Sur le même sujet
Une belle photo trouvé sur le web et intitulé Kanjiroba, mais impossible de reconnaitre les sommets ou les versants.
Au retour, tout sera plus facile.
L'expédition anglaise de 1999.
Avec tous mes remerciements à Alison and Tom Wedgwood...
Avec l'aide de Tom, voici une page spéciale sur l'itinéraire d'accès à la vallée. Nous avons enfin les clefs d'accès de cette vallée... Mais s'ouvrira-t-elle pour nous cet automne 2008 ?
HONEYMOON ON KANJIROBA HIMAL – 6883 m
By Alison Wedgwood 1999
The Honeymoon Plan
Why we decided to invite 7 other people on our honeymoon I’m not exactly sure, maybe Tom thought he’d be bored of my company after 10 days of marriage? Mmmm. Why we decided to head for Kanjiroba Himal, in west Nepal, I am sure. It was remote, only one other British climber, Dick Isherwood, had summited way back in 1976, and since then only 2 Japanese parties had any success. (Albeit success involved over 20 ladders and 300 meters of fixed rope down a nasty pass called the Patrasi Himal, which took 2 whole weeks to simply descend.) It was about the right height, at 6883 meters; it involved exploring unknown gorges, passes and mountain ranges; we had 7 testosterone filled men, plus my sister-in-law Josie Poole; and, it was highly unlikely that we’d bump into Leornardo di Caprio or any “travs- man” searching for Shangri-La.
Once the mountain had been chosen, Tom and I nipped off to Jackson Hole for a ski season, and left others to e-mail our agent, Bikrum Pandy, in Katmandu (there are various spellings I am assured) to sort out the details. The main problem was getting money off people – a rather diverse group whose common denominator was age; we were all under 30. There was an Industrial Consultant, a BBC producer, a couple of ex-Civil Engineers, which would later prove invaluable, and “mad” Mal our wild New Zealander who was last seen heading for India on a souped-up Enfield. Climbing experience at high altitude was rather limited to a pitiful handful of 6,000 metre peaks.
Tom and I fitted in some research between preparations for our wedding, and luckily John Tyson, the definitive expert on the mountain who surveyed the whole area back in the 1960s, lived in the Lakes (where Tom’s parents and most of their climbing friends appear to have migrated to). A couple of lunches later we knew more about the area than the Ministry of Tourism in Nepal. We had Tyson’s own carefully surveyed map, which was slightly reminiscent of those 16th century maps – scattered with blank spaces that sailors were required to fill in as they went along. We decided that the gorge, known as the Jagdula Khola, was the right approach although Dick Isherwood was the only climber who had successfully made it all the way up this gorge. He advised us to take lots of rope, Doug Scott’s wife advised us to take lots of rope, and Bikrum Pandy suggested we carry a boat with us….
September 7th we flew to Nepalgunj, which is more gunge than Nepal. September 8th we flew to Jumla, the administrative centre of a dismally poor region of Nepal, that had been plagued with Maoist insurgencies over the last few years and suffered from its isolated position 5 days walk from the nearest road. Since our expedition the area has been more closed than open, and given the current political situation, the western area of Nepal is more no-go than go. The first few days saw paths peppered with human faeces. The squalor was more extreme than anything I'd seen during 2 years working as a water and sanitation economist for the FCO.
We pushed through to Hurikot in 3 days. Ram, our highly experience Sirdar, had arranged for 25 packhorses, which he erroneously assumed would go all the way to base camp. He seemed completely unaware of the difficulties ahead. Horses don’t abseil…do they? In Hurikot we picked up 35 porters, which I think deprived most of the village of its men-folk. For which by the giggling and laughter as we left the village, I assumed that the women were eternally grateful! By now we were a completely mobile village, comprised of 50 people.
The Warm Up Bridge
Two more days and we reached John Tyson's 1961 Surveying Camp. Here the paths ended but our new GPS’s informed us that the mountain was still 18 km away as the crow flies. We reached our first obstacle the next day, a raging tributary was surmounted with ten birch trees and some old fashioned rope. We felt very proud of our first bridge, and thought this gorge really was easy-peasy, and didn’t really know what all the fuss had been about. Ha ha. The next day after traversing 45-degree earth and tussocked slopes we finally descended to the Jagdula River.
The Cliff Traverse
The Jagdula River was 50 feet wide, and a slightly deranged kayaker’s dream, with numerous grade 5 rapids and the odd log hurdle. We creeped along the banks, until we came to a section surrounded by cliffs. We had to climb 200 feet and set up a 50-M abseil. Unlike when Dick Isherwood came through, the river was so high that once the abseil had been completed, we were trapped in a cove, the only way out being a 30 foot traverse on mild-severe polished rock, inches above the river. Neil Cooper, intrepid dentist and climber set up a fantastic safety rope around this section.
Ice Axes Really Do save Your Life
He and Richard started to make the foot-holds less slippery by hammering away at the rocks with other peoples ice axes, but didn't actually clip onto their newly established safety rope. They made the classic mistake that young men have been making for centuries, by assuming that; (a) they wouldn’t slip; and (b) that they were immortal. So Richard slipped, the raging river caught him and sucked him down. Neil, with the instincts and dexterity of a man you’d trust with a needle in your mouth, managed to clip his ice axe head around Richard’s ice axe head….and almost certainly saved Richard’s life.
At this point, it’s more appropriate to steal some lines from Richard's own diary of the expedition: -
Neil looped his arm around the safety line, I remember seeing it cutting into his arm as we hooked ice axes. It was stalemate for a while, and then the river started slowly pulling Neil in. He said something really fitting from Baywatch like "hold on buddy!” but I needed the reassurance. Purba arrived from nowhere and between them they dragged me out. I looked up and 50 metres above there was a crowd of porters and I wondered how many of them were thinking, "sod this, I'm off", what I had stupidly done was not good PR.
Meanwhile Tom Josie and myself were now highly stressed. I’d watched my wonderful brother (Josie’s husband) get buried alive in an avalanche and at 27 knew that even if you only take 7 minutes to dig someone out, it isn’t always enough time. We knew what death looked and felt like. It’s that one-minute you’re all right and having a laugh and the next you’re dead. There are two halves; its us that know and them that don’t yet know…..
Afterwards the guys set up a safety system to ensure it did not occur again and we established some excellent safety rules for the rest of the expedition. The next morning the porters wisely decided that the tricky, slippy rock traverse wasn't possible carrying loads. So Ringi and Andy Hawes climbed onto an adjoining cliff, and after 3 hours, a two stage Tyrolean Traverse was set up to swing the loads over the difficulties. It took until 2 O clock to get 50 loads and people through our home made via ferrata, but finally, after 24 hours, a major obstacle had been overcome, we’d travelled a mere 750 meters. Little did we know that things were going to get much worse.
The Jules Verne Chasm
That night Andy and Richard went for a reconnoiter, and came back with the news that we had reached the area described by Dick Isherwood in 1976 as : -
“The impressive crevasse-like gorge, above which was a monstrous fissured rock wall, reminiscent of those parts of the Dolomites which you only see when you get lost on a descent”. My thoughts exactly. It was a place you looked at and gulped, it was cartoon comedy bad, I expected ACME and road runner to beep around the corner…
Dick Isherwood wisely avoided the monstrous fissured rock wall and gorge by going down to the river and crossing it, unfortunately, any route across the river was impossible because it was still in full spate. The route dropped steeply about 1000 feet before hitting the 300-foot deep Jules Verne chasm. At one point, the two sides overhung most impressively, closing the gap to only 15 feet – a bridge was called for. On the opposite side was a small patch of 50-degree grass - below a 30-foot wall. Ringi and Purba decided to stop deliberating and skipped across the bridge we’d started building, up the steep grass to the rock wall. Here a solitary log had been carefully placed, probably by a kind shikari (local hunter) within the last 5 years. Unfortunately, the log stopped 10 feet short of the top of the cliff band. Purba, made an attempt, and managed to teeter to the top with an inspired piece of confident climbing at about E2 on poor rock. Impressive when one considers the 300-foot black hole below and the fact that the nearest road-head was now 16 days away. Two 25-foot poles were pulled across the bridge and balanced against the rock wall and Andy Hawes, gifted kayaker and accomplished Scout in his youth, began square-lashing steps to form a magnificently sturdy ladder. The ladder took a couple of hours to make, in the mean-time thanks to the fortuitous position of silver birch trees, a second 40 meter Tyrolean traverse was set up to transfer all loads across the gorge. Yet again, we knew that crossing our homemade bridge and climbing up a boy-scout ladder wouldn't be easy with 50 kg on your back.
By 2 PM we started moving porters across. A fixed rope assisted them down to the bridge, where a second rope crossed the bridge up the 10 meters to the bottom of the ladder. It took only 2 hours to get everyone across the gorge – but all day to travel 500 meters.
The Cantilever Bridge
The next day was day 10 and we still hadn’t seen our mountain. Unfortunately, we came across a tributary, which was too deep to cross so by 3 p.m. had to pitch camp yet again. This time Andy Hawes elected to wade across, after a cold and lengthy struggle he made it but decided that he didn't want to try the return journey. We were given the option of building a 20 foot cantilever bridge or wading, and opted for the bridge, particularly when, yet again, we began to set up a Tyrolean Traverse across the river, this time to transport anyone who was willing to go. Luckily, there were lots of willing porters keen to be put into a harness and shoot over the river.
Day 11 and more very exposed steep traversing above cliffs, up and down continually, until we came round a corner and saw Kanjiroba peering at us through the ever-present afternoon clouds. Base camp at 4,200m on a very tussocky and rocky hillside meant that each tent took 2 hours to put up, and the tents were scattered over a 100 metre radius. The porters were paid off that evening and there were smiles on faces as Ram distributed his fat roll of rupees. Mal and Richard gave a fire breathing show around the camp, which went down well. We were surrounded by 6,000 metre mountains, non of which had been climbed, and plans were hatched to make some attempts, then re-hatched when we realised how long it has taken to get to base camp.
We all had one more rest day at advance base camp, a 5,300 metre mud and snow patch, and then Mal, Andy Hawes, Ben, Neil and Richard decided that the next day, weather permitting they wanted to make an attempt on the summit. An approach had been worked out which followed the obvious shoulder to join the SE ridge. It was planned to set up a camp at 6,000 m on top of the shoulder. Next morning, the team set off across the glacier and up a rock band, before fixing 200 m of rope on a 45 degree neve/ice section. This is when their real troubles started because only one of the stoves worked, and then only for a few hours. Unfortunately, no one had tested the stoves. Later we found that only one appeared to work at 5,200m, possibly because we were using Kerosene. The lads had a miserable night at 6,000m without much food or drink, but valiantly decided to continue for the summit the next day. On the morning of the 26th September, Richard, Neil and Ringi lead the way. The ridge reached a very exposed section, and they decided to cut left onto the face and surmount a 40-foot vertical serac. At 2.45pm the thirsty and exhausted rope reached the summit, they’d been hampered by deep snow and breakable crust. The second rope had wisely turned back because of general exhaustion and time constraints.
I had decided not to attempt the summit, a mixture of diahorrea, general exhaustion and discussion with the others made me realise that I didn’t have the mental or physical commitment to make it. Getting here had completely knackered me, the continual exposed traversing really did it, God knows how we didn’t lose one porter. Josie went to High camp but also made the same decision. So Andy Hawes, Tom and Purba made the second summit group. They were slow in the breakable crust, which Purba never broke through, Andy broke through occasionally and Tom (son of Alan – same height same build) always went through, they were all exhausted, but by 1.20pm they made the summit and radioed back down to us. Back down at 6000m when Andy Lind took off his boot he revealed a completely blue toe, and all other toes numb, so a night was spent trying to restore circulation in minus 20 degrees without any luke-warm water. Andy couldn’t wear boots the next day, so wrapped hats around his swollen toe. One of the Kappa brothers, our magnificent porter leaders who had a lucrative business selling a strange mushroom/viagra substitute to the Chinese, was sent with a note and a head torch to get to Hurikot as quickly as possible where our liaison officer was spending his sojourn testing this strange viagra substitute. We needed a helicopter for Andy, by now his big toe was completely black, with a mixture of bloody and white blisters covering the surface. At base camp we built a helicopter landing pad and waited and waited, as the rain poured and poured for 3 days. The porters should have arrived on the 2nd October with more food and fuel. Apparently, they were using a local route that we had never heard of before. By 4th October, we’d practically ran out of food, the weather was a mass of grey cloud, snow and rain, we had no helicopter for Andy and no porters and were 11 days from the nearest village. With options running out and the lads already complaining of hunger, we decided to go over this new pass ourselves. We were told it would take one long day, 2 at the most, so figured we could do it on the meagre rations we had left.
The Pass To Nowhere – Day 1
The cook boys, Prem and Ringi came as well, whilst Ram and Purba waited behind with Andy. Next morning we set off as the snow level dropped to 4000m. One joyous moment was the swish of helicopter blades up the valley. The weather was awful, but as we found out later, it wasn’t the weather that had delayed the helicopter, it was a 2-day holiday. Right.…….By the afternoon, there was an ominous rumble of avalanches every 5 minutes, and with 3 of the team having serious avalanche history the mood of the group was very tense. Usual steep, exposed, snowy cliffs to skirt round until finally we decided to camp on a safe moraine below the pass by 2 p.m. We had a freezing night because unwisely we only carried our outer sleeping bags and everything was drenched.
Next morning progress was slow, we had to fix ropes up a rocky loose section over the pass. We managed to get onto a ridge rock band but deep snow added extra problems. Ringi was superb finding a route, and the cook boys and our infamous jolly cook Prem were incredible carrying 40 kg loads up a Scottish Grade 2 climb at 5000 metres (Tom’s parents knew Prem from 2 previous trips). Prem lost 2 stone on this trip, he said it was the hardest expedition he’d every done, but was very proud of his baggy waist-line. By the end it took 5 hours to climb 400 metres. That night, camped in thick mist above a ravine, Jumli said the government path was 9 hours away, Tom thought only 3 hrs, maybe he was trying to be an optimistic leader, or failing that was just trying to be nice to me on our honeymoon. (Uhuhh… bit late for that I thought). It turned out to be 2 more days but we probably took one of those comedy routes that stupid people take in those Carry On In the Desert type films.
After a cold night we walked for an hour and came to a dead end – a large rock rib, occasionally visible through the fog and sleet, loomed out at us. Jumli insisted that the most difficult section, was the way to go. We debated whether to go down, not knowing whether cliffs were below us, or follow Jumli. In the end we followed Jumli, who slipped around on steep snow, attempted to climb a wet rock section and after an hour came down. Moods were fast dissipating, as we went down a ravine, completely lost in blinding mist and snow, went back up 1000 feet, skirted three valleys/bowls then came to a stop on a windy promontory.
It was one of those moments in life that you just hate. You’re so knackered and find yourself at the edge of the world, mist racing below you, wind howling, no water, no fuel, absolutely no bloody idea where you are. You can just tell from that lonely empty feeling in the pit of your stomach that you are surrounded by cliffs and sheer drops. At this point, Tom put me on a confidence rope as half of my expletives contained the words “divorce”. We then traversed down and around these hideous cliffs on vague steps cut into the rock and mud, and then, like my worst nightmare, came to another void of mist, rock and wind. Had we been travelling in circles? By now light was fading fast. Ringi shot off down a random 60 degree gully and shouted for us to follow, but by now we were wiser and sat down to wait. Mal and Ben went down and after 20 minutes we heard a ‘it does not go’ echo disconsolately from the black hole below. They were above a 300-foot waterfall. The exhausted cook boys and the team then had to climb all the way out up slippery mud and tussocks to a windy, wet col. No food left, no fuel, no water available and no-one had eaten all day. It poured with sleet as we put the tents up at ridiculous angles because we were too knackered to care, and then to make matters worse it snowed all night.
Next morning, with one foot of fresh snow, just as we really did think we were marooned in mist and snow-land for ever, the cloud lifted, and we could see that the only gully that obviously didn’t end in a cliff, might actually go. It went! Slowly we descended in pouring rain and just landed on the 61 base camp in only 4 hours. Ironically, just as we got down, who should turn up but the porter team? They’d attempted to do the pass, turned round in bad weather and taken shelter for two days. Then they’d gone to base camp and back again incredibly quickly, using the bridges and fixed ropes we’d left behind. We celebrated with the tea, rice and tomatoes they’d carried to base camp and back again, and then charged down to Hurikot in 5 hours. Tom and Neil were both sick on the way down because their stomachs couldn’t take the lunch time feast after the 4 days of no food. How on earth did Shipton and Tilman cope with tea and porridge for weeks on end?
That night, the elated party, minus Andy who was warm and dry in Katmandu, spent ridiculous amounts on San Miguel, whisky and coke. Ben, using a particularly blunt knife was given the honour of cutting a goat’s head off. It took 15 gruesome hacks to accomplish. Mal, slightly excited, missed out on the meat he’d been dreaming of for weeks, due to somewhat over imbibing the whisky – still he made an amusing picture, slumped in the corner of the courtyard. The Nepalese were up until 3 am dancing and singing, we’d stopped dancing at midnight because the police said Western voices could be heard by Maoist terrorists, and so we’d better shut up. Next morning, the weather changed and for the first time in 33 days we had blue sky all day. I’ve got one final thing to say: thank God I’m only going to have one honeymoon in my life. Things are supposed to get nicer when you look back on them, but 2 years later I still remember the pure pain, exhaustion and constant not knowing what was round the corner, where we were or where we were going…and I thought I was hard. Ha Ha
“Kanjiroba 1976” by Dick Isherwood in Alpine Club Journal 1977 p39
Et d'autre informations communiquées par Lindsay Griffin
Mountain INFO Editor, CLIMB Magazine
l'expédition au Tripura Hiunchuli II en septembre octobre 1993,
organisé par Alain BIGEY.
Un grand merci à Olivier Pohl pour toutes ces précieuses informations.
Voici l'itinéraire effectué.
L'itinéraire de la marche d'approche jusqu'à Hurricot (dernier village) ne présente aucune difficulté. Il n'y a aucune boutique dans le village, ne pas compter se ravitailler à Hurricot. Les porteurs et la bouffe se trouvent à Jumla.
Pour aller de Jumla à "Tatopani" (nommé Gauchaur sur ta carte), le superbe lieu
de bivouac, à la confluence de la Jagdula et la Pani Palat khola, nous avons mis
Arret pour la nuit à Gothichaur, Churta, Chaurikot, Hurikot puis
De Hurricot à Tatopani, le sentier le long de la Jagdula Khola est bien marqué, il remonte la rivière coté gauche.
Tatopani, à l'entrée de la vallée de la Panipalta Khola est un superbe lieu de bivouac.
Au fond, le Bijala Hiunchuli et à gauche le Mata tumpa.
Ensuite, ca se complique énormément. La partie entre Tatopani et notre camp de base a été la plus difficile. Il n'y a plus de sentier, et la vallée est trés encaissée. Il nous a fallu 3 jours pour atteindre le camp de base. Nous voyons pour la première fois notre sommet !
La première journée se passe sur des pentes herbeuses très raides. Nous remontons toujours la Jagdula Khola coté gauche, assez haut par rapport au lit de la rivière. Quelques passages délicats où il faut se tenir aux touffes d'herbes. Une cordes fixe aurait été appréciée, mais comment la fixer... Je n'imagine pas passer à cet endroit lorsqu'il a plu et que l'herbe est mouillée. Chausser les crampons peut être très utile....
Un lieu de bivouac (indiqué "falaise") se trouve vers la première vallée sur la gauche (la vallée qui mène au Paltathumba). Au pied d'une falaise en dévers d'une vingtaine de mètres, un emplacement abrité, possibilité de faire du feu, à proximité du torrent. A peu près 200m au dessus du lit de la Jagdula khola.
Le lieux est visiblement occupé occasionnellement par les chasseurs locaux.
A proximité du bivouac, un pont permet de franchir le torrent du Paltathumba
Le deuxième jour, la progression se fait au plus proche de la rivière, toujours la remonter coté gauche.
La difficulté du jour : une corde fixe est mise en place sur cette difficulté afin que les porteurs puissent s'accrocher. Nous n'avons pas trouvéd'atre itinéraire pour éviter ce passage, par exemple en passant dans les hauteurs.
C'était trop peteux.
Ensuite, continuer le long de la Jadgula khola jusqu'à un rétrécissement où nous avons installé le bivouac sur la plage.
C'est ici qu'il va falloir traverser la Jagdula khola.
Profiter de la fin de journée pour installer une tyrolienne.
Pour info, une équipe de japonais qui ont fait le sommet principal avant nous, nous avaient dis qu'ils avaient utilisé des bateaux pneumatiques.
Pour installer la corde fixe, notre chef d'expé a traversé la rivière (à la nage et encordé !!!).
Vraiment pas facile ni agréable...
Oui mais POURQUOI traverser dois-tu penser ???
C'est vrai, pourquoi se donner tant de mal, surtout qu'il faudra ensuite la retraverser pour se retrouver de nouveau coté gauche....
Pas trop de soucis pour retraverser, à gué cette fois-ci et installation néanmoins d'une corde fixe.
Voici donc la raison :
Au confluent de la Thulo Palta khola quit vient du Kanjiroba et de la Jagdula Khola, il y a de magnifiques gorges !
La photo ci dessus, prise coté droit, montre le confluent et la gorge.
Pas moyen de passer sur le coté gauche.
Peut-etre plus haut... à 5000 m... Le coté droit n'est pas une autoroute, mais c'est au moins possible.
Il ne reste plus qu'a remonter quelques centaines de metres (encore quelques bouts de cordes fixes pour quelques passage raides du début) et de se retrouver enfin à notre camp de base sur un large replat.
Notre camp de base trés sommaire....
Après une première tentative par le versant sud, où l'on se retrouve sous les seracs du glacier suspendu, dans une moraine instable, on décide de faire demi tour et de tenter l'ascension par le versant ouest.
Progression à flanc de terrain au début, la fameuse gorge sur notre gauche. Je n'ai malheureusement pas de photos de la vallée de la Thulo Palta khola...
Ensuite, nous avons rejoint assez rapidement le lit du torrent, celui qui vient du nord, du glacier du Kanjiroba. Donc je suppose que les gorges ne remontent pas trés loin dans cette vallée et qu'elles sont uniquement marquées vers la confluence des 2 rivières (Thulo Palta / Jagdula)... Dans ce cas l'accès à la vallée de la Thulo Palta ne devrait pas etre contraint par la gorge... Mais tout celà reste des suppositions...
La vallée s'élargi ensuite et devient trés praticable, le sol est plat, il y a de l'eau, le paradis quoi ! J'ai le souvenir que cette remontée dans cette vallée plate était longue, voire interminable... ce qui me fait encore supposer que les gorges ne remontent pas bien loin.
Sur la photo ci dessus (je suppose): A droite, tout juste visible, le sommet du Tsokalpo Khang et une antécime juste sous le nuage. A gauche un des 6000 (6221m) sans nom du massif du Kanjiroba.
A mi-parcours environ, nous avons bifurqué à droite et commencé l'ascension dans les pentes herbeuses puis les pierriers, jusqu'au camp 1, vers 4800, à la limite de la neige.
Premières vue sur le Kanjiroba et son glacier, prise du camp 1, vers 4800m.
Quelques mail plus tard, voici d'autres informations toujours aussi intéressantes...
Une questions à Olivier : Avez vous visité la vallée de gauche ?
Pour la ballade dans la première vallée, avec le petit lac, celle de la Pani
Palat Khola, nous avons eu l'occasion de la visiter... C'est une longue
Arrivé à Tatopani, avec tous les porteurs embauchés à Jumla, le sirdar de l'agence (Tamserku, qui est pourtant une trés bonne agence) nous annonce que nous sommes au camp de base. Notre Guide ne connais pas les lieux et se fie aux paroles d'un guide local. Les porteurs de Jumla repartent donc chez eux.
Nous ont part en repèrage de notre sommet et l'on remonte la vallée de la Pani
Palat, jusqu'au fond où l'on arrive à un cirque. Nos cartes sont pas géniales,
mais là, ça ne correspond pas vraiment... Nos guides nous désignent le Paltathumba
comme étant le Tripura Hiunchuli (Hanging Glacier).
Après quelques jours d'escapades dans les environs, nous sommes certains de ne
pas être au camp de base du Tripura, mais dans la vallée de la Pani Palta... une
semaine de perdue.
Finalement, notre sirdar accepte de déplacer le camp de base
et de remonter la Jagdula avec l'équipe de Thamserku. Les gars font un peu la
gueule de s'aventurer dans cette vallée, mais ils n'ont pas le choix.
Avec du recul, nous avons vu que le guide local connaissait parfaitement les
lieux (il nous a accompagné jusqu'au réel camp de base), il connaissait la
falaise abritée, etc... Et de ce fait, la difficulté d'y progresser...
Certes, il peut y avoir malentendu sur les noms des sommets, mais nous pensons
que la désignation de Tatopani comme "faux" camp de base était volontaire et
permettait à toute l'équipe de ne pas trop souffrir dans la Jagdula Khola.
aurait pu ne rien voir et faire confiance à notre guide, et faire le Paltathumba
en pensant gravir notre sommet ou accepter consciemment d'en faire un autre...
mais nous restâmes sur notre choix initial, le Tripura.
Je ferme la parenthèse.
La Jadgula est un peu Indiana Jones, c'est vrai !!!
Mais ça passe (enfin quand la Jagdula est calme...). Et puis avec tes cartes plus précises, je pense que l'entrée de la Thulo Palta est faisable, en remontant coté droit. La vallée est bien moins encaissée que les précédentes.
Si vous avez des infos...
ou si vous connaissez quelqu'un qui est aller dans ce massif... n'hésitez pas à me contacter.
Et bien sûr,
un dernier petit clin d'oeil à mes partenaires habituels
avec : Triple
les duvets et les