Part 3) Pangong Tso Trauma and Triumph (Ladakh Season 2014)

We should have anticipated what lay ahead in the night but maybe we convinced ourselves that sheer stubbornness could keep Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) at bay. But alas, by 5pm the temperature had dropped enough to make us immobile and stuck under our blankets and our heads were throbbing like bass woofers and no one was dancing.

I asked the monk who ran the guesthouse why there were oxygen cylinders outside our rooms. “Precaution” he said. Ray had no appetite so I ate by myself. I returned to find him throwing up even the water he was trying to drink. We laughed the first few times. Then panicked, as he couldn’t stop.

Neither the pink walls or the velvet blankets helped.
Finally Mr. Concentration was called to the rescue.

I ran and called the monk to do something. He sent a man named Dhyan Singh Thakur, the resident waiter/nurse/guide who said he could cure anything with his massage. I wasn’t going to argue and Ray was far too sick to protest as a chunk of Tiger Balm got rubbed onto his sun burnt face.

The burning sensation must have set Ray’s face on fire as Mr. Dhyan (meaning ‘Concentration’) continued to shove two scoops of Tiger Balm up his nose as well.

It was too late for Dimox pills. Groaning with pain and fatigue Ray said he had to get down below 4000 meters if he was to survive the night.

It was too late to ride out. The moonless night was pitch black and riding on a road that was risky during the day would be hell at night. Besides, even if we didn't manage to ride off some cliff, we would surely freeze to death.

Finally, we did what we should have done ages ago. Pray like our lives dependent on it. While the rest of the guests were on oxygen cylinders and getting Tiger Balm massages we were in for a surprise. A minute after we prayed, we both fell fast sleep and woke up the next morning ready to ride.

Glorious morning view of Pangong Tso Lake after a trying night.

As I strapped the bags onto my bike I had King David’s Psalm 23 going through my mind.

“God, my shepherd!

I don’t need a thing.

You have bedded me down in lush meadows,

You find me quiet pools to drink from.

True to your word,

You let me catch my breath

And send me in the right direction.

Even when the way goes through

Death Valley,

I’m not afraid

when you walk at my side.

Your trusty shepherd’s crook

Makes me feel secure.

You serve me a six-course dinner

Right in front of my enemies.

You revive my drooping head;

My cup brims with blessing.

Your beauty and love chase after me

Every day of my life.

I’m back home in the house of God

For the rest of my life.”

(THE MESSAGE Translation)