Trekking through a Snow storm

In Dingboche, it started snowing. It was just a light fall, where small fluffy flakes drifted slowly down to melt as soon as they touched the ground. I watched in wonder from the warmth of the tea house I was staying in, sipping a cup of tea by the yak dung fueled heater. For someone who lives in a warm climate where it never snows, seeing snow on my travels is always magical at first. I was content to just sit there and watch it fall all afternoon.

Over night it eased off and in the morning all signs of the snow fall in the village were melted away. The sky above, however, was still threatening, with clouds gathering over the soaring peaks. I just hoped that the weather would stay good for the morning as I made my way to the next village. I hoisted my backpack onto my back and began trekking up the ridge above Dingboche.

At the top of the ridge I was treated to a beautiful view up the Valley to Lobuche Peak and the Cho La Pass, with the steep sides of Taboche and Cholatse dropping down dramatically to the valley below. I rested for a short time looking back at Dingboche, while above I could see snow falling on the top of Ama Dablam. As I trekked on up the valley the clouds began to close in around the mountains.

It wasn’t long before the first flake of snow landed on my face. The snow began falling lightly at first as it had done the day before. I quickly changed into my down jacket to protect me from the cold, and just as I did so the snow began falling heavier. The views of the mountains ahead were now completely gone and in places I could see the snow settling on the ground rather than melting straight away.

The snow kept falling heavier and heavier now as I trudged along the Trail and I couldn’t see far ahead of me, making it hard to know how much further I had to go. Luckily, the trail is well worn and I had no problem following it, though the snow threatened to cover it over if it wasn’t for the regular trekking groups and porters going up and down the trail.

Eventually, in heavy snow, I crossed a slippery stream and reached the tiny village of Dughla, consisting of two tea houses at the base of the terminal moraine of the Khumbu Glacier. I dusted the snow off myself and my bag and entered into the relieving warmth and shelter of the tea house. It was busy with customers sheltering from the blizzard. Trekkers, guides and porters chatted amongst themselves while people serving food and tea rushed around delivering orders and collecting dishes. I squeezed myself in at the end of a table and tried to warm my hands on a hot cup of tea. I soon had a bowl of garlic noodle soup in front of me, its hot liquid warming me from the inside out.

Feeling slightly human again, I braced myself for the cold and continued on with my trek. The snow had eased off for the moment and I could see ahead up the trail. It was a long, slow climb above 4500 metres in altitude to the top of the rise above Dughla. Here, memorials to dead climbers are scattered amongst the rocks and snow, reminders of the harsh environment of the Himalayas.

It snowed continuously for the rest of the day as I trekked on to Lobuche, sometimes as light fluffy flakes floating down from the sky randomly, and other times as full on heavy snow falls. While the snow was beautiful, the novelty of it was quickly wearing off, and I was glad to make it to my stop for the night at Lobuche.

The next couple of days as I trekked on to Everest Base Camp were slightly better weather wise, the sky clearing up enough for me to enjoy views of the spectacular mountains; however the weather turned again for the worse as I left and began trekking to Dzongla to tackle the Cho La Pass. I had stopped in at Lobuche for a cup of tea when it began snowing. It didn’t stop for the rest of the day. In fact, it only got worse.

The trail to Dzongla leaves the main Everest trail just below Lobuche, crossing a rocky, semi frozen stream before ascending up and along the other side of the valley. The snow storm was relentless, blowing in fiercely from directly ahead of me. It stung my face and got inside my hood, trickling down my back and wetting my shirt. It was freezing and ice clung to my 10 day old beard. I couldn’t see more than 20 metres ahead of me and there were hardly any other people on the trail.

I followed the trail like this for another hour, hoping that I was on the right path as the snow gathered up on the ground heavily, covering many parts of the trail to make it harder and harder to distinguish. There was no dry place to rest so all I could do was continue to walk, exhausted, onward and onward in hope that I would reach the village. Visibility was so poor that I had no idea if I was heading in the right direction, as there were no landmarks to use as bearings, and all I could go by was my inner sense of direction which told me I was going the right way.

I may have been going in the right direction, but I wasn’t necessarily on the right trail as it was covered in snow, and with no other trekkers around there were very few footprints to follow. There are also many different trails meandering off, and it was because of this that I ended up on the wrong one.

The trail at first seemed well worn, but it became harder and harder to follow and eventually I found myself simply wandering along what seemed like a yak or mountain goat trail along the side of the valley. I had clearly taken a wrong turn, but I could tell that I was heading up valley and must be in the right direction. I could see a trail below that must go to Dzongla from Periche, and so I carefully dropped down through the snow covered heath until I reached it, before following this new trail up the valley. Visibility was still so poor that there were no signs of the village. Eventually I spotted a lone porter walking the opposite way and he reassured me that Dzongla was in the direction I was going. I felt relieved and my sense of doubt was replaced by a new determination to battle on through the blizzard and make it to the village.

Eventually the trail reached a stream crossing where the trail I was supposed to be following joined onto the one of was following, and the joined trails crossed the stream and began a steep ascent up the other side of the valley, where on top of the ridge I could see a building through a small break in the cloud. I was exhausted and freezing, but I trudged on without stopping until I reached Dzongla at the top of the ridge. The sight of the rough stone tea houses with mismatched corrugated roofs looked like 5 star hotels to me at the time. As soon as I entered the nearest tea house I collapsed into a chair by the heater and took a few minutes to thaw out with a hot cup of tea. And then I laughed. What a day!