Treading water

Not literally, but the last week has just been spent visiting with friends and trying to figure out what on earth to do with my two weeks of free time. A few plans made and fallen through, and ultimately my frustration with feeling like I was just here taking up time prompted me to change my ticket to Nepal. I'm tired of trying to figure out how to spend my time when I could be walking in the mountains!

I've basically just been hanging around Bangalore and Delhi, being social. Good to spend time catching up with people here - went to see the movie "Up in the Air" (interesting), met with some of the people involved in making Samim's RAAM ride a reality, finally went to Qutb Minar (a beautiful stone minaret in Delhi), and otherwise did a whole lot of... not much. I've gotten to exercise a little, but it's hard in crowded cities with bad air quality. So as always I'm torn between spending time with the people I want to catch up with and needing to take care of myself. Almost two weeks here reconnecting with friends, and it's time for me to run off.

So, tomorrow going to Kathmandu, then off to the hills. To avoid the possibility of being stuck in Lukla by weather, unable to fly back to Kathmandu to meet our trekkers, I'm going to take the bus to Jiri and trek to Lukla, then as far up the Khumbu as I can with the week and a half I have, walking back through Lukla to Jiri and the return bus to Kathmandu. That's the plan, anyway! I'll let you know in a week or two how it worked out...

24 hours, 701 kilometers

You know how sometimes you hear about people doing crazy things, amazing things that you can't actually imagine achieving, and you wonder how they got there? Samim Rizvi, a good friend here in Bangalore, has done exactly that, and it is even more amazing to watch someone you've seen work to get there actually achieve what they've set out to do.

I met Sam in 2008 at my first attempt at MTB Himachal here in India, his first time on a mountain bike. (He was in my posting then, and in the CNN-IBN video clip.) Some weeks later I visited him and several other new friends in Bangalore, and over the last year and a half we have become close friends. He's actually a road racer, and has had his share of drama and thwarted plans since then in getting to this point - a 24-hour time trial to qualify for the Race Across America (RAAM).

There's no qualifying races in India or close by, European races are prohibitively difficult for Indian nationals to get visas for, and the Cycling Federation of India is so mired in politics and chaos that it is non-functional for the purposes of officiating an event. So his sponsor, Bulldog Sports (for whom he also teaches fitness and training classes), organized a solo event with media and the support of the many people who have been there for Samim. At 8:14am on Saturday, Sam started riding 70km loops on the highway just outside town with a vehicle and several other riders following in support. The rules for a time trial prohibit drafting, so there would be no pace line, just one rider with his head into the wind.

The weather here in March is hot, so by 2pm he had slowed a bit, suffering in the heat (maybe 98 degrees?). Finally the sun went down around 6:30 and things cooled off a bit, but that's when the 12 hours of cycling in the dark start. Much of the hype has died down, the other riders are gone, and just the people staying for the duration are around to lend encouragement. His family and sponsors and cycling friends (and I) took turns riding in the support vehicle, taking video and trying to help with positive energy, biding time at the Cafe Coffee Day in between. If there are any support heros in this event, it is the driver and crew of the van who stayed up and functional for the entire duration. These seemed to be the hardest hours.

At 3am, six other riders arrived to join Sam on his circuits and provide mental and emotional support. You know who your friends are when they get up at 2am to ride 140km in the dark with you!! Wow. Again, no one was allowed to ride ahead, but talking to the rider beside you and knowing there are more behind helps keep the remaining energy in your legs flowing.

As the sun came up again, Samim completedin 23 hours the 425 miles (668km) required to qualify for the RAAM, in the middle of the plains with the crew and two riders who had stayed with him. What an amazing moment in the journey - a sweaty hug can mean so much. Then, he got back on his bike and kept riding to complete the 24 hour trial.

Back at the start point once again, Sam got off his bike at 8:13am, having cycled 701 kilometers. His sponsor was of course there, Mom and Dad and most of the people important in his life had come, as well as the media and a famous actor in local film, to congratulate him in this enormous accomplishment. No rest for the weary: interviews, questions, autographs both given and received, all these kept everyone busy for the next three hours. Those of us who got no sleep were nodding off on the way home, and I fell into bed at 12:30 and slept for 16 hours. I can't imagine Sam's exhaustion, and hope he has gotten some rest amidst the excitement of family and media.

More on the RAAM later, but in short, it's a race from Oceanside, CA, to Annapolis, MD, about 3000 miles in under 12 days. The qualifying committee still has to accept this ride to accept his entry, but he seems to be poised to come, with Ronnie of Bulldog Sports set on making it happen. The same crew will be coming with him, and I'll be joining the team, for the start on June 9. Until then, sleep, planning, and, oh yeah - more training. :-)

A five-hour delay in the Delhi airport

Is it possible to miss a place before you've even left??  How do you reconcile yourself to your world, to your own choices, when they exact their toll?  Oddly enough, I'm not talking about love, though the parallels are certainly there.  Love or life, the loss is part of the having.

These last three trips to India have been spent developing stronger and stronger ties to a place that's literally half a world away, that doesn't hold lucrative work for me, that is in many ways diametrically opposed to the culture I call home.  But each time I come I meet more cool people, those I want to see again, and find more things I want to do with those I already know well.  In Indian parlance, "what to do?"  The only answer is to keep coming back.

OK, enough of the philosophical rant.  This last week in Bangalore has been exactly what I've needed at the end of every trip here, a little time in a place I'm coming to know better, with no demands except those I willingly submit to.  To and from a climbing area, I rode pillion (second) on a motorcycle for only the second time, with just my bicycle helmet - better than nothing.  A friend generously loaned his road bike, this time the perfect size, and I learned how to get around (just a tiny bit of) the city by bicycle - while traffic is chaos, at least that means drivers are somewhat used to looking out for motorcycles, cyclists, cows, etc, and won't run you over without even noticing!  Ironic.

I did manage to go rock climbing (sometimes no one's available, and you just have to hire a guide :-) at one of the more beautiful locations I've been to, Ramanagar, about an hour outside Bangalore.  The city is in one section of a huge plateau punctuated by tall rounded rock outcroppings, around 500' high.  Many of these have ruins of forts, or temples on them.  Ramanagar supports a temple and a few other structures, pavilions.  It has also been developed by the local climbing community into a climbing area, complete with new bolts for leading and anchoring, and a variety of routes from easy to extremely hard.  It's not a terribly large area, but one wall was plenty to remind my fingers that they haven't done much climbing recently!  Fortunately that allowed for some time to look around, out at the plateau and the other rock bumps in the greenery.  A beautiful day.

So now, headed back to Seattle, I'm mentally preparing for the shift in time, culture, friends, and the little interactions that make a place home, looking forward to briefly seeing good friends there, but missing those here I won't see for a while.  Ah, well - til next time...

Footnotes

That's right - more me time! I mean really, if I'm going to work on my vacation time, I should at least get a vacation while I'm here. *grin* Lin joined me at the last minute for a trip to Chennai to see a new friend and her family check out the surrounding areas of southern India, a new locale for me.

Chennai (named Madras by the British, corrected relatively recently back to a more local moniker) is a bit different than most of the places I've been so far. Furthest south, and close to the ocean, it's incredibly humid and warm, even in "winter", which is now. It actually reminded me strongly of the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico, a strange connection that took a day or two to shake off. Lots of temples of various architecture and age, including many older ones (600 AD?) in a place called Mamallapuram, a tourist town that did little to dispel my Mexico schizophenia.

Most interesting, however, was getting to stay with my friend and her husband and son - altogether an incredibly talented family. She is a very accomplished Indian Classical Dancer, and we were treated to a short private performance. There are many styles of classical dance, but I'd never seen any of them, and to get such an amazing performance up close was perhaps the best introduction one could hope for. Her husband is a well-known Classical Vocalist who performs with her as well as in his own shows; she played a commercially-produced CD of him for her mini-performance. And last but not least, their son is a budding western-style guitarist, inordinately fond of Jimi Hendrix, who we got to hear play in his school's "western music assembly" the day we arrived. Wow. Best of all, they are all incredibly warm and welcoming, a pleasure to get to know individually as well as part of a family.

Also met up with a new friend from this year's MTB Himachal (funny being on the same trip and meeting back up with people from previous activities...) and cycled to Pondicherry, about 150km south on a beautiful coastal road. My first trip on a road bike was great - so different than the grinding you do cycling up and down rough mountain terrain. No crazy pictures, but it was great to just ride through the greenery and salty air. A quick stay with other cycling friends there and back the next day - nice tour.

Now off to Bangalore for the last stop on this tour - a little climbing, a little cycling, and some good face time with friends.

Epilogue

But that's not all... being an official-type organization, there was lots of time to be spent tidying up official loose ends.

We spent about a week back at the main NIM campus de-issuing gear, doing a bit more rock climbing, practicing the graduation ceremony, and, most importantly, going into town so the long-deprived students could have some junk food. Junk food in this case means chaats, street food, often fried, frequently sweet, and, as required by the definition of street food, largely without redeeming nutritional value but fun to eat! Tikki burgers (fried potato patties on a roll with chili sauce), dahi puri (fried crunchies with sweet sauce and chili sauce and yogurt), and jalebis (fried swirls of batter subsequently saturated in sugar syrup)... sense a trend?

But the more important graduation ceremony was carried out in good style, followed by a "cultural" presentation - everything from Bollywood-style dance numbers to skits about decompressing from the NIM experience to local dance and traditional music. Students returned their stylish NIM graduation sweaters and were suddenly faced with that inevitable end of such an intense ordeal and bonding experience. Hasty goodbyes and early-morning departures left some relieved, some hoping to see new friends on the Advanced Course next year.

I personally am ready for some down time, and am looking forward to a visit with two new friends, one from the mountain bike race, one from the Basic Course, in Chennai. Mmm... warm weather.

Made it...

Wow - that was definitely interesting.  I learned a ton of old-school and expedition-specific techniques, a bunch more Hindi, and the names of about a quarter of the students.  I thought remembering eight English names on a 3-day Rainier climb was hard...

A three-day march brought us to Base Camp, complete with generator and electric lights, 10-person canvas tents, a stone shelter with propane stoves, a cook staff, and the biggest pressure cooker pot I've ever seen.  Porters carried up daily fresh vegetables and eggs, and the ten goats I watched being weighed at our first camp were regularly made into mutton stew.  (I love the idea of being able to pet my, or my fellow climbers', dinner's fuzzy nose.)  Once a week there was even a "mail run" - money could be given to a porter who would bring back sweets or TP the next day!  Crazy expedition stuff.

Over 18 days of hiking in and practicing around Base Camp we covered ice climbing, crevasse crossing, basic snow skills, navigation, and height gain.  Some things were the same, some from about 20 years ago, and a few things were just straight-up new to me.  Such a strange mix of old and new techniques.  Fortunately, a guy who works with a climbing-certification organization paid a visit as well, so I wasn't the only person insisting on crazy things like manufacturer-specified angles of ice-screw placement.

And despite being the "slow" instructor, both in the speed of my students and my non-understanding of daily instructions in Hindi, everyone was great, super helpful and largely indulgent of my ignorance of daily camp workings.  On top of it, I had to take my turn as Duty Instructor, responsible for making sure everything happens on time and in line.  But I don't know what I'm supposed to be ordering or finding out during morning parade, let along the Hindi words for "attention" and "at ease"... (Actually, I do now - Sabdan and Vishram, in case you ever need to know.)  One of the hardest things I've ever done, truthfully - maintaining a (relatively) even keel through not knowing what's going on, trying to suggest improvements while not being condescending, and generally having to sit back and watch a situation I would normally be at least partially in charge of run completely differently.

My basic goal of understanding more of how climbing works here has definitely been accomplished.  Larger goals will come with time - I intend to do more with the programs here, though I'm not sure yet in what capacity or timeframe.  Down from the mountains now, we're back to more ceremony and logistical management than activity, and I'm about ready to go.  A couple more days of graduation rehearsals, assessments, etc, and I'll be on my own again, in charge of my own time.  Amazing how important that is when you don't have it.

79 Rock-Climbing Students on the Wall

(...sung to the tune of 99 Bottles of Beer)  A week here at NIM's Basic Mountaineering course has gone relatively smoothly and we're about to head up into the mountains for 18 days of mountain skills.  The last week has been spent on logistics and basic rock climbing skills, and it's time to find some snow.

All in all, I'm actually pleasantly surprised by the whole system.  I'd heard many things about the army-based teaching system and the comparative isolation of the climbing community and techniques here.  But despite some rather old-school equipment (gear is not only subject to up to 50% import duty, but comparatively very expensive relative to earnings) and techniques (I've never actually done a shoulder-body rappel!) the teaching progression is quite good and remarkably effective for a group of 79 students!

This group is broken into rope teams of 5-7 students, each with an assigned instructor for practice sessions.  So there's a lecture on rappeling, for instance, then I take my 6 ladies (17-40 years of age, 3 different languages) and we practice the skill.  Always with some time constraint, but with the ability to show details and ask questions.  Turns out, this is the first Basic course that has been offered co-ed.  There is always (has been since the founding in 1968, admirably) a women-only course, but just one a year.  So this is an experiment in mixing the Basic course; usually only the very advanced courses like Search and Rescue are mixed.  So far it seems to be going well - my group is usually slower (than the guys or the other women), but the instructors have made the logistics work around this really well.

On the flip side, I've learned things like how to rappel with a rock hammer, normally used to place pitons (amazed picture with one of two foreign students, right), pack with canvas stuff sacks, and sit separately from the students.  I've gotten slightly used to being addressed as "madam" in India, but it's proscribed here by the military setup of the place - students and instructors/staff are very much separated.  They get their cafeteria food (Indian curries and chappatis) by standing in line past a serving window, we get to sit at a table and have it brought to us.  I understand why it works this way, and it does work, it's just tough for someone who never (never?) thinks of herself as better or more worthy of not sitting on the ground than anyone else.

So things are good, and we're headed up into the mountains for 18 days tomorrow.  Porters, canvas tents, afternoon tea, and some time up high!  See you soon...

Vacation

Really, this isn't as selfish as it sounds. But rarely do I (do any of us!) get a complete break from others' demands on our attention, time, or schedule. So I've got a week in Rishikesh, in the foothills of the Himalayas that produce the Ganges river, to just read and run and hike and... do whatever then heck I want! When I want to! OK, so I'd love a fresh hummus sandwich with lettuce and tomatos and pickles and onions and mustard (yum!), but you can't have everything.

Rishikesh the tourist town is separate from the actual town, suitably populated by weathered beard-wearing men dressed in the holy color of saffron, variously wandering about, reading languages I can't (yet), and/or asking for money along the well-traveled pedestrian corridors. There are more Hindu temples here than I can pronounce, which means there are as many Indian tourists as foreign ones, all targeted by sellers of an assortment of jewelry, sandalwood, cowboy hats (really!), clothing and blessings - a tikka mark on your forehead, say these words, here's your string bracelet, donation please?

But it's close to the mountains, so there are some beautiful places. A twenty-minute hike reveals two waterfalls, dammed up to make pools to swim in, and just beyond, a valley filled with rice fields and simple houses. Locals as well as tourists come to swim in the falls; I watched three skinny local boys swimming in their underwear once a middle-aged white couple had gotten out, followed by the too-cool boys from Delhi who were still silly once they jumped in and ruined their styled hair. The air was cool in the shade, and the forest green and teeming with butterflies, so different from the dust and smells of the city.

I hiked most of the way to a temple, deciding I didn't need to hike the rest of the way downhill to actually get there. (Who builds a temple halfway down a mountainside, anyway?) Funny how even a simple walk can feel like a story, like you're in a pilgrimage or travel essay if you let it... Two stoned men sitting in the path feeding monkeys ("good monkeys", I was informed) with monkey snacks so I could feel their tapered fingers on mine, then offers of various versions of a smoke. A little further on a couple shyly posing for pictures with their camera and mine, delighted at my offer, likely because they knew I wouldn't disapprove of their intimacy. Reached the top of the hill to find cell towers and a farm but no temple - that was downhill again. Ah, well - maybe next time.

Rafting, reading, and just enjoying my own quiet space here. Next up, headed to the Nehru Institute of Mountaineering to see what I can contribute there. I'm supposed to be helping instruct their basic mountaineering course, starting with walking uphill and ending with ?? but I'm not sure how I'll fit into their military hierarchy, especially as a woman in a relatively conservative region. Huh. Well, some of us are going to learn something, not sure who...

Hogea!

Hindi for: Finished! I managed to stay healthy, the ribs do seem to be fully healed, and I learned a ton about how to fix and maintain my bike in response to various breaks and failures. Brakes? Who needs 'em? Oh wait - I do, and now I know how to adjust my disc brakes to keep riding the crazy downhills we were sent on. The generosity of two French- and English ex-pats living in Pondicherry kept me in spokes (four broken over nine days!) as I bombed my way down that uneven terrain, and lots of TLC kept the rear shifter working despite needing a new cable. The bike needs a new chain, brake pads, shifter cables, and derailer spring, but it made it. Whew!

The course from Shimla to Manali was largely the same, but with harder climbs and longer days than last year, a challenge to be sure. I felt like a stronger rider this year, though - that hillclimb up Mt Baker and paying attention to my technical riding helped. Around 60 people (mostly Indian) started the race, and only 35 finished! A few downhill accidents early on, but mostly just the daily grind of so much vertical gain and mileage, about 75km and 5,000' of gain per day on surfaces of varying quality, from beautifully smooth tarmac to (mostly) broken tarmac/gravel to these obnoxious cobblestones that slow you down on the descent, let alone an uphill effort!

As with last year, my favorite part of the ride is just getting to know people over 10 days of being tired, happy, hungry, discouraged, relieved, impatient and resigned. You can't fake it for that long, especially working that hard. So a few more friends here, people I'll look forward to meeting up with again, either on a bike or not. And of course, there are the random people you meet along the way - a woman who took care of my cold soggy self by the fire on our one day of rain waiting for the other riders to come, an old village woman delighted to have us take pictures with her flowers, the hoardes of kids endlessly amused by the instant gratification of digital images, and all of the people who made this event happen, many of whom didn't really know what to make of this crazy mud-covered lady riding with a bunch of men.

There were only two women riding, and the sponsored Nepali mountain biker was far stronger than I. So I managed to get second - sweet! We found out later that the organizers had tried to cancel the women's prizes since there were only two of us, and were informed of the error of their ways. So all went as advertised, and the prize money nearly covered my plane ticket over. I would have been happy just to complete the event, but racing for position is a good change for me. I don't think I need to do this event again, especially trying to schedule work around it, but might do more bike touring here in the future.

Back in Delhi, I'm sitting in an "American diner", complete with old CocaCola advertisements, car memorabilia and rock-n-roll playing for ambience. There's Heinz catsup on the table, but menu offerings like "Chips and Salsa - Pringles, Dorritos chips and Potato wedges served with jalapeno salsa" and pomegranate smoothies. Close...

Off to a fantastic start

So I do seem to have largely avoided jetlag - don't know quite how.  A little tired, certainly, but not falling asleep in the middle of the day.  12 1/2 hours is a lot to get used to!

It seems surprisingly normal to land here on my fourth trip.  Not like home, exactly, but without that sense of excitement of going to a new place.  I pretty much know how things work (or don't, as the case may be) and where I'm going.

But that doesn't mean things aren't going to be interesting.  The bike I loaned out at my departure from Sikkim in the spring is here in one piece, but some of those pieces are a little... missing.  Missing part of the headset (bearings and top cap) and the nut on the end of the quick-release skewer for my back wheel.  Really, when you're disassembling it, it IS important that all the little pieces get in the box!  So a miracle part supply by friend Dickie and an hour drive later, I'm trying to figure out how much I really know about bike parts - I know what this bike mechanic is doing is wrong, but not quite what is right.  In the end, I took most of the pieces home and put it back together myself - hope this works!!!

We'll find out.  Heading up to Shimla in an hour and the 10-day race starts on Sunday.  Hope my bike works, hope my ribs are truly healed, hope I can manage not to get sick... definitely always an adventure.  Here goes!

Mumbai

...felt different than the other cities I've been to in India.  Most of it is because it's a more business-focused city, the financial hub, much like New York would be.  The bustle of business people moving about felt more focused and less chaotic than Bangalore or Delhi.  It's also by the sea, the first time I'd experienced the ocean here.

The ocean means many things.  It means there are fishing communities, and the slums that accompany this industry.  It creates a shore, that defining edge of land that evokes perspective and a sense of openness.  It enables landmarks like Mumbai's Gateway of India, a monument to "the landing of their imperial majesties", the king and queen, in 1911.  And it means it's humid as all get out.

You can take a one-hour boat ride to Elephanta Island, site of many ancient caves, one of which still has amazing carvings hidden inside.  There are actually three villages on the island, a captive population to hawk the many trinkets and clothes ubiquitous at such tourist destinations.

Having just finished the book Shantaram, I knew many of the names and landmarks of the city, but with no reference to geographical location - it was interesting filling in my orientation with the legendary Leopold's, Colaba Causeway, Marine Drive, and others.  I stayed close enough to be able to walk to many of the sightseer's destinations, but far enough from the tourist area to disassociate 

myself from it.  I hate staying in tourist areas.

There are an incredible number of old British-raj-era buildings that may still be in use, to some extent, but are in the inexorable process of mouldering and falling down.  It's a bit like one of those movies where humanity has abandoned a city - plants and vines creeping up walls, watermarks staining the outside walls, dust and decay setting into the books and furniture inside.  My sister would love it.

Next to all this, of course, are skyscrapers and innumerable miles of congested residential maze - I took the train 45 minutes north of downtown to meet Harsh, injured cyclist from the Sikkim ride, and other friends of friends living in the more populated suburbs and witnessed, among other things, the Oberoi mall.  Walking in was weird - I could have been in any bright fancy mall anywhere else in the world.

Hilarious observation of the week: Apparently the trend of artistic decoratings of some theme animal has arrived in Mumbai.  But what animal for a city in India?  The water buffalo, of course.  A series of brightly-painted offerings were displayed in a tiny garden near Churchgate station.  Ha!!  Gotta love it.

I didn't get to a couple of things like the Haji Ali mosque and a museum or two - have to save something for the next time...

Back to the mountains

The Nehru Institute of Mountaineering (NIM) is one of four government mountaineering institutes in India.  It is heavily subsidized, and teaches everyone from lowlanders who have never seen the mountains to those who grew up in the Himalayan foothills the skills of mountaineering.  Three- and four-week basic, advanced, and search-and-rescue courses begin with walking uphill and end with technical climbing and rescue techniques.

I had originally planned to hike up to meet two of the courses - a basic course and a search-and-rescue course that a friend was on - but my delay by injury meant the courses were on their way back.  But despite my imposed physical limitations, I was well 

received and made a great connection with the Vice Principal, one Major Thapa, who I look forward to working with in the future.  We had time to discuss many aspects of the climbing establishment in India and, more importantly in the short term, arrangements for me to return in the fall to work with one of the courses as a guest instructor.

Friend Sujay's search-and-rescue graduation formalities included the display of ceremonial NIM sweaters, a rite of passage he had experienced twice before on the basic and advanced courses.  Nice!

With some of my readily available time to myself, I walked down to the market in town.  Four women who had been walking around NIM earlier met up with me and invited me to their house the next day after a friendly, if quiet-ish walk downhill.  Why not?  

Her house turned out to be one of those two room affairs tucked next to the market road, one room for everyone to sleep and the other to cook.  Her family was either gone or kicked out, and the afternoon was spent looking at pictures of their family and friends and utilizing their limited-but-much-better-than-my-Hindi English to exchange basic life stats.  They are all about 24 and unmarried, and traditionally generous to their visiting guest.  The ceiling turned out to be a little low for me (probably wasn't planned with 6-foot foreigners in mind!), but the company was fun, and I look forward to seeing them on future trips to NIM and the town of Uttarkashi.

Intermission

I decided to postpone the mountains for a week so as not to tempt myself into further injury, so instead went to Bangalore for a week of rest and visiting friends I met on last year's mountain bike race. My last visit involved lots of running and cycling, but this time I'm fairly boring - "resting" isn't quite as glamorous and definitely not as conducive to good pictures. (See, you all want me to get better, too! ;-) I'm finally seeing some progress in healing, so will try to persevere in the resting effort. *wry grin*

So instead, more impressions of the crazy mishmash that is the cities of India:

One of my friends noted that if you wanted to bring the US to its knees you wouldn't need terrorists. Just abduct 10 Indian auto-rickshaw drivers (the ever-present three-wheeled open-air taxis) and set them loose on our roads. Then sit back and watch the crippling chaos. Just imagine trying to drive in a city full of them...

At the relatively healthy food market nearby, I can get a half-pound of red grapes, eight little Kerala bananas, four local oranges, and a miniature cantelope, all amazingly tasty, for 99 rupees, about two dollars. The same money gets you a tea at Coffee Day, trendy cafes modeled after the coffee shops I'm accustomed to at home. A muffin will be another family supply of fruit, please.

The autorickshaw driver stopped at a shop on my way back from central Bangalore this afternoon to buy oil for his vehicle's two-stroke engine. The oil-wallah filled his empty oil container from one of four juice pitchers on the counter holding different types of oil. I love that there's an everyday bypassing of the excess packaging we can't let go of in the US. On the other hand, the practicality of this arrangement is potentially offset by the likelihood that the oil is dirty, or sub-standard, contributing to the incredibly high levels of the pollution in the city.

What to do. I love many of the chaotic overtones of daily life here, their difference from the sometimes restrictive or excessive habits of the US. But I'm finally listening to my friends' observations of the negative aspects of their continuous practice. No place is perfect - I guess we just have to find the balance we're willing to put up with and keep trying to make it better...

Up and down

Up to Sikkim!  Whirlwind flights and buses landed me in Gangtok, launching point for another mountain biking event in this tiny Indian state tucked up against Nepal, Tibet/China, and Bhutan.  Late, of course, due to little information on schedules and transportation in any event literature.  But in time for dinner and meeting up with many people from last fall's MTB Himachal, putting my bike together, and preparing for the next day's start.

After the usual speeches and bagpipe band, we wound through curving mountain streets until spitting rain and the realization that we were ahead of the guide vehicles (and off route) drove us under whatever eaves were nearby.  An hour, much confusion, and two false starts later, we arrived at the starting point for the first timed stage.  This is the second year of the race, and things were still not worked out properly.  Start times were 4 minutes apart to ensure good timekeeping and rider spacing.  But with two at a time, 50 riders, and 10-minute gaps between categories, that meant the last people were waiting for 2 hours!  Cold and bored...  Things were better next tim, but some folks still got in after dark.

The second day was nicer, and a little smoother, but I managed to get not one but two flats on the downhill race stage, the only kind of terrain I have any chance of getting a decent time on!  Sheesh.  That's as many flats as I've had in all my cycling days!  Then a long uphill race stage, followed by another big uphill grind to camp.  Are we having fun yet?  I elected to ride in the Army truck once done with the racing.  Yup, wussed out.

By this time, however, my lower ribs, strained by so much coughing recovering from bronchitis, had worsened from the exertion of mountain biking (OK, and skiing, but it didn't bother them much at the time!). I didn't want to quit, but sneezes were excruciating and it was starting to affect day-to-day activities, like lying down to sleep.  No more riding for me.  Boo.  I lent my bike to someone with a really crappy cycle for the rest of the ride and gathered emails from some of the various Indian, Canadian, etc riders that are the real reason I come here...

But to distract from that: as I was riding in the support vehicle the next day, taking a rest/decision day, a friend that I had finally met on this ride had a bad crash.  Arriving on the scene before the ambulance, which never actually came, I and several other people ascertained that nothing was life-threatening, but definitely messy.  Knees, elbows, side, and particularly face were pretty well scraped, and half of one front tooth gone!  The army doctor eventually arrived to treat him there, and a visit to the local hospital finished cleaning him up.

With Harsh out of commission and headed back to Delhi, I decided to follow to discourage myself from foolishly opting back in.  After the drive back to Gangtok, we were able to take a chopper back to the Bagdogra airport for only Rs 2000, about $40!  Nice views, though the high Himalayan mountains so close to Everest were clouded in.

Back in Delhi, I've gone to a recommended doctor who frowned, ruled out cracked ribs with an x-ray, and basically said I'd pulled all my lower rib muscles.  Rest until they get better - nothing that uses them.  Huh.  That's pretty much everything I do, and definitely out of line with my scheduled activities!  But I have to be completely better by the time I'm scheduled to work again in early May, so hopefully that motivation will keep me in line.  Ah - travel, reading, and sitting around eating too much, my favorite.  I'm still going up north to Uttarkashi to meet with some mountaineering institute folks about future work/collaboration - I'll just be careful... *grin*

Solang

...is a beautiful mountain retreat from the dust of Delhi, just outside the resort town of Manali. At 8500', it accesses peaks to 14,000' from the front door (that's a long day hike, but lots of ski turns!), and higher stuff with a few days' travel. Despite the low snow year there was plenty of good skiing, you just had to hike for it. And the mountain air has (almost) finally kicked the last of the lingering cough. Whew!

After a dayhike or two to acclimatize, Lin, Larry and I lugged our own gear up for a camping/skiing trip on Mt Patalsu. We set up camp in a beautiful a ski-in, ski-out location at 10,500' on dry leaves right next to the snow - nice to be fully out of civilization. Three days of skiing sun-softened spring snow tired out Balu the now-Delhi-based dog. She hasn't seen snow for a while!

The next trip was fully supported - carrying heavy loads is fine, but if someone else can do it... Four porters and a guide (Rinku) joined us for another 3-day camp on Brigu Peak, this time with a big tent and fresh veggies, dinner and tea provided. A rolling pin for the chapatti flatbread, iron handtool for digging platforms - these guys don't mess around. And they didn't use the backpack's shoulder straps - instead wrapped a wide strap around Lin's pack and carried it traditionally on their heads!

Lin and Larry headed back to Delhi while I stayed for a couple more days of skiing and socializing with new and old friends there. Sunil and Ravi and Khem and I skied/boarded Gulaba peak, up one of the most harrowing roads I've survived (and there are a lot here!), complete with one-hour delay because a frontloader was, well, reconstructing the road. It took a couple tries, but the Gypsy truck did make it out... A beautiful day with great people.

A mad dash to the bus following lunch with the same folks, and a trust-requiring 13-hour bus later, I landed back in Delhi in that dim orange sunrise that comes from so much dust in the air. Funny to stuff my skis in the back of an auto-rickshaw here...

Manali/Solang is growing on me, and I might have to find a way to spend more time there. I'm looking forward to skiing next winter, hopefully with more snow!