Dzongri trek - Day 3 - Tsokha to Dzongri

Once again we awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and eggs sizzling in a saucepan. But unlike the previous two mornings the team was far less upbeat and enthusiasm was rapidly diminishing. Given the heavy snowfall and Arctic-like conditions our guide had taken the decision not to send yaks ahead to forge a trail. The defeated expressions of hikers we'd passed en route to Tsokha now clung to our faces at the prospect of carrying our own loads - which had to be reduced to the bare minimum for obvious reasons.

But with Roland - who spent much of his youth hanging from the Alps bys tupidly thin ropes - in defiant mood we soon rallied and, as if by magic, the mist cleared to reveal stunning vistas of the surrounding range. So with waterproofs donned (by those who had them) and fists tightly clenching bamboo we set about tackling the trail that weaved its wicked little way through the surrounding mountains rising a vertical height of 1.2km.

Early signs were good. The air was crisp and clear and the 13-strong team made excellent time during the first couple of hours of trekking. But it was as the trail dipped left along a tight ridge and rose steeply up to the summer camp ground of Phedang that things took a turn for the worse. The trail, which had been easy to follow courtesy of previous treks, fizzled out leaving the group with little to follow except the guide's intuition and experience. Boy was it a gruelling last hour's push!

Huddled in the remains of an old trekker's hut we warmed our cockles with piping hot soup and gobbled down more of that terrible chocolate while the porters (I'm guessing, after all I don't speak Nepali) questioned our sanity and cast concerned looks in our direction. But humour never failed us and everyone in the group were soon bellowing on laughter at the sight of the 6ft-plus Roland waist-high in fresh powder.

And the laughing fit proved to be just the tonic we needed! Gulping down the remains of our soup we rose to our feet in unison, zipped up jackets and pulled on gloves. We were at the point where all others this season had given up and turned back. That wasn't an option for us! Moments later we were ploughing through two foot of snow, step by step creating a trail that would stay intact for the rest of the season.

Regrettably the team was reduced by three an hour later. It wasn't the lung-busting efforts that ended Alex and Pip's trek prematurely, but the threat of serious injury as altitude sickness left the rugger - loving 20 - something reeling. With the possibility of retinal haemorrhages and peripheral edema all too real - the poor guy had turned green and double vision had set in - it was left to Pip and one of the porters to lead Alex down to safety.

So, with the porters rapidly loosing their enthusiasm to continue -wouldn't you if all you were wearing was sandals and cotton trousers - it was left to the three of us to take the lead and force the trail. And that's exactly what we did! Painstakingly we took turns to push from the front, each forging ahead until the legs would no longer work. Never before have our lower limbs had to work so hard, but our perseverance had the desired effect as the guide, and then porters, reacted to our efforts in kind.

And so it was, a good seven hours after leaving Tsokha the "Momo Gang"- it's quite amazing how much one farts at altitude, especially after over indulging on the famous Tibetan dish which consist of dough-based dumplings stuffed full of vegetables, hence the name - descended the final few hundred metres into Dzongri (it was more like we rolled, our legs barely carried us) to become the first to summit the mountain in 2007! Our reward, views of no more than 20m, frozen fingers and toes and a night amid yet more sub-zero temperatures. But it was worth it!