At the time of editing, Nepal was struck by one of its most devastating natural disasters in recent years. Major floods have washed away many villages that lined the river banks, including our dear Syabrubesi, which many of us at MIR have come to know as the gateway to the Langtang valley and a core part of our first mountain journey.
My thoughts go out to all those affected. To the reader, I hope this serves as a poignant reminder of both nature’s raw power and the incredible sacrifices made by our guides and porters. From their humble backgrounds, they have given up so much to support our dreams in the mountains. I hope that now, in turn, we are able to support them in whatever ways we can as they rebuild their lives.
Get to the summit and get back down safely.
The goal of the expedition wasn’t anything unusual, except that the mountain had never been climbed before.
The idea for a first ascent was first proposed by Mr. Tulsi, a longtime friend of the club and one of the co-owners of Himalaya Summit Club. MIR has been working with Tulsi for more than a decade I met Tulsi on my first mountaineering trip in 2022 during my TMC, since then he has given invaluable advice and help for several of my other expeditions including climbs in India and in the alps. I intended to return to the Himalayas in the summer of 2024 and had been in discussion with Tulsi for a while about a suitable mountain to climb. I had sought a technical peak above 6000m to expose myself more to the mountains and to learn more high alpine skills. So when Tulsi first floated the idea of a first ascent, it immediately caught my attention.
The Mountain
Jugal-II was not the first choice for the expedition, instead Jugal-III was proposed. Both peaks sit in the remote Jugal region, and the Jugal range had never been open to commercial expeditions until late 2023. As a result, several peaks in the valley remained unclimbed and the region has been targeted for first ascent by several teams. Tulsi himself, with an all Nepalese team, made the first ascent of the neighbouring Gyalzen peak in 2019.
In September 2023, we began discussing the topography of Jugal III and determined the best route was to approach via the glacier, climbing to the saddle then up the ridgeline to the summit. Tulsi encouraged us to come earlier in the season for the better weather and to improve our chances of summiting. However, being the students that we were, we could not commit to an early season departure due to exams XD.
The Team
The team comprised of myself (MIR 22 Summer), Yan Ang (MIR 23 Winter), and Teng Chung (MIR 23 Summer). Having a cross-batch team was especially meaningful to me: MIR has always been more than just a club for climbing together—the spirit of MIR lies in sharing the love and joy of mountaineering, and in building something deeper than simply finding climbing partners.
As part of the MIR 22 batch, I was often regaled by countless tales and epics through books, talks and our cherished MIR website. These stories often spoke of the strong sense of community that had been painstakingly nurtured in the club. However, COVID ravaged the club and its community. Expeditions were suspended for MIR 20 Summer and MIR 21, and my batch (MIR 22) was the first in two years to embark on a TMC expedition.
In my early years in MIR, community was scarce. COVID had fractured the links between batches, and climbing sessions at the wall were split by faculty. I rarely saw more than one or two MIR team members at a time, which made it difficult to foster a shared identity. That’s why seeing a team made up of different batches attempting the first ascent of an unclimbed mountain was so deeply heartwarming—it felt like we’d stitched together a sense of community again.
Apart from the three of us, our two guides were: Mr Aash; who made the first ascent of Gyalzen peak along with Tulsi in 2019. He has also led expeditions to the region since it had opened and was no stranger to its glaciers. And Mr Sujan; the assistant guide. We were supported by a team of porters without pack animals to help set up camps and carry provisions.
The Expedition
The expedition started as most do in the bustling city of Kathmandu. Upon landing in the valley, we were immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia, as all of us had had our first big mountain experience here.
We only spent a day or two in the city. We trailed the streets, each of us throwing out suggestions influenced by our own times in Kathmandu. It was nice seeing we all had our own versions of Kathmandu in our heads.
We partook in the traditional welcome dinner and cultural dance. Coincidentally, the current TMC summer batch was in Kathmandu on the exact same dates. We shared the table and the laughs. We were about to leave on our own expedition and here was a team about to go on their very first ones. We had really come full circle.
The Approach
We left the city in the morning, making our way to Temba Thang, the last accessible village. Of particular importance was to leave the city early. The way to Temba Thang was rugged and required a river crossing. If we left too late in the day, the summer heat would have melted the snow in the mountains and flooded the riverbanks, making the crossing unnecessarily complicated. The Jugal region is considerably more remote and rural than the other more popular regions like Langtang or the Khumbu valley. While we were all very familiar with the rough roads of Nepal, the journey to Temba Thang was extremely rough even by Nepalese standards. Stuffed into a 4×4 Jeep, we made the very bumpy journey through the sweltering heat to the village.
We lost mobile connection very early on. In fact, as soon as we had turned off from the highway and entered the remote region, connection was fickle. While we were no strangers to going without the internet, it was very abrupt and much sooner than expected. We all longed to speak to our loved ones one more time.
Temba Thang was a quiet, dusty village. We hardly saw anyone around and took the time to appreciate the quiet.
The Hike
We left the village the next morning to head deeper into the valley. We woke to the valley shrouded in fog and the day began with a drizzle that we would find hard to shake off. We didn’t know it then, but this was our first introduction to the fickle weather of the Jugal valley.
The hike was rather uneventful, but we were all raring to go and excited to be on our feet. We crossed a river to its far bank early on and slowly traced our way along the river through the valley. We stopped for lunch in a small clearing in the forest. Unlike on the more popular trails, there were no tea houses or rest stops along the way. We got to work helping the team collect dried leaves and bamboo stalks to set up the kitchen. In a matter of minutes, the team had put together a fully functioning makeshift kitchen. It never ceases to amaze me just how resourceful they can be.
Despite the gloomy weather, lunch was very enjoyable and we took the chance to get to know the team personally as we would be spending the next few weeks together. While the rain wasn’t particularly heavy, its omnipresence meant that we were steadily soaked and cold.
With the help of the jet burner, we got a campfire going and we huddled around for warmth. It just felt amazing, to be out on the trail under the elements, together with people who appreciated the mountains.
We continued along the trail and the day ended in a small, uninhibited hamlet. The hamlet was no more than two decently sized sheds. Apparently, the structures here are never permanently occupied, but rather used as rest points during the insect hunting seasons. The Jugal region is home to a particularly rare insect that, when caught and dried, can be sold for a good profit. Naturally, as it was still light out, we found a boulder and started climbing 🙂
The Last Village
The rest of the approach mirrored any other long approach to the big mountains. We stayed on the right bank of the river which had by now swelled into a raging torrent. We soon reached the last village and thereafter began our acclimatisation hike. The acclimatisation hike would bring us up to 4200m. The hike was no more than a series of long switchbacks, but it was on this hike that we got our first proper glimpse of the snow-capped giants that dwelled at the head of the valley.
We felt strong on the acclimatisation hike—well enough that, for some incomprehensible reason, we decided to have a 100m sprint to the end of the trail. We all came down with a raging headache. Apart from the headache, the top of the acclimatisation hike also brought us our first view of the Jugal glacier. The glacier was perched amongst the peaks above us in the distance.
Scarred, jagged and broken, the glacier formed a forbidding gateway to the high mountains. The river of ice ended abruptly in a towering headwall that spilled over the cliff, its fractured face appearing almost impossible to climb. Framed by dark moraines and granite peaks beneath a leaden sky, it was an awe-inspiring sight.
Whilst we were doing our acclimatisation hike, there was a team of porters making their way to establish a lower base camp just beneath the glacier on the far bank of the river. From our viewpoint, we struggled to identify any sort of discernible path marking the way up to the glacier. Scanning the vast wall of rock, and with much effort, we were able to spot the group of porters picking their way toward as the advance party to lower base camp. The route ahead looked brutal and we quietly wondered how we were going to navigate that terrain.
Lower Base Camp
The next day, we made the push to LBC, taking the same path the porters had the day before. We crossed the river over a small bridge, and being on its right, picked our way through the thin woodland towards the glacier. Soon the trees were replaced by shrubs, the river likewise turned from a roaring cascade to a babbling brook and, eventually, to nothing.
The terrain, on the other hand, became much more rugged. Soon, there was scarcely a path, replaced by steep switchbacks, cables and boulders.
We finally spotted LBC, which seemed to be perched rather precariously amongst shattered boulders. LBC sat in the basin of a few peaks acting as a natural funnel for rockfall. Our camp was also situated beside a heart shaped lake.
Rockfall was our constant companion at camp. Every now and then the silence of LBC would be punctuated by the crashing of boulders falling from the ridge above us.
That night I slept uneasily, keeping an ear out for rockfall. With every crash, I would estimate how far the boulder had landed from us. From what we gathered, this valley had a particular reputation for erratic weather and rockfall.
Base Camp
From LBC our next checkpoint was Base Camp, situated on a hill above LBC. BC was just a short, inclined hill away from here. We woke up to a light dusting of snow on our tents and were glad to leave the summer heat behind. We packed up camp and headed up the hill to BC. Once we rounded the corner, we were level with the Jugal glacier. From here on nothing obstructed our views; we were at the very head of the glacier and completely beleaguered by the snow capped peaks. There was no shortage of views or big mountains.
Whereas LBC seemed precarious and hidden amongst the nooks and crannies of boulders, Base Camp was a gem. BC was situated on a vast, sparsely vegetated plateau just beside the glacier; and it was flat and afforded a commanding view of the valley beneath. BC was at an elevation of roughly (4680m), not much higher than LBC (4480m). The spot granted easy access to the glacier, a wide flat area to pitch kitchen tents, sleeping tents and a latrine.
The trek to BC was a really short one, so despite our late departure we still arrived before midday and took the chance to explore both camp and the glacier. From the plateau, we were looking down onto the glacier. The intense summer heat had left the glacier parched and revealed deep cracks in its structure, as if the glacier were baring its fangs.
The clear views soon got shrouded by a wave of clouds rolling into the valley, something we became quite accustomed to in the coming days. With the views gone and the weather getting colder, we headed back to our tents for a good night’s rest.
Onto The Glacier
The next day was, again, a short one. The guides went ahead as an advance party to scout and dump gear at Advanced Base Camp. Three of us followed as a separate independent party, leaving an hour later. The familiar crunch of ice under our crampons brought big grins to our faces.
The glacier was bare with exposed crevasses. Islands of rock and scree punctuated the barren ice, which we used as resting spots. The rock indicated stable ground and an area clear of danger. On the largest of these islands, we happened to spot our guides returning from their scouting mission. We rendezvoused and decided that with such a dry glacier there was no need to rope up. We thus stashed our axes, rope and everything else we did not need beside a large boulder and headed back to BC for a nice warm dinner.
To Advance Base Camp
The next day we got up late and shouldered our heavy packs. This was the heaviest our packs had ever been. We were planning to fully establish an Advanced Base Camp just below the climbing route of Jugal I & II. We brought with us everything we would need, leaving only the luxury items behind.
We crossed the glacier as a full expedition party: the lack of crampons and gear greatly sped up the journey and we soon reached the island where our gear cache from yesterday was stashed. This served as our new crampon point.
As we got closer to ABC, the snow cover increased and we found the route to be littered with crevasses. We spent so much time avoiding and testing suspicious fault lines in the snow that I scarcely realised we were more than halfway to the planned ABC.
By now we had grown accustomed to the weather patterns of the valley. Although the day always begins with clear blue skies, around midday, almost like clockwork, clouds would roll in, enveloping the valley and robbing us of any visibility. Today was no different—a whiteout developed as scheduled and the way forward was obscured from view.
After walking aimlessly in the white out, I noticed in the far off distance a small speck that seemed too bright to be the colour of dull granite. This was ABC.
While BC felt like a luxurious resort perched amongst the mountains, ABC felt like a true adventure. We brought out the shovels, started levelling the snow and set up the small but cosy ABC. Just as camp was set up, it started snowing and we very laboriously shuffled our gear and knackered bodies in.
Despite only being 500m or so above BC, ABC was a far cry from the comforts of BC. The tough terrain, weather, uncertainty and logistics made everything feel extremely exhilarating. Here we were, in unfamiliar territory, camped beneath an unclimbed peak.
Rotation To Camp 1
The plan was to scout the route ahead, establish Camp 1 and head back down to BC for a resupply.
When we woke, the tent was rattling, buffeted by the strong winds up here—a testament to the harsh elements. We did our best to gear up and get ready, but the thick snow cover and cramped conditions made it difficult to efficiently get our gear on. We woke up around 6am with the intention to take advantage of the colder temperatures that dawn offered. In the afternoon heat when the sun was at its zenith, the snow and ice would melt leading to rock and ice fall.
The couloir we intended to climb was very long—almost a thousand metres of vertical gain. It acted as a funnel, directing any snow, rock or ice that broke off from the walls toward the bottom. Moreover, the couloir was east facing and sure to get the full brunt of the morning sun which would release a deluge onto whatever or whoever was at the bottom.
We travelled as a separate party from the guides who would go first to scout the route.
After a short but physically taxing trek to the very base of the couloir, we could finally see the route ahead of us. We spotted the guides who were navigating the immediate slope before the entrance of the couloir. They were just 2 specks cast against the enormity of the face.
At this juncture, Yan Ang did not feel comfortable continuing on, so he unclipped from the rope and decided to head back to ABC. Teng and I re-measured the roping distance and pressed on as a party of 2. We approached the snow slope, which was about 50 to 60 degrees, and crossed a partially covered bergschund. By now, we really felt the altitude and going up the slope was extremely taxing and slow going. We eventually found our pacing and broke into a rhythm.
Whilst on the slope, the clouds rolled in and we lost sight of the guides. Visibility was scarce, we could not see where we were going, and were only moving based off our own understanding of the terrain. We kept pushing on, crossing the slope in a vaguely diagonal northward direction toward the base of the couloir. We were not entirely sure how much time had passed but as we were moving across the slope, through the blanket fog we heard voices speaking Nepali in a rushed manner in the urgent cadence of a high stakes negotiation.
We adjusted our angle of approach and made our way toward the voices. We found our guides at the base of the couloir hunched over and raking the snow with their ice axe. As it turns out, they were discussing the best way forward.
Off to the side of the entrance of the couloir, there was a rock outcropping with a few pitons crammed into its crevices, linked together with a sling. We regrouped next to this rock anchor discussing the state of the route and the plan. Our elevation here was just over 5000m. From this anchor, we got our first close look at the couloir. A snow slope rose toward an ice wall that marked the start of the vertical climbing. Imposing and steep, the ice was flanked on both sides by sheer rock walls.
The guides had found the fixed lines of the previous expedition to the neighbouring Jugal I. Jugal I shares a ridgeline with Jugal II, and is separated by a saddle between them. A few weeks prior, a Korean expedition had made the first ascent of Jugal I. They had left their fixed lines behind and were able to give us some information of the terrain. Now those fixed lines lay buried under a metre of snow. The fixed lines traced the path of the snow slope toward the vertical wall of ice up ahead. It then turned sharply to the right, climbing up the adjacent rock face before continuing up the couloir.
The plan was to use the fixed lines as a quick way to get halfway up Jugal I. There, we would deposit our tent, food and other gear to serve as our next cache and bivy spot. However, the snowfall had rendered the fixed lines unusable and our next task was to try to save the fixed lines.
To excavate the lines, one person would swing his axe, chopping away at the frozen snow while the other tugged at the fixed lines hoping to bring it to surface level. Progress was slow, and the effort of hacking away at the snow at this elevation was exhausting. Worse still, the face had been baking in the sun all morning. The glue that held the loose rock and snow together was whittled away. We thus stood as stationary targets in the line of fire. Teng was hit by a hand-sized piece of ice flung down from the couloir above. Thankfully, it left only a bruise.
After some time had passed, we realised this was rather futile and we were dangerously exposed to falling debris. We decided instead to unclip from the fixed lines and simul-climb the rest of the couloir until we hit the ice headwall.
Upon reaching the ice, the lines now headed up the rockface on the right. No longer being buried under the snow, the fixed lines now presented a viable path. Aash whipped out his Jumar and got moving. I went next, followed by Teng and Sujan. The face was rather featured and presented several good footholds. It felt great to be on rock again.
The fixed lines were split into several short ‘pitches’ and we climbed about a pitch apart. Upon reaching the first anchor underneath a rock outcropping, I popped my head around the corner to check on Aash, only to be greeted by an unwelcome spindrift of snow. I soon caught up with Aash at the third anchor. He had a pensive look on his face and his gaze fixed on the route ahead. The lines traversed laterally across the ice fall. While we had been somewhat protected on the rock face from the falling ice, the route now demanded that we step back into the line of fire.
The ice fall danger was no more here than it was at the bottom of the route. However, now being perched so precariously on the face meant that getting hit by a big piece would leave you hanging off just the ropes, suspended in midair.
Teng and Sujan soon joined us. There we all stood clipped to the side of the mountain with a huge monolith of ice ahead of us. After a short, terse discussion, we decided that given the weather and the conditions, we would turn around. I had not noticed it, but while we were climbing, it had started snowing.
Our goal today had been to make it to and establish camp 1, and although we were far from that objective, we decided we had seen enough and would turn back for now. We now had a clearer idea of the route and the difficulties ahead.
Return To Camp
We went back the way we came, one by one, rappelling down to the previous anchor station. The fixed lines were frozen stiff and, coupled with our thick gloves, it was hard to be dextrous with our ATCs. On the way down, I was hit on my shoulder by 2 palm-sized pieces of ice.
It was a long way down, and the snowfall was steadily increasing. Each of us took turns falling in the soft and unstable snow, warranting many self arrests and hard catches. We dumped what gear we could at the base of the couloir at the piton anchor. We left the tent and some fixed rope.
When we were crossing the bergschrund, the snow around it collapsed and I fell in. Almost instinctively, both Sujan and Teng who were ahead and behind me respectively tensed their rope. For a moment I felt my right leg hanging freely in the air. I extricated myself and we moved on.
When we got back to ABC, I was fully exhausted. We had spent 8 hours in total going up the face and back down to ABC. We were greeted by Yan Ang and we all retreated to the tent for some respite.
Huddled together inside the tent, we shared sweets while the guides boiled soup and tried contacting BC. Outside, the snow began to fall more heavily. It was the heaviest snow we had experienced thus far. The continuous drumming of wind and snow against the tent canvas reminded me of the tropical storms that lashed our windows back home. We were trapped until the weather cleared. With the conditions deteriorating, we considered staying at ABC instead of going back down to BC. However, we had no supplies and the reality made itself evidently clear: we knew we could not stay here. Within the hour, we made the push to BC. We arrived back sluggish and spent, had a big dinner and tried to mentally prepare ourselves to make the same journey tomorrow. We were going up again to ABC, for another attempt at establishing Camp 1.
Second Rotation To Camp 1
The next day, we had another late departure. We planned only to go to ABC; Yan Ang decided to stay behind at BC and we said our goodbyes. We left at midday and set out under snowfall, travelling a little lighter and being more acclimatised. We made the journey in under 3 hours, much quicker than the day before.
When we got to ABC, the weather had cleared and we had good visibility all around. There were clear views of Jugal I & II and the surrounding mountains. We looked upon our climbing route for tomorrow and noticed a bunch of avalanche debris that had not been there the day prior.
As one tent was still stashed at the rock anchor, all four of us shared the one remaining tent at ABC. We slept shoulder to shoulder, sharing the space with the gear. We tried to get what rest we could, as we prepared for the undoubtedly long day ahead. We were determined to leave earlier than we had the day before.
We woke up at 5am, ate a simple breakfast of muesli and got our gear ready. We were out of the tent slightly after 6am. We made incredible pace, and we moved across the snow much quicker than we had the previous days. We followed our previous path and now came face-to-face with the avalanche debris that lay in front of the main snow slope. The debris looked like the shattered remains of a battlefield littered with craters and boulders of ice. The previously smooth ground was now a craggy mess.
The way forward was clear: we had to go straight through the avalanche field to reach our objective. The area was vast and it did not make any sense to go around it. There were steep slopes that dived off to the left and a mess of unexposed crevasses to the right. We picked our way through the undulating terrain; the snow was hard as ice and the uneven terrain made it rather tiring to get through. Where the debris ended, the snow slope began. We never stopped for more than a few seconds, as the whole area was prone to avalanches and we did not want to get caught. It felt as if we had been sprinting ever since we left ABC.
Instead of moving diagonally across the slope, we went straight. We carved a path through the snow until we reached a rock face. The entire face was scoured by several couloirs. Each couloir served a highway for ice, snow and rock. The couloirs fed the snow slope and were interspersed by rock faces. These rock faces were areas of relative safety from an avalanche. There was no channel above to direct the snow onto you unlike when beneath a couloir. We took our first real—and well-deserved—break of the day, catching our breath and admiring the amazing views. The weather had held and the sky was extremely clear, the day unusually hot.
We pressed on toward the couloir leading to Camp 1, crossing laterally across the snow. Moments before reaching the main couloir, a very sizable boulder flew down the couloir and crashed into the snow slopes below. The boulder was the largest singular piece of rock from rockfall we had ever seen and if any of us had gotten hit, it would have immediately been fatal. We all shot each other a look, as if to say “did you see the size of that boulder?!”. Rocks and ice kept tumbling down the couloir; the barrage hardly stopped. After a short discussion, we decided we would sprint across the open face to the rock anchor. We lengthened the rope, and dashed across whenever the coast was clear.
We regrouped at the anchor, four of us crouched behind a single slab of rock that offered little real protection. Every attempt to discuss our options was cut short by someone yelling ‘Ice!’ or ‘Rock!’. It was obvious how fast conditions had deteriorated over the last two days. The decision to bail came quickly and unanimously. We gathered the tent and the fixed lines we left behind and returned the way we came. Front pointing our way down, we made steady progress.
By the time we got back to ABC, the sun was fully bearing down on the glacier, trying its best to return the ice to its liquid form. The heat was relentless and I stripped down to my base layers and hid under my shell. Today’s effort completely drained us. We readily welcomed the rest while the guides prepared lunch.
As we were tearing down camp, a loud whip-like crack shattered the silence of the valley. Then came the deep rumble of collapsing snow, accompanied by a massive snow plume rising over the snow slopes nearby. We all thought it, before someone shouted, “Avalanche!”. We tensed, listening as the thunder of snow gradually petered out and the plume dissipated. The avalanche had hit the slopes we were on just hours ago. Had we been any slower, we would have been swept down the mountain. Just as the adrenaline was fading, the sun was swallowed whole and we were back in a whiteout. We were glad to be off the snow slopes.
We shoved the remainder of our things in our overstuffed packs and got out of there as fast as we could. We made the long journey toward base camp, never stopping and glad to be heading back.
The trek back was uneventful and painfully slow. Weighed down by our packs and low energy levels, we made the slow walk back. It had begun snowing, and the weather suddenly felt more similar to what it had been during the previous days. As we crested the final scree slopes near Base Camp, we spotted the familiar blue tent that marked BC. BC had become home and we were happy to be home. We unloaded our things, shared our stories over a hearty meal and knew that the expedition was over.
Before the sun had fully risen the next day, we climbed a nearby hill, taking in our final view of the Jugal valley and glacier, before we returned to the cacophony of city life. While we were bummed that the expedition had ended prematurely, we knew there was no point continuing. We always long for more time in the mountains, but when we get there, our plans may not always work out as intended. What matters is being able to assess and make the right decisions. For us, we were happy to be safe and happy to have had spent time in the mountains. We left with our hearts full and our bellies warm, which is more than I could have asked for.
Should this tale fail to inspire, I hope it at least informs you that MIR was never just about the mountains.
A huge shoutout to our amazing guides, Aash and Sujan, that took great care of us and to the porters and cooks that made sure we were all well supplied and fed. Lastly, to my teammates that shared the hardships and laughs with me: thank you for coming on this crazy journey with me.
Written by: Paul Chow (MIR 22)
Edited by: Shai-Ann Koh (MIR 22)
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