So, after seeing Everest, we went to a tiny town called Old Tingri. It was a typically quaint country town.
We checked into a hotel called the Snow Leopard equipped with no power, no heat and no running water. I foolishly tried to bathe. I know it sounds stupid and senseless, but I hadn't bathed in days and was filthy.
Anyway, after that mishap, Matt and I went to check out the town. We ended up playing cards, eating, and lounging at the Lhasa Restaurant for hours. These little restaurants have stoves (in the middle of the room for warmth) and couches, and as a result, they end up becoming popular hangouts. Eventually, we left left the restaurant and walked in the cold back to our hotel where we shivered ourselves to sleep.
Our hotel was ridiculous. It was lacking in facilities and effort. Breakfast was included in the price of the room and consisted of an empty crepe and a hard-boiled egg. Since I don't eat eggs, I found the breakfast particularly disappointing. I know this sounds petty to whine about, but for $35, we should at least get one of the following: warmth, comfort, water, food, or power.
Anyway, after breakfast, Matt and I left with the driver to go pick up Lukdha a mile away since he had been staying with his family. We drove on the paved road to a point where a dirt road jutted off to a little village in the distance. After a phonecall and about 10 minutes of waiting, Lukdha came riding up on a horse like a real country boy.
It was great. He let Matt and I both hop on this incredibly patient and well-behaved horse and take pictures with Everest in the background before sending the horse home with a loud smack on the butt (and a little chasing, and maybe some rock throwing).
Following that amusing interlude, we hit the road and drove through mostly barren countryside until we were right up against the mountains. We reached a pass decorated with prayer flags welcoming us down into the valley of the Himalayas. We stopped to check out the pass and Lukdha pointed at a massive, snow-covered mountain. He said "Shishapangma."
It was the mountain where Alex Lowe passed away after an avalanche came down on top of his expedition party. I couldn't believe it. The mountain that killed the hero of my teenage years. I spent weeks making and selling dozens of cord necklaces to raise money for his family after the accident. And there was that massive peak in the distance un-moving, un-feeling all the pain that it has caused.
Our hotel was ridiculous. It was lacking in facilities and effort. Breakfast was included in the price of the room and consisted of an empty crepe and a hard-boiled egg. Since I don't eat eggs, I found the breakfast particularly disappointing. I know this sounds petty to whine about, but for $35, we should at least get one of the following: warmth, comfort, water, food, or power.
Anyway, after breakfast, Matt and I left with the driver to go pick up Lukdha a mile away since he had been staying with his family. We drove on the paved road to a point where a dirt road jutted off to a little village in the distance. After a phonecall and about 10 minutes of waiting, Lukdha came riding up on a horse like a real country boy.
It was great. He let Matt and I both hop on this incredibly patient and well-behaved horse and take pictures with Everest in the background before sending the horse home with a loud smack on the butt (and a little chasing, and maybe some rock throwing).
Following that amusing interlude, we hit the road and drove through mostly barren countryside until we were right up against the mountains. We reached a pass decorated with prayer flags welcoming us down into the valley of the Himalayas. We stopped to check out the pass and Lukdha pointed at a massive, snow-covered mountain. He said "Shishapangma."
It was the mountain where Alex Lowe passed away after an avalanche came down on top of his expedition party. I couldn't believe it. The mountain that killed the hero of my teenage years. I spent weeks making and selling dozens of cord necklaces to raise money for his family after the accident. And there was that massive peak in the distance un-moving, un-feeling all the pain that it has caused.
After a moment of prayer and some pretty deep thoughts, we hit the road again, driving into a deep valley. As we drove, the river that carved the valley became deeper and farther away. The ride was long and after several hours we were terribly high in the air. The road was made of dirt, under construction, and frequently punctuated with hairpin turns.
Our driver was a rather impatient man, prone to speeding. I thought I had gotten used to treacherous, third world roads in Jamaica, but this was far beyond anything I had experienced. No shoulder, no guardrails, and hundreds of feet straight down to a river. Oh, and no seatbelts (not that they would do any good at that height).
The picture I'm putting up doesn't do the road justice. Maybe if you open it, it'll give you an idea of the scale.
We continued on this road for hours until we began to see homes and businesses and wound down through a multitude of switchbacks to the border town of Zhangmo, where we stayed for our last night.
The pictures are: a typical Tibetan home (child in the doorway, teapot on the satellite dish sun heater, sheep in the yard), Mount Shishapangma, and the scary mountain road.
No comments:
Post a Comment