Prayers in the Wind

 Two dear friends are experiencing ongoing (and I assume scary) health challenges, so on my last hike I put a small string of prayer flags on the summit of a beautiful peak in the Olympic Mountains.

Though I always practice a leave-no-trace ethos in wild places, the prayer flags I left seemed appropriate in that instance. If another climber comes along, my guess is that he/she also will have no problem with the prayer flags -- perhaps even smile and enjoy their presence.  If not, the climber can remove them. By the time someone else visits that summit, the winds and weather will have spread the prayers anyway.

So, that's me in the photo above, a peak called "The Brothers" in the distance. Below is an image I shot in 2007 on our first (of two) trips to the Himalaya, in Nepal. Prayer flags are common there on a high mountain pass, or even on Buddhist shrines in cities.

Bits 'n Pieces

I'm afraid I've gotten into a bad habit of using our dining room and table as a bit of a messy,  gear-organizing space and kind of catch-all. Cameras and lenses, assorted batteries and chargers, even running or hiking gear wind up there, waiting for their next trip out the door for work or play.

A couple of days ago I decided I owed it to my mate to de-clutter the table, so camera gear got packed away in the closet where it belongs and my hiking stuff got stowed in its proper place in the garage.

As I cleaned up I found a tiny insect wing,  and,  when I showed it to Leah,  she suggested I put it on the window sill in our kitchen -- a place where we keep little miracle-objects we collect from here and there.

The delicate wing now has a spot near a Buddha Eyes pendant we brought home from one of our trips to the Himalaya, and a small bird's egg we found in our yard.  There is also a length of string that came from I-can't-remember-where,  and a piece of red blessing cord from one of the Dalai Lama events I have photographed.

That evening, for no particular reason except perhaps to note the winding-down of summer, we turned on the "party lights"  that hang from the wisteria that grows on our front porch.

This winter, when it is chilly, dark and rainy here -- a season we happen to enjoy for its own qualities -- I suspect it will be nice to look at these pictures and remember the sweet summer.

Another Earthquake in Nepal

Two weeks after a powerful earthquake in Nepal killed more than 8,000 people, news came this morning that a second quake has struck, this one magnitude 7.3 and centered near the village of Namche Bazaar near Mt. Everest.

Namche is a place that Leah and I visited in 2007 and it is very dear to us.  After spending my entire adult life in mountains and never having problems with altitude, I got altitude sickness, big-time, in Namche. The experience scared and humbled me,  and, as I recovered -- with good care from Leah and some gentle, easygoing Nepali friends -- I learned to value each day of life.

Namche Bazaar is also where I first encountered Tibetans (first photo below,)  traders who had made the difficult journey over the Himalaya from Tibet to Nepal and, to me, were quite mysterious.  I guess it can be said that Namche is where my involvement with the Pacific Northwest Tibetan community began.

Early reports say that several dozen people have died in this latest quake;  and, as always,  but particularly today,  my heart is with my brothers and sisters in Nepal.

Prayers for Nepal

Beginning in the 1950's when when the Chinese first invaded Tibet  (and continuing to this day,) Tibetans fleeing their homeland have very often first sought sanctuary in either Northern India,  or Nepal. Thus, when news came to us early Saturday morning of a terrible earthquake in the Himalaya, my friends in the Seattle Tibetan community held their breath because many of them have family or friends still living in that mountainous and isolated land.

Leah and I too were concerned. We first trekked in the Nepal Himalaya for a month in 2007, and this past summer we traveled to northern India, and also back to Nepal. We have friends in that part of the world now, and one Nepali family is particularly dear to us. They live in Kathmandu and we stayed with them for a week in July. 

Several anxiety-filled days passed this week before we were able to make contact with our Nepal friends and learn they are okay. They are living in an open area now, away from buildings that might collapse, apparently taking temporary shelter under some kind of tarp or tent. They told us that about 500 people, now homeless, are clustered at that same open area, and I suspect the scene is repeated all over Kathmandu.

Many of our Seattle neighbors, friends,  and Leah's co-workers at the law firm have been moved by the news they have seen from Nepal. They've stepped forward to contribute money, asking that we wire it to our friends in Kathmandu, which we have done.

I shot today's blog pictures Saturday night when the Tibetan community in Seattle came together at their Buddhist monastery to offer prayers.

Whole Milk

After spending most of July in and around the very high mountains of Northern India and Nepal, returning to Seattle and sea level made August my Superman Month.  Everything physical that I have done now that I’m home --  like running trails near my house, or even hiking in the Cascades -- has felt so ridiculously easy.  The air here is like rich, fat-filled whole milk, compared to the non-fat, skim milk atmosphere of the Himalayas.

I lost weight on our trip,  but feel now like I’m gaining it back, just by breathing.

The pictures I’m posting today are images I’ve shot on hikes in the Cascades during Superman August.  Above is Sherman Peak on Mt. Baker as seen from the Ptarmigan Ridge Trail. Below are wildflowers along Lost Creek Ridge near Glacier Peak.

I miss the adventure and excitement of India and Nepal, but, at the same time, it does feel good to be home and enjoying a Pacific Northwest summertime (oh yes, the living is easy.)

 

Last Day in Kathmandu

(Leah and I recently returned from a three week trip to India and Nepal. This is the last of 16 daily posts I've done, sharing photos and journal notes I made as we traveled.)

Kathmandu, Nepal
July 19, 2014

I don't know that I'm willing to call this journey that Leah and I have been on the past three weeks "The Trip of a Lifetime." That sounds a little final, like there won't be other trips in our future.

It has, however, really been something, and I appreciate it so much that you've joined along, via these posts. I do hope you have enjoyed yourself.

Our last day in Kathmandu looked like this:
--We made one last trip to our hosts' neighborhood market, and the three pictures you see above were made in the alleyways along the way. All reflect the color and humanity to be found on the streets of the city, but I particularly like the top image because it seems joyous and hopeful, the way Kathmandu feels to me.
--We spent some time in our hosts' kitchen (see photos below) and, as our friend Saraswati cooked, I photographed the wonderful braid that hung down her back. We all laughed, shared food,  used my camera to shoot goofy "selfies," and enjoyed a few last hours of visiting.
--Our friends asked me to shoot a few "family pictures," and Leah and I were flattered to be included in some of those. Bhagawati (last image, on the left) and Saraswati dressed Leah up for the photos, then insisted that she take the outfit home as a gift.

We head for the Kathmandu airport in just a few hours. We should be back in Seattle by early afternoon Sunday.

Thanks again for reading!

Afloat?

(Leah and I recently returned from a three week trip to India and Nepal. This is the 15th of 16 daily posts I will do, sharing photos and journal notes I made as we traveled.)

Kathmandu, Nepal
July 19, 2014


Our Nepali hosts took us to Kathmandu's ancient and amazing Pashupati Temple today, our last full day of this trip, and, if there is a place on this planet where the Human Experience is more in-your-face, I am pretty sure I am not enough of a stoic to handle it.

As I walked around the temple grounds, I was part of a crowd of people so diverse -- beggars, the affluent, individuals who are faithful, and I'd guess some who are not -- that I couldn't help but think about that famous newsreel film clip of the crashing of the Hindenburg, where the announcer keeps exclaiming "Oh, the humanity! Oh, the humanity!"

The temple's recorded history dates back to the time of the birth of Christ, and today it  is sacred to Hindus, Buddhists, and others.  It is a place for prayer and meditation, for very public funerals and cremations -- smoke from the burning bodies hangs in the air over the temple -- as well as a market where visitors can shop for candles and flowers to leave at the temple as offerings, or buy gifts to take back home.

As always, I wanted to be a humble --and I hope respectful -- visitor and observer,  while trying my best to stay emotionally afloat and positive in that sea of humanity.

 

Kathmandu from a Rooftop

(Leah and I recently returned from a three week trip to India and Nepal. This is the 13th of about 15 daily posts I will do, sharing photos and journal notes I made as we traveled.)

Kathmandu, Nepal
July 14, 2014

This is summer monsoon season in Nepal, which made our flight last night from India into this Himalayan city:
A: An Air Travel Adventure, and
B: Visually stunning.

The flight from Delhi to Kathmandu normally takes just a bit over an hour, but, last night, as our flight began its descent into Kathmandu, our pilot was informed that a heavy, monsoon-season rainstorm made a landing impossible. Our plane went back to India.

An hour or so later, the Kathmandu weather improved enough so that our plane could make a second attempt. I had a window seat, and my view of the sun, setting into the abating storm clouds,  was incredible.

We landed safely in Kathmandu. Leah and I made our way through a number of points of security officialdom to get our passports stamped and Nepal visas approved, then, happily  met up with our Nepali friends who, we learned, had been waiting at the Kathmandu airport for 5 hours for our arrival.

Our friends took us to their home where we had a wonderful reunion visit, after which everyone retired for the evening.

During the night, I awoke in a sweat, barely making it to the toilet in time to be sick.
(Leah had a bout with Delhi Belly a couple of days earlier, and now it was my turn.)

Today I still feel crummy, and am laying low at our friends' home, limited to "sightseeing" from the rooftop of their home in the "New City" neighborhood of Kathmandu.

I may not be feeling my best, but I'm well enough to be wowed by what I'm seeing of this amazing city.

Panoramas

It was exactly three years ago that we trekked in Nepal and I made the photographs you see here.

Leah and I had walked and walked and walked in the Himalaya (more often than not up-up-up) for most of October, 2007. There were a number of things we’d hoped to see and experience on the trek -- the amazing and famous Buddhist festival, Mani Rimdu at the Tengboche Monastery, for one -- but, as a photographer and a once-upon-a-time mountain climber, I must admit that I had been trekking with my sights set on the highest peak on our planet. My research told me that there was a spot known as Kala Pattar (Black Peak) that would give me a great view of Mt. Everest. My plan was to be at Kala Pattar for sunset; if I was lucky, I’d be able to photograph Lady Everest bathed in the last, golden light of the day.

As you can see above, I was fortunate that October evening. Everest did look beautiful, but I must say it was her neighboring little sister, Nuptse, who stole my heart. Everest was a trifle too-clear, a bit too-perfect, while Nuptse flirted with beautiful, dramatic clouds.

Now, three years later, my heart still belongs to Nuptse.

I made a number of individual, left-to-right, panorama photographs that evening, and this week I decided it was time to piece them together. You can click on the panoramas to see them at a more impressive size.

Oh, I do miss Nepal.

Birthday Suit

Seattle is a city where it’s okay to be weird.

It’s not all that unusual:

To wear Birkenstocks to the theater;
To hear stories about a mellow workplace decorum at local corporate giant Microsoft, where frisbees supposedly sail from office cubicle to cubicle;
To attend a tres informal wedding ceremony held in a city park, where the groom wears a Hawaiian shirt, the bride her running togs, and the wedding reception is marked by the happy couple dancing around a bonfire.

Therefore, I wasn’t at all surprised when Leah called from her cell phone this morning, happily giving me a live report about her ferryboat commute into the city to work: She said the boat was filled with professional men and women wearing suits, probably dressed for a day at the law firm. There was also one guy who had a beach towel wrapped around his shoulders (the weather today is cloudy, spitting rain, and something like 50-degrees.)

Leah said the guy reminded her instantly of a wonderful friend we made in Nepal, a jaunty fellow whose Himalayan trekking outfit (it was chilly up in those high mountains) included a wool cap, a fleece jacket, and a beach towel. Our friend is Nepali but perhaps he was a Seattleite in another life.

Today happens to be Leah’s birthday, and this feels like a day I’d like to audition for a role in Seattle's Let’s-Be-Goofy street theater. Leah and I have plans to meet for dinner this evening at a restaurant in the city. There’s a very good chance Birthday Girl’s husband might show up wearing nothing but a "Happy Birthday, Honey" smile, and a beach towel.

The Last Day

As we hiked down from the remote villages of the high Himalaya and our month-long trip in Nepal entered its final few days, I knew we were getting close to civilization when we arrived in the village of Lukla and I saw a Nepali kid wearing a Britney Spears t-shirt. There is no getting-away from the worldwide influence of American pop culture, and I guessed that soon I’d be back home in the US, standing in line at the grocery store where I’d see People Magazine and the image (again) of Britney, or Paris, or some other celebrity bimbo.

Traveling and being away from home is hard, but re-entering the everyday world is harder.

There is a small airport in Lukla. A 45-minute flight on a prop plane gave us a last up-close view of the mountains, and--before we could say culture shock-- we were in Kathmandu, the crazy-frenetic city of honking horns, elbow-to-elbow humanity, and oversaturated colors.

A month earlier at the beginning of our trip, we’d arrived in Kathmandu to learn that the Hindu festival Dashmi was going on. Nepalis (even non-Hindus) were in full-on celebration mode then. Now, as we returned, we were told that we’d be witness to yet another festival.

We joined in the fun and took to the streets with the crowds. I photographed a funky group of enthusiastic (but not-very-good) musicians. I gave the musicians a donation of rupees but I suspected that if we lingered around those guys too long, they'd demand more money. We ducked into a Buddhist shrine where we knew we’d find peace and quiet. I watched as two young monks played inside a huge ceremonial bell, an old woman joining the boys in their game. Leah bought a cup of tea. I took portraits of some of the older monks.

That was our last day in Nepal.

Early the next morning we began the long trip home.