AFTER FUMBLING TO FIND MY PHONE TO CHECK THE TIME, I roll back into bed and try to remember what could have caused me to wake up at 2:30 am. I wasn’t having a bad dream, nor am I restless. And yet somehow, I’m awake at this unearthly hour.
That’s when I remember that I’ve been sleeping in a canvas tent in what many consider to be the most miserable and unforgiving place in the entire ‘Ladakh circuit’. Perched at an elevation of over 14,500 feet, Sarchu — at the border between Himachal Pradesh and the Union Territory of Ladakh — is infamous not only for its piercingly cold and fierce winds but also for the notoriously low levels of essential oxygen in the air. It is a haven for Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) and many a brave adventurer has fallen (quite literally) victim to harsh conditions of this barren and seemingly vengeful locale. I quickly try taking a deep breath and exhale slowly — my breathing seems to be in order. I don’t have a headache and pinch myself to make sure that I’m not hallucinating. The altitude hasn’t gotten the better of me, yet!
I slowly (and somewhat reluctantly) pull aside the three blankets that I’ve slid into in a desperate attempt to stay warm and grasp around to find my jacket, beanie, gloves, and shoes. I stumble clumsily to the door and reach out to find the handle but end up only swiping at thin air. Blame it on the altitude!
Better sense eventually prevails as I find the zip and open the piece of fabric that acts as a door to the tent. A bitter, cold wind sweeps in, instantly jolting me into my senses, but I still can’t see very much. All the other tents are cloaked in darkness, lying still and motionless.
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