Asia Day 10: Great Himalayan Trail

Overview

I have a personal project of running 1000 miles on every continent. Two weeks ago, I started my third continent: Asia. I am currently attempting to run as far in a continuous line as I can through the Indian Himalaya mountains inspired by the “Great Himalayan Trail” (GHT), a concept of linking the Himalayas together in one thru hike.

Why am I doing this? Well, of course for fun and self-empowerment and to feel alive… and also to raise money for charity. My runs have raised over $20K for charity since 2024. In this run, I chose to support Rise Against Hunger, which provides school feeding programs across the world. You can learn more about RAH and donate here.

For the second leg of my run, I was fortunate to consult with an Indian hiking influencer Manav on the Parang La pass route.

Day Ten: June 5 Parang La Base Camp

Distance: 38.11km

Ascent: 542m

I woke up and the dog was still alive after sleeping outside. Around 5am, the dog stood up, shook off the snow (it snowed overnight), and did some downward dog stretches.

I’d had a dream that Will Bliss and I went to REI to buy the dog a tarp to sleep under. (It wouldn’t be possible for the dog to sleep in my tiny bivvy shell). There are probably ~35 blog readers here from Millbrook who know Will Bliss, and you all should know that he finds a way to appear in roughly five of my dreams per year.

The morning was calm like the previous day, and I started running by 7. The dog followed. It didn’t eat breakfast— I ran out of meat and it wouldn’t touch my snacks.

The road ended, and the morning started with a small river crossing. I took off my shoes because in this cold weather I wanted to stay as dry as possible. The dog followed and then sprinted across the sand on the other side.

(above: blue skies to one side, gray to the other. Keep your head on a swivel.)

We continued on sandy riverbed, trail, and gravelly tundra for the remainder of the day. Again, around 10 am, the wind started blowing, then the clouds came in, and then the snow came. Soon enough we were running through cold, sideways blowing snow with a 100-200 feet of visibility in front of us. I got freaked out enough to start plotting how long it would take if we turned around. I looked at the dog. Unphased. It kept trotting along, not even a hint of discomfort.

I thought, “okay maybe this dog knows something I don’t.” Around noon the snow stopped. I noticed that the same patch of sky towards my destination (southwest) had seemed to stayed blue all day. I told myself that I was running towards a place with all blue skies.

(I promise these photos are chronological.)

Around 2pm the snow started again, and I found myself in yet another snow globe with the clouds sitting on the valley floor. Fortunately, this time, the snow globe seemed slightly lighter. I learned that snow globes can come in many different shades from bright white to dark gray, and some shades are scarier than others.

I looked at the dog. Still unphased. We passed a couple wild donkeys. They were also unphased. The great Joe McConaughy who set FKTs on the Appalachian Trail and Pacific Crest Trail instructed me on mastering neutral thoughts while running. Looking at this dog and the donkeys made apparent to me that my thoughts more often than not fall pretty far from neutral. Repeatedly getting unexpectedly immersed in snow globes triggered some of the more extreme thoughts have passed through me.

We continued ahead and the snow stopped around 3pm. I started towards the river to fill up water and start cold soaking my maggi (Indian ramen). Hmm that’s funny, I don’t see water. I double-checked the map, yep that’s supposed to be a river alright. No matter, I continued on to a shiny patch on the other side of the valley.

When I got there, there indeed was a very tiny trickle of water. Excuse me, looks like your ground is leaking. Don’t worry I’ll patch it up. I got out my water filter and prayed it didn’t freeze. I was able to get 0.2L of extremely muddy water inside from a tiny depression. Like a miracle, crystal clear water came out the other side. I repeated the process 10 more times until I had two liters of water and a cold-soaked meal. By the time I finished, my watch read 5:30pm.

The dog and I continued up the valley to the point where it finally started rising. Around 6pm, you guessed it, the snow started falling again, and I found a wind-sheltered spot to camp above the valley floor. I looked down into the valley and saw the river flowing at full capacity. Well I guess it’s not dry in that spot.

Before setting up camp I was determined to try to get the dog to eat. I took one of my confetti cashews (thanks Garen) and tried to force it inside the dogs mouth. I opened its jaws and put the cashew inside. The dog dropped the cashew. I tried again. Same thing. The dog refused to eat the cashew. The snow started coming down harder and I had to set up camp.

I got out my bivvy shell and threw my backpack and self inside as the snow blew. I then attempted to unpack everything while folded onto myself inside the tiny shell. My down sleeping quilt was still wet from the morning but I prayed it would still work.

I called the dog over and tried to give it some dinner. It came and I held out the noodles in my hand. The dog took one look and then walked away. Then I put the entire bag of noodles outside to see if it would eat the bag. No dice. Alright I guess the dog is going another day without food.

This time, the night was really cold. We were camped above 5000m. I shivered for several hours, though fell asleep and then woke up not shivering, so perhaps the shivering was psychological. The snow kept falling, and I hoped the dog would be alive in the morning.