Every year, sixteen (sometimes twenty) of us gather from Australia, the US and different corners of India to trek together. This year’s trail took us to Lasermo La in the Nubra Valley, Ladakh region. We acclimatised in Leh at 3,500 metres, and over the next seven days of our trek, we slept at a different height each night: 4,250 metres, 4,700 metres and so on. The final two nights were at almost 5,000 metres, with the outside temperature around minus 10 degrees C.
The heart of this trek is our group. Over the years, we have built something rare: love, camaraderie and deep trust. We check on each other’s pace, share everything we bring – food & snacks (and lots of it!), medicines, stories, and keep an eye on every face on our trail. This kind of company is precious, and at such an altitude, it’s a true luxury.
A few fun facts from the top of the world
At around 5,450 metres (approximately 18,000 feet), the highest point we reached, the air holds about half the oxygen you breathe at sea level. Every step asks for more effort, and every breath carries less oxygen. Even sitting down to rest takes effort, almost like a small celebration.
My body has its own peculiar terms for altitude. I am unable to take Diamox, the medication trekkers rely on for acclimatisation, so I walk with a higher risk of altitude sickness. I still go knowing this, and I keep returning to these treks because these mountains & valleys always call me, and the group bonding becomes my motivation.
What the mountain said to me
Before we began, I asked these majestic, towering mountains for permission for all of us to climb them and savour their beauty. On Day 2, they answered in my dream: “You all are welcome here, provided the sanctity is well maintained.” That felt like a true blessing!
As we climbed, the altitude began to speak. My legs grew heavy, as though all the energy had been squeezed out of them, like a cloth wrung out before drying. My breathing became harder too. My face swelled up, and my congested nose seemed to need Vicks every few minutes, although it didn’t help. Even so, I kept walking and laughing and eating and chatting, one step at a time, one moment at a time. When it was time to come down, I walked tired, one foot in front of the other, and full of gratitude for every metre of descent in one of the most beautiful valleys on the planet.
Stark, bare mountains full of huge boulders, peaks that made you tilt your head all the way back to see the top, and water so blue and pure that it seemed to be telling us to enjoy our lives before it disappeared into the Indus and Zanskar rivers. The creator must have taken ample time over that part of the world.
After about ten days in the Ladakh region, we came back to Leh. My face was still swollen, so I went to the hospital in Leh. The hard working doctors in Sonam Norboo Memorial, Leh found I had HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema), which means fluid had gathered in my lungs. I was put on oxygen and given steroids, and the fluid was flushed out. The care I received at the hospital was excellent, and I recovered quickly.
One message that changed my perspective
When I shared the whole story with my coach, Leon VanderPol, he replied with a WhatsApp message that I keep returning to: “Wow, that sounds like a serious trek with HAPE being a serious gift at the end you received.”
That sentence made me smile. In my own mind, I had been calling HAPE an experience, something that happened to me. Leon offered one new word, gift, and the whole story rearranged itself. I had travelled to 5,450 metres, operated my body closer to its breakdown limit, and come home with a story.
A beautiful tale of life shifting adventure, deeper respect for the mountains and its people, and an appreciation for my friends who walked alongside me.
What I love most about Leon’s words is how the word gift honoured the whole experience in a different way. The gift sat right alongside the oxygen mask and the hospital bed. A gift can arrive wrapped in effort, and it can take a few days to open. It made room for all of it at once: the heavy legs, the swollen face, Lasix & Dexamethasone injections, and immense gratitude for the experience.
Once I opened my gift, I found a deeper trust in my body’s inner signals, a humbler respect for the mountains that had granted us permission to climb, and a closer lifelong bond with my friends who walked beside me. Looking at HAPE as a gift gave me curiosity where worry might have settled, and it gave the whole journey a meaning I carried home in AWE.
That is the power of words. Replacing words in our inner dictionary can help shift our mindset and change the way we see things.
An invitation for you
Think of a recent experience that you have been describing in one particular way. Try changing just one word.
Notice what shifts in your body and energy. Do you see alternate possibilities ahead?
Which word in your own dictionary is ready for an upgrade?
