We went to sleep the second night feeling a bit more acclimated to the altitude and with bellies full from a delicious dinner. All seemed well in the world as we dozed with goats grazing nearby and the babbling brook slipping past our tent. That is until round about 6:00 am when Steph was suddenly taken from us by an acute bout of gastrointestinal troubles. We’re still not exactly sure where she picked it up, but some combination of altitude sickness, sun poisoning and perhaps some under-boiled water created within Stepho a world of hurt.
After some negotiations with our guides we decided strapping Steph to one of the camels and having it carry the increasingly ill lady up the mountain would not be advisable. So, hundreds of miles from the nearest hospital, we holed up in a local’s two-room house and began to exorcise the demon from Steph. When I imply that Stepho was possessed I do not exaggerate. The normally boisterous, opinionated and vivacious Stephanie was rendered mute, limp and utterly compliant. It was quite a worrisome scenario.
While the rest of the group ventured up to Muztagh-Ata’s base camp, Steph lay swaddled in blankets in a Kyrgyz villager’s house with a bucket nearby and a worried Crank at the bedside. Not only was dehydration from the copious and multi-sourced effluent a serious concern, but there were whispers among the villagers that these sick American tourists had brought with them to the far reaches of China the dreaded swine flu which that week had been officially declared a global pandemic.
This village was home to semi-nomadic Kyrgyz people who moved up and down the mountain with their flocks of goats, sheep and yaks according to the seasons. About half the structures in the village housed livestock and the nearby cemetery was equal parts headstones and grazing goats. Our incredible host was a family with two beautiful children and a grasp of Mandarin as tenuous as my own. The kids gawked at the foreigners shacking up in their “guest room” and I mostly smiled and nodded with the mother and father.
After about 12 hours of seriously scary sickness Steph stabilized and started drinking and nibbling again. With more fluids going in than coming out I stepped outside for a bit to wander the dusty alleys of the village, photographing the sights and attempting to chat with the locals. I shared my Western candy with them and they offered me freshly baked bread and wide smiles.
By the next morning Steph had returned to the land of the living, but was far from 100 percent. We regrouped with our trek and bussed back to Kashgar where a real bed, a shower and plenty of fresh water returned Steph’s strength before flying on back to Beijing.
- Above the goated plains…
- Muztagh-Ata really is 7546 m
- Sufei never got this sick
- Takin’ the goats for a stroll
- Moo?
- Goats (and ghosts) in the graveyard
- Pieces parts
- Zen and the Art…
- Hewwo?
- Our hostess and wee one
- Stealth yak
- Courtyard offspring
- Little ladder helper
- Lying like a dog
- Just getting a receipt from our camel guy
- The modern shepherd
- Kid and mom
- Prancing kid


















































































































