An Alpine Season in Ladakh
First Ascents of three
6000m peaks in the Khyam lungpa[1]
Text and Photos: Anindya Mukherjee
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| Khyam lungpa |
Background
Sometimes, the most memorable adventures stem from the most unexpected turns. In August 2023, Christian Ranke and I, was aiming to traverse the twin summits of Kang Yatse IV, a feat that would build upon our previous success on Satopanth in 2016[2]. Kang Yatse IV had already become familiar terrain for me—on 1st August 2021, I had been part of a team known as 2L1B (Two Ladakhi One Bengali), which made the first ‘documented’ ascent of the North summit of Kang Yatse IV (6130m). Along with Ladakhi climbers Sonam Yangjor and Stanzin Wangial Kaya, we climbed the mountain in alpine style, reaching the North Summit via the North Face-North Ridge route[3]. That ascent left me deeply connected to the region, and I was eager to return.
However, this time, the mountains had different plans. After spending a week struggling up the northern slopes of Kang Yatse IV, I fell ill with a severe stomach infection, likely from a bug I contracted from a meal I had on the Rajdhani Express to New Delhi. Despite our best efforts, I was forced to abandon the climb and retreat to Leh, leaving Chris to find consolation on Kang Yatse I. Chris and I parted our ways in the village of Hangkar. While, Chris moved up the Markha valley, I arrived in Leh, rather disheartened with three unexpected days at my disposal and an urgent desire to salvage something from the expedition.
While reviewing my maps, I noticed a lesser-known valley northwest of the UT Kangri[4] peaks: the Khyam lungpa. What caught my eye was the proximity of several unclimbed 6000-meter peaks, within a 10-kilometer hike away from the roadhead near the village of Rumtse on the Leh- Manali highway. This led to a spur-of-the-moment decision to go and have a look at the valley—one that would soon unfold into something far more significant.
On 20th August 2023, I left Leh in Deldan Nurboo’s taxi, accompanied by Abdul Latif, a quiet and unassuming man from Doda who had worked as a porter with Chris and me in the Langthang Chu Valley just a week prior. Despite his reserved nature, I had come to admire Latif for his steady presence and quiet strength. Nurboo dropped us off at Rumtse, about 80 kilometres southeast of Leh. From there, Latif and I set off on foot, hiking roughly 10 kilometres up the valley, tracing the stream that flowed from the turquoise waters of Khyam Chho[5]. As the sun dipped below the rugged peaks, we pitched our solitary tent, right next to the stream, at around 5150m. That night I went to bed mesmerized by the raw beauty of the Khyam valley and the promise of the adventure ahead.
The next morning, leaving Latif at camp, I scrambled up the east face of a 5885-meter peak—the nearest to our camp and a perfect vantage point for surveying the Khyam valley. It was a crystal-clear morning, and the excitement of the climb drove me upwards. Soon, I stood alone atop the unnamed peak, looking out over the untouched landscape of the valley. As I gazed at the jagged peaks surrounding me, I noticed something that gave the summit an even deeper significance—several old cairns, their weathered stones carefully stacked in the traditional style of the locals. It was clear that these cairns were not placed by outsiders or visiting climbers, but by those who had long called this land home. Their presence added a sense of connection to the valley’s past and its people, reminding me that even the remotest places hold traces of human history.
The summit of peak 5885m, though purely a non-technical ascent, brought a profound sense of accomplishment and immediate relief from the frustration of my recent illness. The panoramic vista revealed the full sweep of unclimbed peaks above 6000 meters, with the turquoise Khyam Chho shimmering below. Two peaks at the head of the valley, Khyam I and II, had been previously climbed[6], but only by large colonial-style expeditions, which laid fixed ropes across easy-angled slopes—methods that felt more like an insult to the mountains than a respectful ascent. Standing there, I realized I would return to this pristine valley, not only for the adventure but also to explore it in a way that honoured the landscape. I envisioned future climbs with minimal environmental impact and an approach rooted in respect for the mountains.
With this vision in mind, I decided to invite Gerry Galligan, an explorer and accomplished climber, to join me in July-August 2024 to explore Khyam lungpa together. The idea of returning with a trusted partner filled me with excitement, as I knew we would be able to push the boundaries of what I had begun during my solo exploration. Later, as plans took shape, I extended invitations to four young climbers, Ashish Chanda, Rivu Das, Nihal Sarkar and Neetu Singh, to join our expedition. It wasn’t just about the climb—it was about mentorship. I wanted to share not only my knowledge of the valley but also the philosophy of respectful, low-impact exploration with the next generation of climbers. This expedition would be an opportunity for them to learn, grow, and connect with the mountains in a way that went beyond the summit.
But as the year 2024 progressed, I could not wait patiently till Gerry’s arrival in July. Along with Aloke Kumar Das, my expedition partner since Nanda Devi East in 2013[7], decided to have a quick visit to the Khyam valley in June itself and thus began my romancing with the valley and its unclimbed peaks. What began in June 2024, was only the beginning of a longer journey. Over the course of three separate visits, stretching all the way to the first week of September, the Khyam lungpa continued to unveil its secrets. Each return brought new discoveries, deeper connections with the landscape, and further exploration of its rugged, unclimbed peaks. What started as a quick summer visit turned into a season of exploration, spread across months, where the valley's untamed beauty revealed itself piece by piece.
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| Map: Ashish Chanda |
June 2024- First Ascent of Peak 6050m ( also a solo ascent and a full traverse)
Our plan for June 2024 was originally set in North Sikkim. Ashish, Rivu, Aloke and I had our sights on the remote terrain around Sebu la. We had been planning this trip for months, eager to venture into an untouched area where few had trekked before. The itinerary promised adventure—new routes, high passes, and the thrill of stepping into the unknown. But as the date of our departure approached, the weather in Sikkim took a dramatic turn. Torrential rains pounded the region, causing the Teesta River to swell dangerously close to flooding. Reports of landslides and treacherous road conditions started pouring in, and soon, it became clear that the window for our trek was closing fast. Safety became a concern. We were left with a tough decision—to push forward and risk getting caught in a flood or wait it out and possibly lose the entire season.
After much deliberation, we reluctantly called off the Sikkim trek. It was a frustrating moment for us; months of preparation seemed to dissolve overnight. But climbers and explorers are no strangers to changing plans due to climate related issues these days. With little time to waste, we shifted our focus to a place that had become familiar to me—the Khyam valley in Ladakh. When I summited the 5885-meter peak in August 2023, my gaze was drawn to a striking mountain to its immediate south—Peak 6050m. Its towering presence captivated my imagination from that moment on, standing as a beacon of untouched possibility. The moment we knew Sikkim was off limits this season, Aloke and I had set our sights on it with single-minded focus. We knew that this time there would be no distractions—our goal was clear, and we were determined to make a direct attempt on Peak 6050m and in the next 10 days, we had pulled together a new expedition.
On 14th June, after spending a 72-hour acclimatisation period in Leh, we left for the mountains, still processing the disappointment of North Sikkim but eager to dive into the adventure that awaited us in the Khyam valley. After a three-hour drive, we reached Rumtse at around 4300 meters, where we spent the night. The next morning, we packed our gear and hiked roughly 10 kilometres into the valley, setting up base camp at 5150 meters, more or less at the same place where I had camped a year before. On 17th June, we moved higher into the valley, establishing a high camp at 5350 meters (marked as C-1 in map). The next morning, we would go for Peak 6050m, our minds fully focused on the climb.
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| Peak 6050m with my route. |
The morning of 18th June dawned clear and crisp as we set off toward the East Face of Peak 6050m. The first part of the climb involved scrambling up the lower slopes, which were a mix of loose scree and snow patches. As we gained height, the terrain steepened significantly, and the climb turned into a demanding push up the East Face. The snow became deeper, and our crampons dug into the hard pack, ensuring every step was secure. Our progress was steady, but as we approached the first gendarme on its North ridge, disaster struck—the cage of one of Aloke’s crampons broke. It was an icy face with a fair bit of exposure. With no way to safely continue, he was forced to turn back. It was a tough moment, but the decision was clear, and I had to continue the climb solo.
Once past the gendarme, the climb transitioned from the open face to the narrower and more exposed North Ridge. Here, the ridge demanded precision and balance, as both sides fell away sharply into the valleys below. The ridge was adorned with a series of small gendarmes, each requiring careful navigation, ranging between UK scrambling grade 3-4 with some ice sections necessitating axes and crampons. The views began to open up as I climbed up the sharp ridge, revealing the full sweep of the Khyam valley beneath me to my left (East) and the valley of Pholung Nakma to my right (West).
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| the gendarme on the North ridge of 6050 |
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| the top pyramid of the gendarme |
The ridge was a challenging traverse with its series of gendarmes, but by 1:06 pm, I reached the summit of Peak 6050m. Standing on the top, I could see the entire expanse of the Khyam Valley and beyond—peaks, glaciers, an endless canvas of possibilities. It was a moment of hard-earned triumph, a reminder of why we do what we do. To the East, Gyamshu[8] (6057m) rose in formidable fashion, and beyond it, the higher reaches of an unnamed peak 6044m and Khyam II (6065m) dominated the scene. It was at that moment, standing on the summit of 6050m, that I knew my journey here wasn’t over. The valley still had so much to reveal, and I was determined to return, this time with Gerry and other friends by my side, to venture deeper into this rugged wilderness and continue the exploration that had only just begun.
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| the mixed section just below the summit pyramid |
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| Summit pyramid as seen from North, peak 6050. |
After savouring the summit for a few minutes, I decided to extend the adventure by traversing the South Ridge and descending via a South-East spur that brought me back into the valley. Nine hours after I’d begun, the climb was complete. I had made the first ascent and the first traverse of Peak 6050m and that too, solo. On 19th June, Aloke and I packed up and made our way down to the road, where we found Nurboo waiting for us in his car. As Kishor Kumar’s voice flowed from the radio, I couldn’t help but smile—just three hours’ drive stood between me, a shave, a hot shower, and a cold beer. After all, it was my birthday.
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| View from the summit of 6050. 18 June 2024 |
July 2024: First Documented Ascent of Ama Chomo Nyug Ri 6057m
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| Ama Chomo Nyug Ri a.k.a. Gyamshu and our line of ascent. Photo: Ashish Chanda |
Gerry Galligan and I arrived in Leh during the third week of July. The familiar high-altitude air of Ladakh was a welcome change after the months of planning, and the excitement of returning to the Khyam lungpa was palpable. Rivu met us in Leh, and together, we spent a few days acclimatizing and preparing for the upcoming expedition. At Rumtse our group slowly began to assemble. Nihal flew directly into Leh and took the bus to Rumtse, while Ashish, in his typical rugged style, opted for the more adventurous and gruelling journey. Starting from Howrah, he travelled in the non-air-conditioned general compartment of a train to Delhi and then endured a back-breaking, non-stop bus ride from Delhi to Rumtse via Manali and Keylong. His arrival in Rumtse was testament to his sheer tenacity. Meanwhile, Neetu and Lakpa, would join us later at base camp after ten more days.
By the time we were all set to leave for the Khyam lungpa, our team had taken shape: Gerry, Rivu, Nihal, Ashish, and I. We were united by a single goal—exploring the unclimbed peaks of this remote valley. Once we were all set to leave for the Khyam valley, we knew we had a considerable amount of gear to transport. From Rumtse, we hired the services of Rigzin Namgyal, a local muleteer, who agreed to drop off our loads at the base camp site using his mules. His help was invaluable, allowing us to focus on the task ahead without the burden of carrying heavy loads ourselves right from the highway.
The valley greeted us with its usual stark, arid beauty. Jagged peaks rose in every direction, ridges with very little snow cover, starkly less than the previous month, cutting through the brown, barren landscape. For some, it may seem desolate, but for us, it was a climber’s paradise. Base camp quickly became a hub of activity as we finalized our preparations. The plan was to tackle two major peaks: Ama Chomo Nyug Ri (6057m) and the unnamed Peak 6044m. While Ashish, Gerry and I spent a couple of days of ferrying loads and prospecting for a suitable high camp site for Ama Chomo Nyug Ri, Nihal climbed peak 5885m solo on July 28th. On July 29th, Gerry and I finally shifted to our high camp at 5629 meters (marked as C-2 on map). The weather quickly turned against us. As soon as we established the camp, a violent storm swept in, bringing freezing temperatures, hail, and fierce winds that caused our tent to collapse. It took all our strength to keep it from being blown away in the storm. The holy mountain of Ama Chomo Nyug Ri was making its presence known.
The next morning (July 30), with the storm still threatening, we debated whether to proceed. In the end, we decided to go for it. The climb began with a brutal 100-meter scramble over loose scree and silt, zig-zagging up unstable ground. As we gained the ridge (East), the panorama of the peaks opened up around us, and the scramble upwards became easier. The ridge, a jumbled staircase of rocks and blocks, reminded Gerry of the infamous Hornli Ridge on the Matterhorn—a comparison that wasn’t lost on me as we struggled upward.
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| Gerry on the summit of Ama Chomo Nyug Ri |
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| Summit wefie on Ama Chomo Nyug Ri. Peak 6044 in the bacdrop |
As we neared the summit, our excitement turned bittersweet. There, standing before us, was a large cairn, structurally similar to the one I saw on top of Peak 5885m—evidence of a prior, unofficial ascent. Our hearts sank. We weren’t the first after all. But we took solace in knowing we had made the first ‘documented’ ascent, likely by a new route from the East Ridge. We tied prayer flags to the cairn, captured our summit photos, and began our descent via the South Ridge, knowing the mountain had still rewarded us with a challenging and unforgettable experience.
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| Khyam chho, 6050 and 5885 from the summit of Ama Chomo Nyug Ri |
August 2024: The First Ascent of Peak 6044m
With the ascent of Ama Chomo Nyug Ri behind us, our attention turned to Peak 6044m, an unclimbed, ice-covered mountain that had drawn us in from the moment we arrived. This time, our team expanded to include Neetu and Lakpa, who joined us at base camp on August 1st. However, progress came to a halt as relentless rain set in for the next three days. During one of those wet, dreary days, Ashish and I managed to set up another camp (marked as C-3 on our map) beyond Khyam Chho, hoping to push further the next day. But with the rain continuing unabated, we were forced to return to base camp the following day.
It was during this period that we had to say goodbye to two of our young climbers, Rivu and Nihal, who both showed persistent signs of AMS, compounded by other complications. Their departure was a tough but necessary decision as the expedition pushed forward. Finally, on September 5th, our patience paid off and as soon as there was a break in the weather, we moved efficiently, ferrying loads to a new high camp (marked as C-4) set at the base of the North cwm of peak 6044m. The North Face of Peak 6044m towered above us—steep, formidable, and riddled with crevasses. At its base, a massive glacial ice field stretched across the breadth of the mountain, with minor avalanches having swept its slopes in the days leading up to our climb. Our plan was to divide into two teams: Gerry, Lakpa, and Neetu would ascend directly up the ice field, while Ashish and I would follow a slightly less challenging route to the left. Both teams aimed to eventually converge on the long East Ridge.
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| Peak 6044m, North Face |
On August 7th, we set off in the early morning as two roped parties, the cold air biting at our faces as we crossed the glacier. The climb was steep, and the crevasses were numerous, but we moved steadily, working our way higher with each step. As we neared the ridge, the gradient increased, and the exposure became more pronounced. Once we reached the ridge, the five of us regrouped and continued together, scrambling over loose rock and navigating patches of ice as we made our final push for the summit. When we reached the summit of Peak 6044m, there was an undeniable sense of elation—no cairn, no sign of any previous climbers. This was a true first ascent. We celebrated at the top, Lakpa placing a flat rock in a crack at the summit as a symbolic marker, and we tied a prayer flag around it. The views were nothing short of spectacular. Snow-capped peaks stretched in every direction—Khyam I and II to the south, UT Kangri I and II to the East, Ama Chomo Nyug Ri to our immediate North, Peak 6050m to northwest, and countless unnamed summits rising like silent sentinels. After a brief rest on the summit, we decided to push the adventure further by making the first complete East-West traverse of the peak. We descended into the saddle that connected Peak 6044m with Ama Chomo Nyug Ri, navigating tricky sections of loose rock and snow as we made our way back to camp.
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| Left to right: Lakpa, Ashish, Gerry, Neetu. Summit of peak 6044m |
September 2024: A Free Solo and A New Line on 6044m
As we descended from the summit of Peak 6044m on 7th August, my eyes kept drifting back to the North Face, an imposing, nearly vertical line that seemed to beckon me for one last challenge. The face was steep, raw, and untouched—everything I sought in a final climb for the season. I knew time was short, and we needed to return to Leh, but I couldn’t shake the desire to climb that face. The thought lingered long after we left the valley, slowly morphing into a plan that took over my mind.
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| September was visibly colder :D Peak 6044 in the distance and Ama Chomo Nyug Ri in the centre after a fresh coat of snow |
Back in Leh, the North Face of 6044m refused to leave my thoughts. I had guiding commitments in the Markha Valley in mid-August, but that face pulled at me, refusing to be ignored. I knew I would return, and it had to be soon. Within a few days, I had devised a new plan: one more expedition to the Khyam Valley, this time with Aloke once again by my side. Aloke didn’t need much convincing. As soon as I mentioned the possibility, he was in. We had climbed together on so many memorable expeditions, and the idea of one last adventure for the season was all it took. By the end of August, after completing my guiding duties in the Markha Valley, I was back in Leh, ready for one more push. Aloke arrived soon after, and together we set off for the valley, retracing our steps to base camp, which had by now become familiar ground. The North Face of 6044m awaited us, just as I had envisioned it weeks earlier. This time, the plan was straightforward: I would climb the direct line up the face, while Aloke would support from the glacier below. There would be no distractions, no deviations—just the pure, unfiltered challenge of that steep line.
On 2nd September, under a cold, cloudy Ladakhi sky, the time had finally come. I set off toward the North Face, my mind focused, my body ready. The face was as demanding as I had imagined—ice and rock interwoven in a nearly vertical ascent that left little room for error. My crampons bit into the hard ice, my axes found their holds, and slowly, methodically, I made my way upward. Each movement felt purposeful, deliberate. There was no rush, only the steady, rhythmic sound of my breath and the crunch of ice beneath my crampons.
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| my line on Peak 6044 |
From the glacier below, Aloke waited, watching as I inched closer to the summit. This wasn’t just another climb—it was the culmination of a vision, an idea that had taken root during our previous expedition and refused to let go. And now, here I was, climbing that very line, exactly as I had imagined. After two hours of climbing, I reached the top of the face and the traversed the last few hundred meters to the summit. A sense of completeness washed over me. It wasn’t just about summiting the peak—it was about fulfilling a promise to myself, about bringing a vision full circle. The Khyam valley had tested me, drawn me back again and again, and now, in this final moment, I felt as though I had answered its call. As I descended back down to the glacier, where Aloke was waiting, it all fell into place. The journey that had begun months ago had finally come full circle. We had made our mark on this remote, rugged valley, and as I stood beside my long-time climbing partner, I knew that this chapter in Khyam Lungpa had come to a close.
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| All three lines on 6044. Photo taken from the summit of Ama Chomo Nyug Ri by Gerry Galligan |
Summary of our ascents in the Khyam lungpa (June- September, 2024):
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Peak |
Route and grade |
Date of ascent |
Climbed by |
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1. 6050m (33°34'06.7"N, 77°39'00.4"E) |
Ascent by East Face- North Ridge. Descent by South Ridge- South-East Spur. Grade: Alpine AD. Solo ascent and traverse. Name of route: ‘Kulwinder’ |
18/06/2024 |
Anindya Mukherjee, First Ascent |
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2. 5885m (33°35'01.1"N, 77°39'40.2"E) |
South Ridge, Grade: Alpine F, Solo |
28/07/2024 |
Nihal Sarkar |
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3. Ama Chomo Nyug Ri, aka, Gyamshu, 6057m (33°32´46.36´´N, 77°40´30.76´´E) |
North Face- East Ridge, Grade: Alpine PD, Descent by South Ridge, traverse |
30/07/2024 |
Gerry Galligan and Anindya Mukherjee, First ‘documented’ ascent. |
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4. 6044m (33°32´10.34´´N, 77°40´35.43´´ E) |
Ascent by East Ridge and East- West traverse, Grade: Alpine AD |
07/08/2024 |
Gerry Galligan, Ashish Chanda, Lakpa Sherpa, Neetu Singh, Anindya Mukherjee. First Ascent |
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5. 6044m (33°32´10.34´´N, 77°40´35.43´´ E) |
Ascent by North Face- North Ridge, Grade: Alpine D, Name of route: ‘Aloke Da’ |
02/09/2024 |
Anindya Mukherjee, second ascent, new route, solo |
Team/s in Khyam lungpa 2024:
June: Aloke Kumar Das and Anindya Mukherjee
July-August: Gerry Galligan, Ashish Chanda, Nihal Sarkar, Rivusoumya Das, Neetu Singh, Phurtenji Sherpa (Lakpa) and Anindya Mukherjee
August-September: Aloke Kumar Das and Anindya Mukherjee
Acknowledgements:
We extend our heartfelt thanks to The Himalayan Club for their kind support of our July-August expedition through a grant for the mentorship program. Our gratitude also goes to Rigzin Namgyal of Rumtse, who ensured the transport of our loads to basecamp with his mules. A special thanks to Mero Expeditions, Leh, for handling the permits. I am profoundly grateful to the many friends who offered their unconditional support and assistance to the Khyam Lungpa project, including Nilanjan Patra, Sameer Jhawar, Bhushan Poshe, Sabyasachi Talukdar, and Venkatesh Maheswari.
[1] In Ladakhi language, ‘Lungpa’ typically means ‘valley’. It is a common term used in Ladakh and surrounding regions to describe long, narrow valleys or basins surrounded by mountains. Therefore, ‘Khyam Lungpa’ would refer to the Khyam Valley in English.
[2]A. Mukherjee, A Happy Ascent of Satopanth, The Himalayan Journal, vol- 72, 2017, p.294
[3] A. Mukherjee, The First Ascent of Kang Yatse IV, The Himalayan Journal, vol-76, 2021, p.271
[4] UT Kangri- Union Territory Kangri are the twin peaks (UT Kangri I- 6070m and UT Kangri II- 6094m) near Tanglang la (5328m, also spelled ‘Taglang’), were first climbed by members of the Ladakh Mountain Guides Association in 2020 and christened so to celebrate the Union Territory status of Ladakh on 31st October, 2019.
[5] In Ladakhi, the word ‘Chho’ (or ‘Tsho’) means ‘lake’. It is often used to describe bodies of water in the region. For example, the term ‘Pangong Tso’ refers to the Pangong Lake, with ‘Tso’ or ‘Chho’ indicating ‘lake’.
So, when you see names like ‘Khyam Chho’, it refers to ‘Khyam Lake’.
[6] Indian Mountaineer, Vol 49, 2013, p.25
[7] Anindya Mukherjee, Nanda Devi East, The Himalayan Journal, vol- 69, 2013-14, p. 212
[8] Although this particular peak is marked on several maps as ‘Gyamshu’, it is locally known as ‘Ama Chomo Nyug Ri’ and is considered holy. In Ladakhi, "Ane" means "nun," and "Chomo" also refers to a "nun" or a "female religious practitioner" in Tibetan Buddhism. The term "Ane Chomo" is often used to describe a Buddhist nun, combining both words to emphasize the religious role of a woman dedicated to monastic life. It makes perfect sense that Ama Chomo Nyug Ri might have derived its name from Ane Chomo, especially when the peak is revered by the villagers of Rumtse and Gya as a goddess. In Ladakhi culture, mountains are often regarded as sacred, with certain peaks believed to embody the protective spirit of a deity or goddess. The name "Ama Chomo" likely reflects this deep spiritual connection, where "Ama" (meaning "mother") and "Chomo" (meaning "nun" or "goddess") evoke the sense of a divine, nurturing presence, with the peak being venerated as a guardian or protector of the region. In Ladakhi, "Nyug" generally means "west" or "western." So, in the context of "Ama Chomo Nyug Ri," the term "Nyug" could indicate that the peak is located to the west of something significant, perhaps relative to other peaks or geographic features in the region. The full name "Ama Chomo Nyug Ri" might therefore suggest a sacred or goddess peak situated in the western part of a particular range or area.
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