The roof of Africa................................

Mt. Kilimanjaro is actually a cluster of three volcanic cones, Mawenzi, Shira, and Kibo, with Uhuru peak being the highest point on the African continent at 19,341 feet above sea level and the objective that I and six other intrepid adventurers dared to confront. Mt. Kilimanjaro is not a technically challenging climb however, because of the high winds, low temperatures and most importantly the extreme altitude, it is still difficult and dangerous.  Most people will suffer some symptoms of acute mountain sickness (AMS), but there is also the possibility it could advance to the more serious, even fatal, high altitude pulmonary edema (HAPE) or high altitude cerebral edema (HACE).  Something like 40,000 people attempt to climb the mountain each year, only about 70% actually make it to the top. We saw many people who had succumbed to the altitude; ataxic and glassy-eyed, being led by their guides down the mountain, never having made it to the summit. 

You can climb it and drink it!

There are several trails up the mountain with varying climbing times from 6-10 days and numerous trekking companies to select from and you are required to have a licensed guide. Since I was going to invest significant time, effort, and money in this endeavor, didn’t want to die on the mountain, and knowing that the best chance of success was by going slowly and acclimatizing to the altitude, I chose the 12 day (9 days climbing) Lemosho route with Tusker Trail. Many people do the climb in six days, but these tend to be the younger crowd. Our troop of seven had only one person under age fifty, and he had asthma, with two in their 60’s; the oldest being Jimmy age 69. We were definitely the most mature group climbing at that time. You had to log in at the various campsites along the way and one of the columns asks your age. Looking at the ages of the people who had signed before us, you saw the majority was in their 30’s, many in their 40’s, few in their 50’s, and I did not see one person 60 or above, yet we had two in our group.  In addition to the longer acclimatization period, I also chose Tusker because 

number one with them is safety, with number two being reaching the summit.  This was borne out by the twice daily health checks; the fact that one porter always followed us carrying oxygen tanks, medical supplies and a portable hyperbaric chamber; the sanitation procedures in place; and the compassion and care provided when a couple of folks in our group needed special attention. Without the support of the fantastic Tusker team I can’t imagine how much more difficult the journey would have been and if we would have had the same success.

We had introduced ourselves through email; Lisa, an environmental attorney from California; Sharon, an expat Canadian living in the Netherlands and working for the International Criminal Court in The Hague; Merle, another Canadian, working in the field of energy; John and Jim, retirees and brother-in-laws, from South Carolina; and Jose, our youngest member from Puerto Rico, but met face-to-face for the first time over dinner at our cozy hotel in Moshi, a small town in the shadow of Mt. Kilimanjaro. The following afternoon we met our guides, Simon, Gaudence (sp?), and Kembo, for our climb orientation, to check out our equipment and to answer any final questions. It sounded

pretty simple; basically all we had to do was haul ourselves and our daypacks up the mountain each day while the Tusker team of 35 porters lugged everything else; food, water, tents, cooking supplies, toilet and a myriad of other things. These guys are amazing. They carried at least twice the amount we were carrying, usually on their heads and without the aid of trekking poles. We would leave in the morning, then they would break down camp, pass us on the trail and have it all set up at the next campsite by the time we arrived that evening, and with smiles on

 their faces the whole time. I know it sounds like this was just a luxury camping trip, but I’ll tell you again, without question, this was one of the most physically demanding activities I have ever undertaken. These guys earned our respect and gratitude.

The first morning we were in high spirits and full of adrenaline as we boarded our high ground clearance, 6-wheel drive vehicle (this should have been a sign); little knowing that soon we would need every tire, tread and ounce of power that the truck could deliver. As luck would have it by the time we arrived an hour and a half later at Machame gate, where we had to log in and have all our equipment weighed, it had begun to rain. There are limits on the amount that porters can carry and the weighing is done to assure you have enough porters to safely carry your

equipment. From there it was to be a short 30 minute drive to the start of the trail. This was one of the wildest rides in my life. The road was a sea of wet, red, slippery mud that turned into a road of wet, red, slippery mud with deep tire grooves. We were going up, slipping and sliding, the drivers hands moving around the steering wheel like he was playing a piano concerto and sometimes when the tires got into the grooves he would just take his hands off the wheel altogether because it jerked so fast he would have broken an arm or wrist had he tried to control it. We were moving up the road like one of those cars at Disneyland that drives itself on tracks, and then it got interesting. We came to a spot in the road where there were about a dozen guys just sitting around waiting to make a few bucks by pushing stuck vehicles out of the mud (another sign). Not only did this section have the wet, slippery, red mud with deep tire grooves; it also was steeper and narrower with the sides of the hill at least five feet high. Our driver must have gotten his training from those guys who drive those monster mudder trucks because he just put it into gear and gunned it up the hill. We were making slow but steady progress, sliding left and right, jostling back and forth, the driver’s hands moving spastically to keep us from getting stuck. At times he was even using the sides of the hill to bounce the truck off like a ball on a billiard table. I was never worried that we would turn over because the road was so narrow and deep that it would have been impossible and then …boom we hit something. We either lost our muffler or poked a hole in it because after that the engine noise was much louder. Did this completely? No, only temporarily. He reversed it a bit and gunned the engine. Our wheels were spinning like mad and we were just digging ourselves deeper into the mud. I thought for sure this was the end when suddenly we started moving forward, unfortunately we were heading straight for a tree, which by the look of the bark that had been ripped from its trunk, had

been recently visited by another vehicle. Sharon and I were sitting closest to the front, looking out the windshield and were certain we would be picking splinters from our teeth when somehow the wheels got caught in the ruts, the truck veered violently to the right and we missed the tree by I would say fractions of an inch. Mr. Toads Wild Ride is your grandmother driving on Sunday compared to this.

Shortly afterward we arrived at the trailhead, got out of the truck, donned our raingear and finally began our climb. For me it was like Mt. Fuji all over, except in addition to the rain, we were climbing in rivers of mud; and at one point there was even some hail. What an inauspicious start. We made it to camp (~9000 feet) just as it got dark and started the process which would become our routine for the entire trip.

Let me tell you about camp life. Typically we would arrive in camp between 4pm-6pm. Once in camp we were to get out of our wet, cold clothes and put on something warm and dry. You would usually get your sleeping bag ready at this time as well. Then it was get a warm drink from the mess tent; tea, coffee or cocoa with a couple of teaspoons of sugar for energy. Dinner was at 7pm followed by our health check. By 8pm you were heading for bed because we had to get up early. In the morning you were awakened by Boyette (sp?) who would come to your tent at 6:30am and bring you a hot beverage. (I told you sometimes it was like a luxury camping trip.) Breakfast was at 7:00am at which time all your things should be pack and ready to go. As we ate breakfast, the porters were breaking down the camp.  After breakfast you would have your health check and by 9:00am we were on the trail to start the process all over.

Health checks. There are no secrets when it comes to the state of your health on this trip and you get to know people maybe a little more than you want to, especially when it comes to excretion. We had a standard set of questions form on a scale of 1-10 how do you feel, to when was the last time you pooped. After the first day, we all were able to joke about it. In fact I have one memorable quote that Jose said I could use.  He had been having some intestinal challenges for a few days and after it started to correct itself his comment was “I’m starting to fart like a normal person” (You had to be there).  In addition to the questionnaire we had our lungs checked and pulse-oximeter readings. These could be quite telling. For the first few days my oxygen reading was in the 90’s, as were most of the others, but when Sharon and I stayed at Crater Camp (~18,300) my reading was 65 and hers was 58; that is significant and the reason that climbing at altitude becomes so difficult.

Thankfully it didn’t rain on day two because the trail was harder and steeper with lots of rocks, mud and deep narrow tracks. We left the rain forest behind, climbed into the heather and on to the Shira Plateau (~11,500). You could definitely notice the change in flora. The climb was more difficult but we went pole, pole (Po-lay, Po-lay), it’s Swahili for slowly-slowly and another way to avoid AMS. At this point you force yourself to go slowly because you feel so good, but getting into the habit is good practice and on summit day you won’t even have a choice, your body will be making that decision for you. Jimmy was struggling today, fell behind and Merle carried some of his pack. At this point I would have said that he would never make it to the summit, but little did I know how much grit and determination this guy had.

Day three was uneventful and I can’t remember much about it. So let me talk a little about the food. Our cook was fantastic. We always had hot soup at dinner (yummy!) and porridge at breakfast (yucky!); hey I’m not a fan of porridge. Other items on the menu included toast, eggs, and French toast for breakfast, with various stews with spaghetti or rice, and …..French fries. That’s right, French fries. They were delicious and one of our favorites.  And popcorn, with not one kernel burnt (Luxury camping).  The only thing I have documented is a comment from Merle.  We were watching the porters climb effortlessly carrying things on their head and he said “They can balance a 50 pond duffle bag on their head and I can’t even balance a hat”. It’s funny when you’re at ~13,500 feet.

Today was an acclimatization hike; “climb high sleep low”. We climbed up to the Lava Tower at ~14,900 feet to have lunch before descending to Barranco Camp (~13,000 feet) for the evening. I had a pretty big headache but Lisa, who is the only person in our group not taking Diamox for altitude because she is allergic to sulfa drugs, is suffering quite a bit. You can climb without it, but as with the people in Tibet, it does make a big difference. Today we also saw the effects of AMS on one of our porters. He apparently had not honestly reported how he was feeling, collapsed on the trail suffering from hypothermia and had to be rescued and brought down from the mountain. It’s was a sobering image and a reality check to the real dangers of our expedition.

The next day we climbed the Braranco Wall. For me this was the most fun, interesting and if not for the rain and fog, scenic part of the climb. We had to ditch our trekking poles for the first half because you needed both hands to scramble up the rock face. This part came the closest to actually “climbing” the mountain. It was also a very slow and narrow route where we actually had a backup of people waiting to climb. The route later mergers with another route,  Machame, becoming a trekking superhighway. It rained the whole day we were climbing and everything was soaked, but we did get to see a wonderful view of Kibo at Karanga Camp (~13,200) before dinner. We are staying here two nights. We were supposed to do an acclimatization climb the next day, but because of the rainy weather, we stayed at camp and attempted to dry our clothes. Dry clothes are more important than the climb. We were lucky and had a couple hours sunshine which really helped dry the clothes and give us a good look at goal.

Today we climbed to Barafu Camp (~15,000) our last camp before climbing to the summit. It was funny even though we had rain gear, we had just gotten it dried and would need it for summit day tomorrow so some of us wore plastic bags over our rain gear. I know that sounds silly, but you would not believe how important warm, dry, rain gear would be on summit day.

Today would be the ultimate challenge, summit day.  Jimmy started climbing at 4:00am, because Tusker knew it would take him a little longer if he wanted to make the top and Merle went along with him because he had been helping Jimmy the last few days and that’s the kind of caring and compassionate person he is. The rest of us started our climb at 6:00am. Everyone was given a box of glucose powder and told to eat a small handful every so often along the way for energy so you know this was going to be serious. It was cold and very windy as we made our way pole-pole up the mountain. We walked single file like mute zombies; breathing was more important than talking. On and on we climbed, putting one foot in front of the other like we were moving in slow motion, cold and struggling to breathe. Hours went by and at some point we caught up with Merle and Jimmy and sadly passed them by pole-pole. Around 1:00pm we stopped for lunch at Stella Point (~18,500) hungry, tired and winded. From here we only had about 500 feet to go, but it would take us almost an hour to complete that distance. After lunch I felt invigorated as we started our final push.  I didn’t think reaching the top would be as emotional as it turned out to be.

When that old wooden sign announcing that you had reached the highest point in Africa came into you, I was overcoming with a wonderful feeling of accomplishment, amazement, and sheer joy. It wasn’t just me, everyone was flooded with emotion and more than one tear was shed.  Each individual had their own personal reasons for climbing and feelings surrounding them poured forth when we reached the top; Uhuru Peak 19,341 feet above sea level, the roof of Africa.  It was an awesome sensation. Of course the weather did not do us any favors. Sometimes the mountain is clear and sunny, but for us it was gray, overcast, cold and damp. After about twenty minutes of celebrating and picture taking who should come walking through the mist but Merle and Jimmy; they made it. It was quite an accomplishment. All the guides starting singing and dancing around Jimmy, it was a beautiful moment and one that will bind us and live with us forever.

Of course everything that goes up must come down. Sharon and I had decided to stay at Crater Camp and visit the glacier while the others chose to descend back to Barafu Camp that same day. The choice was dependent on how felt and would you be able to withstand a night at ~18,300 feet. At the time it seemed like a good idea. We made if from Uhuru Peak to our camp in about 30 minutes while the other folks had to climb down about four hours before they could rest. We explored the glorious glacier for about 30 minutes before heading to our tents where Boyette had popcorn and biscuits waiting for us and shortly thereafter brought us hot drinks as well. He would bring dinner later, a bowl of beef stew; it was the only time I did not have an appetite, not because of the food, but because of the altitude. As I ate my snacks, I prepared for bed which was a challenge since task was taxing; you even had to take a rest between removing each boot.  The next day was when I been regretting my decision to stay at Crater Camp for not only would we have to get an early start to get down to Barafu Camp and meet up with the rest of the group, but we would then have to do that days climb from Barafu down to Mweka Camp. In many ways going down the mountain was harder than going up the mountain. What you covered in 7.5 days coming up you cover in 1.5 days going down and my downhill muscles aren’t as strong as my uphill muscles. The climb down to Barafu Camp was incredibly hard for me. For most of the way you are going down a giant ash pile. It’s like climbing down a big sand hill. You can take giant strides and your feet continue sliding down for some distance. You can cover a lot of ground but it is a killer on your

quadriceps and mine were screaming for mercy. By the time we came into view of camp my legs were like jelly and I didn’t think I could take another step. Sharon was behind me and said I was staggering and weaving back and forth like a drunken sailor, and I knew she was right, I was going to collapse at any minute. At least I knew I would have a chance to rest and have lunch before we continued on, but I was mistaken. They were already breaking camp when we arrived and I barely had enough time to catch my breath before we started heading down once more. The group filled us in on what had transpired since the summit. Lisa had suffered some significant effects of AMS; severe headache and nausea, John was having some respiratory problems and left early that morning to get back to Moshi and Jimmy had to be helped down by Tusker guides. As it turned out Jimmy would need to be helped down the rest of the way by Tusker and John saw the doctor, got some antibiotics and is doing fine. Merle and I both suffered injuries to our big toes. When you’re coming down your toes tend to get pushed to the front of your boots. Merle lost the nails on both big toes while mine were swollen and blue. I thought I was going to lose the nails, but neither came off although I wish the left one had. The right toe healed fine, but the left one is still swollen and turning green; I think it’s gangrene. Of course the last day it rained and we had to trek through rivers of mud once again. We started with mud and we ended with mud, but best of all everyone in our group made it up and down the mountain safely. That’s why Tusker!

Climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro was one of the most challenging, amazing, incredible, emotional, fun educational, personal experiences I have ever had.

If you can dream it, you can do it!

norb

The smoke which thunders....................

The smoke which thunders

Africa has always held a special fascination for me and I knew that someday I would get a chance to visit this vast continent; home to herds of exotic animals, “Mosi-oa-Tunya” and Mt. Kilimanjaro. After a long flight from Hong Kong through Johannesburg, I arrived in Livingstone, Zambia, named for the famed European explorer of “Doctor Livingstone I presume” fame.  Now I’m going to have to digress a little here to tell a story that I know at least one person will appreciate, but it also illustrates how small and connected we are in this big old world.

So I’m standing in the customs line at the Livingstone airport, waiting for my turn to enter the country, talking to an Indian couple ahead of me. They were from the states and had lived in Park Ridge, a suburb north of Chicago, which is near Skokie, another northern suburb and the community I worked in for many years before our site was closed in 2003. Somehow we got on the subject of food and the lady says, “you know the best falafels are made in Skokie……….. at The Pita Inn”. The reason for this anecdote is that I’ve eaten there many times, on occasion still do, and a friend has always insisted that the Pita Inn has the best falafels in the world and now an Indian couple, living in the states, and visiting Zambia supports his hypothesis.  Shawn, this one’s for you.

Sunset on the Zambezi

Having arrived late in the afternoon and being fairly beat from travel it was suggested by Richard Chanter, owner of Chanter’s Lodge, the lovely little place where I would be staying, that I start my visit with a relaxing sunset cruise on the Zambezi river. So after a short period of settling in, the shuttle bus picked me up at the lodge and made its’ rounds to other accommodations gathering guests along the way. At Jolly Boys Backpackers, a place I had considered staying, four young people carrying beers boarded the bus. They were already in good spirits and it looked like it was going to be a lively cruise. They were Peace Corps volunteers on a short break from their two year commitment of service. I told them I was from Chicago and as we talked found out that unfortunately we were going to be on different cruises; apparently I was going on the “nice” boat according to them. Had I known there were options, I would have gladly joined them for they sounded like an interesting group. The bus dropped me off at a fine lodge located right on the river where I boarded the nice boat, and we slowly set off upriver in the direction of the setting sun. The river was magnificent, clean, clear, and uncrowded; and as we slowly glided along the tranquil water we saw elephants, hippos, crocodiles and eagles. Add to that an ice cold beer, some tasty snacks, and the glorious yellow sun sinking leisurely over the trees, reflecting its’ golden rays off the calm surface of the mighty river, and you find you are living the dream a perfect African river cruise. After the sun was below the horizon the boat turned around and starting heading back. Not far away I noticed another boat, a double-deck pontoon boat with quite a few people on it. All of a sudden I hear shouting, “Whoo-who, Hey Chicago!” It was my Peace Corps friends from the bus; our boat was definitely nicer but they seemed to be having more fun.

Mosi-oa-tunya, “the smoke which thunders”, better known in the western world as Victoria Falls, lies on the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. It got its name because the falls dump into a narrow canyon causing the mist created by the falling water to rise high into the air. From a distance it looks like smoke from a forest fire and the noise is the rumble of the massive volume of water as it crashes to the canyon floor. For comparison, Victoria Falls is over twice as high as Niagara Falls (351 feet vs.167 feet), over twice the average volume of water (85,002 ft³/sec  vs. 38,846 ft³ sec) although not as wide (3946 ft vs. 5698 feet). My visit coincided with the dry season. This was intentional on my part because if you come during the wet season, there is so much water falling and the mist is so thick that your view of the falls is limited and you get completely soaked; I wanted to see the falls.  Even at this time of the year there still is enough mist in some places to require a raincoat. There is enough moisture that the falls has its own microclimate and has created a rainforest on the opposite side of the canyon. Also, I wanted to go

Fraying bungee cord

white water rafting and if you come in the wet season, the first 10 rapids of the lower Zambezi river are closed and they sometimes close the river to rafting altogether. Richard dropped me off at the Victoria Falls Bridge, built in 1905, and the no-man’s land, border crossing between the two countries.  It’s a relatively short walk across the bridge, but it is made longer by the hustlers trying to sell you wood carvings, trinkets and Zimbabwe dollars. At one time Zimbabwe had run away inflation and they created money in ridiculous denominations, billions and trillions, now they are sold to sucker tourists like myself as souvenirs. You can also bungee jump from the bridge but I had strict orders that there would be no bungee jumping on my odyssey. Even without the directive I would never willing toss my body off a bridge (okay maybe for The Amazing Race) and after seeing the fraying rubber band of

Victoria Falls Bridge

a rope it confirmed my commitment, yet there were other people were taking the plunge. Victoria Falls is the second of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World that I had the opportunity to visit on my odyssey and there are not enough adjectives to describe the awesome beauty of this natural setting. I spent several hours walking along the edge of the canyon, stopping at every viewpoint to absorb the grandeur and majesty. Even though it was the dry season, the falls are spectacular; I can’t wait to come back to see them in the rainy season. You can walk right up to the edge of the canyon to get a good view. In one section there are no guard rails just a little sign warning you of the dangers; slippery rocks, windy and no barriers. If you’re one of those people who have the urge to jump, you might want to avoid section.  From this side you could also see people making their way to the “Devil’s Swimming Pool” (more on that later).

Odysseying is hard

 It was hot, Africa hot, and after taking in every panorama and before heading back to Zambia, I decided to treat myself to a refreshing brew on the veranda of the Victoria Falls Hotel. It’s one of those things you have to do when visiting. The hotel is a classic throwback to colonial times. Built in Edwardian style at the turn of the twentieth century, the portico has a commanding view of the Victoria Bridge. It’s classic, elegant, was and still is, THE place to stay. The view, the atmosphere and the fact that I was sitting there was just astonishing.

The next day I went white water rafting on the lower Zambezi below the falls. It was an all day affair taking in 25 rapids; including a couple class 4 and 5. There was one class 6, but they don’t run it; you have to portage around it and by the looks of it, that is a good decision. There were only four of us in the raft, not counting our “captain”; a missionary worker from Belgium, a couple from the Czech Republic who had just come from the Burning Man festival (on my list of things to do) and me. We started with a long hike down the canyon to “The Boiling Point”, rapid #1. We climbed into the boat and the first thing the captain said pointing to 2 of us was “you and you jump into the water”. Huh? I thought the idea was to stay in the boat. Well, we were going to practice pulling each other into the boat should the need arise and one of us fall out along the way; and the need did. The one nice thing was that the water was warm and after sweltering under the hot African sun it was actually refreshing to be wet by something other than sweat. After practicing our life saving techniques we got underway. Since there were only four of us, paddling was hard and it took us three tries to get through the first rapid, after that all went well … for most of the trip. This was my first time white water rafting and it was fantastic. We were the only craft on the river. Occasionally we would see a lone fisherman who had climbed down from one of the villages on the canyon rim.  At times it was

wild and crazy and we paddled like mad through the untamed water and other times we rowed easily through the still water between rapids. It was quiet and beautiful, with imposing walls of rock on either side. Yes, I was thrown out of the boat a few times. One time we were basically through the rapids when some rogue wave hit us; the raft started to tip and the next thing I know is the guy from the Czech Republic is flying over my head and we’re going onto the water. At first it seemed daunting and tense but after the first couple rapids and plunge into the water it became fun and enjoyable. There were two times where they let you jump into the river and float through the smaller rapids with your life vest. What a great feeling as the current moved you along without any effort. It was awesome.

I took a one day safari to the Chobe National Park in Botswana. It was about an hour ride to the Botswana border where I boarded a little boat to cross the river. Yes I had to go through customs on the other side, but it seemed like you could easily bypass this step if you were so inclined. The safari turned out to be great since it was the dry season and all the watering holes in the interior had dried up so all the animals have to come down to the river to drink. The tour included both a land and river cruise portion. Also, Chobe has one of the largest concentrations of elephants in all of Africa. We saw probably a couple hundred elephants, hippos, crocodile, birds of all kinds, giraffe, kudu, gazelle, warthogs and cape buffalo. The numbers were astounding and we were able to get fairly close in

both the truck and the boat; elephants swimming across the river, a crocodile eating a fish, and hippos floating like giant logs. Incredible is all I can say.

The next day I headed for the “Devil’s Swimming Pool”. The pool is basically a spot on the brink of the falls where in the dry season you can jump in and not be carried over rim. Look it up on youtube to see some of the videos. I assumed it’s safe because you don’t hear of people falling over the falls

and they still let folks do it. You can get right up to the edge and peer over down into the canyon. You’re in the water, and water is still going over the falls, but there’s like a wall that prevents you from going over. The guys who take you out there are crazy because they will walk right on the rim. You get to the falls from Livingstone Island, the place where he is said to have first viewed the falls. I thought it ironic that when you board the boat to get to the island they make you wear a life vest and when they hang you over the rim of the falls you have no safety equipment whatsoever. After reaching the island you have to wade and swim to get to some rocks by the edge of the pool.

Once there you can either go all out and jump into the pool or ease in by sliding on the rocks, either way it’s a little scary. I’ve seen it in the videos and I saw some people go in before me, but when it’s your turn and the water is roaring over the rim and you can see you are jumping in only a couple feet from the edge, and when you’re in you will be only inches from the edge it seems a little crazy, but somehow you find the courage and take the plunge. Once in they help you to sit on a ledge just below the water so you can take the obligatory photos and then one by one they have you get on your belly and hang out over the edge for a look down to the canyon floor. While I’m sitting there waiting for my turn, the wind was blowing hard, the current is more powerful than I expected, wanting to push you over the edge and even though you feel a solid rock wall behind you about 8-12 inches thick, I have to admit that after a while I was feeling anxious about the whole situation; you really could go over. Still it was one cool experience that I will never forget.

On Livingstone Island there is a plaque marking the spot where Dr. Livingstone first viewed the falls with an inscribed quote “senses so lovely they must have been gazed upon by angels in flight”. If only he could have seen the falls the way I did for then he could have gotten that angels view because on my last day I took a microlight flight over the falls. Simply put a microlight is like a giant kite powered by a lawn mower engine. The ride was absolutely fantastic. We flew at about 1500 feet and I could clearly see the snaking canyon and rapids down which I rafted, the mist rising from the center of the canyon like a smoke signal to the seraphs, the mighty and picturesque Zambezi  and Victoria Falls in its infinite glory. It was an image that will stay with me forever.

Next stop the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro!

norb

Pandas and the Potal Palace....................

From Xian we flew to Chengdu, spending just one night so that we could visit the Giant Panda Breeding Research Center in the morning before flying to Lhasa Tibet in the afternoon; quite a busy day. The panda base is large conservation, research and breeding center where the pandas have plenty of room to roam in a natural environment. It’s not their native habitat; pandas live much higher up in the mountains, the weather in Chengdu is too hot for them, and the species of bamboo that is the main part of their diet doesn’t grow here, it has to be flown in. Not the ideal location, supposedly they are building another one closer to home, but the panda is a national treasure and revenue generator for China….or maybe it’s a national treasure because it’s a revenue generator…… either way, the center is a wonderful place to view these black and white ursine marvels. The center has about 80 pandas of all ages from old timers 15-20 years old to newborns still in incubators. We must have seen about 20 different bears in all stages of activity eating, sleeping (the 2 things they do most) and hanging out in trees.

This is comfortable

Man in a panda suit?

 It’s funny seeing a big Oreo of bear dangling on a limb.  For about $1000 you can get to hold one, but I didn’t need to get that close. We were very lucky, at one enclosure we were the only people in the area as a big old bear came walking out and about, parading right in front of us for a good 5 minutes before anyone else showed up. When he sat down to eat, I swear it looked and moved like a man in a panda suit.




The newborn pandas are cute and you can view them in their little incubators stretching and yawning like any baby. We followed the instructions from our guide and the signs posted everywhere saying no photos, especially flash which can hurt their eyes, so I don’t have any pictures of infants. If I was Chinese, I would have a full portfolio because neither the signs, nor the security guards standing right next to them, stopped or even slowed them down from snapping shots at a machine gun pace. Maybe blind pandas will be even more loveable. If you want to see pandas, this is the place to do it.

Friendly Tibetan couple

Yak butter tea and flatbread

From Chengdu we flew to Tibet. On arrival the sky was clear and blue, and the air fresh and clean; a welcome change from the rest China.  On the way to our hotel in Tsetang, altitude ~11000 feet, we stopped to visit a Tibetan family home. According to our guide Pemba, people in Tibet are always ready to welcome strangers into their homes. You can walk up to any residence, knock on the door and they will receive you with open arms, something to eat, and a warm cup of yak butter tea; no questions asked. This stems from their religion, Buddhism. Countless Tibetans, monks and common people alike, make pilgrimages to the holy temples, sometimes travelling hundreds of miles with many of these prostrating themselves all along the way. It can take them years to complete their veneration and when you are travelling like that, you cannot carry all you will need so you are dependent on the kindness of your neighbors to see you through. I have not studied Buddhism and make no assertions of understanding, but peace and compassion are foundations and I can tell you by what we saw and experienced that without a doubt the Tibetans adhere to and practice their religion on a daily basis. The family was warm, welcoming and smiling as we entered their clean and brightly decorated home, a combination of traditional Tibetan furniture, colorful cabinets, couches and cushions; and the trappings of modernity, TV, stereo and blender.

Beer from the roof of the world

The grandmother, 54years old, was taking care of the grandchildren while their parents worked the fields; farming is a major way of life in Tibet. She offered us some flat bread and yak butter tea. The bread was delicious and the tea is an acquired taste. Pema, who grew up as a nomadic Tibetan living above 15000 feet before leaving home to study in a monastery at age twelve, said he drank 40-50 cups a day. It’s a mixture of yak butter, water and tea, looks like grey, dirty dishwater and after the initial sip isn’t too bad. I was able to down my cup and finish off half of Anne’s, while Johan enjoyed the flavor and had three. We had yak butter tea and yak butter is brought to the temples as an offering and burned like candles or oil in lamps, but I never saw it used like our butter as a spread for toast so I have no idea what it tastes like and was also surprised to find that they don’t make any ice cream from yak milk; I see an opportunity. We had a wonderful Nepalese dinner which included yak which is very tender and tasty; and the hotel had some interesting accoutrements, but that’s a story for another time.

Yamdrok Yumtso

Good looking and tasty!

Lunch stop lookout

The next day we took a long 2.5 hour bus ride up a switchback, hairpin road through Khampa pass to view Yamdrok Yumtso, a beautiful, turquoise, lake ~15,700 feet high up in the Himalayan mountains; this would be my first real test at altitude. Pema, having been raised at this height suffered no ill effects at all. Six of the nine people in our group, including myself, were taking drugs to help us cope. The air is thin up there and I felt a little light headed and out of breath if I moved too quickly, but those not taking the drug felt the effects much more intensely; the same result would be seen on Mt. Kilimanjaro. It was a little overcast so the lake didn’t have the brilliant turquoise hue it would have on a bright sunny day, but you would occasionally get a glimpse of its’ splendor when the sun shone through the broken clouds. Up here you could get your picture taken dressed in a fine Tibetan outfit while sitting on a yak, but I chose to pass on this corny costumery, sorry guys. We stayed only long enough to take some photos and use the toilet (an unforgettable smell sensation) before heading partway down the mountain, stopping to have a picnic lunch at a roadside overlook covered with prayer flags. From there our journey continued on down to Lhasa at an elevation ~12,000 feet.

Jokhang Temple

Yak butter lamp

In Lhasa I felt fine and could move about without distress although some in our party used the oxygen tanks available in the hotel rooms to help them feel better. Every breath would be needed when climbing the many steps of Portala Palace later that day.  Our tour in Lhasa began with a visit to the holiest place in Tibet, the Jokhang Temple. It was built around 700 AD and houses one of three original statues of Buddha from India (if I understood the story correctly) and night and day Buddhists from all over Tibet come here to worship and pay their respects. Many people were prostrating themselves in front of the temple and there was a long line waiting to enter; these are true believers. Since tourists have a different reason to visit, they have a separate entrance which had no line at all. We are there as sightseers and observers, not devotees, and have no need to navigate all the intricate halls and individual “chapels” that make up this labyrinth of a holy place. You are not allowed to take photos inside the temple. Again, not being familiar with Buddhism, I did not understand the significance of all the deities and the meanings of the signs and symbols contained throughout the various rooms of the temple. The one thing I did understand is the true belief of the peoples’ faith in their religion; that was clearly evident by their actions. They moved slowly through the temple chanting  prayers, spinning prayer wheels, prostrating themselves, making small contributions of money, adding their yak butter to the many lamps burning within, and loving touching the carved doorways and columns throughout the structure. The place was dimly lit, small coins and bills were stuck everywhere, and everything you touched was oily from the millions of fingers moist with yak butter. It had not crossed my mind until Sue, a fire marshal in her home town, said “you know, this place is a fire trap” and she was right. There were way more people in the building that should be allowed, exits were few and small, the place was built like a maze so you wouldn’t know how to get out, open flames were ubiquitous, the wood was saturated with flammable yak butter and there were tubs of the combustible animal fat everywhere. After that, the only thing I could concentrate on was getting out of there.

We did a lap of the Barkhor, or Pilgrims Circuit, following the hundreds of pilgrims as they slowly walked counterclockwise through the marketplace surrounding the temple, then made our way across the square before heading for the Potala Palace. This place was interesting in the fact that there were heavily armed Chinese soldiers on many rooftops and marching continuously around the square. We were told they are there to “protect” the Tibetan people; from who I’m just not sure. You can see the Chinese influence everywhere in Tibet, from infrastructure to immigration, since they “saved” the Tibetan people around 1950 from their evil theocratic feudal serfdom under Buddhism. Soon the Tibetan traditions and customs will be lost and you won’t be able to tell Lhasa from Shanghai so I recommend you visit Tibet now before it disappears totally into Chinese society.

Potala Palace behind the goofy guy

Another view of the palace w/o the goofy guy

The Potala Palace is/was the winter home of the Dalai Lama and the seat of Tibetan government before they were “rescued” by the Chinese and their spiritual leader/head of state went into exile in 1959. The building was started in the 7^th century and three rooms still exist from that time, but most of it was rebuilt in the 17^th century and like any old building maintained/updated over the years. When I saw pictures of the palace, I always thought it was built high up into the mountainside due to perspective, but in reality it sits on a free standing hill in the middle of the city.  Still it is an incredible edifice standing about 13 stories tall and containing about 1000 rooms; we would visit twenty-four. Not all are open to the public and when you get to a certain point in the structure, you only have 1 hour inside before you have to leave. If we were even one minute over our guide would be banned from entering with tour groups again, so we moved quickly to accommodate the rules. As with the temples, you cannot take photos inside. The palace is still a working monastery with monks, living quarters and prayer rooms throughout. You can visit the Dalai Lama’s bedroom and sitting room where he would meet visitors and contemplate his faith. The palace also holds the tombs of previous Dalai Lamas all made of solid gold, the largest weighing 500kgs and there are thousands of statues depicting the various deities throughout the structure. It is a fascinating place to visit.

Some people walk their dogs others their goat

Random image of Tibet

That ended our visit to Tibet, except for the earthquake. Earthquake you say? Yes, during dinner our guide received a phone call from his wife asking him where he was, was he okay and did he feel the earthquake. Apparently there was a large 6.9 earthquake centered in eastern India near the Nepal/Tibet border which was felt all the way in Lhasa. Neither I, nor most of our group felt it, but our guide and a few in our party did and obviously his wife did. Guess I was too busy eating yak….yummy! Tibet was the most captivating part of my China visit and the one place I would like to come back to visit, but I will have to do it soon before it lost forever.

Yangtze River

I did some more stuff in China, Yangtze River cruise (ecological nightmare or modern miracle), Shanghai (big, overcrowded city of 19 million), Suzhou (one giant silk mill outlet mall) ,

Shanghai

Tongli (the Venice of China, okay it has canals) and Hong Kong (business on steroids), but I am going to pass on writing those up and move on to Africa; hoping to complete my story before I arrive home.

Tongli

“…and I think to myself, what a wonderful world”

Thiele and Weiss

norb