Intense, Incredible, India!

21-25 November 2010

The sights and smells of Delhi whizzed by us, quite literally. By the
time we successfully picked up my sister Sarah and cousin Kevin from
the airport, ate platefuls of delicious Indian cuisine, and survived
our first auto-rickshaw ride we were on a train bound for Agra, home
to the Taj Mahal.

As we munched on chickpea nuggets and chicory coffee, we watched the
Indian countryside awaken from the comfortable seats of the train.
Arriving in Agra in the late morning, we headed to an ancient city
called Fatehpur Sikri.

There, we laughed as goats dressed like people
(or as Kevin would say, “like pharmacists”) begged fruit off Indian
tourists, were amused by the begging children who were transfixed by
Nick’s “Ali Baba” beard, were awestruck by the intricate marble carved
rooms and buildings, and last but not least were pestered by numerous
men offering us their guide services. After an early dinner, we headed
back to our hotel in the rain, hopeful that the next days’ weather
would be better for our visit to the Taj Mahal.


We approached the west gate of the Taj Mahal just before dawn only to
realize that the ticket booth was about a kilometer or so back up the
road. Why would the ticket booth be up the road you ask? I think the
only answer for that is, this is India. While Nick and Kevin grabbed a
bicycle rickshaw back to the ticket booth, Sarah and I hung out near
the entrance and fended off the early morning nagging to buy
bracelets, marble carvings, postcards, calendars, and Taj Mahal
t-shirts. Yikes.


By 6:30am we were inside the gates to the Taj Mahal, excited to catch
our first glimpse of this grand wonder of the world. In the early
morning haze, the Taj Mahal appeared to be almost an illusion –
blending into and blurred by the pollution and grey skies. It was
surreal; it looked like it did not exist.


We spent the next few hours walking through and around the Taj. The
cloud colored marble inlayed with semi-precious stones was sublime.
The intricate designs carved out of the marble were magnificent.
Everything about the Taj was beautiful. As the sun rose higher in the
cloudy sky, the large tour groups started to arrive –signaling to us
that it was time to leave and get some breakfast. We went to a nearby
hotel where we could enjoy breakfast on the roof with a perfect view
of the Taj Mahal. Sitting there on the serene rooftop, we were shocked
when the guy at the next table said “Hey, didn’t we meet in Lukla, how
did you ever get out of there?” HA!


Later that day we hired an auto-rickshaw to take us to what is known
as the “Baby Taj Mahal” or Itmad-Ud- Daulah. For us, this was the
highlight of our time in Agra. Our driver was hilarious and brutally
honest, and the Baby Taj was peaceful, uncrowded, and its inlaid
marble was even more impressive than the Taj Mahal proper. Our driver
suggested that we go down to the river to get a view of the Taj Mahal
from the backside. The view was lovely, but we were hungry and soon
headed to yet another rooftop to enjoy a spicy, curried Thanksgiving
feast while enjoying the fading light on the Taj Mahal.


At 4am the next morning we found ourselves at a train station littered
with possibly hundreds of people sleeping on the ground. Dodging
sleeping bodies, we found our seats, secured our bags, and enjoyed
another sleepy early morning train ride to Jaipur and the state of
Rajasthan. We will spend the next week and a half touring through
Rajasthan, making our way through Jaipur, Udaipur, and Jaisalmer via
train before heading back to Delhi.

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Trekking to the Roof of the World

17 October - 21 November

Where do I begin? How does anyone adequately sum up 5 weeks spent amongst some of the most majestic mountain scenery on earth? In mid-October, Rachel, Betsy, and I departed Kathmandu, and after 8 stomach churning hours aboard a bus in the Himalayan foothills we arrived in the market town of Jiri. From there it was our legs and lung capacity guiding us higher and higher toward the roof of the world, Sagarmatha (aka Chomolungma in Tibetan, Everest in English).

The first 9 days of the trek, which led us from Jiri to Namche Bazar were mostly Himalayan flat. That means, not flat at all, but starting and ending each day at approximately the same elevation. For example, on the first day of the trek, we climbed 2000 feet, descended 3300 feet, ate lunch, and then climbed another 3300 feet to Deurali, arriving at our lodge just before sundown. I think all of us agree that this portion of the trek was some of the most demanding hiking we have ever done in our lives.

This section of trail crosses 3 major passes, numerous rivers, and passes hundreds of Buddhist prayer walls and chortens with prayer flags strung everywhere. The scenery is dramatic. Agricultural terraces of rice, buckwheat, or corn festoon hillsides for thousands of vertical feet. Dense conifer forests dotted with maples and oaks in fall colors drape hillsides, and late blooming flowers soak up the fall’s final rays of sun. This section of trail is not heavily traveled until just below Namche Bazaar, and gave us a glimpse of what trekking in the Everest was like decades ago. We arrived in Namche Bazaar with strong legs, and in need of a couple of days of rest.

It was from just above Namche, hiking up the Khumbu Valley, where we gained our first clear views of the high Himalayas. As we inched our way higher and higher, grand peaks loomed in every direction. It seemed as if each turn in the trail revealed new and ever more spectacular mountain scenery. This is a landscape that makes you feel insignificant and, by comparison, other mountain landscapes the world over seem small.

Each of us was attracted to different mountains in this part of the trek. It seems quite funny to initiate a trek to Everest but be unable to take your eyes off of surrounding peaks such as Ama Dablam, Tabuche, and Pumo Ri (all small when compared to giants like Everest or Lhotse). Make no mistake; this part of the trek is inhospitable to man.

With each step up the air became colder and the available oxygen became scarcer. By the time we reached our high point, panting up the 18,200 foot mountain of Kala Patthar, only half of the oxygen available at sea level was present. Climbing higher and higher with throbbing heads, struggling for each breath, and fighting constant nausea--- we felt awful. At the same time we were awestruck at the cathedral of peaks, so close and clear, looming in all directions. It amazed us that when we stopped walking and enjoyed these views the effects of altitude would suddenly disappear.

On clear evenings we shivered contentedly as we watched the sunset and the alpenglow glowing orange on the earth’s highest mountain. At dusk, as the last light faded, we witnessed Everest, Lhotse, Nuptse, and countless other peaks against a background of purple twilight. However beautiful, as we left our highest sleeping point at Gorakshep (16,960 feet) and packed up our frozen water bottles, we were happy to head lower down the Khumbu Valley.

On a steep, narrow, vertigo-inducing trail we left the Khumbu Valley and headed toward the Gokyo Lakes. Over the course of three days of trekking we regained the elevation we had lost and entered the Gokyo Valley.

We were now on the opposite (west) side of numerous mountains now familiar to us. The landscape in this area appears drier, more open, and the massive Cho Oyo (at 26,800 feet, the world’s 6^th highest mountain), is prominent in nearly every view. Each of the Gokyo Lakes is a turquoise gem. In the still, early morning light these azure waters feature unreal reflections of high mountains-truly a photographer’s dream.

In the Gokyo area, Everest and its neighbors are at a fair distance, and one gains a real perspective of the highest mountain on earth. From the nearly 18,000 foot peak, Gokyo Ri, and the stark landscape surrounding the 5^th Gokyo Lake, there is no question that Everest is the roof of the world.

From Gokyo, it was an uneventful walk down to Lukla over the course of five days, where we were to catch a flight back to Kathmandu on the 28^th day of the trek. With the exception of one snowstorm, which serendipitously hit on one of our only rest days, we had been graced by fine, clear, magnificent weather. I guess it is safe to assume that we had exhausted our good weather karma. Planes cannot land in Lukla when it is cloudy. Waiting for the weather to clear, stranded in Lukla, five days had passed and very few planes had departed. On the sixth day we awoke to clear skies and a chance to fly, but bad weather in Kathmandu kept planes grounded. To put it nicely, there are a million places other than Lukla where I would rather be stranded for a week. On Day 7 (another cloudy day), feeling desperate and contemplating walking 7 days back to the nearest road in Jiri we called, Santaman, the owner of Nepal Trek Guide (our trekking agency in Kathmandu), and pleaded “Charter us a helicopter and get us out of here, we have had enough,”. Our helicopter was scheduled to arrive in the early afternoon and had to depart before 4:30pm to get to Kathmandu before dark. At 3pm it started to rain and they decided that no more helicopters would land in Lukla that day. Waiting at the helipad in misty rain, faced with another miserable night in Lukla (home to the world’s nastiest bathroom-located right in our guesthouse), Santaman worked a miracle. Our wonderful guide Dev said “We move to Surkhe, where the heli will land in one hour”. Grabbing all of our gear we literally ran downhill for an hour in the rain on slippery rocks, dodging Lukla’s open sewers, and arrived breathless at the helipad/cow pasture in the tiny village of Surkhe with 10 minutes to spare. The cows were moved aside, our helicopter landed, we boarded at 4:15pm, and we soared over the misty Himalayan countryside back to Kathmandu.

After 10 days without a shower we are clean and well-fed. Today sadly parted ways with Betsy (who is headed to the beach in Thailand) and our new friend Tony who shared every excruciating moment of Lukla with us, and flew to Delhi, India. In a couple of days, Rachel’s sister, Sarah, and her cousin, Kevin, will join us for a few weeks, glimpsing the color and clamor of Northern India (Taj Mahal, here we come).

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