Above the clouds

On the fourth day of our trek, we climbed all day long before arriving on a high ridge, above the clouds, with a spectacular view of the mountain range. Eight peaks highlighted this panoramic view. We spent a wonderful evening wrapped in the beauty of the mountains and woke to see the sunrise coloring each crest and crevasse. Each of us gazed, continually, hoping to sear the view into our minds forever.

Why I'm here

And now, I leave you with this, the reason I'm here . .

Our group of twentyfour trekkers hiked in groups of five or six with our Sherpa Guides leading the way. Trekking the Himalayas is such a wonderful experience, but not for the faint of heart. The best views are bestowed on those that go Up, Up, and Up! Thanks to my hiking partners, my running inspirers and my lifting advisors, I sailed up without too much trouble. The hiking gave me strength, the running gave me wind and those squats saved my knees on the downhill. I told my friends about the "doggedly trudged" title given me by the writer that took my picture at the top of Mt. St. Helens. They said I was better than a "doggedly trudged" label this time. So there! And here are the views from the top of the ridge. .

The Bridges, The Bridges, The Bridges

Thank you Judy and Peggy for your bridge report. Fortunately our group did not know about the collapse as we carefully crossed one after another. I can certainly speculate as to which one gave way. It could have been the one I named "the prayer bridge," two steps and a prayer, or the bamboo baby bridge being held together by a wing and a prayer (it was desperately in need of new prayer flags) or maybe the "casino boardwalk bridge" which was a crap shoot since it was missing two our of three boards wherever we stepped. I'm glad you were thinking of me.

Fortunatley, the only injury I sustained (a pulled muscle) occured in the toilet tent while trying to take a crap Sherpa style. For more detail, call me when I return home; I'll wait by the phone.

Life on the Trail

With new friends, I trekked past terraced hillsides, tripped over mountain waterfalls, crossed trecherous bridges and gazed at the spectacular peaks. The village people were busily taking care of crops, cows, buffalo and chickens. Women were weaving goat hair, drying grain, making baskets, washing clothes and taking care of children. Everywhere I go, the mountains constant beauty is strong and powerful. Past memories blend with new experiences, forming a carefully woven cloak. This mesmerizing land has a calm about it despite, or maybe because of, the challenges faced by those who dwell in the same manner as their ancestors before them. Little here has changed; leaving questions without answers by those who don't ask.

Day One, We Did Have Fun

Our Rag Tag group flew in to Pokhara, bussed to Bijayapur and trekked up hills to our first tent city campsite. The trekking system was set up, in the fifties, by the Brits, and is a time honored tradition that helps support the local economy. The Porters carry the loads and set up camp, the cook boys take care of the kitchen preparations and clean up, the Sherpa guides take care of us. Our Sherpas bring us tea and washing water in the morning, serve our meals, guide us up and down the rugged terrain, keep watch in two hour shifts at night, and basically see to our safety. They are a wonderful group; already I've learned a lot from talking with them in my limited Nepali. Most important, they often sing or whistle as we trek, which makes the tough terrain a little less noticable.

I'm in Pokhara

I just have a few minutes in this internet cafe before we go to dinner, but I wanted to let you all know that I am safe and having a wonderful time. Trekking the Himalayas was everything I had ever hoped for and more. Nepal is a magical place and the mountains stand out at every turn in the trail. The people are very friendly and the children captured my heart at every stop. Trekking through forest, up and down mountainsides, and crossing unbelievably difficult bridges, gave me a deep appreciation of modern technology as well as a longing for the togetherness and connection that I see in these people who are not stretched beyond their souls due to that technology that makes our lives so easy. When you see the pictures, you will know what I mean. I promise pictures tomorrow if I can find a place that will take the cards.

I hope your Christmas was full of love and laughter and wish you the best in the New Year.

There is a huge festival here in Pokhara; the streets are filled with people and there is music and dancing everywhere. It should be a fun filled two days before we start the safari.

Hopefully I can find away to post pictures soon.

Irony Everywhere

We are still waiting for our flight out; the anticipation has turned to a sluggish resolve to hurry up and wait. Meanwhile, I'll show you a little more of Nepal. How is it that a country that has produced so many beautiful temples, monestaries, stupas, gods and goddesses, has not managed to develope an operationally safe water system. The top picture shows the beauty of the statues and the second picture is a stark example of a depleated water system that people still use. Note the man in the corner trying to retrieve a drink from the unsanitary trickle. The bottom picture was taken at the bustling market place; visualize the smells and the sounds.

The narrow streets of Kathmandu

Marriage of four year old girls

I'm still at the airport, so thought I would take advantage of this slow moving internet service to tell you about the four year old wedding ceremonies. These little girls are being married to fruit so that if there husband, someday, were to die or disappear, they would still be protected by the status of a prior marriage.

At the Airport

Quickly, I am at the airport waiting to fly to Laktapur to start the Siklis treak. No time for pics; I tried posting last night and the electricity knocked out all the efforts to overcome the dialup archaic system. Conditions here make you appreciate the small things in live. We will talk in eight days.
Merry Christmas to all and peace on earth!!

Under the Prayer Flags

Early this morning, despite the hazy coat of cool air, I watched the sun catch the Himalayan peaks with authority and wrap the colorful prayer flags with gentleness. An hour later, I joined the group and headed off to explore the city. My colorful skirt joined the others, swaying past the sounds, smells and sights that contrasted sharply with the powerful ranges and peaceful religions. Moreover, I was quickly caught up in the adventurous lives of my new trekking friends; getting to know them has been a real pleasure. A love for the wilderness is our common bond.

Most important, I gained merrit by walking around the Stupa numerous times, spinning the prayer wheel along the way. No one seemed to notice my awkward effort to blend in to the timeless system. How I managed to make it home, unharmed, was a haunting question. Imagine New York City without street signs, traffic lights, speed signs, cross walks, turn lanes, parking spots or animal laws. Now you have driving in Nepal. The one common denominator is "beep, beep."

Yesterday we toured the Patan Museum. It is a must in understanding the culture of two religions living side by side in a respectful co-existance. The Buddihist and Hindu religions are very complicated but simple, and they have a admirable peacefulness about them.

Saturday the 22rd, we shopped the markets, viewed many dieties and stupas, and dodged the relentless crazy traffic. One of our destinations was the Temple of the Living Goddess; we were hoping to see her in the window, but it was not to be. The Kumari, unique to Nepali Hinduism as a seat of spiritual power. Tomorrow we begin our much anticipated trek. Enjoy the pics, I'll be back in touch once I've touched the mountins.

The Road to Kathmandu

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For twenty eight years, I've been looking out the window, viewing the Himalyas from the distance by way of books, pictures and dreams; finally, I walked out the door via seven months training, twenty four hours traveling and numerous words of encouragement and support from all of you. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart: I have arrived! Flying into Kathmandu, the view of the Himal is breathtaking. From there, irony strings across the land waving in the wind like the prayer flags. How is it that these mountains rise so majestically from the entanglement of this city's poverty? And I, so mystically taken in, had no reaction when I was promptly fleeced for twenty dollars in my first five minutes outside the airport. Chandra, the driver, and a member of the trekking crew, wisk me safely to the Summit Hotel after masterfully missing the hundreds of cars, motorcycles and bicycles, coming and going in all directions. There are no lanes, no stoplights, no stop signs and no orderly system to follow. Clearly, the common bond here is the sound of "beep beep." After dining at Chez Carol's with other delightfully enthusiastic trekkers, I came back to my small, simple, heatless room in this beautifully restored hotel and climbed under the covers to discover the warmth of the hotwater pad tucked in between the sheets. Wow, the small things in life are the best. This morning, I stepped out onto the deck to take pictures of the city as it woke; the day of sightseeing is before me, and "ma koosi layguo." (I am happy)

Adventures of the future will add to those of the past

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Adventures always bring back memories, and none are as vivid - and contested - as the details of some of our backpacking trips around Mt. Rainier. The boys tell stories of arriving at Glacier Basin to the startling discovery that one was carrying dinner in the form of a five-pound canned ham and the other was unknowingly assigned the arduous task of safely transporting his mother’s wine coolers. I’m sure their lust for embellishment is a genetic trait from their father’s side.

One Week Away

Holy smoke! I’m buried under mountains of finals that are waiting to be graded, yet all I can think about are the mountains in the Himalayas. I need diversion, so I’m pausing to thank all of you, my hiking/training partners, for going at my pace, on my time frame, and for protecting me from the "big dogs" in the neighborhood. I know you are all wondering whom I’m going to hide behind while looking for tigers on the safari.

In addition to my training partners, a big thanks to my golfer whose idea of trekking is walking straight to the next hole without detouring by the lurking dangers of sand and water "gottcha gobblers."