Stok Kangri Expedition – Day 4 – The Wari La Pass

Our trio of acclimatisation days would come to a close with a much vaunted trip to the ‘Kardung La Pass’ nestled at a staggering 5,359m above sea-level and reputedly the highest road pass in the world, although often times this seems to be open to dispute. However, the day did not go well!

The Wari-La Pass – 5,359m

The pass is only about one hours journey out of Leh but it transpired that the week we had chosen to climb one of India most famous peaks was also the same week that Indian Independence was being celebrated and was therefore a national holiday which equaled traffic jams!

Yes, even a third world country it appears suffers from Bank Holiday hold-ups. The pass had been a road block for several days, and we would not be getting there easily. So ‘LT’ our guide had other plans.

He suggested another high pass known as ‘The Wari-La’ from where he claimed we could do an equally good acclimatisation climb from the roadside. So off we set through the arid countryside headed for this new mythical pass.

The main roads in Ladakh are pretty bad, but the minor roads are even worse! Remembering that we were here for an adventure we steeled ourselves for the derrière bashing pseudo off-road journey that was sure to ensue up to the pass.

Putting a brave face on thoughts of death

Thoughts of death or injury on a 6,000m mountain quickly paled into insignificance compared with the constant near death experiences found on a minor road in India. These experiences come in the shape of other cars, hairpin bends with vertical drop offs, burning rubber tyres (courtesy of our driver), and the Indian obsession with wearing flip-flops – even when driving up a mountain.

After several close shaves we finally ground to a halt along a dusty mountain road halfway up the valley where some very official looking men were gesticulating that we needed to turn around.

Muddy landslide across the valley road
Tracks left by the bulldozers clearing the mudslide off the road

Apparently the road had been hit by a landslide the night before during the heavy rains and was now impassable. Much arguing and even more gesticulating and a Plan B swung into action as our driver attempted to get up to the blocked pass by using an even smaller road running along the western side of the valley.

Good idea in theory, but after only ten minutes of driving we found that this road had also been hit by a mudslide during the previous nights rains and was also now totally impassable.

We appeared doomed and properly stuck. Plan C was a little more basic. Drive back to the scene of the first landslide and wait it out while the army moved in to clear the way. So it was that we dug in for a good couple of hours wait.

I sat, at first sweltering in the minibus and then after much fidgeting I removed myself and sat on a boulder beside the roadside until I felt myself beginning to burn up under what was now the midday sun. Being a mainly British contingent on the expedition most of the other chaps on the minibus had by now decided to strip off to the waist and roast in the sun beside the road as is our nation’s custom, I quietly declined.

I’m convinced I have a mild case of attention deficit disorder and after ten minutes of doing nothing my fears were reaffirmed as I began to climb up the walls in our sweltering minibus. I needed to make use of this down time. So I began to hatch a plan.

I knew that we were roughly at 3,850m, so I wondered if I attempted to scramble up the rocky slopes beside the road whether or not I could make the magic 4,000m mark and achieve some great acclimatisation from an an otherwise useless situation.

Having convinced myself this was a good idea I started off up the slope hopping from boulder to boulder up and over a dilapidated drystone wall and then up some steep loose scree. I gained height rapidly enough and soon stopped to take a reading from my GPS, it read 4,005m.

As I paused to take in the view along the valley and suck in the rarefied air the lads below realised my plan. Not wanting to miss out on some acclimation they too had decided to trudge up after me figuring out that I must have stopped at around the magical 4,000m mark.

the Wari-La
The arid and barren mountains of Ladakh stretch far into the distance

Just then the minibus below sounded its horn. The road had been cleared. Hooray! So we all quickly scree ran back down to the roadside. Finally we drove off towards the Wari-La. A few dozen scary hairpins later, and we arrived just shy of the col at 5,312m.

The air outside the bus was cold, and we layered up. ‘LT’ had dropped us off beneath a boulder strewn slope. An undistinguished rocky knoll somewhere at the top was our target to aim for and so up we all trudged with no obvious path to follow. As we had yet to form any climbing partnerships it became every man and woman for himself or herself.

Forging a route up the rocks on the acclimatisation climb

I forged a relatively steep line up the boulders attempting to push myself as far as I was comfortable with, but also mindful not to over exert myself as we were still acclimatising. I topped out on what was universally agreed to be the highest point of this unnamed pile of rubble above the pass.

Feeling the strain at around 5,000m
Feeling the altitude after scrambling up untold scree

The climb while very uninspiring on the way up eventually at the top delivered a sublime view over the mountains towards Pakistan and The Karakoram Range. Snowy peaks dotted the vista in all directions. Mission accomplished! As we headed back down my head began to throb and I knew the effects of the high altitude were beginning to kick in.

A perch with a view out over the Zanskar Mountains of Ladakh

After an ankle turning descent over the boulders and scree back to the pass we all piled back into the minibus for what was an even scarier drive back down the hairpins than it had been coming up! Smouldering brake discs, screeching turns and the general lack of concern coming from the driver’s seat were all a bit unsettling. But we all agreed we had finally completed an acclimatisation day of note and our combined banging headaches were testament to the punishment we had put ourselves through.

Lying on the baking tarmac road at The Wari-La Pass

Later that day and back at the hotel in Leh although completely knackered from the days exertions we all needed to embark on packing our travel holdalls because tomorrow we were due to set off up the Indus Valley to finally start the real part of the expedition, the real climb! Stok was getting closer!

Check out more photos from my adventures at: https://www.flickr.com/photos/jameshandlon/albums

Leaving something of yourself behind!

A man does not climb a mountain without bringing some of it away with him, and leaving something of himself upon it.” – Sir Martin Conway

I’m off to the The Royal Institute of Great Britain tonight to listen to a talk from Corey Richards describing what it felt like to summit Pakistan’s Gasherbrum II in winter.

While researching some background to the talk I came across this incredible photograph of Cory online which ties in very nicely with the essence of today’s quote choice. Without the need for words it clearly tells us that Cory for sure is a man who has definitely left something of himself behind on Gasherbrum II during his brief but dangerous liaison with it!