In this part of our Reo Purgyil expedition, we push from Camp 1 to Base Camp (5,500m)—where altitude hits harder, the weather gets tougher, and the climb demands more than just strength. We face low oxygen, support teammates through altitude sickness, and witness the raw beauty of Reo and Leo Purgyil under sunset skies.
This is not just about reaching the summit—it’s about resilience, choices, and deep mountain bonds. Whether you’re a trekker, climber, or dreamer, this story will pull you closer to the soul of high-altitude adventure.
Reo Purgyil Expedition – Himalayan Expedition – Part 1
Base Camp – Where the Mountain Truly Begins
The morning after Camp 1 was colder than expected, the sky painted in soft hues of blue with brushstrokes of white cloud drifting above. The weather looked promising, but the terrain ahead had no plans to go easy on us.
Though the distance between Camp 1 and Base Camp wasn’t much on paper, every meter here demanded everything we had. The ground was uneven, full of jagged rocks, and with every step upward, the air thinned, testing both our stamina and willpower.
It took us around 5 to 6 hours to reach Base Camp. We made multiple stops along the way, catching our breath, sipping water, and pushing through. Luckily, the acclimatization walk we had done the previous evening helped prepare our bodies. The altitude was unforgiving, but our resolve was stronger.
One of our teammates began slowing down, struggling with altitude. Our guide quickly asked for support, so I stayed close, diverting their attention from the discomfort by keeping the conversation light and full of positivity. It worked—step by step, we made it to Base Camp together.
And when we finally reached, the feeling was hard to describe.
eo Purgyil Base Camp
Reo Purgyil Base Camp was perched at an altitude of around 5,500 meters (18,044 feet). We met climbers from different states—veterans of the sport, many of them in their 50s or 60s—who had been acclimatizing here for over a week. Some were preparing to summit Leo Purgyil (6,791 meters)—a massive ice climb located right across from Reo. Beautiful in its own way. But this time, our eyes and hearts were fixed on Reo—the legendary, lesser-known rocky titan.
At this altitude, everything slows down. Even boiling water takes longer. The air feels thinner. Just breathing demands more effort. I started to feel the effects of low oxygen for the first time. Mild headache, uneasiness, a subtle shift in how my body reacted to everything.
Still, our full team reached safely. We pitched our tents, cooked food, and rested. Some chatted with the other climbers, exchanging weather updates. Others lay still, just soaking in the silence that only a place like this can offer.
The Evening Walk – A Glimpse of the Peak
That evening, our guide suggested another acclimatization walk. A local with deep roots in Kinnaur, he filled the journey with stories—some ancient, some recent. Tales of this land, of the Reo Devta, and of climbers who came chasing the silence.
It was during this walk that we saw Reo Purgyil—truly saw it—for the first time.
The clouds were clearing slowly, almost like curtains unveiling a stage. And there it was. Towering, mighty, silent. For a moment, it looked like something out of a dream. Not entirely covered in snow, just a touch of white near the summit—enough to add elegance to its raw strength.
Then came the sunset.
At that altitude, with the golden light scattering across sharp ridgelines, I forgot the world. The rush, the routine, the noise—everything faded. It was just us, the mountain, and a sky that looked like fire.
In that moment, hope lit up inside us. We traced the route with our eyes, as our guide pointed to the ridge and explained the final approach. The idea of summiting didn’t feel distant anymore. It felt real.
We returned to Base Camp late in the evening. The night sky was different here—thick with stars, too many to count. But sleep wasn’t easy. The oxygen levels made rest difficult. I turned inside the sleeping bag for hours, eyes wide open, breathing heavy, heart still somewhere on that ridgeline.
A Difficult Morning – When Plans Change
The next morning began with a heavy mood. Four of our teammates were struggling. Headaches, fatigue, and symptoms of acute altitude discomfort had worsened overnight, and one was in no condition to continue.
By this time, I was feeling better. Still tired, but strong enough to keep going. That morning, along with the rest of the team, I went on a load ferry and route exploration mission—we had to find a suitable location for our summit push camp, preferably close to a water source.
As we walked closer to Reo, the terrain got sharper. Small rockslides rolled down occasionally, reminding us just how alive this mountain was. But in the middle of that harsh landscape, we stumbled upon something unexpected—a glacial lake. Crystal clear, untouched, shimmering under the sky. A small miracle at 5,800 meters.
Two of our teammates found a good flat patch nearby—perfect for the next camp. We spent some time there, soaking in the space, imagining what it would feel like to push for the summit from that point.
When we returned to Base Camp that evening, we were tired but excited. The plan for the next day was clear.
But the mountain had other ideas.
The Turnaround – When Mountains Choose for You
The altitude began to strike harder. Some of us weren’t able to eat, drink, or sleep. Headaches turned severe. One of our teammates fell seriously ill. Oxygen levels dropped dangerously low.
The next morning, we had a team meeting. Four of us decided to descend back to Nako—for safety, for recovery, and for the team. I was among them.
It wasn’t an easy decision. My heart wanted to push for the summit. But my duty, my instinct, and my loyalty told me this was the moment to help my teammates descend safely.
So I carried both my backpack and a teammate’s. Step by step, we made our way down. And all the while, my mind stayed on that peak—Reo, still standing tall in the distance.
The rest of the group—Gitu Bhai, Bits Bhai, Simond Bhai, and Dujal Bhai—stayed on, determined to make a summit attempt.
As we descended toward Nako the next day, the rain followed us. For two days, there was no communication. No calls. No updates. Just waiting. Praying. Hoping.
In a place like this, silence feels heavier.
The Return – Not a Summit, But a Victory
When our teammates finally returned to Nako, emotions overflowed. They had reached close to 6,000 meters, but the summit push was aborted due to unsafe conditions. The rock was too loose. The mountain was not ready. And that was okay.
Because the mountain is never conquered. It’s only visited, with respect.
And we had been blessed to come this far.
We hugged each other like brothers. No one spoke much. We didn’t need to. The eyes said it all—we had lived something unforgettable together.
Final Thoughts – The Mountain That Changed Us
This expedition was never just about reaching the top. It was about the journey, the lessons, the raw truth of nature, and the strength of unity.
We faced low oxygen, rough climbs, sleepless nights, and emotional highs and lows. We met strangers who felt like old friends. We learned when to push—and when to pause.
And through it all, Reo Purgyil stood like a mirror, showing us who we really were.
I know in my heart—we’ll try again. The mountain isn’t going anywhere. It’s waiting.
If you’re someone who lives for adventure, who doesn’t mind discomfort, who wants to find something beyond the ordinary—Reo Purgyil is calling you too.
And if you’d like a visual taste of our journey, head over to my YouTube channel here for a glimpse into the expedition.