We tumbled out of the car laughing, eyes burning, still looking. It glittered in the soft sunlight. It would have twinkled in the moonlight, I think.
I removed my gloves and ran my bare hands through it. It was like digging your toes in beach sand, watching it fall through the gaps. But fresher, cleaner, and white, so white I could barely look at it.
My hands were frozen, numb, and burning with cold as I packed the snow into a ball and hurled it with all my might.
It was my first tryst with snow, in the heights of the mountains, 15,000 feet above sea level. “Kala Paathar” is the name for the black stone that forms the mountain face, contrasting with the snow that falls all year round. The view of the Himalayas is unparalleled from this vantage point, particularly, Mount Everest.
Our destination was Gurudongmar Lake in North Sikkim. We had travelled a good 6-7 hours from Gangtok to break our journey in La Chen, a small village at the base of the Chopta Valley.
Kala Patthar is situated on the Lachen Gurudongmar route, a horribly patchy road with beautiful sweeping vistas of snow-clad mountains all around.
From Kala Patthar, the road winds into the Thangu Valley. I have a photo of me smiling at the “world’s highest dosa point” maintained by the Indian Army’s Madras regiment. So far so good.
The rest of the journey is a steady climb to Gaigaon, and we reach the last Army checkpoint before one proceeds to the lake.
At the Army canteen in Gaigaon, we were sipping our milky strong chai when a popular Malayalam song began playing. Of course, an investigation into that was deemed necessary.
Turns out the mess was run by a Malayali who was super stoked at seeing fellow people so far from home.
Long story short… we got extra special dosas and met a few other Army boys from our hometown who would be my saviours later.
It was at this point that I remember a slow, steady dull throbbing ache beginning in my head. But, of course, I ignored it.
It was a good 12km from Gaigaon to Gurudongmar. In early November, all you could see on either side was snow, rising away into the distance, broken by the clear robin egg blue sky.
As we climbed further to the 17,0000ft altitude at which this famed lake is situated, I could feel myself getting groggy and nauseous.
When we finally reached the lake, I could not get out of the car. My husband, however, puffed out of the car and drank in the majestic view of this sacred lake surrounded by mountains, unfrozen even in the winter.
He took some awesome pictures and came back to a barely conscious me. Suffice to say our super helpful Sikkimese driver switched on the hazards and hightailed it to the Army base as fast as all the road would allow.
The Army boys we befriended were pretty amused, but they took me to the base hospital and hooked me up with some much-needed oxygen. Acute Mountain Sickness is no joke, and I had underestimated the power of the mountains.
I live in Dali’s Persistence of Memory, and this story is one that I will remember. No matter the strife, I had an amazing experience, met some wonderful, kind people and left with a heart full of mountains.
The writer is a psychiatrist in Kannur, Kerala.