Backpacks loaded, gas cylinders filled, tied shoes and hat on the front, open spaces of the himalaya are ahead.

Trail map in the pocket, a few liters of water, dried fruit, eggs and pasta, our tente and sleeping bags feather, just the essential to survive a few days before moving to the next village .

The route crosses four villages stationed in the heart of colorful valleys, accessible only by walking, three passes of over 5000 meters above sea level and a few rivers to cross.

The solitude and silence occupies most of the days, the blisters appear on the feet, and the pure river water quenches our thirst. The trail seems to fade in places and leave room for improvisation, doubt, then the footsteps resumed, the bells of a group of horses loaded with material pierces the silence, and some walkers cross our path.

Twice the clouds drop their flocks on the denim of our tent the first rays of the sun. sometimes the nights are cold, sweet at times, but always illuminated with thousands of stars.

Oxygen is scarce at the top of the passes and the effort is increased, but the views justifies our breathlessness. After 9 days of freedom, we almost reach Stakspila at 5300 meters stands opposite us like ripe. The ascenssion pulls in 6 hours, and the sun begins its descent while the next village is still a few hours away.

A huge rocks landslide covers the side of the mountain, the trek was closed for several years but nobody informed us. The batteries in the flashlight weaken then the light disappears, night fell, and more likely to continue.

Running out of gas on a wide path of less than two meters into the hillside, we need the tent, tomorrow is another day and will be one our return.