to the jeep...

One the third night we camped beside a beautiful blue lake, in a small valley flanked by snowy mountains. We had our first wash in a few days in the 'sacred' lake. Thank Christ; the tent had picked up a rather peculiar smell by that point.
We arrived at an our second river crossing at around lunchtime on the 5th day. Our guide told us the river was too strong and we weren't about to argue; it looked ridiculous. That days walking had been almost entirely across broken rocks and we were chuffed to get somewhere, set up the tent and chill. The best thing about our trek was the incredible diversity we had encountered; from desert to red rock to an incredibly blue lake to snow-capped mountains to river crossings to miles of broken rock...every day had been a completely different experience, a new trek in itself. We had to be at the pick-up point Baralacha La by 10.30 at the VERY latest, or our jeep we had arranged would leave without us (but with our luggage we had left for it back at the guest house in Manali). Assuming we could get across the river pretty quickly, the walk to Baralacha would take 4 or 5 hours. We decided to get up at 4 to leave by 5 at the latest - which meant although we would hopefully get to the jeep, the river water would be at its absolute coldest.
In the morning, the river was just as big. We tried to cross it where it had split in two, and Jamie went first, a rope tied around his waist that we all held on to. He got within half-a-yard of the opposite shore before the river took him; he went in up to his neck before we pulled him back to the rocks on the near-side of the shore. When we pulled him out he could barely move, he was so cold. Me and Mike looked at each other and I could tell we were both worried for J - it was still 5am and the weather was poor; it would be at least two hours until we saw any sunlight and it was freezing cold. Our guide said we had three options; try up the river, go back, or camp for 2-3 or more days until the river subsided a bit. We f***ed off options b) and c) fairly urgently and started up the river. 3km up, the cliff face met the water and we had to scramble up the rocks. It was bloody terrifying and my fear of heights (that I thought I had conquered) was suddenly re-ignited. Literally one slip, or one falling rock, would result in pretty instant death. After god-only-knows how long, we saw an 'ice-bridge'; basically a section of the river where the top had frozen, making it (apparently) walkable on. We scrambled down the rocks and got across the river safely, without getting a tiny bit wet. Our guide reckoned that from where we were, it would take at least 5 hours to get to Baralacha. And it was already 8am. We were pretty much definitely done-for. But we decided to go for it - hopefully, if our jeep left late, it got delayed and it decided to wait around for a bit longer, we might stand a chance. We missioned.
At midday we spotted the road. And a white jeep, waiting where ours said it would. We shouted, whistled, screamed. But we were still at least 3km away - maybe 5. Me and J legged it (as much as you can 5000m-up, anyway). 1km away, the jeep drove off. It was devastating. I had a shocking headache, blisters, sunburn, sunstroke, I was bloody knackered, and our fricking jeep, our easy-ride to Leh, had just disappeared. With all my clean clothes. Happy days.
When we got to the road, toursists told us it had indeed been our jeep, looking for us. Our guides left us, sitting on the side of the road in the middle of the Himalaya at 1pm, thinking 'what the f*** do we do now?'

to be continued...