illiterate hypoxia

(Annapurna Base camp - 4130m - dawn)

(On the way back down)

(Macchapucchere -my favourite mountain - reflected in an icey pool)

(Annapurna Base Camp at 6am)
(Annapurna I - over 8000 meters)

(Recognise this guy?)

(Macchapucchere at 5am)

(Annapurna South embodied in a pool)

(Rhododendrons on the way to Annapurna)
(The above images are from the second trek - Annapurna Sanctuary - 7 days)

It was impossible to write yesterday. The cumulative exhaustion of two treks - each with their own specific trials and rewards - made its demands quite clear. Sit... no, lie down. Eat steak. Listen to the rain. Was the steak thing a bit crude? I have developed a genuine affection for cows while travelling in India and Nepal. Okay. So we did very little after the bus dropped us off in Pokhara. And now i am still aching - a little bit relief - a little bit with longing. The final sequence of Bladerunner keeps appearing in my mind. Roy's tears in the rain.

Now. What to write? Perhaps it is not yet the right time. I seem to find less and less energy for it these days. Perhaps because i no longer need it like i did earlier on. I cannot deny that i have written most during times of difficulty in my life. The pages of my journal know the loneliness of their recent obsolescence. Or, adopting a more forgiving tone, perhaps, as Hemmingway notes, when we travel we inevitably blunt the tool with which we write. He says a bit more about it, then goes on to state that he believes it best to let that tool go dull, so that when we return to the place of writing we might have something interesting to say. I hope that is what is happening. It would be terrible to know Estragon's melancholy for words.

In this instance, anyway, I guess i'll let the images bear the weight. I am too bloody exhausted anyway. As mountains stake their claim on those who would stare into their gaping jaws, so does writing make its terrible demands upon the author. I shall try to write more later. Please enjoy the pictures. And if you get a chance - check out http://www.soundtransit.nl/ for some of the audio recordings i made along the way. A couple are from the Annapurna Base Camp - an awe inspiring cathedral of natural beauty. I should add, however, that trying to decide which images to upload and which ones to keep on the card was like trying to decide which one of your children you're gonna let have dinner when there are simply too many starving mouths. I feel like the father of 400 unruly, beautiful kids - who wants thousands more.

My love to you all,

Ben

(The following images were recorded during the first trek - the Pilgrim's Trail- 9 days)

(Muktinath)
(Bart and Carol at the border of Upper Mustang - a lost kingdom - access forbidden without a veryexpensive government permit)


(Tukche around 6am)

(Prayer flags near Muktinath - 3700m)


(What? Three guys going for a swim. Nothing wrong with that.)

Surface for air

I am returned after a ten day trek in the Nepal Himalaya - Richard, Bart, Carol, Arnya and I completed the Pilgrim's walk which constitutes one half of the Anapurna Circuit - reveared as one of the most spectacular treks in the Himalaya. The details of our experiences, the hallucinatory whirl of visions, the wrekage of our corporeality - these things - i dare not utter here. I am too shaken by the sudden rip of vehicles, the unwelcome bleating of horns - Pokhara is a hive of buzzing bees. I must return to those hills. I am not yet ready for this. This world of confused voices muttering inaudible desperate to be heard. And so tomorrow i shall begin an ascent to the Anapurna Sanctuary - it should take no more than another ten days. Maybe then i'll be able to cope with the fury of civilisation again. Maybe then you'll get your precious photos.

In the valley of the mountain gods

Yes my art farmers - i am posting again. But this time i shall stop short of self indulgent self flagellating self stuff. This time i give you some pictures. And not in the usual theme of this forum - these be people pictures. And i have my sense of ecstasy back - i am in Kathmandu, Nepal. And already the different energy, the different people, the different sites and smells; my strength returns. The blood fills the capillaries and the extremes thud with a new rhythm. My selfishness pounds joyfully - less woefully. The next blog will have pictures from my trek in the valley of the mountain gods. This blog has pictures from the last one we conquered:

Trevor and I

Richard and Trevor

Us: Kevin Me Jas and Trev

But seriously... who conquers a mountain?

Anxiety

I feel as though i should have things to say - stories to share or words to paint pretty pictures with - but instead i am feeling quite empty at the moment. I have been in Mcleod Ganj, Himanchal Pradesh, for over two weeks now: my longest consecutive stay in any one place in India thus far. And it will be my last port of call before i leave India. After nearly four months, i am heading to Nepal. The idea came into my mind three days ago - like a north wind worrying ripe figs - and the tremor in my branches stayed. And now it sits inside my chest. And my arms feel weak, and my feet seem so far away. And i don't know if it is because i am leaving - or because i haven't left yet. There are no more waterfalls to visit nearby - no more mountain paths. Plus, the state of my gastro-intestinal tract has been prohibitive: every few days i get the squirts. It is beyond the point of family hour humour. Don't have a cow... man.

But surely there are things to report. It has been more than a week since i came down from the mountain - since i shared about snow lines and glaciers and walking through the clouds. Surely something has happened! I am living amongst the snow capped peaks; where the eagles fly. And of course things have happened: I have been doing things.

Inspired by the ideas and actions of a massage therapist, Frederic, i decided to invest in a three day "Panchkarma" Ayurvedic massage treatment. The sessions were two hours in duration and involved Marma trigger points, deep tissue massage and the use of small bags filled with herbs and drenched in oil. I was nude. After each treatment i felt energised - and floods of memories sent tiny canoes down languid stony streets. In Ayurvedic terms, i am a pitta constitution - a combination of water and fire. To achieve balance, i must find ways to express my anger, to let go of "shoulds" and "should nots", cut down on spicy food - avoid alcohol and coffee. Hmmm... well i'll comply on the food. And i haven't had a drink for 11 days. But the coffee... COME ON!

To try and maintain a sense of "doing" something - i decided to attend a class on the use of Tibetan singing bowls in energetic therapy. The 2 hour class (which cost AU$20) was underwhelming to be kind. We learnt a few moves but no diagnostic nor therapeutic applications. It was garbage. But i'm gonna get a bowl in Nepal - apparently they're cheaper there. And they do sound pretty cool. I think i dreamt of singing bowls last night. And trying to find work in the mountains. Strange.

And now everybody has left Mcleod. The German girls, the Canadians. And Jas went to Amritsar the day before yesterday and took Joel with him. My vatta brother - if, indeed, this is the end of our travels in the sub-continent, then i will miss you terribly. I pray the final weeks of your adventure are exciting and fulfilling. I remind myself of a Samuel Beckett quote: "We don't travel for the fun of it. Surely we are not that stupid."

And i am alone again. And perhaps that is significant. I am taking a chance - leaving India, leaving these mountains for some other alpine trails. And i feel a bit scared and a bit sad. But i guess that is part of it. Now, how shall i use my final days. Near to a toilet seat? Or running through the rhododendron trees?

the last time i saw the mountain...

And so now let me turn my creaking voice to the song of recent events on the nearby peaks of the Himalaya: A few days ago Jas, Trevor, Lena and myself decided to ascend to Triund, a mountain ridge some 11kms from Mcleod Ganj. The climb is a solid 1.5km from 1,400m to 2950m above sea level and took us about 3 hours. The weather was fine at the start, then gave way to light rain. From Triund the first snow ridden range of the "real" Himalayas seem so close that one might reach out and touch them as they shimmer on the wind. The view was incredible. We had taken our camping gear, with the very clear intention of staying there the night: it was brutally cold. So we huddled around the fire with Indian tourists, an adventure guide from Bhutan and the chaps who run the local chai shops and the one guest house. It snowed, it rained, it thundered for most of the night - it was amazing. The following morning we trekked the final 3kms (almost vertical again) to the snow line (at 3,500m), from where we could see the glacier and Indira's Pass. But the weather was bad so we decided to call it good at 3,500 and turned around to return to Triund and then back to Mcleod. As we rolled into the chai shop Richard was standing there with a huge grin on his face, waiting for us. In his usual hot shot, charismatic flair, he managed to seduce the attention other travellers planning their descent to Mcleod, and before you knew it our group of four had become a group of fourteen.

And so with thick cloud wrapping its infinite spiralling tentacles around the mountain, we commenced our return to the Ganj. The Rhododendron forests were reminiscent of the slow churning fogs of Kurosawa films - we joked about what or who might be lost along the way. I stopped to make a recording of the rain drops shattering between the leaves, and thought about the beauty before me that i might have missed had we pre-meditated the rain. Before setting out on the first day, it had been articulated that if the weather was bad, we might not go - but if we had stayed at home we would have missed out on the magic eeriness of negotiating a forest laced with seemingly impregnable cloud. The sort of wet, cold experience you would avoid if you knew was coming, but were so thankful to find yourself in.

And so returned from the mountain we all went out for a Japanese dinner and chased it with drinks at a nearby night spot. I have drawn the liver friendly conclusion that alcohol and i are not on healthy terms for the time being, as the last couple of times i have had a drink (and a modest dose on each occasion) my system has resonded with irrational turbulence - infact, i spent most of yesterday in bed with a revenge bout of the squirts. Today i am much better. Still a bit tired. But... no alcohol... for a while... anyway.

And it rained without sign of easing through the night and most of the day, until perhaps one hour ago when i looked across the valley and the cradle of Triund (now coated with snow) had returned to the horizon, and the cloud was thinning, and it occurred to me that the last time i saw the mountain, i was standing on it.

And what next? To stay in Mcleod and wait for my Iranian Visa approval (i'm still waiting!!)? Or to move on to another place, possibly a warmer place??? Jas has his visa and now must decide wether or not to leave as soon as possible (he has reasons to be back in Oz in early May), or to stick around in India, wait for me, or just stay here?? We are not at a cross road. We are standing in the middle of a deserted plateau. And the question itches like splinters under the skin: toward which slowly setting sun shall we begin to draw our trail?