Crossing the Pass of Death: An Unexpected Paradise Deep in the Himalayas

Behind every photo, beyond gear, light, and technique, lies the photographer's arduous trekking and waiting. The story behind the lens is sometimes more compelling than the photo itself.

Here is a repost of an article I once published on Weibo, sharing the most unforgettable part of my first solo long-distance trek.

In October 2014, when I heard that 48 trekkers had died at the 5,416-meter Thorong La Pass, I was shocked—and it reminded me of the blizzard a few months earlier. Back then, with no guide and no porter, I crossed this pass of death alone with great difficulty, and unexpectedly discovered a heavenly Himalayan town after the heavy snow.

Behind those beautiful photos is a story of striving for ultimate freedom and ultimate beauty.

This was the ninth day of my Annapurna Circuit trek. Heavy snow had battered the mountains of eastern Nepal for days, and everyone I met along the way was a disheartened trekker retreating back down the same route.

I pressed on upward with a let's-give-it-a-try mindset. At the 4,850-meter advance camp under the moonlight, everything around was a sheet of white. The good news was that the snow had finally stopped completely; the sky was clear, with stars and moon shining together.

The weather in high mountains is unpredictable. To cross the most dangerous pass area before the clouds gathered at noon, I got up at 4 a.m. and walked alone into the deep night. Half an hour after setting off, I finally saw dots of light behind me—the headlamps of other trekking groups.

This was not my first time walking at night. I once hiked alone through an Indonesian jungle for an entire night—an absolutely terrible experience. The pitch-dark trees seemed ready to swallow me whole, and the glinting eyes of animals in the shadows and the sounds of movement in the undergrowth often scared me half to death.

But this time I felt no fear at all. Amid the pure snow mountains at 5,000 meters, under the vast moonlit starry sky, I felt only boundless—freedom!

Looking down the mountain, the Australian mountaineering team had already reached the iron bridge. After spring, this would be a small creek surrounded by mud and rocks. But at this moment, every vivid color was pressed firmly beneath a sheet of pale white.

In this dark night, on this snow mountain, this was the purest of worlds—so pure that only black and white remained.

Soon the German father and son caught up. I had once sat by a stove burning dried yak dung, listening to this German pair share their India adventures. I can still remember their animated faces when they said, "India is a shit counntry, everywhere is shit..."

A serious problem quickly pulled me out of my memories. Because of the continuous heavy snow, the slope ahead was buried in nearly waist-deep snow, and all traces of the trail had almost vanished.

Walking on it alone was agonizing; often a single step sank my entire thigh, and after struggling for a long time I had only moved a short distance. The snow pits behind me recorded my hardship.

After a while I gave up completely and waited for the Australian team behind me to go first. They had a senior guide leading them, and once these tall, strong men had stamped out footprints, following them would save me a lot of effort.

After walking for who knows how long, the sun slowly rose behind me. Sunlight spread over the pure ice and snow—an ultimate beauty that took my breath away.

Soon I reached what might be the highest teahouse in the world; when the weather permits, locals come up to brew pot after pot of hot milk tea for trekkers. The sun had fully leapt above the peaks, spreading warmth across the entire snow mountain.

The sun lit up the whole world, and also revealed our insignificance. Before great nature, how trivial humans become.

Above 5,000 meters, the air is extremely thin; I had to stop and gasp for breath every few steps. And ahead lay endless climbing.

To be honest, my preparation for this trek was insufficient. Compared to the nearly ten thousand words of planning I wrote before my EBC trek, this time on the Circuit I just skimmed a few guides, downloaded a topographic map, and set off.

Worse, the guides I browsed all described trekking in good weather, glossing over the crossing of the pass's pile of loose rocks in a few hasty lines. Now, crossing the pass in thick snow was no less difficult than climbing an entry-level snow mountain.

Because I was trekking solo with a heavy pack, and misled by trip reports written in good weather, I foolishly left all my snow and ice gear at home to save weight—a truly fatal mistake.

Fortunately, after encountering heavy snow during the previous days' low-altitude trekking, I had bought a pair of Taobao-made crampons at the high price of 30 USD. Later, below the pass, a pair of crampons was being scalped for a sky-high 100 USD—if I hadn't needed them for the crossing myself, I would have loved to pocket the difference. There were several stretches of glare ice and hard snow along the way; I really don't know whether I would have dared to pass without crampons.

Soon the Japanese lady I had met on the trail caught up. Because she was deeply tanned, I first assumed she was a Nepali guide. It turned out she had hired two Japanese-speaking Nepali guides all to herself—a tanned "rich beauty"!

Soon the slope leveled out, and the prayer flags of the pass were faintly visible in the distance. Not having rested properly on the way up, I decided to take a break on the spot and put away my headlamp and flashlight, so I could make one final dash to the top. Before that, I set my camera on my camera bag and took a selfie.

The pass was within arm's reach! The final sprint!

Thorong La, 5,416 meters. After the long climb, I finally made it!

The excitement didn't last long before a bigger challenge arrived: I had to descend from the 5,416-meter pass to the inhabited area at 3,800 meters—an intense 1,600-meter descent!

Climbing up is easy, coming down is hard—now I truly felt it!

Having just finished a downhill stretch that seemed to have no end, another turn brought yet more endless descent—a truly crushing feeling.

The road seemed to go on forever. Not even being able to see a shadow of the goal was deeply frustrating.

In between were several big slopes of forty to fifty degrees, looking extremely steep to the naked eye.

Don't underestimate a 50-degree slope; from below it looks almost vertical...

Because I had spent my cash on the high-priced crampons and could not buy gaiters, after a day of walking the inside of my shoes was completely soaked with snow!

Thankfully, the most dangerous sections were already behind me. Thrills and excitement were in the past tense; only exhaustion was far from over!

It is hard to imagine: if crossing the pass after heavy snow left me in such a miserable state, how desperate and helpless must those 48 trekkers have been, caught in the sudden violent blizzard on this long and treacherous pass!

At 4 p.m., twelve hours after setting out, I finally walked out of the forbidden zone of life and returned to warm human civilization! I could finally order a glass of the local specialty juice and leisurely watch the clouds rolling over the distant snow mountains.

Let me show you my sorry state: the parts of my face not covered by my balaclava and sunglasses were a miserable sight despite the sunscreen!

Here is a "fresh-faced" photo of me before the pass crossing for comparison~~

But all this hardship was worth it, because in the following days I witnessed unparalleled beauty that I had never read about in any previous travelogue.

The Himalayan town after heavy snow, sacred and beautiful.

Here lies the world's deepest gorge and the world's seventh-highest peak—Dhaulagiri.

This is the gateway to the mysterious Kingdom of Mustang, a hidden paradise deep in the Himalayas!

This is the ultimate freedom and ultimate beauty I had been striving to find!

The End!