Thursday, April 7th
Random observations as I wait for the airport shuttle to arrive;
This morning I saw a man wearing a shirt that said "More Respect, Less Attack". I'd like to nominate him for President.
A young boy on crutches; in the states, he spends four weeks in a cast. In the mountains of Nepal, he's hobbled for life.
I saw someone smoking a cigarette while riding a motorcycle yesterday. Are cigarettes that addictive?
They must use different kinds shock absorbers over here. American vehicles could not possibly operate on these roads.
I learned early on to extend a loose fist to welcoming village children rather than an open hand. A firm grip from any sized person can pull you off your bike.
I frequently see young boys walking arm in arm in Nepal. Nice.
Where is the foreign aid? These people needs the world's help. Don't other countries know there was a 7.9 earthquake over here that killed 9,000 people and injured 21,000?
If Coca Cola can assemble a countywide distribution network in Nepal, why can't it be done for health care and earthquake reparation?
The women seem to do all of the hard work in this country. They lug huge weights (water, wood, straw) up steep hills on their backs, they toil the soy fields most days, they herd goats and much more. The men sit and watch. What's up with that?
A goat darts into the busy road. A baby does the same. A motorcycle with a infant sitting on the gas tank and a toddler hanging on in the back. No one is wearing a helmet. Such is life in Nepal.
A driver lying under a bus next to an extended tire jack fixing a flat while people are hopping on and off. Yikes.
Give me a white line on a divided road back home road and I can straddle on my bike for miles. Put me on a three foot high 20 inch wide wall above a rice paddy and I can't last five feet.
I got a shave, haircut and shoulder massage at the local barber. I'm now ready. Homeward bound.
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Wednesday, April 6th
Exhilarated and grateful for the amazing trip
Imagine thousands of cars operating with no rules of the road. Every bus, truck, car, motorcycle and scooter vying for the same space. Every man for himself. Further imagine half-paved roads, crater-sized potholes, blaring horns, dust, smog and toxic diesel exhaust blowing in your face. Those were our riding conditions for the last five miles today after coming down the mountains and onto the streets of Kathmandu. Crazy!
This morning we crossed the rim of the Kathmandu Valley. It involved a challenging climb, with 5,000 feet of ascent on a newly improved tarmac road. 15 miles and at times a difficult gradient, this 'Vertical Mile' climb took around 4 hours. I was in my element. My road biking and my decent fitness finally came into play. It was difficult but I felt strong. Finally something for me to feel good about.
At our Kathmandu hotel, we ordered food, ran in for showers and then game back for our food by the pool. Tonight, we went out to dinner with Promod and the General Manager of the Himalayan Tours. He is a great guy. Though we were tired, we were exhilarated and grateful for the amazing trip and for making it back to Kathmandu in one piece.
I'm now looking forward to my first night's sleep on a mattress in a week. 😊💤
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Tuesday, April 5, 2016
The motorcycle lost control and it went down
On this nearly 100 degree day and 36 mile uphill stretch on difficult terrain, I decided to ride with the staff in the Land Rover. I had promised my family I would "make good choices". Staying off the bike today was definitely a good one. It allowed me to heal while providing the others a chance to tackle the trip's most difficult segment unencumbered. They later concurred that my decision was the right one. When they finished they were completely wiped. I doubt I would have made it.
My ride in the vehicle was eventful. About two hours in, we arrived at the small city of Dhading. It was loud, crowded and hectic, a place without order, much like Kathmandu.
Halfway down the main street, for whatever reason, our driver decided to turn around. In the single lane road, he pulled up behind a truck, backed up and began a three point turn. As he accelerated towards the other side of the street, a small Suzuki 250 motorcycle with two people on it came darting past the other side of the truck. We slightly grazed the Suzuki, completely startling the driver. The motorcycle lost control and went down. We jumped out of the jeep. The passenger laid on the ground while the driver quickly got up, pulling his bike up with him.
Immediately, dozens of people crowded around; an instant jury.
I didn't need to understand the language. They were clearly arguing about fault. It got animated, in a muted way. No imminent fisticuffs. Just a lot of back and forth, airing it out. All the while the bike passenger lay on the ground, holding his left leg. We later heard that his X-ray was negative. Thankfully.
The bike wouldn't start. The engine bar was bent. The headlight was broken and the right directional signal and mirror were in little pieces on the ground.
As our staff and the biker driver walked the Suzuki to one of the many motorcycle repair shops along the main street, I went behind the bus station in search of a bathroom.
A woman demanded money when I exited. How much for a pee? I had no way of knowing. I gave her five rupees; about half a cent. She seemed content so I moved on.
There was music and news blaring from a rooftop speaker. I sat on a stoop eating a snack while the others bartered about the repair cost. All in all it took about an hour. Everyone seemed satisfied. We were then back on our way.
This all after a harrowing descent down the mountain pass. There's nothing like passing a bus on the outside of a single lane dirt road with no guard rail and looking over a cliff. Sitting in the front passenger seat, looking out and seeing the tire two inches from the edge is a sight I hope to never see again.
We stopped for lunch at a roadside shack. They ate from the "menu", a selection of fried stuff sitting in a pan on the ground by the side of the road. I can only image what contaminants had settled on it. Thankfully the chef had packed me a bagged lunch. Delicious.
Six hours after we began, as we were crossing through a river to our campsite, we got a flat tire. Thankfully, we were still able to make it to the other side. All of the luggage and supplies had to come off of the roof in order to access the spare tire.
It was quite a scene as lots of people gathered to watch. In front of an adoring audience, the staff changed the tire in a jiffy. They are really good.
At the campsite we waited about an hour for the bikers to arrive. They peeled themselves off their bikes. There grueling day was complete. I joined them for our nightly riverside washing ritual. We drank beers at a little shack just down the road and then headed back for dinner. Our cook had gone overboard this time. In addition to a selection of chicken, vegetables, potatoes and bread, he had made a terrific chocolate cake. I now know why one of the helpers was cradling a dozen eggs all day. The cake was a special treat for our last night of camping. Impressive and delicious.
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Monday, April 4, 2016
Such is Life in Nepal
I wrote briefly about Nick the day he and I arrived. He is 36, grew up in Shrewsbury, England and went to school outside of Oxford. Nick is a nomad. He lives and works in Kuwait after spending a year in Qatar same. Nick is an engineer, at least by title. That's what they call him in his role in remediating the Kuwaiti oil left behind by the Sudam Hussein and his army 20 years ago.
Nick is bright, gregarious and enjoyable to be around. He regularly shares bits of knowledge, much of it scientific in nature. Whether it be the unintended consequences of new hydroelectric plants or how airplane wings affect trailing wind vortexes, Nick knows a lot about a lot of things. How, I don't know, but he does.
Nick travels the world mountain biking and scuba diving. In the last couple of years he's been to Austin, the Pyrenees, Egypt, Jordon, Malaysia, Shri Lanka and Oman. Nick says that he has no interest in moving back to Engalnd. He loves exploring and simply finds England "too cold." Now that Nick and I are Facebook friends I intend to enjoy his worldly travels vicariously.
On a somber note, nearing our campsite at the end of today we passed a dead man lying by the side of road. Earlier, we came close to losing one of our own. Now, lying alone in my tent late Monday night, I am battered, sore, physically depleted and psychologically spent.
It didn't seem to affect the others much but I was shaken by the death scene down the road. As we cycled in along the riverbank we saw an ambulance up ahead. We approached. The ambulance was idle, no driver or attendant nearby. A middle aged woman was sitting on the ground weeping while leaning into her teenaged son's arms, her dead husband lying on the ground before her. He had fallen from the tree, broken some ribs, punctured his lung and bled out.
Promod casually described this as part of life in Nepal. We are 100 miles from the nearest hospital. The tretirous roads are slow going. There simply isn't the infrastructure to provide fast emergency care. Promod must have realized that I was upset. He put his arm on my shoulder and said in his strong local accent, "George, such is life in Nepal." Sobering and so very sad.
Also sobering was an incident that occurred earlier in the afternoon. After passing through a series of rice paddies, we took a sharp left turn down a steep track towards the river and a suspension bridge. The path was rocky, was 30 inches wide and had a 200 foot drop off to the right. Tim went first followed by Promod, Nick, Stepen and myself. About 50 yards down, Stephen's front tire slipped. He tried to gain control but couldn't. He was launched over his handlebars and part way down the embankment. I screamed out "Promod". By the time I approached the spot where Stephen went over, he was climbing back out. Thankfully, he had been stopped by shrubs about ten feet down. He stood for a moment, dusted himself off and hopped back on his bike. His left leg was scraped and it had swelled as if someone had pumped it with helium. No sweat for Stephen. Just a blip on the radar.
When we got halfway across the rickety bridge, I looked back at the cliff. 30 feet before where Stephen had fallen it was entirely clay. If he had fallen there instead, he would have gone head over heals down to the bottom. He would not have survived it. Yet here he was, bombing across a dangerous tenth of a mile span above a dried up river bed, embracing the next challenge as if nothing had happen. This 69 year old, as Tim said, "is one tough cookie". Such is life in Nepal.
For me, I continue to average three falls a day. It's tough to complain given the previous two stories but in my little world, I'm beaten and the spills are taking their toll. In 90 degree heat, jungle humidity, thick dust, rocky steep trails, I struggle to get back on the bike with the conviction necessary to finish the daily grind.
One fall today was particularly bad. We made a relatively rapid 4,600 foot decent from Gorkha, mostly on jeep roads. At one point we entered an area of road construction.
Thick dust permeated the air and the section of road was submerged in six inches deep, fine grain dirt. Without enough transition speed, sandy terrain brought me to an immediate halt. I flew off my bike landing face first. When I got up I was covered from head to toe. The dirt was in my ears and nostrils. It was in my mouth as well.
Ordinarily it would have been funny but this was my third spill in what was the most grueling day yet. Unbeknownst to me, Promod had opted for a more challenging route because he felt we were a strong group. Unfortunately for me, he was considering the average, not the weakest link. I was struggling. I felt like I was in the 10th round of a 12 round championship fight.
Like a good corner man, Tim spent the day providing me instruction, adjusting my bike and forcing me to drink. At one point, he opened his melted Cadbury chocolate bar and held it out. Depleted, I scraped some into my mouth with my top teeth as he cupped the blue wrapper with two hands.
Nick provided encouragement too. I could tell he was doing it judiciously, not wanting to appear condescending. I appreciated that. Nick was also kind enough to apply ointment to the wounds on the back of my legs and on my lower back.
Good cornermen are essential on days like these. But, I had two rounds to go and I had to take my opponent head on. It became a mental game. I set mini goals of getting through hundred yard stretches. I also distracted myself by thinking of O'Hara's pepper and onion pizza, my favorite ipa's, Sunday mornings by the wood stove and of course my family and Laura and Luke's upcoming wedding. Pleasant thoughts to occupy my mind.
Between the three of us and with Promod's steady hand, we made it to the campsite around 4:30. A dunk in the cold river was rejuvenating. We had another nice dinner and then to bed.
Promod ads that tomorrow's ride up to Gorkha is the hardest of the trip. Should I ride in the Land Rover with the staff? Oh no. Shutter the thought.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Hotel Shanker, Kathmandu,Nepal
