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.

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.

The wheelchair tents - relative luxury

Piotr surprised by some unattainable beef

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.

Stu, Stephanie and Catriona relaxing

Scott expounds on currency conversions

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...

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.

Relaxing at camp two

Dr Canon

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.

A faulty separator?

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.

Post 2: Kathmandu

Friday 14

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.

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.

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.

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.

 

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.