Black Buck arrived at the rope bridge before we did, and had it all sussed out, helping a local cross the gully. Memories of Camp Mackay came flooding back as we navigated the hand made wooden cart, tied to a metal pulley system. Dan power seemed the only way to get from one side to the other and I'll be honest, it was pretty awesome. Black Buck really out did himself, pulling us all across, safely to the opposite bank. A clap of thunder ensured no dilly-dallying, and sent us up and up our first little mountain pass. Arriving at the summit, the green valley town, Kya was in full view, tempting us closer and closer. The only thing holding us back was the insane winds that had picked up, sending small stones flying through the air, and dust into everything. Learning that our destination was only another 30min (or 10 if you ask the donkey woman) we pushed on, arriving at Skiu just before 5pm. It was so beautiful - traditional stone houses, vege gardens, hanging yak skulls and crisp white stupas - it was the first of One horn’s many ‘favourite’ homestays. We each curled up in the common space, stretching and licking our wounds, feeling that satisfied fullness, known only to trekkers and maybe marathon runners.

Day 2
Skiu - Markha
394m ascent

We rose to a cheerful and filling breakfast of chapati peanut butter and jam - or if you're One horn, omelette and nut butter. We hit the trail by 8.30am and were slowly winding through the giants of the mountain world, the trusty Zanskar river guiding our way. On closer inspection, these tremendous mountains seem to be held together by dust and small rocks shoved throughout - feeling more like a giant sand castle than an unbreakable summit. Today was always going to be a long one, we had 25kms to cover before nightfall - that's a whole lot of word games. As tummies and storms begun to rumble, we sought shelter in what we thought was the abandoned town of Sara. It didn't seem too strange, a lot of these towns only exist in peak tourist season, we figured we were just a few weeks early. A semi break-in through a fence of desert thorns allowed our refuge in the animal barn - so perfect for the group of us. The rains passed over, as we ate out of foil parcels, so lovingly wrapped just hours ago. As we left, all we could say was ‘May the owners have a lifetime of peace and happiness and be blessed with many children, all boys.’ Back on the trail, we followed seemingly endless banks of charcoal grey (Frida coloured) sand and followed the footsteps of jurassic like ground fowls, on a mission and going somewhere fast. We climbed up onto a plateau exposing amazing cave like cut outs in the rock face opposite - perhaps from yogis or monks.

As skin started to redden, and the desert reality of the valley made itself known, our destination came into view. After 10 long hours, many mini breaks and a few river crossings later, we arrived at the bottom of our last climb, Markha perched just above, looking like an ancient castle ready to crumble and fall at any moment. A little lady with a basket of poo on her back and a voice that carried across the fields found a family willing to share their home with us for the night. It was a beautiful one to say the least, sharing the ridge top with a monastery and a water pump. Our host giggled at the sound of English words rolling off her tongue - we tried a few Ladakhi - and served tea, homemade pasta and rice.

Day 3
Markha - Hankar
270m ascent

I woke up to the sounds of chapati and rice being cooked on the little stove outside our bedroom. As joyful as ever, the Ladakhi woman served breakfast and prepared our pack lunch for the day. We got ready and stood out in the sun next the monastery waiting for the rest of the gang. It was a measly 300m climb and 10.5km distance today, nice and gentle, which I was very appreciative of. We wandered along the river bank for most of the way, always with an eye out for ancient ammonites. We approached a giant spike rock indicating a fork in the once ancient river. Always choosing left, the trail curved around to reveal Techin monastery, a tiny sacred building, perched high above the river bed, a steep switch back path leading up to the eagle nest summit. Molly and I opted to stay down below snacking and watching lines of donkeys, while the others headed up for half an hour of meditation and hand signalling.

Warning: There is a butt shot in this section of the post. And by butt I mean hairy male posterior. 

The weather changes so rapidly in this valley, and within an hour we were walking through mud made as slippery as ice, decked out in our wet weather gear. All of us that is, except One horn. Dressed in sandals, she was the talk of the town; guides and trekkers impressed by her alternative dress and unconventional head gear. As the droplets began to ease, we had the pleasure of eating lunch on a mani wall overlooking the town. Our home stay was such a nice one - owned by a little lady called Dolma and a cute black cat, who enjoyed sleep standing and quiet time. Animals of all kinds seemed to rule the roost here. Besides the buffalo in the fields and the dog who almost bit Alex, we also managed to pick up a few new travel buddies, of the biting and itching kind. After rounds of cards and mint tea, Dolma sat with us for dinner as we shared a conversation of broken Ladakhi, Tibetan, Hindi, French and English. She also shared her entrepreneurial side, pulling out some handicrafts she whips up in her spare time. The snow leopard and the blue sheep (and the bed bugs) found new homes in our slowly expanding luggage.

Day 4
Hankar - Nimaling
811m ascent

A miracle happened this morning - we were out of the door at 8am, overfed and ready for a big day. Meryl somehow convinced Dolma to part with one of her prized sticks as we waved goodbye, a snow storm brewing behind us. We managed to trek around the mountain ridge and past a few ancient castles before it really started to fall down, little pebbles of white ice. Trekking further into Lord of the Rings territory, we passed ambling rivers and green bulbous grasses, Daniel and I walking a little ahead to cross the river bridge and arrive at the base of the big 850m climb. With boulders as arm chairs, we took a cold coffee, muesli bar and chocolate break - getting our sugar levels nice and high. With poles and sticks in hand, we were set, climbing up and up past the grazing yak and mountain spikes in all directions. Our obligatory day 4 group photo was taken at the top of the first false summit before we continued on - to an awesome spot high above everything, surrounded by directional rock piles and Himalayan massifs. We shared a group hug and lunch in a circle, our antics entertaining an Australian group who were also along the trail. They were entertained further when Alex lost a bet and jumped into the lake - Meryl not far behind.

With another 5kms to go and a huge storm on our heels, we attempted to outrun nature to Nimaling camp but It caught up to us in the last 10min, lashing bare skin and cameras, lightening and thunder clapping around our heads. I have never been happier to be inside a tent with my hands wrapped around a tea. The temperature continued to drop as the day wore on, we huddled like penguins in our tent until the smell of garlic soup, rice and Dahl summoned us. Dinner was shared squashed shoulder to shoulder in our little makeshift village.

Day 5
Nimaling - Kongmaru La - Chokto
419m ascent 1580m descent

We awoke to a white wonderland, flakes still falling and swirling, burying the magenta and yellow tents. A quick dash to the toilet, a communal breakfast and packed bags later, we were ready to hit the mountain pass. We had a steep climb for the first 40min or so, the sun and blue sky managed to break through, showering us in warm sunshine. The cool air felt good in my lungs, as thin as it was. The muscle strain and seemingly endless climb brought back fond memories of Nepal, bringing a huge smile to my face as we approached a giant plateau, signalling a pit stop. We waited here for the rest of the group huddled around a large rock, overlooking the pass that stood before us. Little carrot like figures dotted the trail ahead of us - I couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy at their progress and early start.

Once the band was back together, we pushed on, step by step, rock by rock, switch back by switch back, pep talk by pep talk. The views surrounding us were incredible, and it seemed in no time at all I could see the prayer flags just over the ridge, 10 more meters and we had climbed 5307m above the world! Another group with a local guide arrived and we all sung a thank you chant to Mother Nature. Our group shared celebratory hugs and photos before splitting headaches and freezing fingers sent us on our way. The path down the other side was VERY slippery and muddy, each step had the potential to send you sliding down the mountain face. Daniel and I opted to stick to the path despite the mud, but Nike shoes forced Meryl and Alex to seek an alternate route. It looked quite the adventure from down below. After waiting for their appearance for about 40min, we decided to keep moving as my bones felt like they were seizing together and the snowflakes were increasing in size. We decided to wait for our friends at the most beautiful spot in the entire world. An outcrop high above a waterfall - valley on our left, a rocky creek in front, and the craggy reptile like mountains to our right. We ate lunch while the sun came out and the snowflakes fell gently on our tongues and hands. From here it was all downhill, close to or inside the river gully, crossing the icy water stream backwards and forwards. We spent some time watching blue sheep scale the sheer rock walls of the valley opposite, literally jumping between vertical walls, a hundred meter drop as a reward for a misplaced hoof. They were incredibly elegant, and equally inquisitive about our activities on the opposite trail. 2 hours turned to 3, and as if by magic, we spotted the little parachute tents signalling the first village we had seen all day. We got maggi noodles and chocolates to reward our efforts, and I think we all could have comfortably curled up on the stone benches to sleep

But our new destination (the plan changed as we were sitting) was only a predicted 20min away, peanuts compared to what we had just done. So for one last time we strapped on our bags and headed down the river bank, clambering over stones and following the horse poop trail to the village of Chokto. Green pastures beckoned us skyward, and we arrived at a homestay where a little Ladakhi lady refused to let us in - they have a system of sharing out the business in this little town - so she built us makeshift stairs out of stone to cut through her property to another home on the opposite bank. A series of squawking sounds flew out of her mouth drawing her riverbank neighbour out of her home. With bare feet and swift movements she came rushing over, helping us all across the rocky river - my boots not escaping one final drenching. This was definitely my favourite homestay - I had been pulled from the river by this woman and I made sure she knew that I considered her my saviour. Once inside her humble mud brick abode, the resident baby, Jigmet, provided much needed entertainment before a filling dinner of garlic soup, dhal, rice and delicious curd.

Day 6
Chokto - Leh
100m descent

By the morning, sickness had claimed the first - one horn was down, and Benji t wasn't feeling top notch. Over Ladakhi bread and jam, we decided that it would be best to head back to the comforts of Leh - trading our night in Hemis monastery for fluffy pillows and clean bathrooms. The little things really matter when you're feeling crappy. Waving goodbye, we set off along the road, spotting a stray taxi within half an hour. He threw the car in reverse and we all jumped in, our trek officially complete. Thanks for the adventure you 4, it was something else!

Back in Leh, it was time to take it easy for a few days, before flights home and onward journeys. We decided to end our time together with an early celebration for Lion Tails birthday, the big dirty thirty. Taking inspiration from everything around us, we decided to throw a Ladakhi themed party - unfortunately that lingering sickness threw a bit of a dampener on the event, but it didn't stop the beers from flowing, whisky being swigged, peanuts from being eaten and brownies from being shared. Costumes included Rhotang Pass, Ladakhi local dress and chapati masks. Over the next day or two, we slowly lost each member of the India project one by one, first Meryl and then Molly. And then there were three. Luckily we had Nubra valley to soothe the ache of our missing friends, accompanied by a double dose of mountain biking to really kick the loss in the butt.