The toilet plant of the Himalaya Mountains
A chapped cheeked cherub
A shepherd in front of his smoky shelterO—Oxygen and outages. When you’re up nearly 14,000 feet in the air, oxygen is something you think about frequently—as in, is there any oxygen up here? Yet we saw children running with abandon, never tiring, and shepherds moving across the hillsides as effortlessly as leaves floating down mountain streams. Obviously, feeling like there was an oxygen outage was our problem alone. The only real outages we experienced were with electricity and water. We had neither in the “hospital” in Kaza and no electricity for two days in a row in Manali when overstretched transformers exploding into magnificent fireworks displays across the street from our guest house.
P—Picnics, prayer flags, and potholes. Our daily routine included a picnic lunch wherever we stopped along the way—sometimes in fields of barley, potatoes, or green peas. If it happened to be a windy location, Tibetan Buddhist prayer flags would flutter nearby to punctuate the landscape with bright blues, yellows, reds, and greens. Prayer flags decorate the Himalayans as surely as potholes characterize the questionable roads.
Q—Quest and quality crew. We began saving for this motorcycle trip more than 30 years ago, just after we first went to Japan as SAMs (special assignment missionaries). Our plan was to motorcycle around the British Isles on our return to the United States. However, I was eight months pregnant by the time we left Japan, so we postponed our dream. Finally our quest of long ago was realized in August. We are so grateful for our top quality crew of six men who helped make the experience possible for us.
R—Rain, Rohtang Pass, and rupee. Generally, we loved the ride—except in bone-chilling rain toward evening the first day. (We also had two nights of dripping tents, thanks to the rain.) On our return loop, the rain turned to sleet as we crossed Rohtang Pass, a tourist spot famous for beautiful scenery—or so they say. We never saw anything but clouds, food stalls, saddled yaks, and other attempts to coax rupees from visitors. (One dollar equals about 40 rupees.)
S—Sleeping bags, switchbacks, and shepherds. Not only did we snuggle in sleeping bags in our tents, but we also used them in guest houses. No doubt our 25-year-old bags were in better condition than the bedding offered us—and certainly far cleaner, although after long days of riding on dusty roads defined by switchbacks carved into rocky mountainsides, we were dirtier than the bedding. But at least it was our own personal dirt. Finally taking showers after three days on the road was as thrilling as falling in love. Every day we shared the roads with many shepherds coaxing along their herds of long-haired goats, sheep, and donkeys. No sleeping bags for them in their rocky dugout shelters and, I surmise, no showers, either.
T—Toilet, tetanus, and tingling hands. A most amazing sight was the toilet plant of the Himalaya Mountains! Too bad the canvas outhouse erected nightly by our crew only had a freshly dug pit inside. Still, it was a far cry better than the outhouse Chiyomi visited—where she cut her forehead on the rusty tin roof and ended up needing a tetanus shot. Outside of camp, it was always far better to go behind a rock or bush. In addition to the toilet facilities, another inconvenience was our morning bouts of tingling hands, one effect of altitude. Imagine the feeling starting to return to your hands after they’ve been asleep for a very long time. Then multiply the pain by 100 or so. No wonder I couldn’t force them to pick up and hold my tea mug some mornings.
U—Uno, urine sample, and ultrasound. What fun it was to play Uno with our crew. We just had to watch out for Deependra, who habitually looked at other people’s cards—but in the most obvious of ways. You just couldn’t get mad at his childlike enjoyment of the game, and you couldn’t stop laughing, either. Laughter was also our response to the TINY-mouthed jar Abby received in which to give a urine sample (see G, I, and K). Even a man wouldn’t have been entirely successful. That Abby managed a sample at all was cause for rejoicing, as was the ultrasound that showed a healthy baby, despite all.
V—Vibrating and vistas. While our hands felt like they were vibrating, especially in the mornings (see T), we felt vibrations everywhere whenever we dismounted the bikes, thanks to the roads (see E, G, and I). The government could make a fortune if it opened an amusement park in northwest India and turned those roads into a thrilling ride. They could be in business immediately upon constructing a ticket booth. Still, the vistas were breathtaking, but we women were always concerned whenever our driver/husbands took their eyes away from the cliff-hanging trails for more than a moment.
W—Waterfall, water, and wind. The vistas we enjoyed included amazing waterfalls, sometimes cascading three or four different levels from the melting glaciers above them. However, instead of crystal-clear mountain streams (picture the Rockies of Colorado), these waterways were full of silt and the color of delicious chai—appropriate for India. They were not appropriate for drinking, however, which is why we so appreciated the cases of bottled water in the supply jeep. But I didn’t appreciate the wind-burned, chapped cheeks and runny noses of children everywhere along our route, signs of the constantly blowing wind. I wish I could have handed out bottles of lotion and packets of tissues.
X—(E)xhaust fumes and (e)xtraordinary. As a word, “extraordinary” generally is positive. However, when applied to the exhaust fumes that overwhelmed us whenever we passed the road-hogging, amazingly gaudy, cargo trucks with more hand-painted designs than an art museum, “extraordinary” is not a compliment. Gratefully, traffic of any kind is light in the Himalayas, so there were only three days when we suffered. The extraordinary scenery every day more than made up for the fumes, but it did help to have bandanas to cover nose and mouth.
Y—Yellow, yak, and YWAM. Among the staples of Indian cuisine are rice and dhal, a very healthy lentil dish known by its yellow color, some of it derived from tumeric, the best known Indian spice. While we encountered the pungent smells of Indian cooking daily, we were surprised that the only yak we encountered was the poor specimen saddled on Rohtang Pass (see R). But we were pleasantly surprised to find a YWAM discipleship training center in Manali, despite the difficulty of Christian work in that part of the world.
Z—Zoo. Officially, our nine days on motorcycles didn’t include visiting a zoo. But that didn’t mean that our trip lacked animals. We could have opened our own zoo with the animals we saw: elephants, dri (a cow and yak combination), monkeys, camels, yak, vultures, an eagle, goats, sheep, fox, cows, dogs, donkeys, mules, horses, and a mouse (in a restaurant where we tried to ignore it and enjoy our food even while it scampered around the room and UNDER OUR TABLE). While I am shy of words here at the end of the alphabet, I am not lacking in emotion, especially overwhelming gratitude to God for the beauty of the world he has made and filled with such lovely people everywhere.
P—Picnics, prayer flags, and potholes. Our daily routine included a picnic lunch wherever we stopped along the way—sometimes in fields of barley, potatoes, or green peas. If it happened to be a windy location, Tibetan Buddhist prayer flags would flutter nearby to punctuate the landscape with bright blues, yellows, reds, and greens. Prayer flags decorate the Himalayans as surely as potholes characterize the questionable roads.
Q—Quest and quality crew. We began saving for this motorcycle trip more than 30 years ago, just after we first went to Japan as SAMs (special assignment missionaries). Our plan was to motorcycle around the British Isles on our return to the United States. However, I was eight months pregnant by the time we left Japan, so we postponed our dream. Finally our quest of long ago was realized in August. We are so grateful for our top quality crew of six men who helped make the experience possible for us.
R—Rain, Rohtang Pass, and rupee. Generally, we loved the ride—except in bone-chilling rain toward evening the first day. (We also had two nights of dripping tents, thanks to the rain.) On our return loop, the rain turned to sleet as we crossed Rohtang Pass, a tourist spot famous for beautiful scenery—or so they say. We never saw anything but clouds, food stalls, saddled yaks, and other attempts to coax rupees from visitors. (One dollar equals about 40 rupees.)
S—Sleeping bags, switchbacks, and shepherds. Not only did we snuggle in sleeping bags in our tents, but we also used them in guest houses. No doubt our 25-year-old bags were in better condition than the bedding offered us—and certainly far cleaner, although after long days of riding on dusty roads defined by switchbacks carved into rocky mountainsides, we were dirtier than the bedding. But at least it was our own personal dirt. Finally taking showers after three days on the road was as thrilling as falling in love. Every day we shared the roads with many shepherds coaxing along their herds of long-haired goats, sheep, and donkeys. No sleeping bags for them in their rocky dugout shelters and, I surmise, no showers, either.
T—Toilet, tetanus, and tingling hands. A most amazing sight was the toilet plant of the Himalaya Mountains! Too bad the canvas outhouse erected nightly by our crew only had a freshly dug pit inside. Still, it was a far cry better than the outhouse Chiyomi visited—where she cut her forehead on the rusty tin roof and ended up needing a tetanus shot. Outside of camp, it was always far better to go behind a rock or bush. In addition to the toilet facilities, another inconvenience was our morning bouts of tingling hands, one effect of altitude. Imagine the feeling starting to return to your hands after they’ve been asleep for a very long time. Then multiply the pain by 100 or so. No wonder I couldn’t force them to pick up and hold my tea mug some mornings.
U—Uno, urine sample, and ultrasound. What fun it was to play Uno with our crew. We just had to watch out for Deependra, who habitually looked at other people’s cards—but in the most obvious of ways. You just couldn’t get mad at his childlike enjoyment of the game, and you couldn’t stop laughing, either. Laughter was also our response to the TINY-mouthed jar Abby received in which to give a urine sample (see G, I, and K). Even a man wouldn’t have been entirely successful. That Abby managed a sample at all was cause for rejoicing, as was the ultrasound that showed a healthy baby, despite all.
V—Vibrating and vistas. While our hands felt like they were vibrating, especially in the mornings (see T), we felt vibrations everywhere whenever we dismounted the bikes, thanks to the roads (see E, G, and I). The government could make a fortune if it opened an amusement park in northwest India and turned those roads into a thrilling ride. They could be in business immediately upon constructing a ticket booth. Still, the vistas were breathtaking, but we women were always concerned whenever our driver/husbands took their eyes away from the cliff-hanging trails for more than a moment.
W—Waterfall, water, and wind. The vistas we enjoyed included amazing waterfalls, sometimes cascading three or four different levels from the melting glaciers above them. However, instead of crystal-clear mountain streams (picture the Rockies of Colorado), these waterways were full of silt and the color of delicious chai—appropriate for India. They were not appropriate for drinking, however, which is why we so appreciated the cases of bottled water in the supply jeep. But I didn’t appreciate the wind-burned, chapped cheeks and runny noses of children everywhere along our route, signs of the constantly blowing wind. I wish I could have handed out bottles of lotion and packets of tissues.
X—(E)xhaust fumes and (e)xtraordinary. As a word, “extraordinary” generally is positive. However, when applied to the exhaust fumes that overwhelmed us whenever we passed the road-hogging, amazingly gaudy, cargo trucks with more hand-painted designs than an art museum, “extraordinary” is not a compliment. Gratefully, traffic of any kind is light in the Himalayas, so there were only three days when we suffered. The extraordinary scenery every day more than made up for the fumes, but it did help to have bandanas to cover nose and mouth.
Y—Yellow, yak, and YWAM. Among the staples of Indian cuisine are rice and dhal, a very healthy lentil dish known by its yellow color, some of it derived from tumeric, the best known Indian spice. While we encountered the pungent smells of Indian cooking daily, we were surprised that the only yak we encountered was the poor specimen saddled on Rohtang Pass (see R). But we were pleasantly surprised to find a YWAM discipleship training center in Manali, despite the difficulty of Christian work in that part of the world.
Z—Zoo. Officially, our nine days on motorcycles didn’t include visiting a zoo. But that didn’t mean that our trip lacked animals. We could have opened our own zoo with the animals we saw: elephants, dri (a cow and yak combination), monkeys, camels, yak, vultures, an eagle, goats, sheep, fox, cows, dogs, donkeys, mules, horses, and a mouse (in a restaurant where we tried to ignore it and enjoy our food even while it scampered around the room and UNDER OUR TABLE). While I am shy of words here at the end of the alphabet, I am not lacking in emotion, especially overwhelming gratitude to God for the beauty of the world he has made and filled with such lovely people everywhere.
