13/7/25
The toilet was miles away down the hill. Frankie had held it in all night but at 5:30am she couldn’t wait any longer. When she went outside she hadn’t even given a thought to the fact that Mount Gongga would be visible. The enormous peak was glowing in the moonlight, set against a perfectly clear sky. Suffice to say, we didn’t go back to bed.
After a quick mug of oats and goji berries, made with ample hot water, we set off. First down to the river. A steep winding path through the forest let us to the bank of the water. Higher up the river amongst the rocks we had to cross again. Two tenuous bridges. Simple planks for the first and the second was just logs. It felt sketchy. We’d have to come back this way.
The river looked like it would have to get very high to cover all the smoothed stones. Maybe it had been glaciated and retreated a very long way. At 3800m we once again entered a woodland in the centre of a river bed. The trees were old and gnarly. Slow grown. There was still no Sun in our valley. We could see it starting to light up the peaks. We’d lost sight of Mount Gongga too. Steadily uphill we went. After leaving the woodland we were winding among the rocks. The monastery was bathed in sunlight behind us. As we popped above the ridge line we found the Sun shining in our eyes.
Just below us was one of the many fancy base camps. A small city of geodesic tents. In front of us a barricaded entrance. We didn’t know if it was to stop us, or to stop the horses escaping. As soon as we pushed in someone came over. They didn’t stop us, but instead offered us a horse. The group of hikers that we’d seen the day before were just coming out of their tent. A little confusing as if they were ascending Nochma, 5588m, they’d need to have set off much earlier.
We walked through the flat valley that made for a perfect campsite. Once more the magnificent mountain stood in front of us. The Sun, directly behind, made it hard to keep eye contact with the intoxicating peak. We kept the brims of our hats down and hoped to get an even better later.
Base camp two wasn’t much further but it didn’t look like anyone was there. We continued to follow the river, crossed over and then carried on up the infinite mountain path. A glorious day in a beautiful alpine environment blessed with flowers and birds.
Once above the river it all went quiet. It was the most wonderful atmosphere. Unimaginable that such a place could be as tumultuous with weather as it must become in the winter.
Now we had a full view of Gongga looking over us. We could even see between the grooves of the glacier. One day in the future there would likely be no snow on this mountain. One day it would just be rock. And probably within our lifetime.
Base camp three was abandoned. We climbed up to the Buddhist flags above us on the ridge seeking a more commanding view. Here we stayed for at least an hour mesmerised by the majesty of Gongga. Jonathan even called his mother, waking her up at 3am just to see the mountain. How else would she ever get a chance to see such a behemoth? We spotted some climbers coming down from Nochma. As we climbed around on the rocks down below we appreciated the ridiculous size of the mountains around us. Easy to mistake for a crack of thunder, an avalanche started on a nearby mountain. Distant falling boulders looked tiny, but they must’ve been huge.
We started to descend. Somewhat regretful that we’d never be going up the peak of Nochma that everyone else seemed to be ascending. We passed a group of climbers from Beijing University. They would camp again, hence their late start. Pack horses followed them at a distance. It seemed like a stupid unnecessary amount of gear to burden the poor horses with.
We crossed the precarious bridges and soon found ourselves at the bottom of the steep woodland climb back to the monastery. We found a steady rhythm. We still weren’t fully acclimatised. That or it was a caffeine headache. Soon we were back ‘home’. There were several hikers milling around and the usual assortment of money making motorcycle riders.
Jonathan went to wash in the main hall where a constant stream of water pours out. Frankie went to the women’s toilets, not keen on presenting herself to everyone. There were no showers or suitable private places to have a wash. We tried to spruce up our clothes too. It wasn’t easy.
A large group of hikers arrived. One of them spoke utterly perfect English. So well that she had no trouble understanding Jonathan’s ramblings. ‘Jessica’ was from a city on the east coast of China. We chatted for a while.
For dinner another potato dish was prepared. This time a very nice looking dough was created. Instead of it being made into something tasty, it was pulled apart and thrown in the saucepan with the potato. A starchy stew. No visible vegetables. We were starving so we happily gulped it down. Our supplies were few so we were trying to conserve. It was late once we’d finished eating and went straight to bed.
Surly They Won't Make It 