Manaslu Trail Run - Days 4 to 6

                                                                                                     

                                     (Day 4 to 6 video here)

Day 4, Stage 4 – Approx 20 km, Serang Gompa to Namrung (2,630m), drop back down 570m.

I’ve had a bad night, waking up with cramps in my stomach and gas building up in my digestive system. This is the X-rated part of the trip, so skip to day 5 if you’re squeamish.

I’ve had Giardia before and its symptoms are pretty unmistakable. While in Darfur I was once awake all night with regular trips to the latrine, while gas builds up quickly and on release has a really offensive sulphurous tinge. That time it was followed by having to organise an evacuation by helicopter due to security problems (another story for another day). Today I’m faced with covering 20k in the mountains, or risk not keeping up with the group.

I manage some breakfast, and Dr Ben gives me some pills. Tinidazole, or as Ben says, “The Nuclear Option”, and I don’t argue – let’s nuke those protozoan parasites…. I hold my stomach as a helicopter lands to evacuate those that were sick overnight and haven’t improved. Fran and Sputnik are heading back to Kathmandu being quite sick. One more competitor, Imram, has also opted to jump ship. It’s a sad moment, with no-one wanting to drop out, but best to be safe when it comes to altitude.

Richard is giving the briefing for the day, laying out the route ahead. I’m planning to walk slowly and close to the doctor, but just as he’s saying something about a large climb, I have to run to the latrine. The starting gong goes, with me still battling protozoans, and when I emerge the group is already almost out of sight.

My running companion for day 4

I pick up my bag and start making my way. Ahead is a 300m descent, followed by about 700m of ascent, followed by a long walk down to the destination. It’s really hard to walk with the cramps and after a few paces I start to feel nauseous. I know that if I vomit too soon, the two little uranium rods I swallowed will not have had time to work their magic, so I ease back to a very very slow pace. The group is well out of sight, and soon the porters skip past, merrily carrying their loads. At this point I’m making about 1km per hour, which is not sustainable for a 20 km day.

As I start the climb, I get worse, finally succumbing and falling on my hands and knees. A Chernobyl type vomiting event ensues featuring my breakfast and soup from yesterday. I poke about with a stick to see any sign of the pills. I don’t see them, so hopefully they have had some effect.

In between another couple of vomits and trips to squat in the forest, I start to feel slightly better. I think that emptying the contents of my entire digestive system has actually helped remove some of the nasty creatures. At this point, Dhir and the back-markers have caught up with me and are keeping a close, and worried, eye on me.

I remember from Sudan that once I took medication, the cramps eventually eased. If they ease, I can walk again and I’m hoping this happens at some point before mid-day. I continue my slow pace, picking up gradually, and we catch up with Michael from Scotland who is keeping a steady pace going up the climb. Mercifully at around 1pm the cramps really start to ease off, and I feel like I can walk at a reasonable pace. We’re up over the climb, and now just face a long walk to the finish. I decide to avoid any food, but try to take liquids, water with oral rehydration salts, to keep me hydrated.

The rest of the afternoon goes ok, apart from a few additional rushes to fertilize the undergrowth. Michael lends me a walking pole (cheers buddy!) and we cover the ground ok, getting in just after nightfall. The town, Namrung, is actually quite well equipped. I manage to buy toilet roll (having gone thru every shred in my supply….) and even some chips for dinner. I skip the briefing and jump into bed to get some rest, hoping the parasites are gone for good.

That was probably the most challenging day of exercise I’ve ever done. I’m reminded of what Nietzsche said. I gazed at the abyss, but managed to empty my stomach into it before it could gaze back.

Day 5, Stage 5 – Approx 30 km, Namrung to Sama (3,520), 1,000m altitude gain. Side trip to Pung Gyen Monastery (4,000m).  

Manaslu views start to impress

I wake up feeling a lot better. There were no ‘incidents’ in the night, and though my stomach still feels a bit tender, there are no cramps. I eat a good breakfast and am still feeling ok.

At the briefing the night before, the organisers split the group into two – those that can tackle the full distance and those that should skip the side trips and stay on the main trail, reducing the overall ground covered. I’ve been put in the shorter group, which is understandable given how sick I was yesterday. Still if today goes ok, and I return to normal, I have in mind to try to jump back up to the main group. As things stand, I plan to take it very easy today, skip the planned side trail to the monastery and see how I feel tomorrow.

I’m rushing as I pack my bags with Richard announcing the start, and I set off behind most, but this is ok - in line with my plan to take it easy. I jog lightly on the flats and downs and generally feel ok. As we start to cover the distance, the ‘bad voice’ in my head starts to ponder taking the side trail. This trail is up to a monastery at 4,000m, and is towards the end of the day. This is good, as I can allow time and distance to dictate if I should tackle it. I make a mental target that if I get there early, noon or 1pm, and feel ok, I can consider it.

In the valley leading to Pungyen Gomba

Pungyen Gomba overshadowed by Manaslu

In the end, I make good progress and together with Richard and Marcelo, we get to the turn off at 11am. I’m feeling fine at this point, so don’t hesitate to jump on the side trail. It’s a steep slog up first, and then we reach a plateau of bog-land where there is about 4km of flat ground through a veritable cathedral of mountain scenery, with a small monastery at the end of the valley overshadowed by the immense Manaslu. It’s truly spectacular, and incredibly peaceful. I’ve walked all the climb, and a lot of the flatter bog parts, and it’s wonderful to take in. I’m getting surprised looks and well-wishes from those that are on the way back down – they weren’t expecting to see me based on yesterday’s illness.

I sign in at the checkpoint, eat a muesli bar, and walk and run back along the valley, stopping to take some pictures. I’m starting to feel really great again, and am feeling very lucky – in the moment, that the illness has subsided, and in the larger sense for the chance to be here taking it all in.

Before the race someone described the modesty and humility that being in the Himalayas can bring - taking stock of your size and time on earth among a gigantic landscape carved out in aeons. Back at my computer I can think of some friends, colleagues, acquaintances, and professional footballers who could perhaps do with some time in the mountains. In the moment no such cynical thoughts intrude and I’m just feeling lucky to be there.

Back down to the trail and it’s just a few kilometres into Sama, our station for the night. The village is very picturesque, with views of Manaslu as the sun goes down. We’re told that this may be the closest village in the world to an 8,000m peak (of which there are only 14 in the world).

Day 6, Stage 6 – 20 km, Sama to Samdo (3,800m). Side trip to Manaslu Base Camp (4,400m). 

Manaslu at dawn

I’m getting used to the sound of Dhir waking us up, and this time he’s encouraging us to come out and see the sunrise hit the peaks. I overcome my inner teenager and climb out of bed, directly into my warm clothes. It’s worth it, and the mountains around the town are stunning in the early morning light. Other runners are emerging from their rooms, looking somewhat less stunning in the early morning light.

Actually, we have a really nice breakfast sitting in the sun and there is no big rush to get started. Richard puts his Manaslu-sized stove-top espresso maker into action (I guess there are 40 of us), and the results are worth waiting for.

We set off with a plan to visit Manaslu base-camp, which sits beside a glacier off the main trail, and then finish in Samdo back on the main route.

As we make the climb up towards the base-camp, a glacial lake comes into view. It’s an amazing turquoise colour. On reading on my return, it seems that the glacier grinds rocks to form ‘rock flour’  that is minute and ends up suspended in the water. As we’re walking we hear a distant but large noise – it’s a serac, or column of ice in the glacier, falling. It’s an impressive and intimidating sound. Jim, our resident mountaineering expert (solo ascent of Aconcagua, respect!), laughs when I ask if that makes walking in glacier fields dangers. “Yeah, kinda!”

Main Manaslu glacier

Overlooking the Glacier

Looking back down on the Glacial Lake

We rise well above the lake and to a point where we overlook the glacier. The checkpoint is here, with a hot flask, and is perhaps a little short of the basecamp. I’m told that basecamps are generally just litter-dumps of old tents and gear, so perhaps it’s better that we don’t go the full way.

It feels good to get up to 4,400m, as this will help familiarize us with thinner air. I descent as quickly and safely as I can, and push out on the last 15k or so of flat (yes, Nepali flat) running. The end of the day is a little tough, with a little rise up to the town of Samdo. I finish around 10^th, feeling good. At this point I really feel in a ‘flow’ with the running, and somehow don’t feel too much strain. I feel like I could run 30k every day indefinitely. It’s probably good that there is a trekking day tomorrow, with no racing, to remove such delusions from my head.

Bad news is that Andrew is not well. Having come down with a bug yesterday, he doesn’t seem to have responded to the same treatment that I got. He’s heavily dehydrated after the day and Dr Ben can’t get a drip in. A helicopter has been called, and comes to whisk him back to Kathmandu for treatment. The landing site of the helicopter is chaotic, people are approaching it from all sides, trying to get a trip to the capital. The back rotor is impossible to see in the evening light, and the pilot is going crazy trying to keep people away from it. Thankfully there are no decapitations, and the heli lifts off and drops away down the valley.

I eat a surprisingly good veg-pizza in the brightly sun-lit dining hall of the lodge, and we discuss the remaining days.

With Markus and Lee and end of day 6

Markus the sensible Swiss, who is running very well and hovering around 5^th, is cautioning against the optional trek to the Tibetan border that is on the agenda for tomorrow. He has a point. It involves a 1,000m climb up to 5,000m, the same descent back to the main route, and then a 500m climb up to our next destination which is the final stop before tackling the 5,200m pass that takes us over the highest point on the route. Good sense would advise a slow walk direct to the next town, allowing time to rest and acclimatize further.

I waver for some time, but finally the ‘bad voice’ wins again. I feel very well, and opt to go for the trek to the border in the knowledge that should I suffer any symptoms, I can turn back. However, the caution is noted and only those that are feeling well are considering the long trek. 

(Link - Continue to days 7 - 8)