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NEPAL and LO MANTHANG
September - October 2006 |
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After spending a couple days in Kathmandu doing tourist things in this crowded and very polluted city, we flew to Pokhara, the second largest city in Nepal, for one night, then to Jomosom over a pass between the Annapurna and the Dualagiri ranges. As we crossed the pass, the terrain below changed immediately from green to brown and arid. The region is part of the Tibetan plateau, on the ancient Salt route between China and India. Very reminiscent of Nevada, until you gain some altitude and can see the vastness of it. This "kingdom" of Lo Manthang was a separate entity until sometime in the 1970’s, and westerners have only been able to visit since the ‘90’s. Many times it was apparent that we were novelties, especially among the children. My traveling companions were all British, friends of friends of a woman who I met in the Grand Canyon in 2005. It was a good group, and I was the oldest, as well as the only one who pronounced the King’s English properly. We covered about 150 miles in 13 or 14 days on foot. There were four Sherpas, two guides, several porters, one cook, and six mules. As we left Jomosom, we basically entered a culture of a couple centuries ago. There were no power lines, no telephones, no vehicles save an occasional old tractor, no infrastructure of any kind. Some villages had small solar panels to power a flourescent bulb at night. Cooking is done on dung fires. Most of the time we were between 10,000 and 12,000’ elevation. We slept on the ground usually in livestock stables, and bathed in a half-liter of water each morning. Our diet was primarily vegetarian, with an occasional bit of chicken. No beef in Nepal. Villages we stayed in were named Kagbeni, Chuksang, Chele, Samar, Ghemi, Tsarang, Dhakmar, and Muktinath. Had three days of hanging around Lo Manthang (Mustang). The trails were constant up and down, there being no level ground in the Himalaya. Rode horses one day, checking out ancient caves that no one knows exactly the purpose of. We rode almost to Tibet. I didn’t make a photograph for the first three or four days. It became obvious to me that the people were going to be my major focus. I had read somewhere that not everyone appreciated having their photograph taken, so I learned how to ask their permission in Nepalese. About half of the time, the response was, "No, please do not". We were immersed in Tibetan culture from the beginning of the trek, though officially inside Nepalese borders. The people were gracious and welcoming. They are beautiful, with quick smiles, perfect teeth, and gorgeous features. They look you in the eye, smile, then say "Namaste", which is translated as "I salute the god in you". The genetic connection between these Tibetans and our plains Indians and the Inuit of the arctic is really apparent. All engaged in subsistence agriculture, all harvesting done by hand, sometimes with the help of horses. Buddhist shrines everywhere, prayer flags on every mountain pass (we must have crossed a dozen or more) and cris-crossing every village, classrooms full of young monks chanting, cows freely roaming wherever they want. It’s illegal to kill a cow in Nepal, even though cows are sacred only to the Hindus. That’s another thing that really endeared me to these folks : Hindus and Buddhists are totally cool with each other, in fact they often worship in each other’s temples, stupas, monasteries. The attitude seems to be, close is good enough ! Ask a person which religion is his, and he will most likely respond, "Actually, I’m a little of both". From our camp in Muktinath one day, several of us climbed up to Thorung La, an 18,000’ pass between the Annapurnas and the Dualagiris. Our ascent was 5000’, equivalent to our typical Mt Hood climbs. Major difference was the previous day’s tough walk and climb to a 14k pass, and the altitude. It was a tough day, and the highest one can get in the Himalayas without being part of a major climb. I had twisted a knee a couple days before, but the Sherpas were very competent in their treatment of my injury, and others’ sicknesses. I would recommend this adventure to anyone who has good feet, strong legs, and a desire to visit a third-world Buddhist culture. In the words of His Holiness the Dalai Lama, "The rugged landscape of the region and the challenges of the climate make conditions for transport difficult. Consequently, the region has been slower to change than elsewhere. The people who live there place much less importance on time than the inhabitants of the teeming cities in other parts of the world. Taking a patient, unhurried approach to life is a natural part of the local character. …I have observed throughout the Himalayas that people are mild-mannered, easily contented, satisfied with whatever conditions are available, and resilient in the face of hardship. The rigors of climate and environment contribute to this, but another significant factor has been the Buddhist culture that has flourished in the region for more than a thousand years. Himilayan people seem to have an unusually well developed sense of inner peace and hope. I am convinced that our Buddhist heritage, with its teachings of love, kindness, and tolerance, has contributed to this, especially the notion that all things are relative and impermanent." |
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CLIMBING 14'ers in COLORADO
August 2006 |
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The best thing I could think to do to prepare for the altitude and physical demands of the Himalaya was to hang out in Frisco, Colorado for a week at 9000', and climb 13 or 14 thousand foot peaks every day. There are many to choose from a short drive from Frisco, and most are day hikes. I'm noticing that more and more of my adventures do not result in photographs. A little disappointing perhaps, but it's true that light and other conditions are not always conducive. And with every year, I get more fussy about what I want to shoot. The Hasselblad was with me every day, but light and inspiration were lacking. It was still a great week. The first two days were spent on long conditioning hikes, up to 12,000' or so. First was into Salmon and Willow Lakes, and day two was a long trek up to Eccles Pass, and back around Buffalo Mountain to Frisco. The view from Eccles Pass is stunning. This is a place I would like to return to photograph, but spend a couple days. On the third day I climbed to the top of Buffalo Mountain, about 13,000' high. The next day was Quandary Peak, up to 14,200'. Over the last couple thousand feet, there was an ominous black sky off to the southwest. I kept trying to convince myself that it was on a track to the north of my mountain. Not the case, however. Just short of the summit, lightning began striking all over the area, and I encountered a couple women literally running downhill. One stopped for a moment, and I casually inquired, "Well, whaddaya think ?" Her response, "I think you will make a very good lightning rod. Though your rubber soles may dull the pain a bit." I took her sarcasm to heart, and turned to follow them, but I couldn't run as fast downhill. Soon the wind and hail started, and all of a sudden I was literally in winter conditions in August ! The hail was almost ankle deep. Mount Elbert was the next day. This is the second highest peak in the lower 48 states at 14,400', and Mt Whitney in the Sierras of California is somewhat higher. This was a good long slog, and my old body is starting to whine a little. About a thousand feet short of the summit, I ran into Dave and Michelle from New Hampshire who were about to turn around. We decided to continue on as a committee, and had a fine climb. The summit view was gorgeous, and in conversation it was determined that we shared affinity for a well-brewed IPA. That was good motivation for the very long descent, and we enjoyed a couple pints in Leadville at the highest brew pub in the country. |
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ZION NATIONAL PARK
October 2005 |
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I had six very active days in Zion, but this time no photographs happened. That's OK. It was a great week, and good adventure is the point anyhow. Sometimes when an area is first explored, the thing I take away is how and when to visit in the future, so time-of-day or time-of-year is more conducive to a successful photograph. On day one I climbed up to Angels Landing and continued most of the way up to the West Rim Spring. Day two was a long descent of the Left Fork of North Creek, through the Subway, which I had not seen before. At the trailhead I met Bob May from Salt Lake City, and his sons Tyson and Bryce. With four of us, and two vehicles, we could do a shuttle, and begin our trip at the north end, descending the canyon. It would have been near impossible to do this alone. We set up three rappels and had to swim two deep and very cold pools. Each of these little obstacles took time to plan, set up, and get four people through. My mates were willing to wait while I set up the Hasselblad, especially in the Subway, but I chose not to. It will be there still when I return. As it was, we made our final ascent to the car in the dark. The third day was stormy, and was good timing as I needed a rest. On day four I started up the Virgin River Narrows, but found the footing treacherous. The previous day's rain had caused the river to rise considerably, and even worse, it was the color of chocolate. Since most of the route up through the Narrows is in the river, this presented a real problem. I hiked to the Emerald Pools instead, which was a first for me. Not very photogenic, really. On the last day of this little trip, I ventured up the Right Fork of North Creek. Don't remember why, but something had suggested it to me. The route was tough and very brushy, and maybe not one I will do again. Zion is such a great place for adventure. This was my third visit, and surely not the last. |
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GRAND CANYON on the COLORADO RIVER
April - May 2005 |
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I made a commitment to myself a few years ago to start seriously crossing things off the list. It's easy to add them, and there they sit, year after year. Then all of a sudden, you're old and cranky, and your body parts start to fail. So, I picked dates, hooked up with an organizer from Seattle who focuses on hiking the side canyons, and off we went. The professional outfitter was Hatch, and their crew of four who organized meals, hikes, and guided the three huge rafts were amazing, memorable people. From the beginning at Lee's Ferry just below Glen Canyon Dam to the end in Lake Mead our trip was over 300 miles, in 12 days. The rafts had small outboard motors which were hugely helpful navigating thru the rapids, and allowing for movement downriver to the next hike. We camped on sand bars most nights, though two were spent on solid rock. Every day were hikes of varying length, ones for serious trekkers, more moderate ones, and hikes for being mostly lazy in the sun. Among the most memorable events of the trip, on day one, we saw probably ten California Condors near the mouth of the Paria River. Later that day on a hike, I was at eye level with one, soaring up the canyon that I was traversing. It was one of the few times on the trip that I was alone. What a treat to see these magnificent birds thriving here. On one of the nights we camped on bedrock during a storm. Only found-rocks and our body weight kept our tents up. In the middle of the night there was an awful sound of rockfall right above our heads. I was sure that some of us would be squished, but no. And one of the finest places on earth is Havasu Creek, all of its 12 miles from the mouth up to the village of Supai. The amazing turquoise water and travertine deposits have to be seen to be believed. Every turn of the creek is another potential photograph. This was the first time in my life of wilderness tripping to be part of a group. Among the things I had to give up was the ability to stop and set up the Hasselblad whenever I wanted. So, as the days progressed, it became obvious that I had to choose between big hikes among a constantly moving group, or more time to drift about in solitude making photographs. I got a little of both. This is a perfect adventure for anyone with interest in the geologic history of the earth. One is allowed to see and touch rock that is 3 billion years old. There is one side creek that exposes the Great Discontinuity, where the sediments on top of the exposed schist are 1.5 billion years younger than the bedrock. One and a half billion years of missing geology ! The sheer immensity of the ditch is almost incomprehensible. The forces required to carve the Grand Canyon are difficult for my simple mind to wrap around. But it's clear then also that this planet has always been engaged in the processes of formation, destruction, putting a river here, an ocean there, filling same with ground up rock, burying, compressing, uplifting new mountain ranges, cutting them with rivers, washing them back out to sea, forming new sediments. Over and over, force it up, wash it away. You would think we would accept our presence here with a little more grace, a little more humility. A lot more respect. |
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