Soon to be, or perhaps already, totally uncool
---rahul
We'll jump and we'll see
Maybe it's the fact that in 12 hours we leave for two weeks in Tibet, but once again, we're gonna try to resist the urge to wax too rhapsodic about our 17-day trek through the Himalayas. But all the pictures are up! Click on the Photos link on the side and you'll see our albums on Everest, the Nepali MS150, and our trip through Kathmandu and Royal Chitwan National Park. As for the trek, here's some highlights:
The Beginning - Twenty minutes into our 16-day trek, after reading extensively about the perils of altitude sickness, we passed a group coming down led by a twentysomething woman being led on a horse. She was sheet white and clearly was riding because she wasn't able to walk. As we gave her what we thought were understanding smiles, she glared at us and said "In two weeks, you'll understand."
The Israelis - Israelis probably have the worst reputation of any nationality on the traveller's circuit (even worse than Americans, gasp!). According to the lore, they're loud, obnoxious, cheap, and only hang out with each other. There are also tons of them everywhere. They usually take a year (or two, or ten) off after their mandatory military service and travel to the most remote parts of the world. On day five of our trek, we met six Israeli guys who killed all the stereotypes (okay, almost, they are loud, but we loved it). When we came upon them on the
trail, one had just eaten a yak poop patty on a dare for a prize of 10 Snickers bars from his buddies. He also got a bonus of explosive diarrhea two days later. Later that day, we watched two of the guys carry a Frenchwoman suffering from altitude sickness who had been deserted by her tour group back down the trail for hours till they got her to safety. They taught us card games, helped hone our bargaining skills, and made us laugh over and over again.
Dirk - Around the same time, we met Dirk, a 38 year-old Belgian father of two, the happiest house-husband we've ever met, completely committed to never having a job for the rest of his life. He and his wife have hitchhiked their way through Mongolia, Tibet, Alaska, and Southeast Asia. On the first night they met, she moved into his house and never left. He's been up and down every trail in the Himalayas, and guided us around, putting up with our smelly farts, our weird American jokes, and our constantly changing hiking plans. He even fed us Nutella sandwiches and hot lemonade on the trail. We miss him already.
The Blizzard - We carefully planned our schedule so that for our hardest climb over a huge, steep, slippery pass, we'd hike to the nearest village the afternoon before. Unfortunately, at 2pm when we started our hike, a massive blizzard hit and after 20 minutes, we had to turn around and go back because we couldn't see the trail, each other, or the crevasses in
the glacier that we shouldn't fall into. We cursed the weather gods because we knew it would mean a killer climb over the pass the next day, but we soon changed our tune when the storm passed and we climbed up a nearby hill and took another look at the longest glacier in the world,
covered in snow, surrounded by mountains. It was one of the most beautiful things we've ever seen in our lives.
The Porters - They are freaking unbelievable. Most days we saw over a hundred guys, carrying stuff up and down the mountains. There's no roads into any of these villages, so anything that comes up, comes up on either yaks or backs (with the occasional exception of a helicopter drop). This includes cases of beer, sheets of plywood, 2X4s, meat carcasses, dairy whitener, Pringles, and of course, chocolate. As we were making our way up switchback after switchback, we watched a 5'5" guy walk by in flip-flops carring two 50kg bags of rice up. That's 100 kgs (220 lbs). Stunning.
The Climbs - The first few days of trekking were pretty chill. In order to avoid altitude sickness, you only want to gain about 1000 feet a day, which in the straight-up Himalayas usually means an hour (or two) of hiking. But once we hit 15,000 feet, we got more hardcore, climbing up to between 17,500 and 19,000 feet on four consecutive days. We got little headaches, we got little everything-aches, but we saw some absolutely gorgeous views, at least when the clouds didn't come in and wipe out all our visibility. After the final climb (over the Cho-La pass), our legs were completely worked and even the tiniest little uphill stretch along our descent back to home base made us whince.
The Change in Plans - We started out fixin' to go to Everest Base Camp. We ended doing everything but that. We decided that instead of spending our trip trying to see the world's hightest mountain, we'd rather search for frozen alpine lakes, uninhabited and uninhibited views, and the, ahem, road less travelled. Just about every day we changed our plans somehow, and that was good. But someday, we're just gonna have to come back and make it to Base Camp.
The Deep-Fried Snickers- On what we thought was our last night of hiking (until a storm came in and grounded all the planes the next day), we ordered up a "Khumbu Glacier Melt" from our local lodge. It turned out to be a Snickers bar deep-fried in pastry. It was so good that we had to have another one the next night. Luckily the clouds parted and we flew back to Kathmandu before we were able to make it a threepeat.
The Yak Bells - Every once in a while, you think there's really no other being left on earth around you. You're dwarfed by the mountains around you and you feel absolutely isolated from everything. Then you hear a strange little tinkling sound and see a big hairy yak looking down at you, slowly loping up the trail, with a well-worn bell dangling from its neck, cutting through the harsh wind and telling you you're not alone. We love the yak. And the nak (its female counterpart).
The End - And then, after seventeen days, no showers, a couple pounds of chocolate, 20 helpings of chow mein and dal, and a whole lot of smelly, dirty underwear, we were done. After a day's delay because of grounded aircraft, we boarded our 10-seater plane and made our way back to Kathmandu, exhausted, exhilirated, ecstatic. Life in the Himalayas...is good.
When trying to recount a two-day bike ride, it's far too easy to degenerate into mind-numbing descriptions of bucolic scenery and bitter physical agony. And because the names Meg and Rahul will never be confused with Whitman and Tolstoy, we've resisted the urge to wax too poetic about our 150 km "achievement". I mean, who really wants to read "And at KM 20, we went up a really steep hill. Boy did our quads burn on that one. It was only bearable because of the dulcet tones of Himalayan winds whoosing through the soft pines of the Nepali forest." Not us. The truth is, as incredible as the ride was for us, we still wish we could have teleported ourselves to Texas to join the Pearsons and 10,000 other riders for the real MS150. So, we're gonna leave the blow-by-blow narration to the photos and highlight the key differences between the real MS150 and the Nepali MS150.
*The Team Captain* - On the MS150, your leader is Johnny Pearson (aka "Daderoo", "the Chairmanator"), a relatively recent convert to the sport of biking who thinks nothing of throwing his rippling 61 year-old, fluorescent yellow spandex-clad body into the peloton with thousands of novice riders. In the Nepali MS150, our guide was Tilak, a 27 year-old Nepali with a wife and six month-old baby at home who regularly leads two-week rides to Tibet over fifteen thousand foot passes, where the headwinds are so strong that even when you're dropping 3000 feet you have to pedal downhill. Tilak loves his job but is trying to decide whether to take a job in Qatar as an auto mechanic, where he can quadruple his pay, but will only see his family once a year and won't get to sherpa out-of-shape whities like us up the hill on bikes all the time.
*Rest stops* - On the MS150, you are tempted to dismount every 15 miles by well-stocked rest stops, where you can suck down orange slices and Gatorade, pose for pictures with your team, and even smear some Icy-Hot on your aching muscles if you need it. On the Nepali MS150, our first stop was at a military checkpoint where we had to prove that there were no Maoists hiding in our spandex. Our second stop was at a Buddhist monastery where we tried not to offend the monks with our immodest display of flesh. Somehow their saffron-colored robes did not find transcendent synergy with our irridescent jerseys. There were no orange slices or coolers of Gatorade to be found, but we did have a few packages of GU to fuel our journey, thanks to our friend and personal courier Courtney.
*Lunch* - On the MS150, it's PB&J, bananas, and Oreos. On the Nepali MS150, it was all-you-can-eat dal bhat (lentil soup, rice and a mystery vegetable) and chowmein. It's quite tasty really, but tends to sit in your stomach for the next two hours of uphill riding. Meg found no enjoyment in this on Day 1.
*Interaction with the locals* - MS150 -People park themselves in their lawnchairs all along the route, shouting encouragement, sporting laudatory signs (e.g. "Go Dunagan"), ringing bells, and grilling on the Q. Nepali MS150 - Villagers laughed at our spandex and our inability to keep up with our guide, but the children yelling "Namaste" and "Hallo, hallo" at the top of their lungs as we rode by made it fun to be out-of-place tourists for a few days. Except for one particularly cheeky kid who took advantage of our snail pace and ran up behind to grab onto our tires to slow us down even more. In the spirit of multinational friendship, we decided not to beat him. But we were not amused when he asked us for chocolate.
*The 1st night* - MS150- Cheering family greets you with Shiner's and massages, whisks you off to a local ranch and pampers you while you think despairingly about the day to come. Nepali MS150- After a final quad-busting climb ameliorated only by the dulcet tones of Himalayan winds swirling through the pine forests, we rolled into Nagarkhot, a cute little village nestled in the the hills. There, cheering family greeted us with Everest beers and hugs and pampered us while we thought despairingly about the next day to come.
*SAG wagons* - In the MS 150, maroon vans with hokey shoe-polished messages on their windows cruise the route offering free lifts to weary riders. In the Nepali MS150, the "roads" were not suitable for automobiles of any kind, which is probably for the best since we would have found it nearly impossible to resist an escape route from the pain. Pave the world, we say!! Pave it! Pave it!
*The end* - MS150 - Austin state capitol, banners, live music, beer and food everywhere, and a teary Cathy Pearson waiting to hug us all senseless as soon as we cross the finish line. Nepali MS150 - The last ten kilometers are through the streets of Kathmandu, a Darwinian place where bicyclists are somewhere between cow babies and caterpillars on the food chain. If a truck should approach, we were expected to swerve ten feet out of the way to allow its mighty load to pass. No love was shown for our charitable goals or our Western biking rights. But once we made it through gridlock traffic, around five roundabouts, down a couple alleys, and back to the bike shed, it was suhweeet to be done. We would have given anything to have the Pearson gang with us, but we did our best to make do with a cab ride home, a loooong hot shower, and mediocre pizza for dinner.
So, all in all, the Nepali MS150 kicked ass, both the literal asses of both of us, and the proverbial-cum-metaphysical ass that is kicked by awesomeness everywhere. Meg missed her family more than any other time this trip. Rahul missed bike lanes, clip-in pedals and Gatorade deeply, but dug his family for taking a long car ride out to meet us for the first night. We had a freakin' blast, and we hope to never do the Nepali MS150 again, but come April 2006, we shall return triumphantly to Houston to soak in the food, the festivity, the fun, and all the Peason amazingness that comes with the real MS150.
Thanks for everyone out there who's donated to the cause so far. We're still short of our $2000 goal, but we know we can make it there with this one last fundraising push. So, if you're still tempted to give us some money, here's how:
Click on:
http://nepalims150.blogspot.com and follow the Donate link
Adios everyone!