Kili Day 4

At lunch we played a game of "What Kind of Meat Is It?" 

Chicken? Pork? Shoe?

When the answer was revealed to be "Fish", it was clear that this was a game with no winners.

The food quality may not be increasing with the passage of time; however, he climb is becoming more interesting as we reach higher elevations. Not so much because of the scenery, but more so because the terrain is now more varied. Stretches of walking are now broken up by tricky manoeuvring around rocks and careful selection of lines to ascend and descend steeper slopes. 

At the same time, the trail is becoming busier. Several routes up the mountain are converging into a final common trail and we are seeing an increasing number of other hikers. And, for the first time, we are seeing them moving in both directions. Seeing the faces of people who have begun their descent after reaching the summit this morning is motivating. We are almost there. 

We are again passing the afternoon under the protection of our tent, escaping the rain and hoping that we might get an early sleep. It feels a bit like a daytime disco in here; base camp is buzzing with the enthusiastic sounds of other hikers who have just returned from the summit and are packing up their gear before continuing their descent.

Our plan is to wake up sometime in the middle of the night in order to begin our final push to the summit; with the goal of being there for sun rise. It's a little odd to sleep in the middle of the afternoon, in the light of day and with the sound of human activity all around...but I'm a pretty good sleeper, so I'm going to give it a go.

Kili Day 3

When I was young, I was fascinated by clouds. I used to imagine myself falling from the sky and landing on one. My parents had taught me enough to know that clouds are not, in fact, solid (giving me the requisite knowledge to understand the absurdity of my fantasy). Yet, I remember sitting on airplanes, looking down at the carpet of water vapour and thinking that maybe, just maybe, somewhere it must be dense enough to support me. 

Maybe this is why I didn't grow up to become a scientist. 

While I no longer imagine myself playing on the clouds, I still look at them with wonder. Clouds are like living things, constantly changing and capable of extraordinary things (case in point: Calgary clouds in July. Calgarians cyclists, you know exactly what I'm talking about). 

On Kili, its like the clouds are an extension of the mountain; a blanket that never lifts. When we started hiking this morning, we could see the fluffy white blanket of cloud below us. It formed a sort of skirt around the base of the mountain. As we ascended, we looked back from time to time to notice the skirt moving closer and closer to us. There was no wind or anything; the cloud just snuck farther and faster up the mountain…chasing us at a pace faster than we could walk. 

It was a few hundred metres away. Then a wall of white behind us. Then, instantly, it was all around us. 

It was like a scene in a movie where the protagonist enters a dream scene…or a horror scene. And, in a way, it did take us away to a different place. The whiteness of the cloud distilled the scenery so that everything around us seemed to change. There were no more plants. Just rocks. Rocks with fungus. Bright, orange, stringy fungus, forming beards on the rocks. 

I thought of the Fraggels, but it was a reference that was lost on both Pierre and our guide. Imagining the rocks coming to life, even if it was a daydream that I couldn't share with my companions, was a welcome distraction from the rain that accompanied the cloud. 

We continued for another hour or so in the cold and rain, before reaching camp. Something tells me that, in the clearness of the morning, this place has a wonderful view of the plains on one side, and the summit on the other. However, I'll need to wait until tomorrow, as we are spending our time here in the comfort of our tent, in an attempt to escape the rain and rest up for tomorrow. 

Kili Day 2

The landscape is changing and we are now out of the rainforest that plagued us with mud yesterday and into alpine forest. Tiny little plants with limited leaf mass. It resembles a desert…except for the abundance of rain and the number of streams crossing the path. Nevertheless, the surface of the trail is substantially less muddy, making our progression up the mountain quicker and more scenic (I no longer feel the need to keep my eyes on the ground the entire time). 

We have seen many new and unusual plants and I have to admit that I have been thinking about taking one home with me. I know, I know, if everyone did this, then there would be nothing left for others to enjoy - but thinking about taking one doesn't actually do any harm to the landscape. The thing is I figure these plants ought to be particularly well suited to grow under my care; they are used to harsh conditions. 

mysterious plant

I get a bit frustrated that I can't walk as fast as I can bike, so I am happy to be doing this with someone who doesn't dilly-dally and need to take a lot of breaks. In this way, Pierre is turning out to be a great hiking companion (translation: we passed a lot of people today and he didn't complain that we were going to fast). He's also pretty fun to be around. As an added bonus, because we are on a condensed schedule, we skipped a camp and had the trail entirely to ourselves for the second half of the hike today. An open trail is so much more enjoyable; even if it is in the rain!

Kili Day 1

The evening before our hike, we were met at our hotel by a man representing the company that would be leading us up Kilimanjaro. The purpose of the visit seemed to be threefold:

1. to ensure that we had arrived with more than flip flops and shorts. (Pass). 
2. to test the possibility that we would extend the trek. The route we chose is normally an 8-day journey (10+ for the timid). Being that I don't like sitting around much, I opted to do it in 6 days; an option that is not offered by most of the companies for this particular route. Now, I'm not a climber, so this may be an ambitious choice, but I just can't see how it should take so long to climb the mountain. (No thanks).
3. to provide some information regarding what to expect during our time on the mountain. One of these details was that we have more than just a guide; we would have a guide plus five porters per person. This came as a surprise to both of us. Sure, we knew that there would be support, but five porters each? This is not Everest. We don't need oxygen tanks or special equipment. We are not being carried up the mountain on a velvet chair. 

It felt embarrassingly excessive that we should have so much support for a non-technical hike that would only take us to 5900m. Nevertheless, the arrangements were made (and paid for) and we knew too little about what we were getting into to argue about what would be necessary (or not).

<< fast forward >>

We were picked up in the morning by a man named Nicolas, who had a leather jacket and, as we were about to discover, balls of steel. On the way to the mountain, we stopped a few times to pick up the crew; eventually cramming 14 passengers (plus driver) into the vehicle (along with a week's worth of food and camping gear). With every mile that passed, our anticipation to start the climb grew. 

And then the rain started. 

We stopped to pick up our park license...and to do a bunch of other things that I didn't really understand (and which took a very long time). Pierre and I just hung out in a moderately dry spot near the toilets; we were aching to go and the time kept passing and the rain just kept falling. 

Finally, we were moving again. 

As we approached the Lemosho gate, the rain continued and the road became steeper and more primitive. We passed a few Land Rovers that were stuck in the mud and I wondered at what point our dinky van was going to refuse to go on. That's when we discovered Nicolas's...driving talent. Swishing back and forth along the ruts as though we were water skiing. Bouncing up and down as we blindly plowed through puddles. Never hesitating. Never losing momentum. (but frequently grinding the bottom of the vehicle against the 'road').  Nicolas just kept moving.

It was not the sort of driving that one does when he is driving his own vehicle but, since none of the 15 of us owned the car, it didn't matter so much. Every meter that he drove meant one less meter to walk in the rain. 

Eventually, the Nicolas yielded to nature and let us out of the vehicle. By now is it was something like 3:00pm. Watching the other 13 bodies unload from the car, we were reminded of our discomfort about having so many porters. This embarrassment at excess was resolved when, upon exiting the vehicle and observing the trail, four of the porters refused to work. We were told that it had been raining a lot lately and conditions were particularly muddy. It was difficult for us to argue on this point, given what we had just been through. 

We cut some unnecessary luxuries front the packing list and carried on. 

We were a few kilometres from the trail head when we began walking. The road was in such rough shape as to make it impassable even on foot. So, we found a makeshift trail that paralleled the road and forged ahead, sidestepping puddles, leaping over streams, and  doing our best to stay upright on the muddy, off-cambre trail. 

From time to time, we were passed by porters (our own, as well as those supporting other hikers). The porters were carry thing loads of unimaginable size and weight and in the most impractical ways (on their heads, with their hands). One of the porters seemed to have broken his shoe and was marching along with one sock and one shoe. Rough start. Another had abandoned his shoes all together and left for us a trail of toe prints as a reminder that our situation could be worse. 

The rain continued on and off until the sun set, at which time it finally stopped. We continued in the dark for another hour before reaching our camp. By this time, we were mostly dry, though covered in mud. As we prepared for bed, our guide asked us if we would like to wash tomorrow morning. It's a sweet gesture, but I don't really see the point. I have a feeling that we are going to stay that way for the whole trip.

New Adventures in Tanzania

I didn't expect to find myself back in Tanzania so soon, but life handed me another unexpected opportunity for fun and adventure, and I just couldn't say no.

This time, I arrived here by combination of airplane and bus. And, this time, I left my wheels at home and, instead, brought my friend Pierre. We are here to hike, to sleep in the dirt and, eventually, to reach the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro.

We have a day here in Arusha before we begin the climb. Being in this part of Africa, it is impossible for me not to think of the past. So many memories. Mostly good. Others, not so much.

Tanzania was the part of the Tour d'Afrique that marked the start of a long period of illness for me. And it was in Arusha that I spent the better part of two days bed ridden, feverish, and questioning whether my body would let me make it to the end.

At the same time, being here gives me a deep longing to be back on the bike with my riding companions; spending our days outdoors and exploring something new each day. Sunshine, smiles and rainbows; my memory insists that it was all beautiful. Even the mud, the diesel exhaust, and the smell of burning litter make me nostalgic.

Of course, I can't go back. But, I can make new adventures. Discovering a different part of Tanzania is a part of this. Just one more sleep until we start Kili!
Sent from a BlackBerry that I'd better not lose

Saved by Nomads

We had been walking for less than an hour when the rain started. It was around this time that the washouts began; sections of the track covered with recently formed rivers. Crossing the washouts without wetting our shoes required some creativity. Sometimes a few leaps from one little island to another; sometimes a large detour upstream to find a spot that was passable; sometimes removing our shoes and hoping for the best.

At first, we fought the cold of the rain with the body heat. But, as we ascended toward the pass, the temperature began to drop. The rain turned to face-stinging-ice pellets. And then to snow.

There was a voice in my head telling me that it was a bad idea to continue hiking directly into the deteriorating weather. But we were soaked and cold and we needed to keep moving. Without a wood or fuel, we had little hope to get dry or warm on our own. It was too late to stop.  I realized that we might need to keep moving past sunset, which was eight hours away, in order to reach the next town.

Our progress was impeded by a massive washout, which required an equally massive detour upstream to avoid getting our feet wet. By this point, the water that was dripping from my drenched pants had already soaked my shoes and socks. Detouring to stay dry was a complete denial of the situation, imagining that there was some inch of dryness or warmness on my body that I could salvage. But the diversion upstream gave me something to think about other than the grim reality of our situation.

The river looked like a delta across a snowy field of grass. We leaped from one little island to another, while balancing >20kgs of gear on each of our backs. The situation was becoming increasingly urgent. Pierre spotted a tent with some smoke coming from a little chimney. Inside was a woman and three children. While we didn't have the benefit of common language to communicate, it was clear that we were in a bad situation and it was clear that they were willing to help.

Pierre and I sat in front of the fire; at first just warming ourselves and then methodically drying our clothing, item by item. The woman took a kettle from the fire and poured us some hot yak milk, while her young son filled the pot belly stove with dried yak poop.

Judging by the grass on the floor inside the tent, the family hadn't been here for long. They were nomads and we were just very, very lucky that they had chosen this spot to call home right now.

We stayed for a couple of hours until the storm passed and then we carried on our way. As we reached the highest point of the pass, we saw several other hikers (all monks) coming from the other side of the mountain. I have no idea how they weathered the storm or whether they even experienced it on the other side.

By now it was relatively clear and we could actually enjoy the view. Every step for the rest of the day was a celebration. The weather improved, the scenery became increasingly spectacular and, well, we were heading downhill, so we were feeling strong and speedy.

It's warm and dry as we head to sleep. The sun is even showing itself. I'm warm and comfortable and even a little bit giddy. As we were reaching the pass this morning, I really thought that there was no way that I could feel this way today.

Our only worry at this point is as we look at our hand drawn map; we aren't entirely certain where we are. It's not that we think that we are lost, it's just not clear how far we have gone or how much farther we need to walk. I think that I'll leave this as tomorrows problem.

The Tibetan Cowboy and the Horse

After a three day adventure that included a bus ride, a ride in a police car, another bus ride, 4 hitchhikes, and a 12 hour ride in a gravel truck, we were finally on the last stretch of our journey to Xueshan. Just as the first several hundred kilometres were no cake walk, the last 80 kilometres was not going to be easy.

There are no buses or natural traffic volume moving from Machen to Xueshan. Most of the drivers didn't know where Xueshan was (and the map was not useful in resolving that). Those that knew of Xueshan didn't want to go there (we would soon discover why). Eventually, Pierre convinced an unsuspecting driver to make the trip and we were on the move again.

As each kilometre passed, the road conditions deteriorated. The mud became thicker and the ruts became deeper. There was an unmistakable combination of regret and determination in the driver's face. After bottoming the car out several times, there came a point when Pierre and I needed to get out and push the vehicle in order to keep moving forward. After almost four hours, we finally arrived in Xueshan and were ready to begin the preparations for our trek. 

The plan was to spend the next five days making our way around Amnye Machen, eastern Tibet's most sacred mountain. We had a rough hand drawn map of the trek that Pierre found on the internet. We also had a tent and sleeping bags and some eager legs. Since my stove fuel was confiscated at the airport, we knew that would need to be creative with our food and water supplies. This is where a packhorse was critical; we could not carry all of the necessary supplies for the coming miles on our own. 

We began asking around about renting a packhorse. The response from the first person was quick and clear; there were no horses for rent in this town. We tried again and again. The answer remained the same. The task felt hopeless as we were running out of people to ask (Xueshan is not a large town).

We eventually came across a man who was hanging around the front doorstep of his house. He seemed a bit of a cowboy, with his long hair tied back in a pony tail and a cigarette hanging from his lips. Pierre asked him about getting a horse. The man asked if we had money. We nodded. He then invited us to sit down in his living room to wait. I use the term living room because it fits the location of the space within the house. But, in fact, temple might be a more fitting term.

Every wall was entirely covered with elaborate and colourful carved wood. Around each side of the room were massive leather couches of the sort that you might expect to find in a nice whiskey bar. In front of each couch was an impressive wood and marble table. This would be an unusual sight in any town of this size and stage of development (no plumbing or pavement); the fact that it was in a town at the end of 80km of road that was barely drivable made the experience all the more surreal.

If there was a man in this town who could get us a horse, it was this guy.

When the man returned, he had brought with him a man who owned a horse. The initial price was prohibitively high - but after 3.5 days getting here, we were sure that this was an obstacle that we could overcome. Using a combination of picture drawing and words, the negotiations began.

We eventually found agreement and the owner of the horse left to retrieve his horse so that we could leave as soon as possible.

Pierre and I were excited, but we had a few questions. The process of procuring a horse had been such an ordeal that we hadn't had an opportunity to consider the finer details of the actual trek.
- How could we build a fire in an area that has no trees? 
- Were there any predators in the area? (Tigers live in Asia, right?)
- Would we need to carry something for the horse to eat or drink?
- Was there anything special that we would need to know when we took the horse across rivers?
- What would we do with the horse when we were sleeping at night (recall, no trees around)?

And…who could answer these questions for us? Surely, we didn't want the horse owner to realize how unprepared we were to take his horse. As it turned out, these were unnecessary questions. The owner of the horse returned and advised us that he was no longer interested in renting his horse out; no explanation offered.

With the horse alternative exhausted, we probed about taking a yak instead. We learned that yaks don't move on their own, so this alternative would involve multiple yaks. In the end, that was an irrelevant detail, as renting a yak was not an alternative in this town either.

Frustrated but determined, Pierre and I grabbed a few supplies (mostly cookies and water) and set out on foot. We are taking a shorter route around the mountain, which should be only 2 or 3 days, according to our hand drawn map.

The first few hours have been quite nice, despite the weight of our packs. So far, we've seen only three other hikers; all of whom were monks.  We found a quiet spot near a river to set up camp. Next to our tent, we uncovered a broken slate tablet with Tibetan characters etched into it. This is without a doubt a different mountain experience than Jiuzhaigou.

The Road to Xueshan. Day 3.

As our starting town today was too small to have taxis, we negotiated a shared ride to the highway (Dot Seven) with a local. From there, a couple of friendly guys driving a gravel truck agreed to take us to Machen (Dot Eight). Considering the distance between dots seven and eight, it was a miracle to get the entire journey in one shot. And, even better than that, we could do it in the comfort of the sleeper space in the truck.

Easily the most enjoyable land ride that we've taken so far. Listening to chinese music while an ornament featuring Mao's face swung back and forth as the truck bounced slowly along the road. These guys were well equipped for a long ride. We snacked on plums and watermelon and watched yak herders on the mountains move their herds as we made our way over one mountain after another.

We stopped for a bathroom and lunch break at a town about half way through the day. The town toilet system was essentially the same as we enjoyed last night, except that, this time, there were three large pigs sleeping in the corner of the concrete box. At that moment, I decided that it would be at least a few days until I would order pork again.

I was soon reminded that, on this trip, not all of the decisions are mine. When I arrived at the restaurant, I discovered that the truck drivers had (very kindly) taken the liberty to order some lunch for us. First course: a gigantic plate of pig meat. And I didn't want to be rude.

When we first climbed into the gravel truck, it was 8:00am and we imagined that we might get to Machen by 11:00am, potentially leaving time to get to Xueshan by dark. In the end, we rolled in some time after 7:30pm. Xueshan will have to wait another day.

The Road to Xueshan. Day 2.

We made it by bus to Tongren (Dot Three) relatively early in the day. That's where our public transportation alternatives ended. We hitched a ride to another town (Dot Four), where we thought there was a bus or car that could take us further. The bus, and the road that the bus used, were no longer in service.

Time to improvise.

Fortunately, last night, Pierre found a map that had some important road detail, including the names of towns in Chinese. We celebrated the acquisition of the map; it seemed like something that could be really useful for a road trip. Using the map, we planned a new route to get to Xueshan and we began trying to procure a ride.

What we discovered is that maps are not universally useful. Something to consider when traveling through this part of China is that it seems that i) many people don't read Chinese, ii) many people don't speak Chinese, and iii) many people don't know what a map is.

You can look and point to places on a map all you like, but it's not going to get you anywhere if the map is nothing more than modern art to the person you are asking.

Time to be tenacious.

We (Pierre) talked to every driver who would stop, hoping that they might help us to connect the next dots. People were friendly, but those who understood where we wanted to go weren't heading in that direction. And those who seemed to be heading in our desired direction didn't seem to understand what we wanted. We kept trying.

Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail. Success! At last we were on the move again.

Perhaps our struggle to keep progressing toward Xueshan that has heightened my sensitivity to the beauty around me, but I feel that we are inching our way toward something truly magnificent. The population density has decreased and the landscapes are becoming increasingly beautiful. It's like someone covered the mountains entirely with green velvet. Every inch covered in green and the shades changing with the contours of the hill. If you look more closely, you can see that it is not just green, but, in fact, filled with white and purple and yellow wildflowers and, in the distance, with yaks and the occasional yurt.

A number of the roadside yurts that we passed today had pool tables outside. The tables were destroyed from the weather, but, strangely, still in use. We will probably never understand how or why the pool tables are there.

Ultimately, we made it through Dot Five and then on to Dot Six (the actual names of which I will not attempt to write). Our room for the night is on the second floor of an unmarked hotel. The room has a TV and a DD player, but no toilet. The town toilet is located about a block away from our building, just past the garbage dump. When you stare down the streets of the town, it isn't obvious that this place has a designated garbage collection area, but next to the toilet is where a lot of the garbage seems to end up. The piles of wrappers, cans, tissues and other waste have formed a colourful garden of stink through which people must walk in order to reach the toilet. And, when I say "toilet", I mean "raised concrete box in which several holes over which it is possible to squat".

Once you move past the waste management situation, the town actually has a certain charm to it. It is clear that tourists - western or Chinese - don't come through here often. We are sort of celebrities tonight.

The Road to Xueshan. Day 1.

The next stop in our adventure will be Xueshan, a little town in the province of Qinghai, and the starting point of what we hope to be a slightly less busy trek.

A careful time-cost analysis of our transportation alternatives revealed that getting from Jiuzhaigou to Xueshan by a combination of bus and airplane would be the best alternative. What the calculus didn't reveal was our sense that getting there entirely by land would score a lot higher on adventure. Why? Well, because there is not an obvious way to get there by land. We aren't even sure how far it is. Or how we are going to get there.

We have several shitty 3inch-by-4inch lonely planet maps (one for each of the provinces that we will travel in) that show part of the route. We also have an amateur hand drawn rendering of a hiking route, which Pierre downloaded from the internet. The hand drawn map has an arrow pointing to a town that appears on one of the lonely planet maps, so…it's almost like we have the whole thing mapped, right? Ok, well, at least we know the names of some towns along the way. We also know that there should be buses connecting some (but probably not all) of the towns. Bus information tends to be limited and very local, so planning more than one or two dots ahead is futile.

Our plan is to take the journey town by town and to just keep moving until we make it to Xueshan. It looks like we have 5 or 6 dots to connect, if things go well. Today, we made it to the second dot, but it would be a stretch to say that things went smoothly. The day began with a bus ride to Langmusi. Dot one. From there, we were planning to catch another bus to Xiahe (Dot Two). We quickly observed that this was unlikely going to be possible - time to improvise - so we climbed back in our bus and headed north, hoping to find another way to get to Dot Two. Four hours later, the bus dropped us off at the side of the highway, near a turn off to Xiahe; which was just 35km west of the highway. With no other ideas about how to make the distance, we began walking with our thumbs out.

Before long, we were picked up by a police car. Two friendly traffic cops who, as luck would have it, were headed to Xiahe. As the sun was setting, we managed to snag what seemed to be the last hotel room in the town. Tomorrow starts with a bus ride and then…who knows.