Markha Valley trek to 17,500 ft

In north India's Markha Valley, two friends and I pushed to the summit of probably the highest mountain I ever want to climb. On the final day, one friend developed such bad altitude sickness that we didn't know whether he'd continue. But he did. We all made it to the top!

The night before the big push, none of us slept a wink because we were camped at 15,000 feet, higher than any location in the continental United States. Our eyelids would close and a few minutes later, we'd wake up gasping for air. (At that altitude, air is about 40% less dense than at sea level.)

The next morning, we left camp before 6 am, working to stay ahead of the slushy slippery late-morning snow that develops in this area during spring. I was determined to beat the horses to the summit. (We had six horses carrying our belongings.) So I pushed ahead, shouting one syllable of my mantra with each step: "I can do this." Before I knew it, I was at the top, peering out across the Himalayan range, standing beside Tibetan flags flittering at the top of the pass.

But one of my friends, at least 1,000 vertical feet from the summit, was in bad shape. Understatement. (Some people just don't acclimatize to high elevations easily. And it often has nothing to do with physical fitness. I, for instance, had been sitting in front of my computer in Delhi for the past several months.) He was vomiting, exhausted, relentlessly dizzy. In a heroic effort, he trudged one foot in front of the other, dragging himself to the top. Note to self: He wins at least 100 points in the game of life.

Looking back on our hike to 17,500 feet, one word comes to mind: Winded. Blasted by the late morning breeze sweeping across Ladakh's Himalayan slopes. Heaving gulpfuls of air in an attempt to continue pushing upwards. Winded.

And the view from the top? Stunning. Retina-burning. Breathtaking—although perhaps too literally.