


Anyway. Wonderful place. Beautiful. Fascinating. Nothing like being perfectly satisfied sitting on top of a pass, looking around at the mountains and valleys, eating your packed lunch.