Last trip with Baba

A 20,000 km bicycle tour returning my fathers ashes to China

To Bhutan

Posted on October 22, 2016 by bodhitree

A pretty picture, this is cow dung mixed with hay stuck to long reeds. After drying the product is used in the kitchen for cooking fuel.

Fresh harvested rice drying in the sun.

Nepal’s southern valley, known as the “Terai” region is very fertile and full of swamps. The mosquitoes couldn’t get much worse.

Tomorrow will be my last day in Nepal, continuing east will cross into the Indian state of Bengal before entering Bhutan. In my month traveling Nepal I have really gotten to enjoy the company of many kind individuals and have spent days traveling in the remote Himalayas. The weather could have been a lot better, and though I traveled through many northern regions looking for views of the great mountains, I have only seen Annapurna and Everest. (Each was seen for only a few minutes before being obscured by clouds).K2 should be visible from Darjeeling but my luck with weather so far has not be great. Will write again from Bhutan!

I will miss these treacherous mountain roads. A few days ago 6 trekkers died in a landslide not far from my location.

Local rice mill. Rice is the staple in Nepal and sells for about $0.40 for a Kilo. I personally find the rice very bland with a dry texture that makes the rice spread all over the plate . Meals here in Nepal usually consist of a small bit of vegetables and maybe a bit of beans paired with a huge helping of rice. If the Nepal only knew of the fragrant and sticky rice found in South East Asia!!

My grandfather tells me not to cook in my tent. This is a local lady cooking over a wood fire in a small mud cottage. This meal consisted of cooked corn meal and goat jerky, the jerky is drying over the stove.

Sunrise, one of the clearest days I have encountered in my 30 days in Nepal.

Hindu Godesses, Goat Sacrifices and Kathmandu

Posted on October 10, 2016 by bodhitree

Boudhanath Stupa, Kathmandu. The Stupa was badly damage in last years earthquake and has been under construction since. It is located on the ancient trade route from Tibet and was built around 600 C.E.

Kathmandu is that invokes thoughts of exotic Buddhist and Hindu monasteries, surrounded by snow covered mountains. To me its a city of memories. During my family’s Buddhist pilgrimage in 1992 we spent a least a month in the city; visiting monasteries and traveling about the busy narrow roads. As a boy I clearly remember circum-ambulating the Buddhist Stupa in Boudha, eating Tibetan dumplings (Mo Mo), and playing with my brother in the courtyard of the small guest house we frequented. At 8 years old, Nepal was so different from the other foreign countries I had visited and was shocked to see beggars with leprosy sleeping on the streets, and little children without parents looking through trash for food. At the time, in America, my school friends were talking about BMX bikes and baseball, and here I was on the other side of the world looking into the eyes of children my age who would spend the rest of their lives living on the streets.

Downtown riverfront homes

The city seems to have changed very little in the last 25 years. Roads are still in extremely poor condition and power outages occur daily throughout. Looking down at Kathmandu from the mountains above the city looks as if it were on fire. The whole valley which makes up the city and its districts was covered in a cloud of thick smoke from vehicle exhaust and burning trash. Upon arrival I descended into what seemed like a wasteland and slowly navigated my way through a muddy dirt track filled with pot holes and trucks carrying loads of gravel. Soon I progressed into a more downtown area and found myself in a large market full of goats. Almost as if this were some sort of petting zoo, people were moving all about inspecting the bellies and backs of these four legged creatures and leading them around on rope leashes. Buses and cars drove passed with goats tied to their roof, I even saw a lady holding a goat on her lap as she squeezed on to the back of a moped.

My first stop in the city was the Myanmar Embassy and after the 30 minutes of pedaling through the city to get there I was greeted by a friendly Burmese Ambassador who asked me if I wanted to use their shower. After a few inquires I was told that the Indian/Myanmar border permit which I was hoping to get would not be issued to me and that if I wanted to get a Myanmar visa I would have to fly into the country (No Myanmar on this trip). Worse, I also found out that I had arrived the day before the Hindu holiday of “Dashain”, (a 7 day festival celebrating the Hindu Goddess Kali’s triumph over evil). This was one of Nepal’s largest holidays meaning all businesses would be closed, hotels would be sold out and prices of everything would be doubled.

Early morning pilgrims Boudha

The population of Kathmandu is close to 1 million yet when pedaling the streets it would be easy to fool your self into thinking was 10 million. The traffic is terrible! The entire country of Nepal still does not have a reliable source of electricity so there are no traffic signals! Intersections are therefore large round-abouts with traffic going in all directions. I have found that this can be OK during non-rush hour periods but during all roads are backed up for miles with local traffic police trying to guide traffic. This turns the small dirt sidewalks into runways for motorcycles trying to cut the barrage of vehicles. Pedestrians have little choice but to jump out of the way as the bikes honk their way through groups of people. Other than the intersections the traffic problem can be attributed to the lack of bus stops! Throughout the city buses stop in all lanes picking up and dropping of passengers making the traffic even worse.
All this chaos is made possible by the use of the horn. “Honk Honk”- I am here, “Honk Honk” – I am turning, “Honk Honk” – get out of the way. I have quickly learned the distinction in sound between the horns of trucks, cars and motorbikes, and have found that it is not uncommon for a truck to honk once as a warning, then push you out of the road. Side and rear view mirrors are rarely used, and it seems that it is the drivers responsibility to “Honk” when caution is needed. In Kathmandu the automotive horn may add more to the safety of the people than seat belts!

A smaller Buddhist Stupa “Little Boudhanath” a few km south of Boudha.

Pedaling into Boudha, the Buddhist hub of the city, I found the historic Stupa surrounding by wooden scaffolds. Last years earthquake had extensively damaged the Stupa and it was no longer possible to walk up to the temple mount. The square surrounding the Stupa however was exactly as I remembered it. Full of Tibetans selling jewelry and butter lamps. The same restaurants that were frequented in ’92 were still in business and the little guest house was still there, but completely booked for the holiday.

Nepali women light butter lamps on the early morning streets of Boudha.

Boudha seems to be the only place where businesses remained open as outside everything closed, temples filled and sidewalks became covered in goats blood as the Hindu majority prepared for the holiday. The once busy streets became quiet and the honking slowly faded. Unexpectedly my rear skewer which holds my wheel on broke! Trying to find an open bike shop was like looking for something open on Christmas! Pushing my bike I soon passed a motorcycle garage where I became friends with the owner. “You will not find a bike shop till next Friday” he said. “But I can give you a ride back to Boudha on my motorbike”. Putting Esperanza over my right shoulder I climbed on to the back of his bike and we took off through the city. We passed miles and miles of closed businesses and it looked as if the city were abandoned. Soon we reached a different part of town where everything was open, shopping malls, clothing shops, Trekking gear warehouses, etc. “This is the foreigner section of the city” He said “it’s called Thamel and many Muslims live there”. That explained the open businesses, and we soon passed a bike shop that sold me what I needed. We continued on weaving through traffic with my tires spinning in the wind, and I wondered what life would be like living in the busy city.

I have spent the last three days in the city and have managed to alleviate the problem with my laptop. It still rains everyday blocking the views of the mountains but tomorrow I am headed on a circuit to the base of Everest. From there I will pedal back into India and into Bhutan. I will write again soon!

Himalayan Intimidation

Posted on October 4, 2016 by bodhitree

I don’t think I would make a good mountain climber. I am reckless and have too much attachment on reaching the summit. I have always been fond of mountain climbing movies and books. As a boy watched the film K2, countless times with my father, and always dreamed on going on a Himalayan expedition. Later I would read books by Krakauer, Messner, and Vestures, and learn of tragedies associated with these great peaks. It seemed to me that the only climbers that come back are those that have the disciple to turn back when things become unsafe. If that were the case I should have turned back on my first day when in the remote Himalayan roads things began to go bad.

First paved road in 10 days

It was the morning of my second day, the once smooth paved road had become a large puddle and after pushing through endless mud I finally came upon a somewhat dry descent. Excited at finally being able to ride I picked up speed started splashing through puddles. Soon however I came upon a large muddy section of the road and decided to ride the thin smooth shoulder that had been used by pedestrians. Still riding fast I lost balance and slide off of the road. I jumped off my bike and fell for what seemed like a while before landing in a large muddy field, upon hitting the ground all I could think of was that my bicycle was headed straight for me , I quickly moved and “bang” my loaded bike came crashing down and landed right where I had fallen. Luckily my legs were tucked in and I avoided being hit by the falling mass of 65 kilos. Things happened so fast that I looked around to find that I had fallen ten feet into a muddy corn field. Unscratched but covered in mud, I looked at my bike to find that one of my pannier’s hooks had broken and that my racks were bent from the impact. I slowly put things back together and waited for someone to cross the road above. Soon I heard the sound a man yelling at cattle and I yelled up to him from below. He peaked out over the edge of the road and saw me covered in mud below. I motioned to my bike and luggage and he quickly threw down a braided rope that he was using as a whip. Using the braided rope he pulled my panniers and bicycle back to the road. Walking around I found a few foot holds and climbed back up. A bit shaken I got back on the bike and continued down the road. A few hours later I realized how lucky I was and decided that I would drink the stream water directly, rather than waiting till evening to boil it.

steep muddy roads with no barriers

Two days later, after some of the hardest cycling of my life, and some extreme gastro intestinal disturbances I came around the corner of my mountainous route to find that the road had collapsed in a recent storm, leaving nothing but a steep track over a 50 meter fall into a raging river. I sat for a long time and contemplated what to do. I thought about turning around but couldn’t imaging riding all the difficult roads back again. I walked the track a couple of times and each time I told myself that it was too dangerous and that I would turn back, yet… each time I found myself sitting and waiting by the bicycle thinking things over.

Sometimes there is a bridge across rivers

Finally an old man showed up carrying a large bag of corn meal on his head. He watched me walk the trail and asked me in sign language if I thought he could do it. I gave him a throat slitting gesture and said “dangerous”. He repeated the word “dangerous” as if he knew what I was saying then tightened the bag on his head and proceeded to cross. I sat by the bike in safety and watched as he navigated his way on the rocky trail. Most of the trail was not too dangerous as there was adequate walking space, however at about halfway there was a steep section that were straight up the mountain near a small stream here the track became muddy with loose rock. This was the section that was directly over a 50 meter fall into a raging river. When the old man got to this section he literally stopped and began calling to me to help him. He would put his foot up the trail then it would slide down and he from his voice I could tell that he was trembling. At first I didn’t know what to do, as if I went out there what could I do from below him? He would try to pass me his bag or he would fall down on me then we would both fall. Worried for my own safety I hesitated and did nothing.

Roads become rivers

All of the sudden an old lady showed up on the other side of the trail. She called to him and he handed her his bag of corn, she quickly grabbed the bag and climbed to safely, the old man quickly following her. They were gone over the ridge for a while, and I thought again to myself “Do not do this”. Then just as she had shown up before she appear again, this time with a baby on her back and a small goat on a lease in front of her. I watched as she with ease picked up the goat and crossed the loose vertical precipice to my side. (Both arms were cradling the goat and the baby seemed to be asleep on her back). When she approached me she gave me strength, I can do this I thought, and I decided that I would have to make 4 trips back and forth in order to get all my gear to the other side.

This is the trail formed after the road was washed out.

I decided that I would carry my bike across first as this was probably the most difficult thing and wanted all my strength. I thought about tying a rope to the bike and pulling it across but quickly realized that if it fell rope or no there was no way I would get it back. Removing all the panniers and putting the bike over my left shoulder I jumped around. With one arm holding the bike I could have my dominate right arm free to assist in case of struggle. I began to walk the trail and soon was at the small stream that marked the point of no return. Across the stream was where the man got held up, the point where it was too difficult to turn around, especially with a bike on your back. I found myself repeating a Buddhist mantra,”Om Mani Bhimi Hum” which I only do when I am extremely scarred, I took on last breath and pushed on. My legs worked well, and the adrenaline must have provided me with extra energy for as I climbed the steep section seemed easier and was shocked when I found my self standing on the other side with the bike still on my shoulder. I walked back across and to my amazement I found the old lady, the one with the goat and baby standing near my panniers. She made a carrying gesture to me then grabbed my two rear panniers (the bigger heavier ones) and started across. I grabbed my two small front bags and followed her across. On the other side I tried to give her money but she refused and smiled at me, she then pointed at her head and made a crazy gesture and laughed. I was now on the other side and there was no way I was going to turn back.

Local man selling lunch on the remote roads.

Phewa Lake Pokhara

Strangely enough I met a few Brits volunteering at a school

Endless green quite valleys

I am now in the second largest Nepali city of Pokhara. My laptop was destroyed en-route and my gear is in poor condition. My health however is fine and I will soon be in the capital Kathmandu. I will be there for several days waiting for a Burmese visa. My posts will be sporadic for the next few weeks as internet cafe’s are sparse, but I am OK and have survived the Himalayas.

Enter: Nepal and the Himalayas

Posted on September 21, 2016 by bodhitree

Local breakfast, fried curry potatoes

I have finally departed from the low, swampy jungle lands on northern India. Camping along busy roads each night in a hot, breeze-less marsh surrounded by mosquitoes, I patiently waited to cross into Nepal. Nepal is culturally very similar but lacks the extremely dense populated areas of India. Traffic is less, locals are less inquisitive and the Annapurna mountains range in the distance. I am now a few days ride from the Annapurna circuit trail and plan to cycle to the base of the holy mountain.