14 July, Color-Man, Deurali, Nepal
Four days of trekking in the Himalayas has brought out the savage in me. Yet not like Ishmael in Moby Dick who says, "Long exile from Christendom and civilization restores a man to that condition in which God placed him, i.e. what is called savagery. Your true whale-hunter is as mch a savage as an Iroquois."
At lunch and supper, after hours of walking, I sink my fingers into rice and daal and stuff it in my mouth with hands, like a famished oger. Eaters of daal baht sound like horses--the moist rice like mire under hoof, the smacking lips and groans like a horse chewing oats. All in all, Solomon's wisdom is just right for this trek, "There is nothing better for a man than to eat and drink and find joy in his labor."
The water is too cold for showers and I choose comfort in the evenings over cleanliness. My long fingernails are full of dirt. Wet clothes do not dry in this cold, wet mountain air. Damp things are soaked by morning. Dry things don't stay dry. I have a black trash bag full of goodies-- bandaids and cotton for cuts and a sweat shirt and one pair of socks, both dirty but dry.
Drew, Yogya and I walk in single file: Yogya sets an expert pace on the ascent. Drew and I rotate between middle and last position. We keep our raincoats near--Drew in black, Yogya in yellow, me in blue. Yogya has thick, sure, hobbit feet. Drew has hobbit hair and Tintin shoes and socks. We race across puddles and liquid paths and stepping stones over waterfalls. Packs of horses, heavy laden, bear down on the trail with cows and sheep, leaving big droppings.
The sun crept up on us the first day and ripened my skin. Then the cold shriveled my fingers and toes. Frail integument! Our second day was full of alarm at leeches. We filled our shoes three times with salt and kept an eye on each other's calves and shoes. " The leech has two daughters," the BIble says, "Give and give, they cry." They grasp our bags from wet branches and say to each other as we approach, "Let us lie in wait for blood; let us ambush the innocent with out reason."
Sam
At lunch and supper, after hours of walking, I sink my fingers into rice and daal and stuff it in my mouth with hands, like a famished oger. Eaters of daal baht sound like horses--the moist rice like mire under hoof, the smacking lips and groans like a horse chewing oats. All in all, Solomon's wisdom is just right for this trek, "There is nothing better for a man than to eat and drink and find joy in his labor."
The water is too cold for showers and I choose comfort in the evenings over cleanliness. My long fingernails are full of dirt. Wet clothes do not dry in this cold, wet mountain air. Damp things are soaked by morning. Dry things don't stay dry. I have a black trash bag full of goodies-- bandaids and cotton for cuts and a sweat shirt and one pair of socks, both dirty but dry.
Drew, Yogya and I walk in single file: Yogya sets an expert pace on the ascent. Drew and I rotate between middle and last position. We keep our raincoats near--Drew in black, Yogya in yellow, me in blue. Yogya has thick, sure, hobbit feet. Drew has hobbit hair and Tintin shoes and socks. We race across puddles and liquid paths and stepping stones over waterfalls. Packs of horses, heavy laden, bear down on the trail with cows and sheep, leaving big droppings.
The sun crept up on us the first day and ripened my skin. Then the cold shriveled my fingers and toes. Frail integument! Our second day was full of alarm at leeches. We filled our shoes three times with salt and kept an eye on each other's calves and shoes. " The leech has two daughters," the BIble says, "Give and give, they cry." They grasp our bags from wet branches and say to each other as we approach, "Let us lie in wait for blood; let us ambush the innocent with out reason."
Sam
posted by Unknown at 8:12 AM
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