Kyanjin Gompa (3,330m) to Kyangjin Kharka (3,890m): Duration: 1h51min. Distance: 3.5mi (5.6km). Vertical Elevation Gain: 1,069ft (326m).
Kyangjin Kharka (3,890m) to Kyanjin Ri (Upper Peak) (4,773m): Duration: 2h12min. Distance 2.7mi (4.3km). Vertical Elevation Gain: 2,462ft (750m).
Kyanjin Ri (Upper Peak) (4,773m) to Kyangjin Kharka (3,890m): Duration 47min. Distance 1.7mi (2.7km). Vertical Elevation Gain: 0ft (0m).
Note: Trek stats sourced from Apple Watch are cumulative elevation increase and does not take into account elevation decreases.
From an early bedtime the night before and already attaining 9.5 hours of sleep, I energetically awoke at 5:30AM. To make use of the morning time, I did a long yoga flow and meditation while watching light rays slowly beaming their way down the mountains until the sun peeked over a peak. There’s something sacred about a sunrise. I cherish the stillness and calm that early mornings bring, while most are still asleep and the day hasn’t yet commenced.
By this time, the pancake, eggs, and tea combo have been well established as my go to. While I love a variety of foods and switching it up for my Tate buds, the menu selections this far into the mountains are consistently limited to the same options. So, I enjoyed some hot masala tea, a peanut butter pancake, and 2 hard boiled eggs. Also routinely, following breakfast I packed my bags, gave my thank you and farewell to our homestay hosts, then Tes, Yuhan, and I hit the trail around 8:45AM.
We continued our trek through a mountains valley, along the riverside, admiring the rushing flow of the water, decorative water turbines, wild yak, working donkeys, and villagers singing as they passed us by. We continued making our way higher in elevation, but I had yet to notice any altitude impacts. The only thing I could feel, or I should say couldn’t feel, was my hands and cheeks as mountains’ cold air surged. About an hour into the trek, we made a pit stop at a tiny tea shop for some tea to warm our insides, energize our bodies, and lift our spirits. We sipped our tea slowly, then continued forward once we finished.
An hour later, at roughly 10:45AM, we arrived in the village we would stay for the evening. Kyangjin Kharka is a beautiful village sitting in a valley enveloped by mountains. This is the largest village I had seen since starting the trek, and most of the buildings were newly constructed as a result of the destructive avalanche and landslide 8 years earlier. We dropped our bags off in our rooms, then around noonish I fueled up with a lunch of a potato cheese veggie mix, a slice of marble cake, and green tea. After about an hour of letting lunch settle and with an open afternoon, Tes and I prepared for a close by hike up to Kyanjin Ri’s lower peak.
We set off on the trail, and I felt elevation’s imminent impact immediately. I was breathing harder and deeper to catch my breath and needing short rest periods more frequently. Having some experience as a distance runner, I understand the importance of breath control. When I felt my breathing reaching the point where I can’t maintain moving at current pace with an inhalation through the nose and exhalation through the mouth, I would take pause, breathe deeply, and get my breath under control before resuming. I never had a hard time getting it under control, but would have to get it under control periodically. During the way up, Tes mentioned that even though the itinerary has a relaxing acclimation day planned in Kyangjin Kharka tomorrow, if I feel healthy and ready, I can head to base camp tomorrow. “How about we’ll see how I feel tomorrow and go from there,” I said. He nodded.
Nearing the lower peak, I noticed a narrow ledge leading off a rock wall. I cautiously climbed over until I straddled it between my legs. Then, Tes and I reached the lower peak after about 375m up in 88 minutes. The views were gorgeous, offering 360 degrees of mountains and glaciers, with the town sitting below in the valley. I felt good and still had some fuel in my tank. Opposite of the viewpoint was a narrow trail atop a ridge, leading higher to the Kyanjin Ri upper peak. “Up there. Let’s go there,” I said, pointing to the upper peak. “OK, let’s go. Jam jam,” Tes replied.
Similar to the first leg of the hike, frequent short breaks of getting my breath under control were required. Still, no signs of altitude sickness or other concerns. There were several eagles soaring high above us, circling the peaks. Around 45 minutes after leaving the lower peak, we made it. Kyanjin Ri’s upper peak sits about 750m (2,462ft) above Kyangjin Kharka, and offered better views of the northern glaciers near Tibet. Tes and I took some photos and videos of the stunning sights, and sat silently taking in the views.
Too quickly atop the peak an hour went by, and we started the trek down. We would be taking an alternate route down, one that was crevassed between two ridges and shielded from the wind. Herds of wild yak surrounded the trail down. Throughout the trek and again at this point, there were moments where I began singing songs in my head. I know that’s completely normal, but what puzzled me was the types of songs I was singing. Where these songs came from, I didn’t know. For maybe the sixth or seventh time since starting the trek, Christmas music came into my head, and I couldn’t help but sing along. This time, however, curious of the oddity of this phenomenon, I attempted to psychoanalyze myself. Christmas is and has always been my favorite holiday. Surrounded by family, cheerful music, tasteful food and sweets, bright Christmas lights and decorations, and a spirit of giving. Christmas times were among the happiest periods of my childhood. Now, even with no interest in toys or presents, I still cherish Christmas all the same as an adult. I concluded that I felt the same joyous feelings and uplifted spirit trekking through Nepal’s Himalaya Mountains that I have felt my entire life around my favorite time of year. Hiking these mountains literally felt like Christmas to me! Accordingly, my mind associates that Christmas feeling with the Christmas music, and these pleasant emotions took over the aux of my mind.
Back in our hotel’s dining hall, I conversed with fellow travelers. I mentioned to an Australian trekker that I arrived into the village this morning and just returned from hiking the Kyanjin Ri upper peak. Her eyes widened. “Everyone in this village says you shouldn’t do that peak the same day you arrive into Kharka. You should give yourself a day to acclimate. A group in the village tried it earlier, and they were so dizzy and ill with headaches they had to turn back.” “Oh. I didn’t know that. I felt OK and had a guide with me, but yeah that makes sense,” I responded. We chatted for a while longer until Tes called me over to the other table to meet my climbing guide, a village local born and raised middle aged man named Norbu. Tes is only a licensed trekking guide, and he has plans to get his climbing guide license later this year. Summiting a peak that potentially needs technical gear requires a climbing guide. Norbu and I shook hands and did introductions. “You feel good?” Norbu asked. “Yeah, I feel OK.” I replied. Norbu says, “OK, we go to base camp tomorrow.” “Actually tomorrow is a planned acclimation day, I’d like to see how I feel in the morning before going,” I retorted. “No, we go tomorrow. I have other group summiting Yala Peak in two days. We go tomorrow.” “Alrighty then,” I reluctantly agreed.
I left the dining hall briefly to shower and returned to have a dinner of soup, chapati bread, fried momo, and an oreo “shake” that was actually a hot beverage. Later, I honored my unofficial mountain bedtime of 8:00PM and hit the hay to rest up. Ready or not, I’m coming to base camp tomorrow.