A stroll through the Himalayas

    I suppose the best place to start my story is upon leaving Kathmandu, which feels like so long ago. Our destination was Taplejung, Nepal. We were accompanied by "the connection", Iswari, owner of one of the leading guiding companies on Everest. Along with Issari was his band of high powered friends, including the major of the Nepalese army, the owner of an indian bank and college, a wacky Nepalese celebrity singer Krishna and  his side singers Amrita and Mina.

     Phil's and my purpose in this unlikely circumstance was to attend the festival surrounding Taplejung's annual marathon, in hopes of promoting tourism in this remote region of Nepal. Our bribe to tag along was free food, accommodation, and alcohol. After the three day festival was over we were to be set free to trek through the Kanjanjunga range.

    To put into perspective how little tourism this area sees: Everest base camp trek sees about 600 people per day, while the Kanjanjunga  base camp trek sees roughly 600 people per year.

    Upon arrival in Taplejung we were adorned with special occasion silk scarves and local food and drink, all due to the festivities at hand. During the four days Phil and I spent in Taplejung I saw more authentic local culture than I have in the past five months of travel through Asia and India. Everyday we were shuffled from place to place being force fed local food and drinks. After enough alcohol was drank the local people would inevitably start singing and dancing, insisting my hand to join. 

   After the festival had passed we turned our eyes towards the mountains. Iswari hooked us up with a local porter to carry our extra bag of camping food and climbing gear. Unfortunately our porter wasn't exactly the cream of the crop. As I shook his hand I gazed down upon a disappointing bear belly and an unenthusiastic expression to match as he picked up the bag he was expected to burden on the trail.

    Never the less we agreed to  wait for him to go home and acquire his trekking gear and  return by 10:00am. Hours passed and still no porter. After four hours time we assumed he felt the weight of his bag, understood our ambitious trekking itinerary, and decided to bail.

    Frustrated and left to our own means, we carried all three bags into town in hopes of finding a porter on our own. Within 20 minutes a man of short, stalking posture and the square face of the Sherpa people, approached us. Pasang inquired where we were headed with bags covered in ice axes and camping gear. And he enthusiastically thrust the extra bag on his bag and offered to be our porter for a nominal fee of about $14/day.

    Within an hour we were on the trail, due north, for Kanjanjunga base camp.  After four days we burst out of the foothills into the "real mountains." Dramatic peaks over 7000 meters in heights surrounded us. One peak in particular I will never forget. At 7700 meters, Jannu rose out of the Himalayan range like a great tower. It's most prominent face was an ominous ice frosted granite face rising for thousands of feet to a sharp wind strewn summit.

   There were however many beauties to admire while avoiding the highest most dangerous country of the range. As we walked at about 14,000 feet we passed gorgeous waterfalls and wildflowers growing on the most unlikely dry, rocky surfaces. At one point Pasang stopped, whistled and said abruptly, "blue sheep!". 

     We turned our heads uphill in curiosity and saw a herd of increasingly rare, endangered species of mountain sheep. With great proud, curled horns they turned their heads in unison to Pasang's whistle then carried on with their peaceful lives among the hills.

    The day following that rare sighting we gazed skyward as high altitude birds soared above on their wings  to a span of 2 meters from tip to tip. I'm am still unaware of that birds' name. But they were the most unique looking creatures, out of place where no other bird dared take flight in a world of thin, desolate air.

     After reaching our high point at about 15,300 feet and taking a few photos of the worlds third highest mountain, Kanjanjunga, we turned around due south. By sunset we were back in Mangbachen, where we ate a much deserved meal, and hit our pillows hard. And by pillows I mean those bags of sand Nepalese people call pillows.

   We awoke bright and early to Pasang kindling an extremely smokey fire. See, in every house on the trail there was an open fire with separated ceiling boards for a chimney. Needless to say this makes for a very smokey household. I had come to temporarily accept this cultural difference as an ignorance to the health problems it would cause. However that morning Pasang had acquired some of the greenest, smokiest plant life to start his fire, making it quite unbearable.

     Breathing shallowly I frantically dressed myself in my sleeping bag as quick as the confined space allowed. I then grabbed my water bottle, to fill in the stream, and sprinted outside.

   Rubbing my weary eyes, I stepped onto a seemingly solid rock on the riverside. Then with a surprise, too fast for my stiff morning reactions to counteract, the rock had shift weight and I was flat on my ass in a pool of icy water.I dub that the rudest awakening I have ever received. 

   Frustrated but understanding the comedy of my predicament, I told Phil of the mishap with a smirk, then dried my shoes as best I could in front of the fire before we left. However as was expected I had to slosh along the trail that day with wet shoes.

    Once at the trail intersection town of Ghunsa we deviated from our previous path and turned east to make way for Bokta peak. To reach our goal, Bokta peak, we first had to traverse over a series of high mountain passes, rising to about 14,800 feet. The first day attempting to push over the passes we were only wearing trekking shoes and subsequently got soaking wet feet from breaking trail through deep snow. By mid afternoon we were forced to succumb to our cold feet and the increasingly severe snow fall. In retreat, we took shelter in an emergent porter hut, which was more or less a barn without doors.

    When morning dawned Phil and I geared up with mountaineering boots, waterproof pants, and warm gloves. Pasang however was not so well-equipped. When I asked him what footwear he had, he showed me plastic bags to waterproof his feet and a pair of Nike shoes with a proud smile on his face. And instead of a water bottle to stay hydrated at altitude he would stop and eat snow, or desperately ask one of us for a drink of our dwindling water supply.

     This sort of unpreparedness is quite typical in third world nations when facing the elements. At first glance it appears simply to be tough and enduring. But as time pressed on, I had to subdue  myself from attributing this behavior to a general lack of intelligence.

    I came across many similar circumstances in India. I would be carrying water to climbing destinations when a sheep herder or other local would wander out of the dry landscape asking for water.

    That day I enthusiastically broke trail for 7 hours over the first of three passes, to my eventual exhaustion. We had planned to push on to the nearest village, Tserum, on the opposite side of the two remaining passes. However waist deep snow, blinding white out conditions, and Pasang's inadequate gear forced us to pitch a tent on an icy hillside for the night.

    Lucky me, I got the pleasure of the  downslope of the tent as Phil and Pasang were forced to slide into me, pushing me against the cold tent wall. That was a shivering, sleepless night to say the least. None better for Pasang, I suspect, with his sleeping bag that looked no warmer than a  baby blanket.

    That night as I lay awake with Phil's ass pushed against me and Pasang shivering on the other side I decided I was out of the Bokta peak expedition. For some mountaineers pain and suffering has no limit while striving for the summit. For me however, there is a point it stops being fun and games.

    The following day we had a merger, rationed breakfast and conserved fuel while melting snow to save our limited supplies. More trail breaking and difficult route finding pursued. Until finally we arrived in Tserum, dehydrated, hungry, and tired. Unfortunately our hopes were dashed and no one was to be found living in Tserum. 

    I insisted we strike off Bokta peak at this point and finally feed our selves well with the food we had left. Phil, being a mountaineer by trade had different plans. He suggested we push another three hours to another more populated village to be fed dinner, and refill our provisions with packs of noodles to fuel our ascent of the mountain. Reluctantly I refused to carry on with the climbing and apologetically told him I was to go down with or without him the next day. 

    He understood and we agreed to head down to the next village to get a "hot out of the pot" meal to avoid diving further into the camping food. One hour later, to our surprise we came upon a stand alone house that called itself the village of Andha Pedhi. As Pasang saw smoke rising from the roof he scurried past me muttering, "lucky, very lucky! No more food for two hours further!" 

    An animated conversation in Nepalese followed between the home owner and Pasang of hungry stomach motions, up and down walking hand gestures, and wide eyes from the listener. Within a short time we were filling our stomachs contently with dow bat, a typical Nepalese cuisine of copious amounts of rice, lentil soup, potato, and vegetable.

    With a late start the pursuing day Phil decided to carry on solo with a full food supply for one man, and attempt Bokta peak alone. We separated gear, said our good byes, and went opposite ways.

     Still exhausted from the day before I only decided to hike on that day because the map indicated a drop on 1300meters between myself and my destination of Yamphudin. However, before those 1300 meters, I was, unknowingly, to ascend a Himalayan foothill about 1000 meters in height. So like a soldier I trudged uphill until finally the grade dropped downhill. 

     I was within one hour of Yamphudin when the trail passed through the yard of someone's property. As I carried on with high hopes of a long day's end in my future I heard the clanging of a cow bell. As the noise drew alarmingly near I turned around in haste to investigate.  With a shocked face I saw a bull in full charge coming at me with two menacing horns aimed at target. 

     Suddenly my feet didn't hurt as much and my legs found new vigor. With a fleeting dash I kept downhill onto terrain the bull surely could not follow.

    The good news, I was safely out of range of the pissed off animal. Bad news I was well off the trail I had been following so diligently. I certainly wasn't going back into the domain of that pissed off bull to find the trail again. The best option, as I could see it, was to tread diagonally uphill, pushing through bamboo thickets until I found the path again.

     I did indeed find a trail. However, in time it proved to be the wrong trail. After 20 minutes or so I came to a clearing of cattle-grazed ground ending at a very steep, eroding hillside. This hill led down to a rushing river, and on the opposing side I could clearly see the path start up again.

         So composing a bold climber’s mindset I thought, “ Why spend time searching for the right trail when I can surely make my way down this hill to the river?”

         As I tediously made my way down this eroding hillside, holding on via thin tree roots and unconsolidated clumps of dirt and rock, the hill progressively got steeper. At one point the hill cliffed out to a short rock face, at which point I had to take off my backpack and toss it below while I climbed down to the next ledge to retrieve it.

         At last I reached solid ground! Covered in dirt from head to toe I rushed to the river to wash myself off. With an adrenaline induced rush of energy I pushed on the final 45 minutes uphill to Yamphudin.

         I walked by a man working the field. He stared at me intensely, with my trail worn clothes and face to match. With a delayed response he offered, “You stay at my house? Eating the rice, yes?” Enthusiastically I followed him through the village to his house. Where he fed me one of the most appreciated meals of my life.

         At this point in the trek I was quite enjoying the local, rural culture of Nepal. I found everyone to be so welcoming and giving. I opted for a short three hour walk the following day and a much needed rest day.

         I woke up early the following day feeling refreshed and ready to tackle a long day on the trail.  Within three hours I was well ahead of schedule, at the village of Manangkhe. From here I continued on what seemed to be the most obvious trail, laden with heavy set stones on either side.

         This path brought me to a bridge composed of rusted metal wires and rotting wood. Convinced a bridge of such instability would not be left on the trading route I was following, I turned around. Then I spotted a faint fork in the trail. Curiously I followed the trail as it continued to get fainter, and surrounded in thick vegetation. I forced my way through some particularly sharp weeds until I emerged at a rice terrace.

         I followed this plantation uphill until I reached what appeared to be a well travelled path. “This has to be the right way.” I assured myself. And so I followed this “right way” until it emptied out onto the banks of a roaring river.

         Once at the river I understood I had strayed far from the path, for there was no more trail at this point. But I just couldn’t resist the urge to see where the twists and turns of this river would take me. I hopped stones and treaded water for an hour or so until I came upon the most beautifully narrow, steam line, remote waterfall I’ve ever laid eyes upon.

         This waterfall cascaded down into a deep pool of glacial melt water. In the heat of the day, exhausted from a day’s march, with an intense sun overhead, what would you have done? Skinny dipping of course. With absolute solitude I dove into the majestic blue water’s and treaded water until the cold got the best of me. Reluctantly I dried off with a T-shirt, got dressed, and left that beautiful place.

         Still unaware of the where the correct trail was, I decided to retrace my steps to the nearest village to ask for directions. I was told to go left at an intersection, then follow this path to a modern suspension bridge. The man giving me directions failed to mention to then go right after the bridge, not left.

         Given my poor choice of random selection that day I decided to go left after the bridge. Forty five minutes later the trail took a turn down hill I knew was not right. So out of water (again!) I turned around and trudged up hill the right way to the next village, Polke. In Polke I was greeted by a smiling Nepalese housewife, eager to give me a room and food for the night.

         I thought the next day would be my last on the trail. Being told it was eight hours further to my final destination, Taplejung, I set off with a quick pace. However, after nine hours that quick pace was forced to succumb to aching feet and skin breaking chaffage. 

         The next day I walked for a mere thirty minutes until I reached a major town, Suketar, with paved roads and an air strip.  I continued down the switch backing road when a man and his son on a motorbike stopped and asked if I wanted a ride to Taplejung. “DO I!” I responded with appreciation.

         Within twenty minutes we arrived in Taplejung. After thanking the man extensively I retreated to my guesthouse and booked a bus back to Kathmandu.

         After a few days waiting around Kathmandu I ran into my friend Phil. Immediately he said, “I sent it” with a smile on his face. Bokta peak turned out to be a pretty straightforward mountain.  Phil reported some loose rock that could have stopped the three failed attempts last year, but beyond that short section it was just a deep snowfield to the summit.

         In hindsight I wish I would have pushed on and finished the expedition we set out for together. However the failure will inevitably motivate me to set out on a similar expedition in the future. Until that time comes I’ll be here in Colorado, rock climbing, training and quietly planning my revenge on the mountains.

Kathmandu

    Kathmandu has been a pleasant introduction to Nepalese culture. With the aid of my friend Phil, who's been here 4 times prior, we've spent the last few days hanging out in local restaurants, and meeting people integrated in the local mountaineering culture. Yesterday we were taken to a small climbing area outside of the city with Sherpas, one of whom climbed Everest 8 times, to teach them trad climbing skills which is absent in the high mountains of the Himalayas.  

     I've found the Nepalese culture to be warm hearted and welcoming. Up to this point it is one of my favorite cultures I've come across in my travels. With its kind people and endless mountain playgrounds Nepal is bound to go down in my book as a favorite.

    But ofcourse we're not sticking around the city when we're in the midst of the mighty himalayas. After 4 days of preparation in Kathmandu Phil and I are ready to set out to the kanjanjunga area of the Himalayas. Kanjanjunga is one of the world's fourteen mountains above 8000 meters, and is tucked away in the most remote corner of Nepal.

    Far from the beaten path we'll hike from village to village through the mountains working our way to Kanjenjunga's base camp. Due to the remote region we'll be traveling to and the amount of equipment needed we'll hire a nepalese porter to help carry and to translate for us to local village people. After kanjenjunga base camp we'll then set our sights on the ultimate goal. Mt. Bokta, standing at 6114m, should present the sort of adventure I crave. The plan is to trek to the base of this mountain and set up base camp. The day following climb halfway to the summit to acclimatize and return to base camp. Then the next day we'll push for the summit. And the cherry on top of it all is the summit pitch to Mt. Bokta presents a less than vertical ice climbing section.

    This expedition should take 2-3 weeks to complete. I will be out of contact for that time. So you can expect some interesting blog posts of the expedition when I return towards the end of the month. Until then, wish me luck! 

Rishikesh, India February 28th

   I've arrived in the peacefully town of Rishikesh, India. In the foothills of the mighty Himalayas, on the banks of the Ganga river, Rishikesh was put on the tourist map by the Beatles visit in the '60s. Today Rishikesh is covered in yoga ashrams, hotels, and restaurants. 

   I enjoy yoga, and practice it on a regular basis. However the yoga I found in Rishikesh was so far from that practiced in the United States. It was a much more spiritual side of yoga that lacked in every physical exertion aspect of yoga that I love. I'm sure people come here for this type of yoga and enjoy, but it's not for me.

    Without some sort of activity or goal to strive towards I find it difficult to stay in one place for long. I am bewildered by the people I meet who have been traveling for as long or longer periods than I have and just drifting from place to place with nothing in particular to accomplish. I suppose it's just a difference in opinion, but I need something to do or I start to lose purpose in my travels.

   So plans of changed! I've decided to set off for Nepal to go trekking in the Himalayas. Nepal seems to be the logical choice for me due to the accessibility of the mountains in the country.  I will be able to trek from village to village, staying tea houses, allowing me to carry minimal gear. 

   The journey to Nepal's capital, Kathmandu, will take around 20 hours. The extremely long overland travel is seeming to get a bit excessive, considering it took about 50 hours of travel time to get here. But I'm sure the journey will be worth it.

     

Agra, India and the Taj Mahal

  Thirty eight hours after leaving Hampi I arrived in Agra, home to the famous Taj Mahal. The train ride north was the longest traveling I've yet endured, and in fairly resilient spirits if I do say so myself. From Hampi to Agra, my total travel time was 38 hours!

  Despite the hot by day, cold by night, stuffy, airflow deprived upper bunk I resided in for 32 hours I found some enjoyment in the ride. When I grew tired of reading my latest novel I struck up conversations with other passengers, people watched, or remained in my bunk with thoughts of home and past travels racing through my head. If my appetite wouldn't have so suppressed by the sedentary travel I would have taken greater advantage of the food and drinks being sold on the train. Every 10 minutes or so a man would walk by selling chai, water, fried masala potatoes, veg biryani (spiced rice and vegetables), and other Indian snacks.  

    Prone to a stir crazy mind, those first steps off the 32 hour train ride were some of the most blissful, appreciated in my life. Within one more hour I was in my hotel room doing push ups, sit ups, and my regular yoga routine. With a new found energy to my stride I set off to see one of the worlds greatest architectural wonders, the Taj Mahal. 

    The tuk tuk dropped me off on the west entrance of the mausoleum. I then walked about 150 meters, purchased my ticket, walked through the entrance gate and it came into view. It was such a surreal experience. Like I was looking through television.  To see that famous building I've seen countless photos or videos of in media sources since I was in diapers watching Aladdin.

   I don't claim to be a person with a great appreciation for art. But the Taj Mahal is a work of art of such an immense scale I challenge even the mind of a child to avoid its beautiful allure. From afar it is impressive by its size, but not until you step inside do you see the intricacies of the architecture. The marble walls are carved with detailed floral designs. And at the heart of it all the coffin is surrounded by artistically  cut marble walls. 

   Aside from the sight seeing I had an interesting conversation with my tuk tuk driver. While we were waiting in a travel agency he drove me to we got to talking over a cup of chai. He told me he lived in a house his father passed down to him in a nearby village with his family of 10.  I asked him how many hours per day he works. He replied "11...12... Sometimes more if I have work, it no matter. I drive rickshaw for 25 years!", with enthusiastic pride. He then went on to tell me how much he loves his son who is my age and drives a taxi in Agra. 

    India certainly maintains that family closeness that seems to be characteristic to developing nations. In the United States I remember hearing the way it used to be, that families would stay close and not spread to the far reaches of the world like they do today. I never realized the primitive beauty of it until I saw it first hand.

I think I'm starting to sound like Christopher McCandles

   I'm constantly surrounded by people like me. The vagabonds of the world who don't know how to rest. It's an fascinatingly adventurous life and it all seems quite normal to me at this point. However, I do remember some skepticism from kith and kin before I set out on the path I'm still on. I never had answers to their prodding questions. But now having been through the ups and downs of the traveling lifestyle for a while, I dedicate this post  to analyze the life I have chosen.
    Four months I've been roaming the world at will. Some would say I've had enough time at this point to sort my life, plan for the future, and make some steps towards setting down some roots. Perhaps to my own demise i still rebel against this stereotype with definitive confidence. More than ever I want to see the world. And speaking with other travelers just gives me more inspiration to go to these wildly new and different places.

   People who have walked down this same enthralling path as I are not blind to its down sides. We have a lot of time on our hands to discuss our lives openly. Some have made the observation that at a certain point of roaming around saying hello and goodbye in quick succession is a recipe for a transient person with few long lasting relationships. My response to this criticism is absolute agreement. 

    The question is what do you want out of life? All of our choices have consequences. My life choices are subsequently causing the loss of precious time with close friends and family. However I feel the time I spend traveling the world will create a more intelligent well rounded person. When I do return to my family between travels I'll appreciate the time with memories of nostalgia while I was on the road. Until that time comes, I'm going to keep moving, absorbing everything this diverse world has to offer.

    Through my eyes I view the world as the ultimate playground, but I suppose one day the bell will ring and recess will be over. A good friend of mine once told me he decided to go on a "ten year drift" before getting serious about life. He said the hell with college or a career and set to the climbing dirtbag road for ten years. Some may say you have to be a reckless, irresponsible type of person to make life choices like this.  My travels have taught me the contrary. Happiness  does not necessarily come from achieving high social status in our western world where the dollar is king. In fact the happiest people I've ever met we're in a tribe in northern Thailand, with very little money to their name. India is teaching me how little we need to survive. If need be I could live happily in India for less than $8/day. 

   I don't see any reason to not to take this road less traveled. And when the time comes to stop my drift I'll enjoy that next chapter in my life all the same. To all the non-believers out there who think the only way to find happiness is to follow the mold, I dare you to run away to a place without five star hotels or cruise ships. Lose yourself in the places in the world where money isn't as abundant and report back.  

     That's my rant what's wrong with the world from my hammock in southern India. Now I'm going climbing! :)

Badami, India

I left Hampi for a few days with two friends, Phil and Tyler, to explore a climbing area 4 hours away called Badami. 1500 year old fortress temples carved into the sandstone cliffs on the outskirts of Badami attract Indian tourists from far and wide. This collection of indians from around the country gave us some insight into what India is like outside of our cultural bubble of Hampi. 

     The food was extremely cheap, but not that satisfying. The authentic Indian breakfast and lunch consisted of some variation of Indian bread by the names of puri, idli, upma, or dosa, and the same two spiced dipping sauces. At first it was delightful, and delightfully cheap, but as time went on my body started to feel the effects of an entirely glutinous diet. 

   Badami had one main dirt road. Wild pigs, roosters, monkeys, dogs, and cats roamed freely scavenging through garbage piles. The unorganized mess of pedestrians, rickshaws, cars, buses, ox carts, and cars with the excessively unnecessary use of horns made for a comical yet obnoxious scene.

   The climbing scene wasn't quite what we expected either. The first 3 protective bolts were stripped off of the over whelming majority of the climbing routes making them impossible to safely climb. However we did manage to find some fun routes fully bolted, and finding the climbing areas in the first place was an adventure worth the trip.

    Despite these seemingly negative reviews of Badami, India it was a gorgeous area and a period I will forever regard as my first exposure to the "real" India. And of course we managed to make a good time out of our adversity. After going to an Indian dive bar and throwing back a few king fishers, India's major beer, we would go back to our stuffy hotel room and watch cricket or bad movies on the small scrambled TV. Good times on the traveling road :)

    So now I'm back "home" in Hampi trying to make the most out of my final week here, before I step into the deep end of India. Bustling cities, noise, and bad odors are surely in my future. But will be justified by blissful mountain communities, cultural lessons, and a long list of adventures with stories and photos to walk away with.

Hampi, India February 5th

Days seem to in Hampi seem to drift together the way they should on extended trips like this. This will be a difficult place to leave when I escape the heat into the Himalayas at the end of February. 

   Such an oddly attractive place Hampi is. India in general for that matter. The water is bad, the sun is intense and dry, germs thrive in the generally accepted filth...yet the culture is so unique and exotic I find it undeniably irresistible. 

    The climbing community is slowly leaving southern India due to the departure of the most favorable weather. Just one week ago we had twenty or so people coming out bouldering  in the morning. Now we are down to about seven. However it's nice being part of a small consistent group of people for a while. When traveling you inevitably meet countless people and after a while grow tired of the same introductory questions. But here I can stop and get to know people. A welcomed change.

    My first introduction to the happy Hampi family is Sharmilla. The owner of the popular climber's guest house and restaraunt, The Goan Corner. Sharmilla is always laughing, and very sharp. No one ever seems to win in an argument against her, including her short pudgy husband.

    Next up Phil, my roommate, I met upon arrival to Hampi. Phil is an interesting character from England. Soft spoken, tall, thin, and thick bearded, Phil lives on the road. He moves where the climbing is or his work and training as a high altitude mountaineer may take him. Frostbite took one of his big toes, and he has told me quite a few interesting stories while we sway in our hammocks in the heat of the mid-day.

   Another character from the crew, Andy. A 48 year opinionated, self employed plumber from England, Andy out climbs people more than twenty years younger than him. Clever and experienced, he adds a much needed balance to the group. 

    A few days ago a 22 year old califinornian showed up that I knew from Chiang Mai, Thailand. The two of us are at the same climbing level, so with any hope we'll give each other some terrible ideas in the weeks to come.

    No roster of Hampi would be complete excluding the animals. The family that owns my guest house owns two dogs the size of Great Danes who entertain themselves by chasing monkeys jumping between rooftops. Short in the chase would be the new member of the family, a Labrador puppy named Ginger.

    That is to just name a few. The climbing community has been great in Hampi. For the time being they are the people who surround me. But the bitter sweet changes of the traveling lifestyle will sweep them away, to be replaced by a whole new set of oddballs and misfits. 

Hampi, India is a very unique place in the world. And for the adventurous rock climbing soul it is one of a kind.

   The climber's day in Hampi begins at 6:00am. Twenty or more climbers congregate in front of the most popular guest house in Hampi, drink a cup of chai tea and head out for the morning climbing session before the sun rises. After climbing in the morning I usually practice yoga in the grass near my clay-walled, thatch roofed hut. Or relax in my hammock and read my never ending supply of kindle books. 

    As for the food in India I have mixed opinions. Indian cuisine definitely has some tasty meals, but in general it's just a lot of spiced gravy and overcooked vegetables. However on the plus side of Hampi there are quite a few restaurants serving cuisines from around the world, so I don't have to only eat Indian.

     The cost of the typical vegetarian meal with some nan or roti (Indian bread) is 80rupees ($1.50). And I am sharing a room with a friend, each paying only 200rupees ($4)/night. I believe I can sustain my travel addiction in India for some time to come :)

   This is place is one of the most romantically peaceful places I've yet come across. However there is a beast to the beauty. Sanitary conditions of India aren't exactly ideal. As a result now due to either eating some bad chicken or catching a stomach flu that's going around and spending the night kneeling over a squat toilet, I'm still a little under the weather the following day. Times like this make traveling a difficult mind game. I would love to fly back home to mommy at this moment. But the rewards of the road are too great to give in that easily. Two days from now I'm sure I'll be climbing again with a smile on my face, two months from now perhaps I'll be looking over the immense beauty of the Himalayas. So I must push on, and take the good with the bad! 

Mumbai January 27th

   Okay there are so many details, and side events that made the first 12 hours of my stay in India a memorable welcome. Its going to be difficult to organize them on paper, but I will try my best. 

    I arrived from Bangkok at 5:00pm, running 4 restless nights of sleep due to traveling at night, and staying out much too late on Bangkok's famous khao San road, to my own demise.  And to top it off i refused to pay inflated price of food at the bangkok airport, so i was running off of bananas and free samples of rice crackers from the convenience stores in the airport. Once through airport baggage claim  I caught a taxi to the budget hotel area of Mumbai, a street about 1 hour away with no traffic and 2 hours with. My driver then ushered me to his taxi and we set off to Colaba road.

    On the drive to Colaba road I saw buses over flowing with people, hundreds of tuk tuks squeezing into that one tiny gap in the traffic, crowds of people sleeping on the streets, at one point two little Indian girls saw my walking ATM white face and ran through traffic to ask me for money to buy chocolate. 

   After some difficulty of finding my hotel we finally arrive 2 hours later. Unfortunately the sea shore hotel was booked full, so  the owner of the guest house offered to find me another guest house. Exhausted and completely blind of where I should go I agreed. Roger took me to a few more guest houses in the area before we found one. I thought "great! Finally a good nights sleep, I'm getting a little dinner and going to sleep!" Wrong! I had a very long night ahead of me at that point.

     I set my bag down and had Roger take me to a travel agent to book my bus to Hampi. Then I realized I left my iPhone in the taxi! It must fallen out of pocket. So I asked roger what I should do!? He replied "ahh okay, okay. No problem my friend, I help you. We take train back to airport." 

   90 minutes later we're back at the airport, for a fraction of the price of the taxi! (It pays to know how to get around the cities.) At the airport I approached to taxi service desk and explained the situation "okay my friend no problem no problem" was everyone's reply. Over the course of the next 3 hours there we so many confusing conversations Roger briefly translates for me. 

   My understanding of the events is as follows...the taxi driver found the phone on the way back to the airport, turned around on his own good will to return it to me at the sea shore hotel, but I wasn't there, so he furiously returned to the airport, having spent gas money to find me. Back at the airport his shift was over, so another driver relieved him as he went to the airport hotel to get some sleep. We called the taxi back to the airport based off the taxi car number and of course the driver didn't have my phone. But he did have the other drivers number! So we finally get this driver downstairs to give me my phone back. I almost had it in my hands and an argument erupts in Indian jarble. They were arguing over how many rupees I should have to pay the man for returning my phone and the man for calling the man to return my phone, all the while Roger mediating the situation and poorly translating to my confused ears. Finally we come to the conclusion I will pay the driver 200 rupees and the other driver 100 rupees, and grand total of about $6. At long last I have my phone!! 

    The train was closed by that time, 2:00 am, and I paid for another expensive taxi return and gave Roger  some rupees for all the help. By the end of the night I think I had paid about $40 dollars in transportation and bribes, but finally got my precious iPhone back!

   Despite the hardships, i think i quite like India so far. i cant quite put my finger on why, but during these rough spots of my travels I maintain an inward smile at how absurd this all is. Then i come out the other side and everything is just fine again, and i have uet another story to tell. Ha! "No problem my friend!"

   Now I'm spending the day in Mumbai, and catching the sleeper bus to Hampi. I'm quite ready to get out of the big city and go climbing! 

Karen hill tribe trek

As our first day on the trail began I started to wonder why we were walking at such an annoyingly slow pace. However as time went on I began to understand why our guide was walking so nonchalantly. He was watching, always watching. Watching for the next to pull out of his hat. He grew up in a Karen hill tribe village and a vast knowledge of wild edibles and toys of the jungle, introduced to him as a child. Every so often he would stop and hand me a small flower with sweet nectar or would pick a length of elephant grass and tear it in such a way it soared through the air with shocking ease. At one point he shot his slingshot into the canopy of the jungle with no apparent target, but then 20-30 small thirst quenching fruits fell to the ground.

  After a 4hour hike full of countless tricks of the jungle we arrived at the Karen hill tribe village. Immediately we were greeted by a skinny woman with black teeth, not due to decay, but quite the contrary. She had been chewing seeds for years that are good for dental health, but as a side effect turn the teeth black as night. 

   An independent walk through the village revealed native children ecstatic to meet us, a new born puppy litter, and the tribes sacred farm animals that roam freely through the trails and huts. 

   We then helped prepare a delicious dinner of yellow potato, chicken curry and fried vegetables with the rice grown on the tribes rice patties. 

    Interaction with these caring, loving people proved that absolute happiness can be obtained much more readily by a close relationship with friends, family, and nature. These people weren't concerned with the stresses that plague the modern world. They were completely content with breathing good air of the mountains, and living a self sustained life in the wild. Our guide told a story of an old man from the village going to see the city after years of living in the village. The old man was in Chiang Mai for two days before he developed a city induced depression. In his native language he said "If some one doesn't drive me back tomorrow, I'm walking!"

   So after an incredible experience in Asia I'm now making my way Bangkok where I will fly out on the 21st to India. I am very excited to see what the next chapter of my travels has in store. I'm sure India will supply a fresh supply of stories and adventures! 

  

Pai January 12th

After sorting my Indian visa affairs in Chiang Mai I came to a town called pai, about 4 hours north of Chiang Mai. About 45 minutes into that 4 hour bus ride to Pai the road began to get increasingly winding, inducing the 12 year old kid next to me to begin vomiting. At first I thought "poor kid". However, as time went on 4 more people got sick, puking in bags and out the window! Eventually I gave in to the humor of the situation at hand and had a good laugh about it with a strong stomached Thai man next to me.

   The disgusting ride proved to be worth it though! Pai, Thailand is one of the most serene, beautiful little towns I've found yet. Littered with delicious organic food restaurants, yoga retreats and friendly people, it makes a Coloradoan feel at home. 

   At time of writing I'm sitting atop a rushing waterfall looking out onto distant hill tops. The out door setting in these northern Thai hills are beautiful, and present great hiking opportunities. 

   In two days, after being thoroughly zenned out by Pai, I'm headed back to Chiang Mai to go on a hill tribe trek. I'll be spending a night in a hill tribes village, learning about their culture and how they survive in the jungles. The company I'm being guided by is an Eco-trekking company. Meaning they provide trekking guiding services at a sustainable rate. Many company are cheaper, but go to the same hill tribe repeatedly, causing the fabric of their culture to begin to tear apart, being transformed into a tourist destination. So I hope it's worth the extra money, should be a great experience!And then on January 21st I fly out of Bangkok for India!

Pai landscape


Love the floating lanterns or konmings

Chiang Mai January 9th

I've found Chiang Mai to be one of my favorite cities in Asia. Surrounding the heart of chiang mai, is a mote with the remnants of a wall that used to be in place to keep out enemies. within the moat, scattered amongst the modern urban society, is bhudist temples that are hundreds of years old. Along with ancient statues of kings from a different time, the pieces of history scattered about make this place very unique to other cities in Asia.
    The city of Chiang Mai has a much more authentic Thai cultural feel to it than other places I've been in Thailand. The food certainly surpasses that of southern Thailand too. The curry dishes so delicious, but the road full of Muslim restaurants is also so very tasty, I just don't know where I will go for dinner! How will I endure the hard decisions of the traveling lifestyle? :)
     While I wait for my Indian visa, which I should get on January 18th, I'm trying to come up with interesting things to do that will make the last week of my travels in Southeast Asia a memorable one. Today I rented a bicycle to tour the city. After stopping at a couple incredibly designed bhindi at temples, I thought why not check out the Chiang Mai zoo. I usually steer usually steer clear of the typical tourist destinations such as zoos. But this one was pretty impressive, hosting wildlife from elephants, to white tigers, lions, hippos, giraffes, pandas, and exotic birds. He bird cage was set up a little different than it would be in the states. In stead of each bird being its own cage, you walk into their cage with 15-20 different species of strange birds.
   I've been looking into the best option to get out and explore the hills around Chiang Mai. Full of jungles, waterfalls, and indigenous hill tribes. I could A rent a motorbike and drive some myself for one day. Or B go through a guiding company. The guest house I'm stay at subsequently runs an Eco-trekking company and the owner is an extremely nice Thai man. The guiding company would take me out into the jungle for 2 nights 3 days and we would stay at a hill tribes village,learn jungle survival techniques, and learn what food is edible in the jungle. Despite the cost, I'm leaning towards the 3 day jungle adventure. After over 2 months of budget traveling I think it will be a great last memory of Southeast Asia.

Thakhek, Laos 1/4/13

   Today I rented a motorbike (a considerably faster mortorbike than others I've rented in Asia) and on a scenic drive into the limestone mountains. Upon setting out I intended on just going for 20 km or so. However the thrill of riding into exotic lands brought over the next hill and the next hill and the next hill until before I knew it I was 70 km away from where I started. It was very interesting seeing the towns I was driving through get smaller and smaller until I reached one with a maze of dirt roads rough enough to cause me to turn back. In that last town I don't believe they received many white faced visitors, because I was getting some strange looks. On my way back through the winding roads I came around a turn and saw a group of 4 goats on one side of the road. Not looking that intent on getting to the other side I thought it safe to continue on without hinderance. However one goat had a sudden urge to bolt out I front of me! I squeezed both my brakes as hard as I could and my bike slide out from under me continue another 20 feet, narrowly avoiding the goat. I hopped to my feet unscathed with a smile on face and a new found appreciation to my step. I wish the bike would have hit the little bastard!! Close call indeed.

   Unfortunately there was a firework caused fire on New Year's Eve that set aflame to the bungalows and restaurants near the climbing area near Thakhek. I planned on staying here for a long time but without accommodation near the climbing area I would have to stay in the city of Thakhek for an inflated rate and pay for a motorbike every day to get to go climbing. Unwilling to pay these fees I've decided it's time to make my way to India! I'm growing weary of the Southeast Asia after over two months here anyway. So tomorrow I will be getting on a bus bound for Chiang Mai, Thailand where I will acquire my Indian visa. From Chiang Mai I will then have to take a bus to the Bangkok airport where my journey began what seems like years ago.