Day Five: Buffalo Detour

Ready to hit the trail on Day Five

Nothing breaks up a grueling uphill climb like the good old-fashioned stench of a rotting buffalo carcass.  Yes, that was the highlight of the daytime hiking hours of day five.  Our goal for the day was School Hut at 4700 meters.  The climb was steep, and we covered the 800 meters in elevation gain in just over four hours.  Our group split into two for this snail paced hike through rocky scree.  Whenever I started feeling sorry for myself, I reminded myself that porters were passing me every five minutes carrying five gallon buckets of water on their heads because there was no water at our next camp.  I decided it was pathetic to whine too much about the weight of my camelback and camera (and, of course, my “rain gears” that were always packed to be safe).

One of the more immature members of our hiking party explored the nether regions of the dead buffalo.

The sun shone down on our merry little group as we shuffled our way uphill.  Our guides, Guido and Jakob, decided that we were worthy of a small diversion, so we branched off the main trail onto a side trail.  We hiked for a few minutes in search of the “buffalo” that the guides promised we would find along this trail.  They neglected to mention that the buffalo had been dead for two weeks, but the stench announced the truth before we arrived.  We found an enormous, decomposing buffalo wedged into the rocks beside the trail.  Someone decided this was a good spot for a snack stop, so we pulled over.  We held our noses, took sickening pictures of the beast, snacked and rehydrated while flies crawled in and out of its eye-sockets.  Disgusting.

Home on the range (or under a rock)

Post carcass, the path got very steep.  Guido tried to cheer us up by distracting us from the task at hand.  He began the game of “Name a City” (the first person in line names a city, the second then must name a city beginning with the last letter of the previous city, etc.)  There was some grumbling at the back of line from someone who was still bitter about a piece of soap, however everyone rallied for a few rounds of wind-sucking city naming.  Before we knew it, the worst was over.  Well, not really.  The worst was when the pipe of the outhouse at the next camp came into view, and it still took another hour to get there. 

Where or where to go pee?

School Hut was the most inhospitable camp we encountered along the way.  It was strewn with enormous boulders, and the tents were precariously perched on small ledges.  A visit to the toilet tent required serious boulder hopping which would prove extra challenging in the snow and darkness a few hours later.

My tent snuggled up to a rock - soooo cozy.

Sue and Gayle were feeling a little woozy at this point, but we were all still optimistic (and nervous) about the adventure ahead.  After lunch, John gave us a pre-summit pep talk with all of our instructions for the afternoon and evening.  We were to prepare our bags and clothes – wearing all of our layers of clothing, mittens, hats, balaclavas, headlamps, and carrying snacks and as much water as we could manage.  We would have an early dinner, and then we were to try to get some sleep before our 10:30 p.m. wakeup call.  I was nervous and trying to ignore a dull headache that had set in. 

Shortly after dinner, the snow began.  I would try to sleep, and then I would wake to a thuderous  raucous as the TK staff made the rounds beating the snow off our tents.  Around 8:00 p.m. we heard Jeff come into the dining tent area in search of Guide John.  Gayle needed to go down.  Her unrelenting headache was a danger sign, and they decided to get her down fast.  So, while we tried to rest between the intermittent snow beatings, Gayle packed up and headed down the mountain in the dark with Guide Guido.  It felt like a little piece of our collective heart headed down with Gayle.  We knew she’d be okay, but she was meant to be with us.  Who was going to keep our group sweet?  Jeff was going to have to pull the collective weight of the “Rose Garden Tent” (so christened for the sweet altitude-induced smells being discussed by the tent’s occupants one night who had apparently underestimated the ease of sound travel through nylon in a tenting cul-de-sac).  It would be tricky, but Gayle would stay with us in spirit throughout our summit climb.