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October 28, 2006
Meeting Life Head on...
LOCATION: Harkatwa, Nepal
SEE WHERE WE ARE!
Longitude: N: 27.57°
Latitude: E: 083.79°
Miles from Singapore: 5021
'Ccrrruuunch'. The dreadful sound of metal colliding at speed on metal just 50 feet behind me brings my legs to a sharp halt. Drivers from other vehicles are already running down the road in the direction of two buses slewed at awkward angles across the road from each other. Both front ends are caved in from the impact of a head on collision and some of the passengers and both drivers are clearly badly hurt. This is the third accident I've seen on the road today since leaving Kathmandu just 80km away.
A few seconds prior to the accident several buses had passed me on the downhill stretch going incredibly fast and veering way off into the opposite side of the road. Some of them overladen with goods and people sitting on the roof leaned over at frightening angles and I remember thinking what an especially dangerous section of road this was. I've become quite used to the appalling driving standards in Asia: drivers have a particular penchant for overtaking at the most hair-brained sections in the road such as blind corners and the brows of hills (ideally both at the same time). Faith in the next life and the unquestioning assumption that whatever might be coming the other way is smaller and can therefore squeeze off the road in time are perhaps two key factors in the successful outcome of this fatalistic equation in the minds of drivers. To my mind it presents an impossible collision between the fixed laws of physics and [lack of] common sense.
The main defense mechanism I have for avoiding getting caught between these two deadly phenomena is the mirror on my handlebar. The butt of several jokes from other cyclists I've met along the way (they think it looks too clunky and old-fashioned) this $5 device reduces the chances of getting hit by several fold in my opinion. The main problem on these narrow roads is the limited space for two vehicles to pass immediately adjacent to me. And if there's a slower vehicle, such as a tractor or horse cart, coming the other way as well the width is further reduced. The mirror allows me to monitor the size and speed of vehicles coming up behind and what the likelihood is of there being a tight squeeze at the point in the road where I am pedaling. If it looks like they'll pass too close I can veer off into the ditch at the last minute (something I've done few times since leaving Singapore).
I've been told however by a couple of cyclists heading in the opposite direction that if I think Nepal is bad then wait till India. I'll find out just how bad later today when I cross the border and start the final 2000km stretch to Mumbai (Bombay) which I plan to hit by the middle of next month.
It turns out that another major expedition will be finishing around the same time. On November 12th Tim Harvey of Vancouver to Vancouver will be completing a two year epic to circle the world without fossil fuels. Follow the progress of the final stretch of this amazing journey that seeks to promote a greener future where all of us burn fewer fossil fuels. Tim's constant adherence to this higher goal over just the physical adventure is a great example to all wannabe expeditioneers.
jason
Posted at 4:29 AM
October 24, 2006
Farewell Tibet. Hello Nepal...
LOCATION: Kathmandu, Nepal
SEE WHERE WE ARE!
Longitude: N: 27.72°
Latitude: E: 085.31°
Miles from Singapore: 4865
Crossing the border into Nepal here was a momentous occasion for two good reasons; the 'tricky' bit of crossing through Tibet was now behind me (something that had been looming since leaving Singapore) and if the rear tyre on my bike completed spat the dummy I could always take a bus to Kathmandu for parts and return without the hassle and expense of crossing back into Tibet. As it was the freewheel hub had spewed all of it's bearings out on the road just 30kms before the border and it was thanks to the help of a couple of Irish fellas met on the road from Lhatse that I was able to continue at all. That plus the final descent being all downhill so no pedaling required!
The change in surroundings between 4000m to 2000m is quite remarkable. From the arid austerity of the Tibetan Plateau to the lush indulgence of the Nepalese rainforest the mind is bombarded with a plethora of stimuli that jostle and overwhelm the senses; the smell of wet earth after recent rain, the sound of birds and insects that couldn't survive at high altitude and the rich hues of dark greens that dominate the scenery. It reminded me of coming off the ocean after a long crossing in pedal boat Moksha: sensory overload, but at it's best.
My first impression of the Nepalese people is very positive. They are friendly and polite, but keep a respectful distance from my bike and the trailer if I stop in a town or village. No sticky fingers over everything like in Tibet! And no stone throwing (yet). The pace of life seems more laid back here also, perhaps reflecting the kinder climate? On the final run into Kathmandu I passed through several army road-blocks, evidence that the long-standing dispute between the government and the Maoist factions in the outlying provinces (and around Kathmandu by the look of it) is still very much unresolved. So I'm guessing the goodwill towards foreigners isn't always extended to one another! In fact my daily scan of the local papers here indicates quite the opposite; daily kidnappings and killings by the Maoists and the recent failure of both sides to come to any form of agreement after much anticipated talks presided over by a special committee from the UN. It reminds me that I need to keep moving onto India in case things suddenly go awry here and I get stuck. The hippy-trippy peaceful exterior of places like this can be so deceiving to the uneducated eye, as proved by East Timor earlier this year. The surface smiles and good humour of the day mask the deep scars and lingering grievances inherited from many generations of inter-tribal disputes and conflict, just waiting to erupt into violence given the right circumstances.
But for now, it's wonderful to be in Nepal.
jason
Posted at 8:35 AM
October 18, 2006
Painting the Monastery Red
LOCATION: Shegar Monastery, Tibet
SEE WHERE WE ARE!
Longitude: N: 28.26°
Latitude: E: 086.01°
Miles from Singapore: 4865
My visit to Shegar monastery just 180 km from the Nepal border was I think the highlight of my time in Tibet. After traipsing around a couple of the larger monasteries that serve as little more than expensive museums to tourists the penny finally dropped that if I wanted to see real monks living and working in a vaguely authentic environment I'd have to seek out the smaller, less publicized, Buddhist establishments.
Built in the 12th century this testament to the skill and daring of architects and builders back then (the monastery is basically built on the side of a cliff) is currently home to 35 monks (once 800 in pre-cultural revolution times). On walking through the main entrance I was greeted by a chubby little guy wearing a paint-splattered t-shirt [that barely stretched over his paunch] and loose-fitting tracksuit bottoms that threatened to slip further and reveal a full-on workman's bike rack at any moment. Being in rather a good mood I stopped to exchange pleasantries in a muddle of broken Chinese and English. I'm glad I did. He turned out to be the abbot.
His unusual appearance was on account of everyone pitching in on the annual painting of the monastery. All around me monks were running back and forth laughing and shouting, flinging paint at each other and [it seemed] at anything other than the monastery itself. But they all looked to be having a wonderful time.
At first I was a little disappointed as I was hoping my visit would coincide with a prayer meeting that I could film. This was my fifth monastery visit in Tibet and I had managed to miss such events so successfully on each occasion that I was beginning to find my ill-timing rather a joke. My visit to this particular monastery seemed destined to be no exception to the pattern. But having wandered around for a while taking photos and filming the monks at their work/play, I was about to leave when the abbot approached me again with an offer to come back the following morning for breakfast. I hastily agreed.
At first light I found myself walking briskly back up the mountainside spurred on by the cold. I was ushered into their basic dining area and planted beside the abbot who had one one of the younger monks bring me a section of a sheep's ribcage to use as a spoon. Yak tea (chai) came around first followed by tsampa (barley flour) that I was shown how to mix with the remains of the tea to create a soft ball that could then be eaten in little chunks. 'Tupa' (sp?) - basically potato stew with body parts - came next, rounded off by a final cup of tea. All very edible, even the tsampa that I'd been told was revolting by a tourist in Lhasa. The monks watched every mouthful I took to see if I would spit any of it out. But I'm proud to say that it all went down and more to the point stayed down.
Afterwards I felt a great sense of contentment and peace come over me, and a twinge to stay with these people - whom I could barely communicate with but I sensed a strong connection on both a personal and spiritual level. I wondered why this should be so? And then I remembered a conversation Steve and I had on the Atlantic crossing way back in 1995.
Steve had asked me if there was any chance that I would leave the expedition prematurely. I replied no, that I couldn't foresee any factors, at least at that point, that would prevent me from finishing what we'd started together. Yes of course being cooped up in a tiny wooden box for months at a time on the ocean wave can get tiresome after a while, and the attempts to gain sponsorships had already proved the most challenging and frustrating part of the whole thing before even leaving London. But these were all just inconveniences or physical discomforts that were temporary and open to control from a disciplined mind; something that I was very interested in developing then, and still am, as part of the larger effort of finding ways to become a 'better' person in life. However there was one scenario that sprang to mind that I could see might derail my future involvement with the expedition.
"When we get to Tibet I might find a monastery where I can sign up and focus all my time and energies into pursuing Moksha", I told him (and I was talking about the literal translation of the word, not the pedal boat).
I knew I could justify leaving the expedition if it served as a stepping stone to this higher goal. I'd already made great strides in meditation during the voyage and had even experienced a 5-minute period of 'samadhi' (non-dualistic insight) that wetted my [dare I say it] desire for more. But when we arrived into the confusion and chaos of Miami and turned our attention to tackling the ever growing expedition debts the priorities had to change. It seemed OK at the time because we expected the entire expedition to take only 2-3 years more. Tibet could wait.
But somehow 11-years went by. The combination of accidents, disasters and the never ending grind of raising the estimated $500,000 that this thing has cost so far all added up into minutes, hours, days, week...years...(a lifetime?). So when I finally found myself sitting beside the abbot there in Shegar Monastery I realized that if this had been 8 years ago it might well have been the end of my trip, as Steve's was back in Hawaii in 1999. But with so much time passing I'm a different person now. And although I still recognize the goal of seeking and achieving Moksha as being of infinite more use and value than a human powered circumnavigation, I also recognize that the method by which I would pursue it now would be different. Freezing my arse off in a monastery on the roof of the world might have worked back then, but that 'ship has sailed' as the saying goes. I'd do it differently now. I like to be around people (other than Tibetan children of course) and being locked away from the world is too insular and frankly self-serving.
I'm sharing this rather long-winded tale with you because many people have asked me over the years the WHY question followed immediately afterwards with "Have you ever felt like giving up?". Well now I can honestly say that sitting on that wooden bench beside the fat abbot digging around a bowl of potato soup with a sheep's rib is about as close as I've gotten to throwing in the towel. But Greenwich beckons...
jason
Posted at 1:42 PM
October 11, 2006
Altitude Sickness
LOCATION: Nyalam, Tibet
SEE WHERE WE ARE!
Longitude: N: 28.26°
Latitude: E: 086.02°
Miles from Singapore: 4758
The rims seem to be holding up fine. With only a relatively short distance now to the Nepalese border I feel like there's reason to believe I'll make it all the way to Kathmandu without further mechanical mishap. I just need to be careful coming down off the southern edge of the Himalayas - a mind blowing drop of 4,500 metres in just a hundred kilometres. And the road surface since the God forsaken town of Tingri has been in quite bad condition in places (dirt with corrugations and loose gravel), so I just need to curb the urge to go full tilt!
On a not so positive note a few nights ago I came down with moderate Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) after climbing to the top of Gyatso La pass (5200m). I suppose I'd become a little over confident having crossed more than ten 4500m passes since entering Tibet 6-weeks ago and assumed that I was fully acclimated to the altitude. But AMS can be quite arbitrary as to when it strikes, something I wasn't aware of then but certainly am now after learning a hard lesson.
I was delayed leaving the town of Lahtse dealing with the rims and sending off the previous vlog report, so I didn't even begin the 1,200m ascent (over 20km) until 2 p.m. Hampered by the absence of my 'granny gear' with the new rim configuration (this is the gear that allows one to climb really steep grades) I found myself having to walk the last 4kms, with the result that I didn't arrive at the pass until well after 7 p.m. with just an hour of daylight to descend to safer altitude (below 4500m) to make camp. I was also very tired and probably dehydrated - compounding factors that led to the onset of AMS. By the time I made camp in the dark, still well above 4500m (the gradient on the other side of the pass being quite slight), I was in bad shape; splitting headache, nausea to the point of wanting to vomit and extreme lethargy. It took nearly 45mins just to erect my tent, a task that normally takes 10-15mins max. My concern also, being on my own, was that if my condition deteriorated during the night with the need to immediately descend further I wouldn't be able to help myself, let alone break camp and pack everything onto the bike.
Luckily for me my condition did improve after forcing down some hot tea and lying still for 2-3 hours. I've learnt a valuable lesson not to take these mountain lightly, no matter how familiar they might have become. Not that I will find myself anywhere near such high peaks in the foreseeable future; it's all downhill from here to Greenwich! Plus when I think how cold it is at 5200m and then see mountains like Everest in the distance at over 8,000m, I cannot even begin to imagine how cold it is up there. And I can happily guarantee to myself that I will NEVER, but NEVER find myself climbing up any of them.
jason
Posted at 7:17 AM | Comments (1)
October 6, 2006
It's a hatchet job, but it might just work.
LOCATION: Lhatse, Tibet
SEE WHERE WE ARE!
Longitude: N: 29.65°
Latitude: E: 91.13°
Miles from Singapore: 4440
Earlier today I took a terrifying taxi ride jammed in the back seat with three Tibetans ("hmm, is that Eau de Yak Butter you're all wearing by any chance?") 150 km back to Shigatze in search of a replacement rear rim. I wasn't holding out much hope and my thought was/is to work back to Lhasa if necessary, then fly in a new rim as a last resort. Taking a bus to Kathmandu and back is pretty much out of the question as I'd have to sign onto an expensive 4WD tour to get back into Tibet.
After a hour or so of getting bounced around town like a pinball, directed to one bike shop after another (that only sold bikes, not repaired them) I eventually ended up at a very basic repair shop up a narrow alley miles from where I started my search. The premises and its contents might have been rudimentary, but this was fully compensated by the ingenuity and 'can-do' attitude of the guy who ran it. In remote areas like this people are used to fixing everything because they have to.
The basic problem we faced was needing to marry my 32-spoke rear Japanese made hub (that holds the BOB trailer) to a 36-spoke Chinese made rim. As I would face the same problem in Lhasa I gave the go ahead for surgery, which involved an array of scary looking tools and implements such as drills and large hammers that certainly wouldn't be allowed into the high precision workshop environment of a more sophisticated bike shop.
I won't go into the boring mechanic details, but four hours later I found myself heading back on a bus to Lhatse here with a new wheel in my lap. On a quick test ride around town it looks like it MAY, just may, work. The Japanese chain seems to be shifting between the new Chinese cogs OK (something I was worried might not work well, if at all). Otherwise the only major difference seems to be that I'm now one cog short, which will mean harder work getting up these last four 5,000m passes to Kathmandu. But I'll have a better idea when I load everything up tomorrow morning and see how the new rims handle the amount of weight I'm carrying. I'm concerned about how strong the spokes are, being Chinese metal. But perhaps having 36 spokes will compensate? Tomorrow will tell...
jason
Posted at 4:02 AM | Comments (1)
October 4, 2006
Broken bicycle - go back 3 spaces.
LOCATION: en route to Shigatse, Tibet
SEE WHERE WE ARE!
Longitude: N: 29.65°
Latitude: E: 91.13°
Miles from Singapore: 4440
My honeymoon experience with this region of Tibet started to fade yesterday heading west out of Shigatse with renewed stone-throwing action from the children and constant begging for money from both young and old alike. Almost every family I passed sent out their children with palms outstretched bleating 'give money, give money' - and it got very old, very quick. So much so that I hardly dared film or take pictures as I'm sure that would have incurred a hefty surcharge. It's sad, but inevitable, to see how Chinese sponsored mass-tourism in Tibet has effected these people so badly. But this is not a new story of course.
And then today both rims on my bike cracked. I'm counting my lucky stars it happened this side of Lhasa and not the eastern side, otherwise it might have been 'Broken bicycle - go back to jail'. But it's turning out to be enough of a hassle as it is. I carry a good many spare parts for the bike, as this is a part of the world where parts for non-Chinese bikes are basically non-existent. But there are only so many spares one can carry, and a pair of awkward wheel rims is clearly out of the question.
After the front rim cracked in the morning I managed to limp 60kms to the town of Lhatse and find a bike shop selling some Chinese mountain bikes. The one thing the Chinese-made rims have in common with my French-made rims is the diametre - 26 inch. Otherwise they are completely different - shorter spokes, different hubs and thicker rims. But the diametre is the important thing and after I agreed to an exorbitant amount of money for a front wheel off one of their bicycles (I considered myself lucky that I didn't have to buy the entire bike, although I probably paid the full price for it anyway!), I made the switch and incredibly the new rim fit. Magic! I was so happy not to have to backtrack by bus to Shigatse (150km) or even Lhasa (420km) in search of a new rim. But I spoke too soon.
Just a little while later this evening as I was adjusting the spokes on both wheels I found to my horror that the rear wheel rim had cracked also. I knew instantly that I was/am in trouble. The rear rim is much more complicated than the front as the centre hub is married to a 7-piece freewheel set (Chinese equivalents are only 6) and the derailleur system. Plus in my case the centre hub is specially configured to carry the BOB trailer. So at the time of writing it looks like I'll have to backtrack to Shigatse anyway, and possibly to Lhasa, to hunt down a replacement rear rim that will fit all the criteria. If I can't find one the easiest thing will probably be to have one sent into Lhasa by courier. This will mean at least a week's delay, but the only other alternative that I can see is to take a bus over the border to Kathmandu (where I know the bike shops have foreign bike parts) and back again. And this option would also take a week and there's no guarantee I'd be able to get back into Tibet again as an individual traveler crossing over from Nepal.
It's all horribly complicated. Fingers crossed I'll find something that will work here in Tibet...otherwise, maybe I could hike as originally planned over the Himalayas?
jason
Posted at 4:41 PM | Comments (1)
October 1, 2006
Road to Nepal
LOCATION: Shigatse, Tibet
SEE WHERE WE ARE!
Longitude: N: 29.65°
Latitude: E: 91.13°
Miles from Singapore: 4440
How fickle the human mind is! Just over a week ago I was gagging to get to Lhasa for my first wash in nearly a month, to dry out from the rain and to reacquaint myself with the meaning of hot food. Then a few days ago I was gagging equally hard to get away from Lhasa to escape mass tourism, exorbitant prices and, well...because I missed being outdoors.
The grass is always greener, but there has to be a balance no? For me I think the optimum length of time in a static 'basecamp' environment is between 3-4 days. And the corresponding time 'out there' around a week before the great outdoors starts to get tiresome.
The 270km ride from Lhasa to Shigatse here (traditional home of the Panchen Lama) was pleasant if a little uneventful. The highlight was definitely stopping off at the 11th century Nethang monastery just 17km outside of Lhasa. Currently home to 33 monks, the tiny courtyard, chapel and surrounding buildings are impeccably tidy and well cared for. When I arrived they were just finishing afternoon prayers which, when I stuck my head around the door, included the use of various wonderful instruments such as conch shells that some of the younger monks were blowing into with all their might (with mixed results.) What a cacophony! Unfortunately by the time I ran back to the bike and grabbed my camera everything was over and the monks were piling out of the chapel in the direction of the kitchen for their main feed of the day.
This leg of the trip will take me 1,000km from Lhasa over the main backbone of the Himalaya (and past Mt. Everest) to Kathmandu in Nepal. It's a very different stretch of road compared to the one leading up to Lhasa, not least because I'm all legal beagle now I have an official 'Alien's Travel Permit' picked up from the PSB (police) just this afternoon. So I won't be having to dodge any police checkpoints at night or avoid the bigger towns. If I get fed up with camping I can grab a room in a guesthouse for the night (without fear of a knock on the door in the middle of the night by the PSB). And if I want to stop off in a town and eat at a restaurant, or all of the restaurants, and then go dance the fandango outside the police station wearing nothing but a kilt, I can without (too much chance of) getting arrested.
Plus I have my fancy new stove picked up in Lhasa so I can cook whatever I want (as long as it says noodles on the packet) whenever I want, whether it's raining or not. I'm sure it's a Chinese knock-off (fake) based on an MSR design, but if it lasts as far as Kathmandu that's good enough for me.
jason
Posted at 2:11 PM | Comments (3)