status
Kathmandu > Sikkim (India)
Nepal Himalaya
last light at dusk from Renjo Pass at 17,500 feet: (l to r) Everest, Nuptse, Lhotse, Makalu, Arakam Tse
Steve and I spent the past two weeks trekking in Sagarmatha (Everest) National Park. How refreshing, after 10 weeks in Africa and a tedious overland transit from Delhi to Kathmandu, to be breathing such crisp, alpine air. We chose to focus on Nepal’s Everest region and, more specifically, Gokyo valley – while Kala Patthar and Everest Base Camp are all about Everest, Gokyo offers unobstructed views of four of the world’s 14 peaks exceeding 8,000 meters. The scenery in Gokyo valley is said to be unmatched, and after witnessing it myself I can understand why.
self portrait, bouldering near Gokyo
The far majority of trekking routes in the Everest region are fully-serviced potato trails. Lodges occur every hour or two and are faithfully stocked with beer, whisky, snickers, and a standard Himalayan menu. Prices are peculiar: a double room costs about $1.30 - less than a plain pancake ($2.00); a coke runs about $4.00, and a medevac airlift back to Kathmandu is priced reasonably at just $1,500.
the morning elementary school routine, Namche Bazar
horse/yak pens and Thamserku (6,608m), Khumjung
Yaks are fairly central to life in the Himalaya. Their primary uses include transport, milk/cheese, and dung (a vital source of heating fuel given the scarcity of wood in the alpine zone).
yak at twilight, Macherma
Continuing up the Gokyo lakes series from Gokyo village, we reached the fifth lake after about two hours. We scurry atop the moraine separating the lake from Ngozumpa Glacier and find ourselves in awe at the humbling sight of countless 6,000- to 7,000-meter peaks in every direction. We’re standing in the heart of the Himalayan spine – less than 10km away lies Chakung at 7,029m, marking the Tibet-Nepal border. Southeast of Chakung, looking up the Gaunara Glacier, are Everest and Lhotse, wielding their dominance and churning off massive piles of white smoke.
golden hour magic from fifth lake: (l to r) Lhotse, Kangchung, Cholo
As the golden hour approaches, we lose the sun and a bone-stabbing cold descends in an instant. Jumping jacks barely suffice for the next 90 minutes, and my water bottle quickly turns to slush and ice despite my agitating it. The mere thought of the wind chill on Everest was… terrifying. After witnessing the most spectacular crepuscular light show imaginable, we pack up and eagerly begin the return hike to Gokyo village. A full moon produced sharp shadows and gracefully lit up the alpine skyline. Not a breath of air, not another soul on the trail, the Himalaya by moonlight – it was simply surreal…
generic, but obligatory: the west face of Everest at dusk
enter India
Arriving in India was exciting and roughly how I imagined it – absolute chaos. Rajasthan is calling my name, but first a planned trekking detour in Nepal... Traveling overland from Delhi to Kathmandu begins with a 14-hr sleeper train from New Delhi Station to Gorakhpur, so we booked the first place we found in the Main Bazaar outside New Delhi Station for $7 – the only drain in the bathroom was the squat toilet itself. We wandered into a random curry joint around the corner; Steve orders vegetable fried rice and naan. The waiter promptly comes back with a look of bewilderment: “you order vegetable fry rice, with naan, and no curry?! How can you eat naan with no curry??” (He was genuinely confused and wanted an explanation.) Steve replies that he did it the other day and he’d figure it out. We joked that surely the waiter thought at least one of us was mentally retarded.
man exercising his pigeons in New Delhi
From Gorakhpur we skipped the local bus and shared a taxi with a German couple also headed for the Nepal border. After the usual quibbling over fifty cents in pricing, the most hair-raising auto ride I’ve ever experienced began to unfold. Steve observed that nearly every car on the road had rear-view mirrors either smashed or folded in. At one point we rear-ended a cow, clipping and injuring its hind leg. Just as I started to feel sorry for the cow, watching it limp off the road, its owner took a full swing with a baseball bat into the spine of the cow’s back. This way he added insult to injury, but I’m still trying to understand the sacred role that cows play in Indian culture.
man exercising his pigeons in New Delhi
From Gorakhpur we skipped the local bus and shared a taxi with a German couple also headed for the Nepal border. After the usual quibbling over fifty cents in pricing, the most hair-raising auto ride I’ve ever experienced began to unfold. Steve observed that nearly every car on the road had rear-view mirrors either smashed or folded in. At one point we rear-ended a cow, clipping and injuring its hind leg. Just as I started to feel sorry for the cow, watching it limp off the road, its owner took a full swing with a baseball bat into the spine of the cow’s back. This way he added insult to injury, but I’m still trying to understand the sacred role that cows play in Indian culture.
Nairo/Jobo from scott weller on Vimeo.
Hakuna Matata
As Africa comes to a close, at least for now, I reflect on my time here fondly but with mixed feelings. The wildlife has been phenomenal. Golden hour game drives, witnessing East Africa’s savannah amongst the world’s most spectacular mammals: a graceful leopard draped over an Acacia tree branch; an imminent zebra kill unfolding right before our eyes, spoiled by the impatience of a lion cub; a herd of 32 giraffes galloping in unison, seemingly in slow motion; a herd of over a thousand elephants migrating to drink and bathe in the Chobe River, all passing within a few meters of our Land Cruiser before returning to the bush. Such moments are the magic of Africa.
Botswana
Leaving Livingstone we entered Zimbabwe and I bought a hard boiled egg before crossing the border bridge. A moment later I heard a truck horn followed by someone firmly yanking my hand downward. I whipped around to find a male baboon, as large as me, who had just failed in his attempt to steal my egg. In one reactionary moment I wound up and drilled the egg at him with everything I had, and with some luck it exploded square on his left eyebrow. He was stunned, sat back, and then proceeded to eat the bits of egg from his face. I suppose it was a happy ending for us both. The city of Victoria Falls was merely a jumping point, and we continued the next day to Botswana’s Chobe National Park.
Chobe
Game drive after game drive, I’ve found that it takes increasingly more to be impressed. This is how I felt entering Chobe – what could this place possibly produce that would upstage what we saw in the Crater or Mara? Maybe halfway through the drive, as we approached the Chobe River, we witnessed something truly special. A herd of elephants – too large to count and in excess of one thousand individuals – was approaching the river to drink and bathe. Each one walked right past our vehicle as we stared for over an hour, speechless, at this extraordinary spectacle.
Okavango
The Okavango Delta’s natural history is as impressive as Serengeti’s wildebeest migration. The Okavango River originates in Angola and flows 1,000 miles into Botswana, gradually evaporating in the Kalahari desert and forming the world’s largest inland delta in the process. The delta is so massive that its wildlife is best viewed from an airplane. In addition to flying over the delta, we spent two nights camping on an island about 3 hours canoe (or mokoro) ride from Maun. It was a bona fide bush experience: elephants trampling through the camp at all hours, hyenas whooping at night, a symphony of delta frogs and insects, and a star-lit southern sky to top it off.
Chobe
Game drive after game drive, I’ve found that it takes increasingly more to be impressed. This is how I felt entering Chobe – what could this place possibly produce that would upstage what we saw in the Crater or Mara? Maybe halfway through the drive, as we approached the Chobe River, we witnessed something truly special. A herd of elephants – too large to count and in excess of one thousand individuals – was approaching the river to drink and bathe. Each one walked right past our vehicle as we stared for over an hour, speechless, at this extraordinary spectacle.
Okavango
The Okavango Delta’s natural history is as impressive as Serengeti’s wildebeest migration. The Okavango River originates in Angola and flows 1,000 miles into Botswana, gradually evaporating in the Kalahari desert and forming the world’s largest inland delta in the process. The delta is so massive that its wildlife is best viewed from an airplane. In addition to flying over the delta, we spent two nights camping on an island about 3 hours canoe (or mokoro) ride from Maun. It was a bona fide bush experience: elephants trampling through the camp at all hours, hyenas whooping at night, a symphony of delta frogs and insects, and a star-lit southern sky to top it off.
Zambia
Rather than cross the bridge to Zimbabwe and deal with a border crossing, I decided to view Victoria Falls from the Zambia side. After paying the entrance fee and getting hiking directions for the rim of the falls, I picked up a local guide – one of the illegal ones for about half the price, or $2 for 3 hours (I talked him down from $10 :- ). Shortly thereafter, we were turned around by a gentleman with an AK-47 who demanded an additional $40 to proceed all the way to the main channel of the falls. The falls were running very low anyways, and I figured my time was better spent elsewhere.
On my way out I swung into some street vendors for a soda and a few souvenir Zimbabwean dollar notes. The Zimbabwean dollar was suspended indefinitely in April, 2009 as a result of hyper inflation and devaluation. Their $100 trillion note can be bought for about US$1.
Mukuni was a beautiful village of a few thousand people, with networks of rusty red trails connecting thatched huts and many large, mature trees. I found Mukuni intriguing so returned the next two days. On the last day I photographed this boy doing laps with his wheel toy. Afterwards, I treated him and his family to sodas and enjoyed observing the intense focus with which he and his sister drank their Sprite, which was clearly a novelty in their lives.
Malawiwawi
I laughed out loud when I saw this at the Malawi border: “Don’t invest your time, invest your money and we will do the rest.” Tempting, isn’t it?
Just as we stamped out our passports in Tanzania, the Malawi border was arbitrarily closed as a result of alleged demonstrations. As we waited to confirm our fate, it was looking like a long night on the bus with food scraps and no beer. The good news is that such puzzling events seem to go as easily as they come; the road block of logs was soon cleared and we were on our way. Malawi’s immigration procedure is intriguing. Each entry is handwritten into a notebook, one passport at a time. The single immigration official was quite leisurely considering the large, antsy crowd awaiting his attention.
A morning stroll the next day quickly gained momentum when I met a local primary school teacher in Chilumba. He seemed excited at the suggestion of my attending his class, so I eagerly did so. Nearly 60 children, ages ranging from 10 to 15 years, sat side-by-side on the floor of the classroom, which was conspicuously devoid of furniture and fixtures – just a chalkboard and daylight filtering through the cinderblock walls. It was bleak, but also practical – nothing to maintain, nothing to steal.
Further south on Lake Malawi, it was fun to discover a fishing community in Mbamba village. Between midnight and 2:00am, the fishermen embark on their nightly paddle into the choppy lake waters to cast gill nets, which they collect early the next morning, returning to shore about 10:00am.
dusty trails
The first leg of our southward journey took us 300km from Nairobi to Arusha, the jumping point to Tanzania’s Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater. These roads are growing familiar – brief patches of freshly laid asphalt followed by persistent stretches of rough dirt and relentless dust. Throughout Kenya and Tanzania, a widespread highway resurfacing project is underway, subcontracted to Chinese construction and engineering firms. The construction costs themselves are being funded by foreign aid monies, in return for natural resource entitlements.
It’s appropriate to point out such a fitting analogy for some of Africa’s shortcomings: business done for the benefit of a few politicians at the expense of local jobs and development; foreign engineers banking expat salaries; idle locals at a loss for skills and advancement. A particularly disturbing sight upon entering Tanzania was that of adult men ceasing their work to outstretch a hand for money. There is a powerful difference between adults begging for money versus children.
From Arusha we ticked another 650km to Dar Es Salaam - a large port city and Tanzania’s former capital. We were well prepared for the drive with a cooler full of beer and wine but happened to arrive on the evening of the last day of Ramadan. Celebrations were in full swing and thoroughly attended. Our beer buzz quickly faded as night fell – we were stranded amongst standstill traffic and the unnerving chaos of street festivities. Masses of people in every direction, matatus blaring hip-hop from blown speakers, and a handful of unsuspecting potatoes peering into their new world through the superficial refuge of truck windows. As time passed, a few of us were lowered to relieving ourselves into jugs in the back of the bus, which made for a good laugh.
Dar was followed by five days of belligerence, beach volleyball, and marination on Zanzibar. Some downtime in this island paradise was welcomed. The ferry ride back to the mainland on rough seas quickly turned “pear-shaped”, with hoards of men, women and children chucking their guts out inside the boat and all over the bow and stern. Rumors had forewarned of such a meltdown, but it was easier to appreciate after experiencing the sights, sounds and smells firsthand.
Mara II
Second trip to Kenya's remarkable Masai Mara reserve.
The magic always seems to happen when you least expect it. This time, we were on our way back to camp and most of the cameras had been put away as we were unlikely to see any more wildlife. Briefly, the sky seemed to open up and offer the most dramatic light we’d seen all day.
After we’d left MMNR and were on our way back to Nairobi, we stumbled upon a herd of 32 giraffes just off the road. At first just walking along, something startled them into a full gallop. They were equally graceful and awkward, with their long necks swaying back and forth as they floated along.
The magic always seems to happen when you least expect it. This time, we were on our way back to camp and most of the cameras had been put away as we were unlikely to see any more wildlife. Briefly, the sky seemed to open up and offer the most dramatic light we’d seen all day.
After we’d left MMNR and were on our way back to Nairobi, we stumbled upon a herd of 32 giraffes just off the road. At first just walking along, something startled them into a full gallop. They were equally graceful and awkward, with their long necks swaying back and forth as they floated along.
anything is possible; nothing is certain
Unraveling an explanation for Africa’s state of affairs is no easy task – many problems, many perspectives, much effort, and little progress. How do the thousands of foreign aid workers in Africa view the likelihood that their efforts will lead to meaningful long-term change? It’s difficult to ignore the lengthy history of individuals and governments that have attempted to harness Africa, to no avail.
Despite its challenges, I’m quite enjoying my travels here. It took a few weeks to get back in the travel saddle. After a wonderful experience in Uganda, it’s time to head back to Nairobi to meet Steve and begin our epic trip south, overland, to Johannesburg.
Western Uganda
Buses and matatus
In Kampala I stayed at a hotel overlooking the Owino street market, a chaotic sprawl of tarps, cardboard boxes, and just about any second-hand item from America you can imagine: shoes, shirts, radios, backpacks, batteries. Inside it was a muggy, claustrophobic sea of mud, splintered wooden planks, and vendors crouched next to their parcel of merchandise. Conveniently, the bus depot was only a block away, and I easily bought a ticket and boarded a rather civilized bus headed west for Fort Portal.
The 300km journey took only 7 hours, with the usual mysterious stops along the way, for which everyone had their own explanation. I’ve learned that questions such as when will we get there? or how long will it take? are futile in Africa. And the most challenging aspect of public transportation is not the inefficiency, but rather the pervasive, nauseating stench brewing among the passengers. Thus, window seats are imperative.
Many times the only means of public transport is the matatu (above): a rusted, squealing minivan brimming with up to 20 humans along with produce and livestock, driven by an overly aggressive teenager with nothing to lose. Speeding down highways and side streets on tiny bald tires, they whiz past cattle, bicyclists, and pedestrians like slalom poles. Fun for the whole family!
Mountains of the Moon
About an hour south of Fort Portal, I hopped out of a matatu at a lonely intersection, home to a dozen or so loitering young men and a chapatti stand. I quickly found a kid with a boda-boda (motorcycle) to give me a ride to Ruboni campground, 16km up a steep river canyon to the edge of the dense forests of Rwenzori National Park.
As I approached the park office later that day to inquire about trekking, I roused the two staff who were asleep on the benches outside the office. They informed me of the park regulation that a guide is required to enter the park. I asked, “Will I encounter poisonous snakes, leopards, or elephants?”
“No. Very rare.”
“Then why must I be accompanied by a guide carrying an assault rifle?”
“Ahhh- yes, the animals.”
In reality, I believe the purpose of the guide was to protect me from people, not animals. We were hiking less than 10km from the porous border with Congo, and it was not unheard of for guerrillas to enter Uganda from DRC and kidnap tourists. And, of course, it created a job for Eric.
Eric charged $5 per day as a guide. For a tip, I gave him a pair of Ray Bans that I found on the trail; he could sell them at Owino market in Kampala for nearly one month’s income. Eric’s physical fitness, English fluency, and knowledge of Rwenzori biology were rather mediocre. But he was a nice guy and I let him lead most of the way as a show of respect. After all, he was carrying an AK 47…
Lake Nkuruba
Stumbling upon Lake Nkuruba was a heartening improvement from the rigors of Kenya. A lush perch atop a hill with bandas (bungalows), hammocks, loads of monkeys, and several full-time cooks; a place you could easily waste away several days of doing nothing. The surrounding area is a dormant volcanic region beneath the Rwenzori Mountains, dotted with crater lakes among small villages and banana plantations.
Leo is surely one of the older men in the community, at age 62. A brick-maker, father of five, grandfather of perhaps a dozen, and a genuine statesman.
In Kampala I stayed at a hotel overlooking the Owino street market, a chaotic sprawl of tarps, cardboard boxes, and just about any second-hand item from America you can imagine: shoes, shirts, radios, backpacks, batteries. Inside it was a muggy, claustrophobic sea of mud, splintered wooden planks, and vendors crouched next to their parcel of merchandise. Conveniently, the bus depot was only a block away, and I easily bought a ticket and boarded a rather civilized bus headed west for Fort Portal.
The 300km journey took only 7 hours, with the usual mysterious stops along the way, for which everyone had their own explanation. I’ve learned that questions such as when will we get there? or how long will it take? are futile in Africa. And the most challenging aspect of public transportation is not the inefficiency, but rather the pervasive, nauseating stench brewing among the passengers. Thus, window seats are imperative.
Many times the only means of public transport is the matatu (above): a rusted, squealing minivan brimming with up to 20 humans along with produce and livestock, driven by an overly aggressive teenager with nothing to lose. Speeding down highways and side streets on tiny bald tires, they whiz past cattle, bicyclists, and pedestrians like slalom poles. Fun for the whole family!
Mountains of the Moon
About an hour south of Fort Portal, I hopped out of a matatu at a lonely intersection, home to a dozen or so loitering young men and a chapatti stand. I quickly found a kid with a boda-boda (motorcycle) to give me a ride to Ruboni campground, 16km up a steep river canyon to the edge of the dense forests of Rwenzori National Park.
As I approached the park office later that day to inquire about trekking, I roused the two staff who were asleep on the benches outside the office. They informed me of the park regulation that a guide is required to enter the park. I asked, “Will I encounter poisonous snakes, leopards, or elephants?”
“No. Very rare.”
“Then why must I be accompanied by a guide carrying an assault rifle?”
“Ahhh- yes, the animals.”
In reality, I believe the purpose of the guide was to protect me from people, not animals. We were hiking less than 10km from the porous border with Congo, and it was not unheard of for guerrillas to enter Uganda from DRC and kidnap tourists. And, of course, it created a job for Eric.
Eric charged $5 per day as a guide. For a tip, I gave him a pair of Ray Bans that I found on the trail; he could sell them at Owino market in Kampala for nearly one month’s income. Eric’s physical fitness, English fluency, and knowledge of Rwenzori biology were rather mediocre. But he was a nice guy and I let him lead most of the way as a show of respect. After all, he was carrying an AK 47…
Lake Nkuruba
Stumbling upon Lake Nkuruba was a heartening improvement from the rigors of Kenya. A lush perch atop a hill with bandas (bungalows), hammocks, loads of monkeys, and several full-time cooks; a place you could easily waste away several days of doing nothing. The surrounding area is a dormant volcanic region beneath the Rwenzori Mountains, dotted with crater lakes among small villages and banana plantations.
Leo is surely one of the older men in the community, at age 62. A brick-maker, father of five, grandfather of perhaps a dozen, and a genuine statesman.
Kampala, Uganda
Uganda was appealing because I knew nothing about it. It sounded a bit off the beaten path, so I decided to wing it in good style - no plans, no arrangements, totally clueless about practicalities such as currency, entry requirements, accommodation, and food. Where the heck is Kampala anyways?
The 14-hour, cross-border night bus from Nairobi could have been worse. It brought back memories... I sat in the far rear corner of the bus, sandwiched between the window and a huge woman, my backpack on my lap.
Uganda is much more pleasant than Kenya. The infrastructure is far better, and people are mellow ("lazier than Kenyans" as a cab driver put it). Less harassment on the streets, and lacking the anonymous Kenya engagements that go something like this:
"Hello! Mista! Where from? Which country?"
"States."
"Ahhh, the United States of America. Barack Obama! Los Angeles, Miami."
"Yes, that's right, President Obama..."
"There is much prejudice in the States?"
"Prejudice? Nope, not anymore. That's why we have Obama."
"You have time to talk with me? I want to ask you many question about your country."
"Sorry friend, have to be going."
" You are prejudice? Don't want to talk with African man?"
The 14-hour, cross-border night bus from Nairobi could have been worse. It brought back memories... I sat in the far rear corner of the bus, sandwiched between the window and a huge woman, my backpack on my lap.
Uganda is much more pleasant than Kenya. The infrastructure is far better, and people are mellow ("lazier than Kenyans" as a cab driver put it). Less harassment on the streets, and lacking the anonymous Kenya engagements that go something like this:
"Hello! Mista! Where from? Which country?"
"States."
"Ahhh, the United States of America. Barack Obama! Los Angeles, Miami."
"Yes, that's right, President Obama..."
"There is much prejudice in the States?"
"Prejudice? Nope, not anymore. That's why we have Obama."
"You have time to talk with me? I want to ask you many question about your country."
"Sorry friend, have to be going."
" You are prejudice? Don't want to talk with African man?"
Kenya: let the haggling begin!
Independent travel in Kenya has proven to be very difficult and, for all intents and purposes, not really an option. Dealing with safari operators is a protracted card game, and behind every poker face the same relentless, singular goal: milk every last dollar imaginable from the tourist!! In fact, the more effective you are at negotiating favorable terms and pricing, the more you simply drive operators to promise things they don’t intend to deliver. One thing is for sure: honesty is not a pillar of business ethic in Kenya.
As in many other places, Kenya has local prices and tourist prices. Kenya’s park fees are no exception: a staggering $60/person/day for gringos, versus $10 for locals. Add to that logistics and you’re deep at least $100/day to see some sights. To experience the real magic of Kenya (i.e. its national parks), be prepared to throw down a bit of scrap and play ball with the slippery safari guides.
dollars for Kenyans, not shillings!
The immigration officer at the Kenyan border demanded that I convert my shillings back to USD in order to pay the $25 visa fee. The Kenya Wildlife Service accepts park fees in dollars, and applies an arbitrary exchange rate for those paying in local currency (78 to the $, vs. current market rate of 76). Go figure… the other day, I was listening to a broadcast session of the Kenyan parliament, and there was lengthy discussion of the threat posed by excessive investments made by American firms in Kenya's energy sector: “mista speaka sir, these foreign investments are strategically dangerous and do not have the Kenyans’ best interests in mind…” It seems the Kenyans need to make up their minds about our dollars – had I been present, I would have kindly pointed out the nearly $600 million Kenya receives annually from the U.S. Agency for International Development.
Masai Mara National Reserve
Curiously spelled differently from its namesake (the Maasai people), Masai Mara is Kenya’s most popular and well-known reserve and occupies the northern reaches of the Serengeti ecosystem, the majority of which lies in Tanzania. The rolling grasslands of the African savannah, peppered with flattop acacia trees, are a site to behold! Not to mention close encounters with the big cats and endless masses of wildebeest and zebras. Mara is the Africa we’ve all seen on Animal Planet; witnessing it in person can by itself easily justify a trip to Kenya.
Lake Nakuru National Park
The joke in Lake Nakuru is on the tourists, and the baboons get the last laugh. These clever little beasts pounce on safari jeeps by the dozen, darting through windows and roofs with a keen eye for junk food. In uncanny, anthropomorphic form, the baboons playfully bounce antennas and examine themselves in side-view mirrors.
Meanwhile, pink flamingoes swarm the alkaline shores of Lake Nakuru, forming a dynamic mass that rings the lake’s entire circumference. The flock is alive with activity along its edge as birds shuffle and jockey from one spot to the next.
Amboseli National Park
Truth be told, Amboseli was a sad sight. Having not had proper rain for over a year and a half, the plains are conspicuously devoid of the grasses that support large mammals. Perished elephants and zebra abound, lying for weeks unperturbed by scavengers or predators. This is in sharp contrast to Masai Mara, where little remains of a fallen animal after a day or so, save some scattered bones. Amboseli is best known for the view of Mt. Kilimanjaro it offers as a backdrop to its myriad animal life; sadly, the weather permitted only a faint glimpse of Kili while I was visiting. Amboseli is also an amazing place to observe elephants, which have acclimated to the presence of people due to ongoing research there for many years.
Sasquatch Country
Index climbing from scott weller on Vimeo.
Stella and Nova hitting it off
Index, WA
Index is my new favorite place. World-class climbing and river kayaking, and a beautiful little town with the feel of 40 years ago. John is the man and we are grateful for his hospitality and the opportunity to climb some routes with him. I'm psyched to have climbed "Thin Fingers" with John, my first 5.11 trad onsight! Pierre and Yvonne also acquired a six-week-old Aussie/Lab puppy (Nova), clearly an awesome addition to their family.
Squamish, BC
Squamish has fine granite - don't get me wrong - but it comes up short in ambiance if you ask me. Overall, I would say that Squamish has nothing on the Yosemite / East Sierra package. Dank and I ticked a few fun routes here, including Neat and Cool (10a trad), Snake (5.9 trad), Jeff and the Giant Reach (11c sport), and Pleasant Pheasant (11a sport).
Scott on "Pleasant Pheasant" at Petrifying Wall
My first National Geographic publication, albeit not the proper magazine. Hopefully not the last! This special issue is on newsstands through September, 2009 (you can also order a copy online here). The photo I took in 2004 while in Bolivia, part of a longer trip through Chile, Argentina, Uruguay, Brazil, Bolivia, and Peru.
Half Dome Regular NW Face
Half Dome Reg NW Face from scott weller on Vimeo.
pics
After several months of training and many more of aspiring, Adam Petersen and I climbed Half Dome's regular route. It was an amazing climb that is tough to do justice through words. The bivy atop Big Sandy ledge (~2,000 feet off the deck) was pure magic, despite a restless night's sleep.
Day 1: approach
Adam and I approached the route via the "death slabs": a heinous but direct route via talus, sketchy fixed lines, and some bush-whacking. The approach gains roughly 2,500 feet over the valley floor and took about three hours with large packs.
Day 2: pitches 1 - 17 (~2,000' of climbing)
We started around 7:00am and arrived at Big Sandy at 7:00pm. Admittedly, I was pretty (read: completely) destroyed, having freed through the chimneys with our piglet on my waist (Adam heroically led the chimney pitches... and enjoyed them, I'm sure). IMO the highlight of the day (and the whole climb for that matter) was the bivy. We had a new moon so the stars were bonkers, and it was amazing to have some down time to soak in the surroundings from such a surreal perch.
Day 3: pitches 18 - 23 (~500' of climbing)
Mostly aid on the last day, which was slow but fun. The highlight of the second day of climbing was undoubtedly Thank God Ledge, traversing across a modest sliver of granite with mind-bending exposure to the ~2,300' sheer face. I made sure not to peer down, which would not have been pleasant. After topping out and taking a few victory laps, we descended via the shoulder back to our base camp and crashed another night to recharge.
Day 4: return to civilization
Descend the death slabs, eat burgers, shower, shower again, drink beers, eat pizza, fall asleep with a big smile.
Year of the Snake
Scott on pitch 3 of Gripper at Arch Rock
Lots of snake encounters this year! It's been a blessed spring in the hills. In anticipation of our Half Dome climb, Adam and I have spent the past three months cragging in Yosemite Valley. I was also fortunate to improve my competency with chimneys and offwidth, thanks to Adam's patient instruction and masochistic tendencies which drive him to enjoy leading these dicey routes.
Among others this spring, we've ticked Catchy, Stone Groove, Lunatic Fringe, Royal Arches / S Face N Dome in-a-day, E Buttress El Cap, Beverly's Tower, Wheat Thin, Midterm, and Gripper.
East Side Skiing April '09
Rabin changed my life this weekend by introducing me to the art of backcountry skiing.
my pics
Ari's pics
Death Valley President's Weekend 2k9
Joshua Trees, Lee Flat
Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, Grapevine Mountains
Travel Pics
(click image to enlarge)
Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia
Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre, Patagonia, Argentina
Torres del Paine, Patagonia, Chile
Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia
Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre, Patagonia, Argentina
Torres del Paine, Patagonia, Chile
Oldie but Goodie
Excelsior and Ginnie-Belle livin' the dream at UTC for Boonville Beer Festival in 2005.
Southwest China
(see more pics)
My short trip to China was phenomenal and far exceeded expectations - the warm people, stunning landscapes, and depth of culture. Being my maiden trip to China, it was also an introduction to several Chinese staples (some unique to the region): rice noodles for breakfast; rice noodles for lunch; spitting; Chenglish; tour group megaphones; ubiquitous, blaring folk music; traffic laws (there are none); the hard sleeper train; and the morning tai chi / shouting routine.
My short trip to China was phenomenal and far exceeded expectations - the warm people, stunning landscapes, and depth of culture. Being my maiden trip to China, it was also an introduction to several Chinese staples (some unique to the region): rice noodles for breakfast; rice noodles for lunch; spitting; Chenglish; tour group megaphones; ubiquitous, blaring folk music; traffic laws (there are none); the hard sleeper train; and the morning tai chi / shouting routine.
Guângxī Province
The misty Li River winds its way through Guilin and Yangshuo amongst endless limestone cliffs and rice fields, offering otherworldly topography that trumps Rio de Janeiro's vistas on a meager day. Meandering through the surrounding villages on bicycle feels more like an interactive painting than planet Earth. Generally I was received by village folks with mixed reviews - some expressing curiosity while others impatience.
Guilin is a fun town with many markets, but is most useful as a jumping point to other places. Locals eagerly befriend Westerners to practice their English, and pitch any number of services offered by their cousin's friend's brother: "authentic" Chinese tea; massages (a loosely used term as elsewhere in Asia); river cruises; trips to Dragon's Back. The river cruise from Guilin to Yangshuo exposes awesome views of the myriad cliffs stacked on one another. I travelled here with four Chinese tourists from Kunming which was a rewarding insight into Chinese culture, albeit not the local one.
Yúnnán Province
Next we boarded a sleeper train from Guilin to Kunming, which was meant to be an 18-hour journey but, due to flooding from a rain storm, slowly grew to 22.5 hours. Luckily, TsingTao beers were sold on the train for 5 yuan, or about 75 cents. My Chinese friends were not keen to much drinking, but an Austrian fellow and a British couple were conveniently in company. In Kunming I joined Tony's wife and family for dinner, and some enjoyable bar-hopping ensued with Sky, Ray, Victor, and their respective wives.
From Kunming I flew to Lijiang and whiled away about a week. The thousand-year-old "old town", a World Heritage site, is home to the NaXi people (aka Nakhi), a Chinese ethnic group that originated in Tibet. Their native language (today the only living pictographic script), dress, and food were fun to discover. Water canals maze the city which once supplied drinking water and are utilized to flood and clean the city's cobblestone walkways. Towering above Lijiang is the 5,596-meter Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, regarded as one of the premier scenic sites in all of China. Its reflection in Black Dragon Pool is extraordinary.
Beware the Vortex
What is it about Japan that perpetually baffles those who strive to grasp it?
There are plenty of unusual things that meet the eye: rush hour trains brimming with helpless salarymen; meals prepared so delicately they ought to be art instead of food; the endless Tokyo skyline with its pulse of red rooftop lights; ridiculously excessive social formalities; the impossibility of a straight answer; the absence of trash cans and plethora of vending machines... this list can truly go forever.
Japan's unique culture attracts the curiosity of Gaijin the world around. In disbelief, new transplants and tourists explore Japan and wonder how convergent evolution could explain its simultaneous dysfunctionality and its position as the world's second largest economy. Contemplating Japan is similar to watching surface tension draw water against the force of gravity while having no knowledge of chemistry. A foreigner must examine Japan through no lens at all but instead through a naked, wide-open eye.
Soon this all becomes a whirlwind of weirdness, and reality is confused as the vortex spins and disorients its victim. And consistent with the relativity of time, so does the vortex warp the Gaijin's perception of time passage: six months quickly becomes a year, which soon becomes a decade, and so on. To further complicate matters, career incentives, luxurious expatriate housing, and beautiful Japanese women diminish the visibility of the outside world. The Gaijin is afforded only glimpses by means of television, internet, and visits from long lost friends. At this point, he is fully claimed by the vortex and there is no turning back.
There are plenty of unusual things that meet the eye: rush hour trains brimming with helpless salarymen; meals prepared so delicately they ought to be art instead of food; the endless Tokyo skyline with its pulse of red rooftop lights; ridiculously excessive social formalities; the impossibility of a straight answer; the absence of trash cans and plethora of vending machines... this list can truly go forever.
Japan's unique culture attracts the curiosity of Gaijin the world around. In disbelief, new transplants and tourists explore Japan and wonder how convergent evolution could explain its simultaneous dysfunctionality and its position as the world's second largest economy. Contemplating Japan is similar to watching surface tension draw water against the force of gravity while having no knowledge of chemistry. A foreigner must examine Japan through no lens at all but instead through a naked, wide-open eye.
Soon this all becomes a whirlwind of weirdness, and reality is confused as the vortex spins and disorients its victim. And consistent with the relativity of time, so does the vortex warp the Gaijin's perception of time passage: six months quickly becomes a year, which soon becomes a decade, and so on. To further complicate matters, career incentives, luxurious expatriate housing, and beautiful Japanese women diminish the visibility of the outside world. The Gaijin is afforded only glimpses by means of television, internet, and visits from long lost friends. At this point, he is fully claimed by the vortex and there is no turning back.
Tuolumne July 2008
Tuolumne climbing, mega hail storm in the Meadows, and rafting on the Tuolumne River...
climbing pics
Chezo's boating pics
East Side Alpine Cragging
Adam and I discovered a new crag in the East Sierra. It offers a remote, alpine setting with Tuolumne-grade granite crack climbing sans rangers, tourists, and other climbers (!). We climbed several amazing hand/finger cracks. It was a real forearm burner at almost 11,000 feet!
pics
Mt Whitney East Buttress
Adam and I set out to climb the East Buttress of Mt Whitney, one of the classic moderate alpine routes in the Sierra. The approach hike gains over 4,000 feet in about 5 miles, taking you to the base of the east face of Mt Whitney as well as Day and Keeler Needles, a gorgeous alpine amphitheatre of granite spires. We spent the night there at about 12,000 feet to acclimate, and got up at 5:00am the next day to complete the approach to the base of the East Buttress. The climb itself is 10 pitches of moderate 5.7 climbing and gains about 1,000 feet, topping out on the summit of Mt Whitney at 14,496 feet (4,418 meters), the highest point in the contiguous US. Adam and I descended via the Mountaineer's Route, a 3rd class route that follows a gully system just to the north of the East Buttress. This involved some downclimbing and a snow-filled coulior. Dehydrated and suffering from altitude sickness, the descent was a miserable experience for me, while Adam was much better off with only a mild headache. We finally made it back to our camp about 12 hours since our departure. Much success!
pics
Ogawa-yama
climbing trip to Ogawa-yama in Nagano, Japan, with Simon, Konstantin, Taki, Bill, and Mark. Mix of sport and traditional climbing on high quality granite. Mostly one- to two-pitch cragging. Also of course some tall boys, pasta dinner, and camping in the rain...
pics
P&B in Nippon
Page & Beau visited me in Japan for 10 days in May 2008. We toured Tokyo and the temples in Nikko and caused a little trouble in Roppongi at night...
pics
Death Valley / February '08
With Rabin, Josh and Marika, we head off to explore slot canyons, the Telescope Peak foothills, Wildrose Peak, and Darwin Falls. Tenaya's maiden Old Glory flag is cremated with highest honors...
Scott's pics
Ari's pics
Death Valley / January '08
3 days in DV with Adam Petersen, and a bonus visit with Jake in Bakersfield. Exploration of slot canyons, Death Valley, Zabriskie Point, Panamint Valley, Hunter Mtn. (impassable due to snow and ice), Racetrack Valley, Ubehebe Peak, and Lippencott Rd.
pics
Japan I
first tour in Japan - November/December 2007. Including trips to Nagoya, Osaka, Kyoto, and Nagano...
Pics
Cathedral Peak, Tuolumne
climbed Cathedral Peak in Tuolumne Meadows with Dank and Rabin. Cathedral Peak's first ascent was made by John Muir in 1869, after which Muir reflected that the experience was the first time he had been to church in California.
With weather building on the summit block and a lightning strike imminent, the static from our rope combined with the ambient charge in the air to create a horrifying whining sound that is known to precede a lightning strike (http://answers.google.com/answers/threadview?id=248659&gsessionid=JScWhwE-bMM). Needless to say it made for a stressful several minutes at the top with the metal cam rack slung around my neck.
Ari's pics
Death Valley / December '06
maiden DV voyage for Ari, Rob, and Beau. Joined by me, Illini, Schennwell, Vander, and Tony. Saline hot springs, Steel Pass, and Eureka Dunes...
Scott's pics
Ari's pics
Needles 2006
climbing at the Needles with Dank and AP. Thanks to the Yale key for an early season opener!
Dank's pics
Death Valley / December 2005
PK's maiden DV voyage. Saline Valley - flat tire - Bishop - Saline Valley - busted exhaust manifold - Bishop - Buttermilks - Scott's birthday bash - Bishop - Saline Valley - home...
PK's pics
East Side / September 2005
(PK with Blondie on Boundary Peak in Nevada)
adventures in the glorious East Sierra on Labor Day weekend with PK, Tuttle, and Denom. Celsie is wounded on Buttermilk Road due to a busted steering relay rod... PK exercises his ninja mechanical skills to reincarnate her to glory and limp home with a relay rod welded back together in some Bishop dude's back yard... yikes!
PK's pics
Bear Creek Spire 2005
Dank and I climbed the "North Arete" of Bear Creek Spire in the East Sierra. Classic Sierra alpine...
Dank's pics
Death Valley 2004
following three days of snow camping in Yosemite, Scott and Celsie see off Tuttle to Jackson Hole with a detour through Saline Valley and Racetrack Valley...
Tuttle's pics
Egypt / August 2004
trip to Egypt with PK to visit Hatem in the holy land. Cairo, Alexandria, and Sharm El Sheikh. Managed to avoid kidnappings, shark attacks, and liver cirrhosis...
PK's pics
PK's pics
Baja California / March 2003
spring break road trip to Baja with Ari, PK, Hatem, and Smeve to surf, chug Tecate, burn Christmas Trees, and contract Hep A...
PK's pics
PK's pics
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