The downhill run to the Tibet/Nepal border was wickedly fun. It was cold and wet and the visibility was dangerously low but I loved it. The potholed tarmac plunged on one side into the depths of a gorge whose bottom was often obscured by mist, and came up hard on the other side against black rock fringed by dense greenery. The rock wall was carved by occasional waterfalls, the biggest of which crashed down upon concrete bunkers crudely built to protect passing traffic and grinning cyclists. The water being squeezed through the bottom of the gorge boiled ferociously and Anil looked smug as he explained the rapids were classed at the highest level of difficulty. "If you can kayak those, you can kayak any river in the World", he said.
The road is a controlled fall from the rooftop of the World. It chases the tumbling water clumsily through mountains and forest, through the heart of sleazy townships where we outran chasing dogs and avoided toddlers defecating in the middle of the road, and ends at the border where trucks are parked in lines up to two kms long. And just as Russell used to service the needs of the old-time whalers and earned its name as the 'Hell Hole of the Pacific', those roadside towns service the men who are waiting for their cargos to be cleared by the border officials.
In a situation reminiscent of Cold War movies, once you have passed through the Chinese check point it is necessary to cross a reasonably short bridge before entering Nepal on the far side. On the one side are crisp uniforms, erect postures and even mannequin-like soldiers standing to attention inside bullet proof glass cages, machine guns to hand. On the other, carelessly worn uniforms on men slouching in chairs or engaged in casual conversations. We sat in the open in the rain while porters moved our chairs and luggage on their backs and piled them in the wet with our sleeping mats until the buses could be brought up. We were wet and cold and happy to be back in the chaotic jubilance of Nepal. As Anil said to me, "I am looking forward to getting back to civilisation". Tibet, by any standard, is hard work, let alone from a chair but I'll be happy to return ...just as soon as the cow jumps over the moon.
Then a scary bus ride along a cliff edge road that might have qualified for 'World's Most Dangerous Roads', and long story short we arrived back at the Kathmandu Guest House feeling like we were home. Almost.
And in ones and twos the team left, generally with some relief it can be said. Until we were five. And in a few hours we'll be home...thank God.
Wednesday, 17 July 2013
Post 9: Thursday 11th
It's easier to source a drinkable bottle of red wine in Nepal than it is in Tibet. This is a demonstrable fact, as I have proven this evening while dining in Kathmandu with the remnants of the Catwalk Big Cycle team. In Tibet, one can purchase a bottle of Great Wall red wine or...well, nothing actually. That's it, Great Wall red wine and it barks like a Tibetan dog. Tonight in the Thamel district of Kathmandu, we enjoyed a couple of bottles of Portuguese something or other and it was great.
The day after EBC there was a consensus that we weasel out of the days scheduled ride. Truthfully, bodies and bikes weren't up to it and the route was tough, taking us through some of the most spectacular but challenging terrain of the journey. Our Tibetan bus drivers raced over roads unsuited for such things, while Sexy Driver (I never learnt his real name) transported those of us in the van more sedately to our lodgings for the night. Amy and I opted for the musty ground floor room, while the rest of he team went for he relative grandeur of the balcony accommodations. I wanted access to the street and the chance of a shower, though the later proved impossible as I found it all but impossible not to roll into the squat toilet in the bathroom floor..
There was a surreal moment when a squad of 20 or 30 Chinese policemen marching in military formation with batons extended halted in front of a small group of us about to enter a bar. I was clearly the focus of their interest and, for a few heartbeats, I believed I was about to be arrested for criticising Chairman Mao in one of my blogs...such is the state of things in Tibet. A brief but sharp command caused four of the squad to jog in formation toward me, compounding my confusion and fear until they took hold of my chair and hoisted me up the steps to the bar. I instinctively saluted the men and they returned the acknowledgement before rejoining their squad and marching off up the road.
That evening was the turning point of the expedition. The major goal had been achieved and the blinkers were removed. In a shabby Tibetan tea house we ate and drank and congratulated ourselves and each other. The Tibetan drivers and cooks were called up one by one to receive their tips and eyes were wiped as Kunchok's courage and tenacity was recognised. The Tibetans sang and danced with the girls and the stress of the last 6 months drifted away with their deep harmonies. And Everest Base Camp was a shitty pile of rocks and who gave a right Royal fuck if my trike was ok or not.
The day after EBC there was a consensus that we weasel out of the days scheduled ride. Truthfully, bodies and bikes weren't up to it and the route was tough, taking us through some of the most spectacular but challenging terrain of the journey. Our Tibetan bus drivers raced over roads unsuited for such things, while Sexy Driver (I never learnt his real name) transported those of us in the van more sedately to our lodgings for the night. Amy and I opted for the musty ground floor room, while the rest of he team went for he relative grandeur of the balcony accommodations. I wanted access to the street and the chance of a shower, though the later proved impossible as I found it all but impossible not to roll into the squat toilet in the bathroom floor..
There was a surreal moment when a squad of 20 or 30 Chinese policemen marching in military formation with batons extended halted in front of a small group of us about to enter a bar. I was clearly the focus of their interest and, for a few heartbeats, I believed I was about to be arrested for criticising Chairman Mao in one of my blogs...such is the state of things in Tibet. A brief but sharp command caused four of the squad to jog in formation toward me, compounding my confusion and fear until they took hold of my chair and hoisted me up the steps to the bar. I instinctively saluted the men and they returned the acknowledgement before rejoining their squad and marching off up the road.
That evening was the turning point of the expedition. The major goal had been achieved and the blinkers were removed. In a shabby Tibetan tea house we ate and drank and congratulated ourselves and each other. The Tibetan drivers and cooks were called up one by one to receive their tips and eyes were wiped as Kunchok's courage and tenacity was recognised. The Tibetans sang and danced with the girls and the stress of the last 6 months drifted away with their deep harmonies. And Everest Base Camp was a shitty pile of rocks and who gave a right Royal fuck if my trike was ok or not.
Post 8: Wednesday 10th
On July 6th we made it to Everest base camp, me with the help of a pink dressing gown. While it was very satisfying to reach the staging point of the world's highest mountain, I found my bliss two days later in the cold and the rain on the world's longest descent. But I'm getting ahead of myself...
The climb to Pang La pass and descent to the Rongbuk valley camp on July 4th was by far the most arduous day of the expedition. The 76 kilometre ride involved negotiating 46 switchbacks over a rocky and terribly corrugated dirt road to the 5,150 metre pass before dropping a thousand metres via the same hellish road.
It's impossible to exaggerate the misery of that road. While rocks and pot-holes could be avoided the cursed corrugations were everywhere and they took a toll on bodies and bikes. Two thirds of the way into the ascent the strain on my motor caused it to overheat and I rode in the van to the top of the pass. After a packed lunch, I chose to ride the descent with the others, which proved to be even more draining than the climb.
If our presence at high altitude had had us joking about our proximity to the Gods over the preceding few days, the ride down to the Rongbuk valley felt like a decent into Hades itself. The absence of suspension on our trikes ensured that every bump was experienced as a thumping through our spines, while our bodies were rattled about in our seats. We spent eight hours on that road and by the time we limped finally into camp that night, my rack had been destroyed and my batteries were exhausted. It was raining, i had diarrhoea, and if it had been feasible, I'd have thrown in the towel.
Neil and Catriona spent the night passing blood, Neil's situation serious enough to keep him off the road the following day. The next day's ride was another 33 Kms along the same road and when my motor again failed me after only 4 Kms, it was with a great deal of relief that I got into the van. Cat completed the ride.
Several of the guys arrived at camp with bleeding backsides, and Sam, who had been vomiting half the night but still rode, was struggling for composure. With the ride up to Base Camp scheduled for the following day, it was a fairly somber company that crawled into their bags that evening.
Everest chose to show itself briefly and unexpectedly while dusk was falling, and those of us not incapacitated grabbed cameras. Cat was unwell and missed the event, while I stole a glimpse through the rear flap of our tent from my position on the toilet. Frankly, I couldn't have cared two fucks about that view. Amy, as ever, was in good spirits.
I woke in the foulest of moods. This was the climax of the expedition; I was still suffering from the shits and my trike was held together with duct tape and old inner tubes. The hub motor was shot and I couldn't believe it would get me up those last eight Kms. It didn't.
At one of the check points I was having a piss when several Chinese tourists began filming me. Not a big deal as I'd spent the last three weeks pissing and shitting on the sides of roads, in fields and in markets, usually to an inquisitive audience. When I promised to shove one gentleman's iPhone "up your fucking arse", I'm not sure he understood my words but the intent was communicated adequately enough. I wasn't enjoying myself.
After satisfying the Chinese authorities that we weren't likely to make a stand for the "Free Tibet" crusade or to set ourselves on fire (our Tibetan guide was risking imprisonment by having a store of petrol for our generators), and after narrowly avoiding expulsion from the mountain by an outburst from Mike, we rode through the barrier for the last eight Kms of the main goal...Everest Base Camp.
I know I'm making this all sound very dramatic but that's how it was for us. Cat especially had the expectations of many supporters on her shoulders (approx. $600,000 has been raised to date) and we all had our own personal reasons for being there. We had been consumed for months by the project and the last three weeks removed from normality had exaggerated the importance of the day no doubt.
For the first three Kms I received a reasonable degree of assistance from my hub. Then it ground to a halt and I was without power again, only this time at 5,000 metres on that shitty bloody road, at my lowest physical ebb. I was immersed in my struggle to move up that hill, struggling for breath from the exertion and the height, and trying unsuccessfully to keep my mouth and throat wet enough, and I was only vaguely aware of having company. The bulk of the team had disappeared around a switchback and there was no one in sight.
Well, I'm afraid my heroics were over for the day. I looked for and found the towel I'd contemplated the previous night and stopped, less than 3 Kms from Base Camp. When I did get moving again it was because Nicki and Sanjeev had dismounted and with a hand on my seat posts and a hand on their own bikes, were pushing me onward. And when they were exhausted and in tears from their efforts and my mouth was too dry to form a suction around my drinking tube and my thoughts had turned ungenerously toward the pack ahead, the cavalry arrived.
Not the support crew - they had been shepherded into a bus by the authorities and transported to the top - but Mike and Sam and Scott and Stu and Jack. And while I was regretting the direction my thoughts had been taking me, Stu organised a relay and they took turns shoving me up the road 40 metres at a time. And when we caught up with Cat and Neil and the others, who were waiting for me 500 metres from the top, someone thought to tie me to Neil's trike with the cord of the pink dressing gown that Mike was wearing. So it was, that I arrived less than triumphantly, at Everest Base Camp. And I don't mind saying that I'm having some trouble recounting it all.
After the pictures and the hand shakes and the hugs we quickly enough left for camp. I had thought to collect two stones from Base Camp, one for myself as a memento and a much larger one, I forget what for. When I stopped Scott, who was pushing me and gasping for breath, as I was about to loose my grip on the large stone (OK, rock), he looked down and said "You must be fucking kidding. I'll shove that up your...". I still have the smaller memento.
The climb to Pang La pass and descent to the Rongbuk valley camp on July 4th was by far the most arduous day of the expedition. The 76 kilometre ride involved negotiating 46 switchbacks over a rocky and terribly corrugated dirt road to the 5,150 metre pass before dropping a thousand metres via the same hellish road.
It's impossible to exaggerate the misery of that road. While rocks and pot-holes could be avoided the cursed corrugations were everywhere and they took a toll on bodies and bikes. Two thirds of the way into the ascent the strain on my motor caused it to overheat and I rode in the van to the top of the pass. After a packed lunch, I chose to ride the descent with the others, which proved to be even more draining than the climb.
If our presence at high altitude had had us joking about our proximity to the Gods over the preceding few days, the ride down to the Rongbuk valley felt like a decent into Hades itself. The absence of suspension on our trikes ensured that every bump was experienced as a thumping through our spines, while our bodies were rattled about in our seats. We spent eight hours on that road and by the time we limped finally into camp that night, my rack had been destroyed and my batteries were exhausted. It was raining, i had diarrhoea, and if it had been feasible, I'd have thrown in the towel.
Neil and Catriona spent the night passing blood, Neil's situation serious enough to keep him off the road the following day. The next day's ride was another 33 Kms along the same road and when my motor again failed me after only 4 Kms, it was with a great deal of relief that I got into the van. Cat completed the ride.
Several of the guys arrived at camp with bleeding backsides, and Sam, who had been vomiting half the night but still rode, was struggling for composure. With the ride up to Base Camp scheduled for the following day, it was a fairly somber company that crawled into their bags that evening.
Everest chose to show itself briefly and unexpectedly while dusk was falling, and those of us not incapacitated grabbed cameras. Cat was unwell and missed the event, while I stole a glimpse through the rear flap of our tent from my position on the toilet. Frankly, I couldn't have cared two fucks about that view. Amy, as ever, was in good spirits.
 |
| From camp - Everest peeps out |
I woke in the foulest of moods. This was the climax of the expedition; I was still suffering from the shits and my trike was held together with duct tape and old inner tubes. The hub motor was shot and I couldn't believe it would get me up those last eight Kms. It didn't.
At one of the check points I was having a piss when several Chinese tourists began filming me. Not a big deal as I'd spent the last three weeks pissing and shitting on the sides of roads, in fields and in markets, usually to an inquisitive audience. When I promised to shove one gentleman's iPhone "up your fucking arse", I'm not sure he understood my words but the intent was communicated adequately enough. I wasn't enjoying myself.
After satisfying the Chinese authorities that we weren't likely to make a stand for the "Free Tibet" crusade or to set ourselves on fire (our Tibetan guide was risking imprisonment by having a store of petrol for our generators), and after narrowly avoiding expulsion from the mountain by an outburst from Mike, we rode through the barrier for the last eight Kms of the main goal...Everest Base Camp.
I know I'm making this all sound very dramatic but that's how it was for us. Cat especially had the expectations of many supporters on her shoulders (approx. $600,000 has been raised to date) and we all had our own personal reasons for being there. We had been consumed for months by the project and the last three weeks removed from normality had exaggerated the importance of the day no doubt.
For the first three Kms I received a reasonable degree of assistance from my hub. Then it ground to a halt and I was without power again, only this time at 5,000 metres on that shitty bloody road, at my lowest physical ebb. I was immersed in my struggle to move up that hill, struggling for breath from the exertion and the height, and trying unsuccessfully to keep my mouth and throat wet enough, and I was only vaguely aware of having company. The bulk of the team had disappeared around a switchback and there was no one in sight.
Well, I'm afraid my heroics were over for the day. I looked for and found the towel I'd contemplated the previous night and stopped, less than 3 Kms from Base Camp. When I did get moving again it was because Nicki and Sanjeev had dismounted and with a hand on my seat posts and a hand on their own bikes, were pushing me onward. And when they were exhausted and in tears from their efforts and my mouth was too dry to form a suction around my drinking tube and my thoughts had turned ungenerously toward the pack ahead, the cavalry arrived.
Not the support crew - they had been shepherded into a bus by the authorities and transported to the top - but Mike and Sam and Scott and Stu and Jack. And while I was regretting the direction my thoughts had been taking me, Stu organised a relay and they took turns shoving me up the road 40 metres at a time. And when we caught up with Cat and Neil and the others, who were waiting for me 500 metres from the top, someone thought to tie me to Neil's trike with the cord of the pink dressing gown that Mike was wearing. So it was, that I arrived less than triumphantly, at Everest Base Camp. And I don't mind saying that I'm having some trouble recounting it all.
 |
| Pink! |
After the pictures and the hand shakes and the hugs we quickly enough left for camp. I had thought to collect two stones from Base Camp, one for myself as a memento and a much larger one, I forget what for. When I stopped Scott, who was pushing me and gasping for breath, as I was about to loose my grip on the large stone (OK, rock), he looked down and said "You must be fucking kidding. I'll shove that up your...". I still have the smaller memento.
 |
| Everest Base Camp - Tibet |
Post 6: Saturday 29th
The now familiar thunder storm is upon us with the first smatterings of rain prompting Amy to zip up the tent. This is our fourth camp but few of us bothered to bring out our cameras. The landscape has lost it's novelty. Dry dust and stone underfoot, brown shadowed mountains on all horizons. Thankfully it is unusually warm and I am hoping to use my sleeping bag as a duvet. I feel claustrophobic when it is necessary to pull the hood over my head and zip up over my shoulders.
It has been a difficult day when it should have been simple. The scheduled ride was only fifty odd Kms with no major passes to climb but the mood among the team was fairly sour as we breakfasted and prepared the bikes. There were complaints about the food and that many of the squad weren't ready in time. Little of the usual banter was circulating. We are all fairly exhausted and the thought of spending the next three nights camping contributed to the flat mood I suspect.
We headed out at around 9:30, half an hour behind schedule, and hadn't travelled far before Neil's trike had mechanical problems. The rest of us waited while a few of the guys worked on the trike. As we had stopped in the Tibetan quarter, a crowd of interested bystanders quickly developed around the two of us in hand cycles. At one point, a member of our support crew translated to the spectators that Catriona was paralysed. Immediately people began to pass money to her, overwhelming both catriona and penny. The people here are extremely poor.
My ride was interrupted by a blown tire that almost scared Amy off her bike. It made quite a noise and frightened her more than the night the thermos exploded in front of her showering glass over a handful of people in the mess tent. The tires are now a serious issue; this one blew after only 40 Kms and there are no more opportunities to buy any. Suspecting I the steering had been knocked out of alignment, we made some adjustments this evening and are expecting to see an improvement tomorrow.
It has been a difficult day when it should have been simple. The scheduled ride was only fifty odd Kms with no major passes to climb but the mood among the team was fairly sour as we breakfasted and prepared the bikes. There were complaints about the food and that many of the squad weren't ready in time. Little of the usual banter was circulating. We are all fairly exhausted and the thought of spending the next three nights camping contributed to the flat mood I suspect.
We headed out at around 9:30, half an hour behind schedule, and hadn't travelled far before Neil's trike had mechanical problems. The rest of us waited while a few of the guys worked on the trike. As we had stopped in the Tibetan quarter, a crowd of interested bystanders quickly developed around the two of us in hand cycles. At one point, a member of our support crew translated to the spectators that Catriona was paralysed. Immediately people began to pass money to her, overwhelming both catriona and penny. The people here are extremely poor.
My ride was interrupted by a blown tire that almost scared Amy off her bike. It made quite a noise and frightened her more than the night the thermos exploded in front of her showering glass over a handful of people in the mess tent. The tires are now a serious issue; this one blew after only 40 Kms and there are no more opportunities to buy any. Suspecting I the steering had been knocked out of alignment, we made some adjustments this evening and are expecting to see an improvement tomorrow.
 |
| After 8 Everest summits Neema is not fazed by a blown tire |
 |
| Big hole |
Thursday, 4 July 2013
Post 7: Closing in...
A brutal day. My trike is being welded in some godforsaken Tibetan village. I am run down and in need of sleep. Amy is holding everything together.
Post 5: Friday
Friday 28
In my last update I mentioned one of the guides crashed his bike into a cart.. I must confess, I considered him slightly buffoonish even before this mishap. I now know this 'buffoon' has summited Everest no less than 8 times and from both sides. Until recently he has been employed by Adventure Consultants - you may remember this is the company founded by Rob Hall, the New Zealander who died on Everest with many others in 1996. Who's the buffoon now.
Yesterday's ride was 100 Kms of almost flat straight riding. A mostly tedious affair, though I did get face to face with a yak (the Tibetans refer only to the males as yaks and not being brave enough to explore between this beasts legs I use yak in the generic sense). This large bovine stared at me with a look of complete disdain and this, coupled with the two scimitar like horns arcing from his head, persuaded me to get on my bike so to speak.
For dinner last night we dined at a restaurant associated with this hotel. The service was so farcical we began to refer to the place as Fawlty Towers, and our waiter as Manuel. To everyone's surprise and pleasure we had lunch today at a Tibetan restaurant where you could order a leg of lamb among other highly edible morsels, and even a cold beer (surprisingly hard to get here). It was such a treat after the fare we have been surviving on.
I forgot to mention that Amy managed to get lost yesterday. She had the good sense to stay on the main road and was found by a search party in good time.. Her disappearance did upset our guides though. Manga was very relieved when he found her and said, "Amy, we have been so worried. I had to call Ann and tell her, we have no Amy, we have no Amy."
Tomorrow we head off on the hardest leg of the journey. Our briefing this morning told us to expect living conditions to get harder and the colder temperatures and higher altitudes to take a toll. After the last couple of weeks, no one is taking these warnings lightly. We stocked up on chocolate bars and nuts as this will be the last chance to do so for some time. Amy and I have decided that she will not continue to do all the cycling; it is too exhausting with the other responsibilities she has. We will see the Himalayas for the first time tomorrow.
After some reflection during the hours of tedium yesterday, I thought it only fair to provide more balanced reporting on the state of affairs in Tibet. To date, I have criticised the Chinese without providing a alternative view, even going to the extreme of running over the toes of a member of the Public Safety Traffic Police force.
We all know of the Dalai Lama, he with the beautific(sp) smile who promotes peace and harmony around the world. A less known fact is that there are many Lamas in Tibet, who are spiritual leaders of the numerous schools of Tibetan Buddhism. The Dalai lama's line gained ascendency sometime in the 17th Century, or thereabouts, after a rather brutal coup against another prominent school. From then until the Chinese invasion in 1951, the Dalai lamas ruled Tibet as a kind of feudal theocracy. The monasteries (and other ruling classes) owned the land, which was worked by the Tibetan peasants, allowing the monks to go about their scholarly and political business.
No doubt I've made some errors in the brief summary above but the gist of it is correct I think. My point is this, who among us would choose to be ruled over by a theocracy, where the land is owned by the aristocracy and the common people are bound to be subsistence farmers supporting the activities of the church? Count me out. I have no more faith in the ability of the Dalai Lama to make good decisions on my behalf as I do The Pope, God forbid.
Still, would you choose Chairman Mao and his bloodthirsty Red Brigades to lead you to a brighter fairer future.
It may not be possible to post for some time but I'll try. Wish us luck in navigating the road to Base Camp.
Sent from my iPad
Friday, 28 June 2013
Post 4: Friendship Highway
Monday 24
The good news is that both Catriona and I seem to be on top of the trouble we've been having with skin. We've notched up a couple of rides that count toward the thousand plus total from Lhasa to Kathmandu. The wilting temperatures we experienced in Lhasa are a thing of the past as we gain altitude. This, our second camp, has none of the scorpions and wild roaming dogs of camp one.
Last night was very cold. Even zipped up in my top of the line Goose down sleeping bag, wearing thick socks and a hoody, I was shivering most of the night. We are now two days into the expedition itself, with today a rest day. The tents are arranged in a lager beside a lake and surrounded by mountains on all sides. Our camp is on land used by the local Tibetans for grazing cattle, sheep and yak. All three have been past our site this morning. The herders are very accurate with slingshots which they employ to keep the wild dogs at bay.
In contrast to the high temperatures we've left behind, the weather here in the clouds is cool. Thunder rolls in each evening, followed by heavy rain during the nights. The wind is also beginning to make itself known.
Some of the lads are working with our Nepalese guides and Tibetan porters to get the all important generator running. The three of us in chairs are reliant on power assisted hubs to provide parity with our team mates, therefore there are batteries to charge each evening. Often enough I hear people suggest this power assist business is cheating. On my return I'll be happy to give them a chance to hand propel my thirty kilogram trike up some hills; the test will also include a spinal anesthesia to ensure no trunk or leg muscles are utilised and I'll be taking a mallet to their fingers for the sake of an even playing field. Hell, while I'm at it I may as well stick an ice pick into the section of the spinal cord that regulates their temperature and take them up to 4,000 metres.
OK, I am feeling a little short of humour today after last nights cold and after my batteries packed in on me yesterday five kilometres from the summit of a 23 km climb. The generator is to blame for the low charge in my batteries and this is now a major issue for the success of the entire expedition. I managed another three Kms perhaps, without power before being pulled off the road by the support crew. I could see the bloody top.
There is some consolation in Piotr, our resident doctor and altitude medicine specialist, having to be forcefully talked off his bike as he was showing obvious sign of exhaustion. He has lectured us not to push ourselves - altitude sickness tends to get the heroes first. Don't misunderstand me, Piotr is an interesting and vital member of the team, and he's climbed above 8,000 metres...the point of course, is that ego will get you hurt if you're not careful.
....I've just now relocated to the mess tent where generators are the hot topic. The plan, buy a grunty generator. The challenge, we're camped at forty two hundred meters in rural Tibet and, wouldn't you know it, not a generator supplies store in sight.
The mess tent is now full for lunch. I'm limiting my own meal to a ration of hot chips. After suffering from diarrhea on and off for the last week I'm having a crisis of faith in the local cuisine. Even the smell makes me nauseous. There is a meal supplement in our tent, thank god. After that...?
Which reminds me, we have a soldier/hunter with us so when I saw the livestock nearby I suggested we buy a sheep and get Stu to slaughter it. I was serious. The idea was met enthusiastically and Stu began negotiations. Sadly, the locals have a season for slaughter and between times the stock are treated as family. Damn local customs, I've never wanted to see anything killed so badly in my life.
With data costing $30 US per megabyte, I won't be posting photos.
Wednesday 26
First an update - we sent a car back to Lhasa day before yesterday to bring back a generator with the necessary output. Problem resolved. We now have fully charged batteries each morning and don't have to watch the porters trying unsuccessfully but doggedly to get the thing started, as they did with the last. I seem to be over my last bout with diarrhea which, along with some good rides, has lifted my spirits.
We left camp 2 yesterday morning and were happy to do, despite the stunning location. At 4,000 plus meters it was too high for comfort. The days were wet and cold, while at night the winds howled across the lake pulling the temperatures down further. Brrr...even wearing down jackets in down bags we were shivering through the night. The place was also plagued by mosquito type insects that infested our tents. One of our guides, mangal became unwell. It is now clear that he has mild HAPE, or High Altitude Pulmonary Edema(sp?) It is a good thing we have come down in altitude somewhat over the last two days as the rule for altitude sickness is 'go down'.
Yesterday we cycled 100 Kms, which included the climb from hell to Simi La Pass in a cold driving wind. Even the strongest of the men were challenged and all were relieved when camp 3 finally came into sight. It was a special day in that Scott Malcolm, one of our team, is also a major sponsor having 'purchased' Simi La pass for $100,000. He was first to the top; a significant achievement given there are some competitive personalities among us. Scott is a remarkable guy and we were all very proud to pose with him for photographs a the top.
Actually Scott was kind enough to let me draft behind him in the later stages of yesterday's run as I was absolutely hammered. My battery was running at around 70% efficiency but it was the wind that really hurt. Even on reasonably significant downhills it was necessary to push hard or my trike would just stop. Taking on water left me gasping for air in the thin atmosphere and at times I was panting like a dog, in short sharp breaths.
My tires, that would give me 2,000 Kms on the roads at home are down to the canvas after only 400 Kms here. I'm not sure exactly what has caused this but assume it is the different road surfaces. Luckily a couple of our guides sourced me a replacement set this afternoon, a big relief as I brought no spares from home.
Camp 3 was a rock strewn flat perched beside and above a dry riverbed, surrounded by barren mountains. We arrived in wind and rain, ventured from the protection of our tent for dinner then slept. Up at dawn this morning, we rode out after a breakfast of bacon and eggs and that was that.
Today was a straightforward ride through to Gyantse. The only excitement when one of our guides clipped a horse and cart and fell off his bike. He has appropriately had the piss taken out of him. And I struck a small but important blow against the Chinese oppressor by riding through one of the all too common checkpoints at speed, running over a police mans foot, despite his last minute pirouette...sure it was an infantile thing to do but my reputation has benefited.
From here in Tibet or, properly, the Tibet Autonomous Region, one cannot access Facebook, YouTube, and among many other sites, blogspot, which is why I must email my posts to Karen for distribution. You should have seen him jump when I ran over his toes.
Tonight, oh joy and happiness, we are in a hotel. Not only can I access the shower but it has one of those overhead rose things that shower the water down on you like rain. True, the water smells like someone has just finished in the toilet but we are all very pleased with our clean new selves.
Tomorrow, 93 Kms to Shigatse. And another check point I would imagine...
The good news is that both Catriona and I seem to be on top of the trouble we've been having with skin. We've notched up a couple of rides that count toward the thousand plus total from Lhasa to Kathmandu. The wilting temperatures we experienced in Lhasa are a thing of the past as we gain altitude. This, our second camp, has none of the scorpions and wild roaming dogs of camp one.
Last night was very cold. Even zipped up in my top of the line Goose down sleeping bag, wearing thick socks and a hoody, I was shivering most of the night. We are now two days into the expedition itself, with today a rest day. The tents are arranged in a lager beside a lake and surrounded by mountains on all sides. Our camp is on land used by the local Tibetans for grazing cattle, sheep and yak. All three have been past our site this morning. The herders are very accurate with slingshots which they employ to keep the wild dogs at bay.
In contrast to the high temperatures we've left behind, the weather here in the clouds is cool. Thunder rolls in each evening, followed by heavy rain during the nights. The wind is also beginning to make itself known.
Some of the lads are working with our Nepalese guides and Tibetan porters to get the all important generator running. The three of us in chairs are reliant on power assisted hubs to provide parity with our team mates, therefore there are batteries to charge each evening. Often enough I hear people suggest this power assist business is cheating. On my return I'll be happy to give them a chance to hand propel my thirty kilogram trike up some hills; the test will also include a spinal anesthesia to ensure no trunk or leg muscles are utilised and I'll be taking a mallet to their fingers for the sake of an even playing field. Hell, while I'm at it I may as well stick an ice pick into the section of the spinal cord that regulates their temperature and take them up to 4,000 metres.
OK, I am feeling a little short of humour today after last nights cold and after my batteries packed in on me yesterday five kilometres from the summit of a 23 km climb. The generator is to blame for the low charge in my batteries and this is now a major issue for the success of the entire expedition. I managed another three Kms perhaps, without power before being pulled off the road by the support crew. I could see the bloody top.
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| 23kms of up to get this shot |
There is some consolation in Piotr, our resident doctor and altitude medicine specialist, having to be forcefully talked off his bike as he was showing obvious sign of exhaustion. He has lectured us not to push ourselves - altitude sickness tends to get the heroes first. Don't misunderstand me, Piotr is an interesting and vital member of the team, and he's climbed above 8,000 metres...the point of course, is that ego will get you hurt if you're not careful.
....I've just now relocated to the mess tent where generators are the hot topic. The plan, buy a grunty generator. The challenge, we're camped at forty two hundred meters in rural Tibet and, wouldn't you know it, not a generator supplies store in sight.
The mess tent is now full for lunch. I'm limiting my own meal to a ration of hot chips. After suffering from diarrhea on and off for the last week I'm having a crisis of faith in the local cuisine. Even the smell makes me nauseous. There is a meal supplement in our tent, thank god. After that...?
Which reminds me, we have a soldier/hunter with us so when I saw the livestock nearby I suggested we buy a sheep and get Stu to slaughter it. I was serious. The idea was met enthusiastically and Stu began negotiations. Sadly, the locals have a season for slaughter and between times the stock are treated as family. Damn local customs, I've never wanted to see anything killed so badly in my life.
With data costing $30 US per megabyte, I won't be posting photos.
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| The wheelchair tents - relative luxury |
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| Piotr surprised by some unattainable beef |
First an update - we sent a car back to Lhasa day before yesterday to bring back a generator with the necessary output. Problem resolved. We now have fully charged batteries each morning and don't have to watch the porters trying unsuccessfully but doggedly to get the thing started, as they did with the last. I seem to be over my last bout with diarrhea which, along with some good rides, has lifted my spirits.
We left camp 2 yesterday morning and were happy to do, despite the stunning location. At 4,000 plus meters it was too high for comfort. The days were wet and cold, while at night the winds howled across the lake pulling the temperatures down further. Brrr...even wearing down jackets in down bags we were shivering through the night. The place was also plagued by mosquito type insects that infested our tents. One of our guides, mangal became unwell. It is now clear that he has mild HAPE, or High Altitude Pulmonary Edema(sp?) It is a good thing we have come down in altitude somewhat over the last two days as the rule for altitude sickness is 'go down'.
Yesterday we cycled 100 Kms, which included the climb from hell to Simi La Pass in a cold driving wind. Even the strongest of the men were challenged and all were relieved when camp 3 finally came into sight. It was a special day in that Scott Malcolm, one of our team, is also a major sponsor having 'purchased' Simi La pass for $100,000. He was first to the top; a significant achievement given there are some competitive personalities among us. Scott is a remarkable guy and we were all very proud to pose with him for photographs a the top.
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| Stu, Stephanie and Catriona relaxing |
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| Scott expounds on currency conversions |
My tires, that would give me 2,000 Kms on the roads at home are down to the canvas after only 400 Kms here. I'm not sure exactly what has caused this but assume it is the different road surfaces. Luckily a couple of our guides sourced me a replacement set this afternoon, a big relief as I brought no spares from home.
Camp 3 was a rock strewn flat perched beside and above a dry riverbed, surrounded by barren mountains. We arrived in wind and rain, ventured from the protection of our tent for dinner then slept. Up at dawn this morning, we rode out after a breakfast of bacon and eggs and that was that.
Today was a straightforward ride through to Gyantse. The only excitement when one of our guides clipped a horse and cart and fell off his bike. He has appropriately had the piss taken out of him. And I struck a small but important blow against the Chinese oppressor by riding through one of the all too common checkpoints at speed, running over a police mans foot, despite his last minute pirouette...sure it was an infantile thing to do but my reputation has benefited.
From here in Tibet or, properly, the Tibet Autonomous Region, one cannot access Facebook, YouTube, and among many other sites, blogspot, which is why I must email my posts to Karen for distribution. You should have seen him jump when I ran over his toes.
Tonight, oh joy and happiness, we are in a hotel. Not only can I access the shower but it has one of those overhead rose things that shower the water down on you like rain. True, the water smells like someone has just finished in the toilet but we are all very pleased with our clean new selves.
Tomorrow, 93 Kms to Shigatse. And another check point I would imagine...
Post 3: Lhasa
Thursday 20
On Tuesday we flew to Lhasa, Tibet. We experienced our first taste of Chinese bureaucracy as we were boarding the plane. Suddenly, after Catriona had been seated and I was about to enter the aircraft, the flight crew became animated and began signalling that I mustn't come any further. As it turned out, in the aircraft policy manual, there is a section limiting the number of wheelchair bound passengers to two. I assume this to be an attitude peculiar to the Chinese, given I have flown on a number of different aircraft with sports teams when those of us in chairs numbered ten or more. Anyway, after 45 minutes of debate, the flight crew was finally persuaded by a letter of support for our venture by John key and a waiver, absolving the crew of all and any responsibility pertaining to our third wheelchair passenger.
Tibet is an interesting place. As a general observation, I have identified two main groups around the city: Tibetans, dressed in traditional style clothing and Chinese dressed in fashionable modern attire. The Tibetans, in particular, are fascinated by those of us in chairs. They will stop whatever they are doing and stare wide eyed at us often breaking into laughter. Many appear to be speaking some kind of blessing while others can't resist touching us or trying to push our chairs.
The Chinese government likes to defend its presence in Tibet as that of liberators, freeing the peasants that for many hundreds of years have been bonded to the monasteries and aristocrats that made up the Tibetan ruling classes.. I can't provide an informed comment on the validity of that view but the highly visible military presence and the many Tibetans engaged in the menial work of the city seem to be at odds with the theory of an emancipated people. My impression to date, of the fine new roads, the glittering Gucci and Chanel stores, and the guarded monasteries, is of a Chinese theme park. Nothing feels natural somehow: it's as if you've walked through the gates of Disneyland, your experience within carefully scripted.
Today I am again stuck in bed due to sleeping last night on my back on the slabs of concrete that pass for beds in this hotel. My fault of course, but I was so desperate for an uninterrupted nights sleep that I threw caution to the wind. Due to the trouble with my bum that I left home with, I have been keeping on my stomach which I find extremely uncomfortable. I have missed out on excursions to the Dalai Lamas summer residence and a monastery where Buddhist monks will be debating scholarly texts. I'm not too distraught as I'm not a very enthusiastic tourist and I have had a chance to read and relax.
Through my window I can see one of the blind masseurs from the gloomy and fragrant clinic next door making his way to the squat latrines that are located directly adjacent to our room. If we leave our door open the stench of it wafts into our room. When Amy was suffering from her own bout of diarrhea recently, we couldn't decide which was worse, the smell inside the room or the one outside. Our team doctor, Piotr refers to our troubles with diarrhea as having "faulty shit-fart separators', a term apparently familiar in some mountaineering communities. It is quite appropriate.
Yesterday we made a visit to the Lightness Blind Massage Center to inquire about my getting a shoulder rub. The sign outside promised highly skilled blind practitioners conversant in Tibetan, Chinese and English. What we experienced was a confused blind man without a word of English who, obviously thrown by our unexpected arrival, promptly resorted to phoning his employer. On hanging up the receiver, he half turned toward us as if about to speak, then lapsed into a bizarre silence that lasted a good minute. When I tried to initiate conversation he gestured with his hand to stop me and relapsed into his peculiar mute vigil. This was too much for Amy to bear and she began to giggle. Things became clear when the phone suddenly rang and the blind masseuse passed the receiver to me without answering. Unfortunately his employer wasn't much better at communicating in English and I gave up. Still hoping for that shoulder rub.
On Tuesday we flew to Lhasa, Tibet. We experienced our first taste of Chinese bureaucracy as we were boarding the plane. Suddenly, after Catriona had been seated and I was about to enter the aircraft, the flight crew became animated and began signalling that I mustn't come any further. As it turned out, in the aircraft policy manual, there is a section limiting the number of wheelchair bound passengers to two. I assume this to be an attitude peculiar to the Chinese, given I have flown on a number of different aircraft with sports teams when those of us in chairs numbered ten or more. Anyway, after 45 minutes of debate, the flight crew was finally persuaded by a letter of support for our venture by John key and a waiver, absolving the crew of all and any responsibility pertaining to our third wheelchair passenger.
Tibet is an interesting place. As a general observation, I have identified two main groups around the city: Tibetans, dressed in traditional style clothing and Chinese dressed in fashionable modern attire. The Tibetans, in particular, are fascinated by those of us in chairs. They will stop whatever they are doing and stare wide eyed at us often breaking into laughter. Many appear to be speaking some kind of blessing while others can't resist touching us or trying to push our chairs.
The Chinese government likes to defend its presence in Tibet as that of liberators, freeing the peasants that for many hundreds of years have been bonded to the monasteries and aristocrats that made up the Tibetan ruling classes.. I can't provide an informed comment on the validity of that view but the highly visible military presence and the many Tibetans engaged in the menial work of the city seem to be at odds with the theory of an emancipated people. My impression to date, of the fine new roads, the glittering Gucci and Chanel stores, and the guarded monasteries, is of a Chinese theme park. Nothing feels natural somehow: it's as if you've walked through the gates of Disneyland, your experience within carefully scripted.
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| Relaxing at camp two |
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| Dr Canon |
Through my window I can see one of the blind masseurs from the gloomy and fragrant clinic next door making his way to the squat latrines that are located directly adjacent to our room. If we leave our door open the stench of it wafts into our room. When Amy was suffering from her own bout of diarrhea recently, we couldn't decide which was worse, the smell inside the room or the one outside. Our team doctor, Piotr refers to our troubles with diarrhea as having "faulty shit-fart separators', a term apparently familiar in some mountaineering communities. It is quite appropriate.
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| A faulty separator? |
Post 2: Kathmandu
Kathmandu is quickly growing on me. Once you get over the filth and the dust, which strangely doesn't take long, there is a lot to like. The traffic is delightfully chaotic and liberating - as far as any of us can discern, there are no formal traffic rules. Signal lights are rare, with major intersections more likely to be controlled by a signalman, at least during peak times. Footpaths too, are all but nonexistent, meaning the narrow streets are shared by pedestrians, cars, rickshaws, motorbikes, bikes, and the ubiquitous dogs. Carnage and mayhem is avoided due to a level of courtesy and patience so unlike the attitude of drivers at home. As a front seat passenger today, I instinctively hollered at a van driver who had indicated to turn but carried on straight across the front of our van, almost causing a collision. Our driver looked at me in obvious surprise, "Well he did indicate to turn", I mumbled. "We do things a little differently at home".
Some of our crew headed out on their bikes into this vehicular and biological maelstrom this morning, including Catriona in her low slung trike. By all accounts they managed admirably, despite Catriona tipping over twice and Anita ending up entangled in the dust with a motor scooter. Rather than risk wrecking my trike, I chose instead to take my first shower since leaving home....bliss. Actually, the mornings ride was so fraught with danger that we are seriously considering beginning our first scheduled ride, the day after tomorrow, on the outskirts of the city rather than from our hotel.
Our present lodgings are in a gated compound that exists as an oasis in the middle of the surrounding chaos. Within this space is our hotel and its gardens, and several tourism-related operations, including the cycle tour company catering to the Catwalk team. Outside the gates is a crush of souvenir shops, supermarkets, book stores, money changers, and eateries. In a nearby alley there is a barbers shop and now all the lads are sporting number ones or twos; you could now be forgiven for assuming we are raising money for cancer research. After my cut I also opted for a shave with a cut-throat razor, which I enjoyed so much i think I'll go back for another. Amy bravely got a cut too, and we are all impressed, if somewhat surprised, at the end result.
My bum has become a frequent topic of conversation and, somewhat to my embarrassment,
the subject of numerous photographs. We are all determined that I will be fit to fly to Tibet and ride, and the photographs are for the purpose of measuring improvement. Tonight the team doctor, who has only recently joined us, asked if he might examine my skin. I helpfully offered to show him the pictures but he advised me to "keep those for your album". I assume from this that he prefers to see the real thing. Amy is now talking of hosting an exhibition of these photographs on our return.
This afternoon we visited the Nepal spinal rehabilitation center. A surprisingly functional operation, though despite this, outcomes for the spinal injured in Nepal are pretty grim - up to a third of patients are dead within two years of returning to their communities. Looking through the acute admissions ward, I was struck by a sense of hopelessness. Knowing the level of investment it has taken to provide me with a worthwhile quality of life, the chances of the same for people who are given the equivalent of ten New Zealand dollars a month, seem remote. Nevertheless, the team running the clinic are passionate and working to improve the future of spinal care in Nepal.
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| A tough future ahead for this recent tetraplegic |
Monday 17
The last few days here in Kathmandu have been quite something. Saturday was quiet enough for me as I opted to have a rest day rather than go site seeing. It was raining and my bum was still very painful to sit on. In the evening we attended a Nepalese cultural dinner and performance. It was somewhat Interesting but, as with any such thing, felt contrived. Mike livened it up somewhat with a drunken but enthusiastic haka during the traditional dance lesson.
Later that evening, as Amy and I were navigating down the steep concrete ramp from our hotel room, I fell forward (with some assistance from Amy it must be said) breaking my fall with my head before coming to rest in the rain at the bottom of the slope.. The loud crack my head made on contact gave Amy a fright and she screamed, drawing a crowd of Nepalese porters and waiters to my side. As I tried to compose myself and sit up, hands kept pulling at my arms knocking me off balance. This caused me to bark, "somebody keep these idiots away from me", which had the desired result. I now have several grazes, a bursitis on my elbow, and a lump on my head to go with my sore arse. Perfect...not quite actually, there was more to come.
The next day we headed out for our first whole team ride. I got little more than a couple of hundred meters before realising the sensor for my power assist hub wasn't working. Back through the rickshaws and motor scooters to the workshop for a worrisome 15 minutes as we tried in vain to get it fixed. Thankfully we got it sorted and soon caught up to the pack. As the unions had called a general strike, the streets were relatively sane. The unions seem to wield a fair amount of power - they announced, among other measures, that they would be cutting power to the prime ministers residence. Power and other services are very unreliable and the unions wanted the minister to experience a little of the frustration felt by regular citizens.
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| Never could figure out the wiring |
After a break for lunch and sightseeing at Nepal's eighth century cultural capital - I forget the name and can't be bothered searching for it - we ascended an approximately 15 km hill to our accommodation for the night. The views and the hotel were worth the climb but it is for the diarrhea that a number of us will remember it most fondly. Scot, mike, and penny were afflicted that night and the next day, while my own misery was delayed until later in the afternoon. I'm not feeling quite so magnanimous toward the Nepalese way of life as I was a couple of days ago.
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| Every time a camera came out the larger of these girls would immediately arrange a pose. We were asked not to give money but what the hell. |
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| Another professional beggar, though I suspect his options are limited |
Post 1: Hong Kong
A blog without posts isn't much to look at.
There has been reason enough not to post however, as it has looked for the most part of this past week as though the closest I would get to the Himalayas would be a Google search.
The short version of events is that I rented a fancy air cushion as a precaution against pressure sores (one of the man risks for us tetraplegics on this trip) but under inflated it. The result was, I discovered two very red and inflamed areas on my butt two days before we were due to depart.
The uninitiated might not think of this as a major problem but once you've seen the ulcers that can result, consigning a person to bed for months on end, you learn to be hyper-cautious. And so, on the morning of departure I declared myself unfit to travel - a tent on the Tibetan Plateau is not the place to be on bed rest.
Karen and my travel broker, Sally Lockhead, convinced me otherwise I think and so this first post is written from my bed in the Nikko hotel, Hong Kong. I have been lying here for the last two days hoping for improvement. Happily there is some and I'll fly to Kathmandu with the rest of the team this afternoon. If I come through today's travel ok, I'll make the ride.
My impressions of Hong Kong...nice room and comfortable bed.
There has been reason enough not to post however, as it has looked for the most part of this past week as though the closest I would get to the Himalayas would be a Google search.
The short version of events is that I rented a fancy air cushion as a precaution against pressure sores (one of the man risks for us tetraplegics on this trip) but under inflated it. The result was, I discovered two very red and inflamed areas on my butt two days before we were due to depart.
The uninitiated might not think of this as a major problem but once you've seen the ulcers that can result, consigning a person to bed for months on end, you learn to be hyper-cautious. And so, on the morning of departure I declared myself unfit to travel - a tent on the Tibetan Plateau is not the place to be on bed rest.
Karen and my travel broker, Sally Lockhead, convinced me otherwise I think and so this first post is written from my bed in the Nikko hotel, Hong Kong. I have been lying here for the last two days hoping for improvement. Happily there is some and I'll fly to Kathmandu with the rest of the team this afternoon. If I come through today's travel ok, I'll make the ride.
My impressions of Hong Kong...nice room and comfortable bed.
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