My first trip to the Indian Himalaya in 2004
When I was 21 years old I spent the autumn working as a department head in an outdoor centre in the Lake District, England, where I managed to save enough money to do my first trip to Asia. Initially envisaged as another climbing trip with my old
friend Ben from the Slovenia trip it quickly transmutated into more of a spiritual odyssey and a journey of introspection. Although I saw very little of the terrible poverty of India, nor even did I get to see much of the grandeur of the Himalaya, as I would do on later trips, it was nonetheless a trip that changed my character forever and a pivotal adventure in shaping my life. Compared to later Himalayan and Indian trips this one was timid, judging, viewed through slightly bigoted and narrow lenses. But lenses need to be pushed if they are to be widened. This is a diary of small scale adventures, possessing little in the way of hair raising brink of death thrills, nor of soul destroying suffering. It is a book of little, silly tales and I love it all the more because of it. I often recount the monk who was kidnapped (even though he wasn't really), the isolation in Chika (which really was), and the craziness of the Delhi monkeys (who have now all been shot), as regular table stories. Many of my later, more serious India stories simply make people uncomfortable and shift in their seats. It is what it is.
friend Ben from the Slovenia trip it quickly transmutated into more of a spiritual odyssey and a journey of introspection. Although I saw very little of the terrible poverty of India, nor even did I get to see much of the grandeur of the Himalaya, as I would do on later trips, it was nonetheless a trip that changed my character forever and a pivotal adventure in shaping my life. Compared to later Himalayan and Indian trips this one was timid, judging, viewed through slightly bigoted and narrow lenses. But lenses need to be pushed if they are to be widened. This is a diary of small scale adventures, possessing little in the way of hair raising brink of death thrills, nor of soul destroying suffering. It is a book of little, silly tales and I love it all the more because of it. I often recount the monk who was kidnapped (even though he wasn't really), the isolation in Chika (which really was), and the craziness of the Delhi monkeys (who have now all been shot), as regular table stories. Many of my later, more serious India stories simply make people uncomfortable and shift in their seats. It is what it is.
Saturday the 19th September 2003
I am staring at a very intimidating map. Ground that will likely become very familiar to me laid out like a carpet in my room in the lower Lakes. It is a map of the Himalaya, India, Nepal, China, Tibet, Pakistan,
1:50 000 scale. It scares me, but also excites my imagination in an almost fearful stillness. My friend Ben Harvey who will be my travel companion and I are no strangers to such things. Scottish winters, alpine big walls and winters, sea cliffs and deep caves… but never the Himalaya. This has always been but a dream,
chatted about in depth but never packed a bag to leave. I have one final week here, where I work as a manager and department head, and then I leave for Hereford for some pre expedition planning and to catch up with old friends. I have been here a year… One week left.
I am staring at a very intimidating map. Ground that will likely become very familiar to me laid out like a carpet in my room in the lower Lakes. It is a map of the Himalaya, India, Nepal, China, Tibet, Pakistan,
1:50 000 scale. It scares me, but also excites my imagination in an almost fearful stillness. My friend Ben Harvey who will be my travel companion and I are no strangers to such things. Scottish winters, alpine big walls and winters, sea cliffs and deep caves… but never the Himalaya. This has always been but a dream,
chatted about in depth but never packed a bag to leave. I have one final week here, where I work as a manager and department head, and then I leave for Hereford for some pre expedition planning and to catch up with old friends. I have been here a year… One week left.
Monday the 21st of September 2003
Odd days filled with morbid thought. My mind rambling and my pen races to keep pace; they are dark wanderings and unhealthy scribbles, and yet honest. Some of the best I have written. I finished reading ‘Crime and Punishment’,an outstanding, dark and masterful book. I have a day off today so I read and scribbled all day. I am a recluse around people, a writer among the empty. Lost and screaming, both escaping and searching; trying desperately to attain the non-louse level in my head. Site work drags and work itself seems an irrelevant waste of time, no more than a distraction from important thought. Barney, the guy taking over my position is doing fine and I won’t be missed here. In fact, I would give it a month, if that, and I think I shall hardly be remembered, but that’s the way of things I guess. My mum is coming up next weekend. I still catch myself spinning my webs with great effort, trying to catch flies I have no time or opportunity to engage. I am not a healthy being and I relate frighteningly closely to Raskolnikov.
Odd days filled with morbid thought. My mind rambling and my pen races to keep pace; they are dark wanderings and unhealthy scribbles, and yet honest. Some of the best I have written. I finished reading ‘Crime and Punishment’,an outstanding, dark and masterful book. I have a day off today so I read and scribbled all day. I am a recluse around people, a writer among the empty. Lost and screaming, both escaping and searching; trying desperately to attain the non-louse level in my head. Site work drags and work itself seems an irrelevant waste of time, no more than a distraction from important thought. Barney, the guy taking over my position is doing fine and I won’t be missed here. In fact, I would give it a month, if that, and I think I shall hardly be remembered, but that’s the way of things I guess. My mum is coming up next weekend. I still catch myself spinning my webs with great effort, trying to catch flies I have no time or opportunity to engage. I am not a healthy being and I relate frighteningly closely to Raskolnikov.
Subconscious Mole
The hole in my soul,
Personifies my goal,
Fulfilling this role of martyred vagrance,
Displaced and misplaced,
Unlaced distaste for Western grace,
While and overt… …or is it really covert,
Repulsion for my own revulsion,
Of the propulsion of violence consigned to silence,
Guilt turned to gilt,
Which fails to wilt under the bureaucrat’s lilt,
Yet I find myself confounded,
Astounded and surrounded,
By a preventable unrelentable ignorance,
Of such participation that it’s significance,
Is both prolific and horrific,
But my love for the transgressors and aggressors,
Digresses from my stance and chance,
To enhance this glance of revelation,
While my abdication from political mastication,
Grew from my fascination… Or is it fornication? With military creation,
Propagation of the very roots which now create,
The hole in my soul,
Do I have a subconscious mole?
Poem by Adrienne
The hole in my soul,
Personifies my goal,
Fulfilling this role of martyred vagrance,
Displaced and misplaced,
Unlaced distaste for Western grace,
While and overt… …or is it really covert,
Repulsion for my own revulsion,
Of the propulsion of violence consigned to silence,
Guilt turned to gilt,
Which fails to wilt under the bureaucrat’s lilt,
Yet I find myself confounded,
Astounded and surrounded,
By a preventable unrelentable ignorance,
Of such participation that it’s significance,
Is both prolific and horrific,
But my love for the transgressors and aggressors,
Digresses from my stance and chance,
To enhance this glance of revelation,
While my abdication from political mastication,
Grew from my fascination… Or is it fornication? With military creation,
Propagation of the very roots which now create,
The hole in my soul,
Do I have a subconscious mole?
Poem by Adrienne
Tuesday the 23rd of September 2003
“All I have really done in my life is to take to an extreme that which you would not dare to take even halfway, interpreting your own cowardice as ‘good sense’ and taking comfort in it, deceiving yourselves.”Something I read today from Dostoevsky. Poignant. My work budget totalled well out for this month which looks really bad considering I am about to leave. I hate that of being guity of something, even if I’m not. Fuck it I guess, for all is karma… isn’t it?
Wednesday the 24th of September 2003
Budget sorted, room emptied, packed, thoughts now drifting to Hereford, climbing, India and naïve imaginings of future events devoid of the complexities of detail. The quote of today has to be Ani Difranco, when on her website I read “You now, I think that we can’t expect to be understood, and we can’t expect to understand each other if we don’t tell each other our stories.” It hit a chord with me, for I have written many diaries, far too many to recap on, but never one of this style before. We’ll see how it rolls I guess. It’ll be
odd leaving here. I’ve been quite, quite unhappy, but as Pushkin states “habit is the equal of happiness, and can make unhappiness bearable”. I’ve never been able to explain my love for Russian literature, but I guess I just relate well with the directness, darkness and honesty of it. Tolstoy, Gogol, Dostoyevsky, Pushkin;
heroes of mine.
“All I have really done in my life is to take to an extreme that which you would not dare to take even halfway, interpreting your own cowardice as ‘good sense’ and taking comfort in it, deceiving yourselves.”Something I read today from Dostoevsky. Poignant. My work budget totalled well out for this month which looks really bad considering I am about to leave. I hate that of being guity of something, even if I’m not. Fuck it I guess, for all is karma… isn’t it?
Wednesday the 24th of September 2003
Budget sorted, room emptied, packed, thoughts now drifting to Hereford, climbing, India and naïve imaginings of future events devoid of the complexities of detail. The quote of today has to be Ani Difranco, when on her website I read “You now, I think that we can’t expect to be understood, and we can’t expect to understand each other if we don’t tell each other our stories.” It hit a chord with me, for I have written many diaries, far too many to recap on, but never one of this style before. We’ll see how it rolls I guess. It’ll be
odd leaving here. I’ve been quite, quite unhappy, but as Pushkin states “habit is the equal of happiness, and can make unhappiness bearable”. I’ve never been able to explain my love for Russian literature, but I guess I just relate well with the directness, darkness and honesty of it. Tolstoy, Gogol, Dostoyevsky, Pushkin;
heroes of mine.
Thursday the 25th of September 2003
Sat on my bed, Tracey Chapman strumming. Kit lying everywhere. I feel no less lonely. After Raskolnikov’s Pesnya (a poem I wrote), that outpouring of unbroken honesty, how can I be not lonely without feeling shame? I can’t. The question again, ‘do I crave physical contact?’, absolutely, so much so, so much so, so possible, so what is holding me back… fear, conscience, shame, naivety? I am chaste to the point of absurdity. Mentally defiled, emotionally torn, but physically barely touched. I no longer feel close. The
mental spider. How vile. How I shut myself off to people, let them incredibly close, just for thrills, bare my soul, and then shut them out, cold as any Himalayan winter, why? Why? Maybe I need someone to challenge me, directly, wholesale, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, physically, and within that challenge a true exchange of self; and so I strip people to pieces seeking that resistance, that fight. A theory? I don’t know.
Monday the 29th of September 2003
“All that you have is your soul”, Tracey Chapman.
I have arrived back in Kidderminster, the town I grew up in. It’s my first time back this year, It’s changed a lot. I will be here for three more weeks before flying back to Delhi. I drove down to Hereford on the 28th and slept at Bens. We talked endlessly of climbing, maps, kit, ethos, just catching up I guess. I got driven down from Winmarleigh by a scouser and a Welshman who got so uselessly lost that they ended up going via Liverpool. They were full of bull but good fun. I had to sneak through the train today, I paid them £5 which was all I had and a fair price to get where I wanted, hey, hey. It’s odd being back here, it all seems really small, claustrophobic even, though whether it is because Winmarleigh was so large and spacious in comparison, who knows? I feel like I’m in the land of hobbits. The air here is certainly much more polluted and you can taste the difference. So I have jumped, the fall began, rightfully so. Apt. I’ve become strong, and know who I am, and I like that person and I can take the fall. I am planning on taking the next couple of weeks in study – writing, reading, researching ideas, the upcoming trip and so on. It will probably seem quite a dull few weeks in comparison with what’s coming, but a vital dull ness, just as every lull is vital before every storm. I am already missing communal life for despite its dark deceptions it has its advantages.
“All that you have is your soul”, Tracey Chapman.
I have arrived back in Kidderminster, the town I grew up in. It’s my first time back this year, It’s changed a lot. I will be here for three more weeks before flying back to Delhi. I drove down to Hereford on the 28th and slept at Bens. We talked endlessly of climbing, maps, kit, ethos, just catching up I guess. I got driven down from Winmarleigh by a scouser and a Welshman who got so uselessly lost that they ended up going via Liverpool. They were full of bull but good fun. I had to sneak through the train today, I paid them £5 which was all I had and a fair price to get where I wanted, hey, hey. It’s odd being back here, it all seems really small, claustrophobic even, though whether it is because Winmarleigh was so large and spacious in comparison, who knows? I feel like I’m in the land of hobbits. The air here is certainly much more polluted and you can taste the difference. So I have jumped, the fall began, rightfully so. Apt. I’ve become strong, and know who I am, and I like that person and I can take the fall. I am planning on taking the next couple of weeks in study – writing, reading, researching ideas, the upcoming trip and so on. It will probably seem quite a dull few weeks in comparison with what’s coming, but a vital dull ness, just as every lull is vital before every storm. I am already missing communal life for despite its dark deceptions it has its advantages.
Tuesday the 30th September 2003
The last day of September, wow. I was down the library today, I got Theocritus’s ‘The Idylls’ and Dostevskeys ‘Notes from the underground’, a bit of pre bimble reading. My mind is in turmoil, religion, direction, morals, forgotten politeness to mother – I am in her house now so I should not challenge her religious views; when she visits me or on neutral ground that is different but not in her own home. Ben is coming over tomorrow for some pre expedition planning. I understand that my time here, now, is valuable and I must not squander a single hour or day. I may not be granted such a peaceful lull for a long time yet.
Wednesday the 1st of October 2003
Ummm, wine is swirling my head. A good night with Ben this evening with long chats about everything. I am a mouse, in love with everything and distraught with everything. I’m missing people at NST, confused, humbled, lost. My pain is unhealthy and my mind is unhealthy. Visa tomorrow, keep my feet moving. Writing. Love and life, what more should I require? I am stumbling.
Thursday the 2nd of October 2003
The visa office was a bit of a failure, I got down there with Ben this morning to find it shuttered with a sign saying “Closed on the 2nd Oct”. No explanation. It was good to see Ben though, we shared a bottle of wine and pored over maps. He is going to leave his visa for another week. My morbid thinking has eased somewhat of late. This wasn’t quite what I anticipated, but then, this is precisely what I anticipated.
Friday the 3rd of October 2003
Mad day! I now have a six month multiple entry tourist visa however – woohoo! I was up at just gone 6am and trained to the jewellery quarter in Birmingham. I was the first at the visa office and waited two hours
to get in, by which time there was a vast queue behind me, hundreds, most of whom probably didn’t get theirs. I talked with a fat white man, with greying stubble who owns property out there, an elderly couple and an Indian couple flying out at 1pm that day, nice folk.
Monday the 6th of October 2003
A few missed days there, oblivion in fact for as much as I despise and try to prevent it, a certain amount of lethargy is creeping into the days. I lie lost in idle thoughts and dreams. I am reading a lot, true, and
I have gained an idea for a book, but my mind is reluctant to pick up the pen. I guess I have many months ahead of me in India to begin writing. I went to the doctors today and had all my injections for the upcoming trip, well, one to be honest, typhoid, as I got all the others done before an abortive trip to Venezuela a few years ago. I am planning to go into Hereford on Friday, and the Brecon Beacons on Saturday for a week’s physical training, just going up and down slopes with a pack on really, but it’ll be a useful warm up for the
Himalaya for which I am now ready apart from a few items of kit that I will pick up near the end of the week. I have finished my reading spell of Dostoevsky and I have to say he has made a huge and favourable impact on me. I have now began with some Anton Chekov plays.
Tuesday the 7th of October 2003
I am mind numbingly bored now, unhealthily so, thinking on insolvable subjects all day and night. So I am moving on, going to Hereford tomorrow night and into the Brecon Beacons. I am feeling slightly frustrated
because I originally intended these pre-flight weeks to be devoted to writing and study. True, I have succeeded in a lot of reading, but no writing. A mental blockage, or more perhaps inescapable lethargy and mental suffocation; I can barely breath at home here, so maybe moving on will be good.
Wednesday the 8th of October 2003
I had a wonderful idea for a book; it kept me awake most of last night. I’m still scribbling and working on it in my head. I got a letter from Korina today, lovely to hear from her, Mishkin the rabbit is apparently pining
for me. I feel again I have outstayed my welcome here at home, so I catch my train in a couple of hours for Hereford.
Thursday the 9th of October 2003
Perfection. Straddling a bridge, the small old stone type, sunshine on my back, perfectly clear blue sky and a mellow brook bubbling it’s tune. One mile from Cymyoy in the Breacons. I hitched from Hereford to
Abergeveny, then walked up the Sugar Loaf. I am very tired as I have not been used to walking with a pack on. I have a diet of cold beans and noodles! But yea, moving on was good.
Saturday the 11th of October 2003
It’s early morning; yesterday was tough, no ifs or buts, I ran out of food and water, up on a ridge line, wet, raining, in cloud, strong winds, but in a way it was good. I’d gotten soft during my time at NST and I definitely needed something like this. The trick now is to stick out the full week. I got to a shop last night and bought far too much, £10’s worth! It was demoralizing though, as I came off the Hay Bluff ridge. I walked miles down a road to get to a village with no shop, only to go to another, and another, and finally to
Talgarth, here. It added another five or so miles onto the days walk. I am heading back onto the ridge this morning. It’s good, the air, the time to think. My feet really hurt though! I’m not nearly as indestructible as I was when I was 16 and stupid. Later… My body hurts… aarrrggghhh.
Sunday the 12th of October 2003
A day on empty moorland. Tough walking, tough week. I'm camped in a lovely spot now and last night, under a bridge by a brook near Llanbedr last night and by a reservoir with Pen y Fan tonight. I might even swim tomorrow morning! I went through an odd 'training area' today which looked military, with trenches and so on. I'm still enjoying my peace and freedom.
Tuesday the 14th of October 2003
My mind has made an adjustment of its priorities. I want to be a writer and I couldn't write at home so I took a break. So why the hell am I pushing myself like a marine recruit? I've stopped today and settled myself by a brook, taking out pen and paper. I yomped from the reservoir up Pen y Fan and Corn Du yesterday. I had to help an army unit with their navigation even though it was 5-10 m visibility and I was navigating on a road atlas! Still, I knew precisely where I was and it served to remind me that I am not one of them. I then yomped into the village of Breacon to phone home and buy food. Breacon too is teaming with soldiers and barracks.
Thursday the 16th of October 2003
I'm back in Kidderminster again now, quarrels with the soul. The soldier always wins though. I spent Tuesday lazing in isolation by a brook in a forest and it was quite lovely. I managed to write some stuff. Thought loads. Transient phases again, fighting everyone and everything, including myself... myself most of all. Anyway, on Wednesday I woke and decided to yomp on. I went back up Pen y Fan and started a childish and prideful secret inner race with a regiment of camouflaged soldiers over the Pen y Fan, Bryne and Corn Du ridge line. I yomped my little legs off and they never overtook. Childish, yes. Fun, yes. Kinda proving a point more to myself than anyone. I then realised I was indeed screwed with a really swollen ankle. So I took off down to the road and hitched to Merther with a district nurse, to Abergeveny with a drug dealer and to Hereford with an English teacher. I met Ben for a coffee and chat and then caught the last train to Kiddrminster for £5. I arrived late and so skipped over the wall and in the back door. Quarrels with mother. I feel no peace in this house, I always feel on edge, watched and needlessly guilty. It's a truly impossible environment to exist in and so I may well even do another bimble before India next week.
A day on empty moorland. Tough walking, tough week. I'm camped in a lovely spot now and last night, under a bridge by a brook near Llanbedr last night and by a reservoir with Pen y Fan tonight. I might even swim tomorrow morning! I went through an odd 'training area' today which looked military, with trenches and so on. I'm still enjoying my peace and freedom.
Tuesday the 14th of October 2003
My mind has made an adjustment of its priorities. I want to be a writer and I couldn't write at home so I took a break. So why the hell am I pushing myself like a marine recruit? I've stopped today and settled myself by a brook, taking out pen and paper. I yomped from the reservoir up Pen y Fan and Corn Du yesterday. I had to help an army unit with their navigation even though it was 5-10 m visibility and I was navigating on a road atlas! Still, I knew precisely where I was and it served to remind me that I am not one of them. I then yomped into the village of Breacon to phone home and buy food. Breacon too is teaming with soldiers and barracks.
Thursday the 16th of October 2003
I'm back in Kidderminster again now, quarrels with the soul. The soldier always wins though. I spent Tuesday lazing in isolation by a brook in a forest and it was quite lovely. I managed to write some stuff. Thought loads. Transient phases again, fighting everyone and everything, including myself... myself most of all. Anyway, on Wednesday I woke and decided to yomp on. I went back up Pen y Fan and started a childish and prideful secret inner race with a regiment of camouflaged soldiers over the Pen y Fan, Bryne and Corn Du ridge line. I yomped my little legs off and they never overtook. Childish, yes. Fun, yes. Kinda proving a point more to myself than anyone. I then realised I was indeed screwed with a really swollen ankle. So I took off down to the road and hitched to Merther with a district nurse, to Abergeveny with a drug dealer and to Hereford with an English teacher. I met Ben for a coffee and chat and then caught the last train to Kiddrminster for £5. I arrived late and so skipped over the wall and in the back door. Quarrels with mother. I feel no peace in this house, I always feel on edge, watched and needlessly guilty. It's a truly impossible environment to exist in and so I may well even do another bimble before India next week.
Saturday the 18th of October 2003
Yep, off to Snowdonia on Monday, planning to come back Friday, fly out (the following) Monday. The struggles with the soul continue unabated. Had a bonfire last night with mother, Sandra and David. Poi's and fire breathing; you know my mother seems to shun with disdain or revulsion every skill and trade I learn, she could not even remotely connect with any of the wider experiences of my life. Intellectually maybe, but not grasp them. She can never grasp me. Who I am. I could live with this easy enough if she would cease to make such insinuated assumptions as to the person she would like to beleive I am, desperately trying to fit me into some sane tick box pidgeon hole somewhere. Anyways, besides that I got myself a new email address '[email protected]', pesnya being Russian for song, cute somewhat I thought. Sent a rather long set of letters to Corina at NST too. Though I truly have no idea what I am doing there. Maktub.
Sunday the 19th of October 2003
Day of nothings, packing for tomorrow mostly. I went for a short walk with mum and Pam over Hurcott woods again. I need to go, not just Snowdonia, I need to fly out. Fighting mental stagnancy. I don't seem able to settle, to either read or right, meditate, nothing. So I'm going to bimble for four days from tomorrow. Sent a letter to Alex, a girl I travelled with last year, odd to hear from her now.
Monday the 20th of October 2003
Am bloody cold. By lake Bala in Southern Snowdonia, made it here in two hitches which is real good by any standard. Took ages to get out of Kidderminster on the first hitch though. I hate being looked down upon by people when I'm hitching, all I'm trying to do is live life. It's very beautiful here and it's good to be out of Kidderminster, but the temperature has seriously dropped since I was in the Breacons. Now... some macaroni cheese I think... one week to fly too... damn.
Wednesday the 22nd of October 2003
Mad two days. After Monday I ascended onto the Abergernolwyn ridge (after being chased across a field by a herd of cows and bulls!!), anyways, it then started to snow, and snow lots, white out to about 5m - I got lost. I didn't have a map so I guess I was never really 'found' in the first place, got soaked to the skin, came off the ridge in the evening and slept in some woods in a somewhat uncomfortable basha. I have lost my fork and lighter (muppet I hear you cry!) so eating cold cans of spagetti without utensils is somewhat unpleasant. Today I left the woods and walked into town for some food, then hitched here to Fairbourne beach. Like everything else in this trip it has been very beautiful - but so, so cold!!! Anyways, it's about 3pm now and am going to start hitching home to Kidderminster, plan to arrive tomorrow.
Thursday the 23rd of October 2003
Kidderminster once again. Sunset with Cader in the background with snowy peaks, cold meals, wet bashas, lovely. Hurt my foot in the Breacons, it's still hurting a bit, guess it'll heal up eventually. Have been getting nervous of the upcoming trip now, doing it on really poor gear with very short money a long, long way from help, or relate-able cultures even. I guess it's good to be slightly nervous. It'll certainly be the most ambitious trip I've ever done. Been avalanched, shot at, mugged and worse so I guess little new else can happen. Hitched from Llangollen this morning fairly quick, no particularly remarkable hitches. Always hard going as soon as I get near Kidderminster though. Like I grow tentacles or something.
Saturday the 25th of October 2003
Couple of days r+r, cleaning kit up, packing for Monday - am ready to go now. I was playing with the idea of going home overland from India, but after really looking at it, it just doesn't seem feasible. You have a choice, to go West is Africa, yellow fever and the Sudan war, to go NW is to go Iran, Iraq, Syria, which is a lovely suicide run, North is Tadzhik and Uzbekistan and they won't let you in too easy, NE is China, so no, they won't let you into Saudi Arabia and you'd probably end up dead in Yemen before you made it that far, and East is a forever of continents before England. So flight is my only real option back home. Maktub. So yea, one day left, like waiting for the start of a race or something. Odd feelings. Had a letter from Corina at NST yesterday, she's well, but Phil, a guy who used to work for me, his mum's died, so he's quite a mess. Like a brother to me is Phil, kinda wish I could see him before I left, just to get drunk for old times sake. Condolences in alcohol. Sent a little notebook of quotes I'd been working on to Corina today though, nice gift I thought. Having a fire with mum and friends tonight, so yea, just waiting now with very little left to do. Done all warm up exercises, packed, recovered, what else is there you know? I think the real jump and fall starts on Monday, the past couple of weeks literally just a warm up of falling, like training before a parachute jump. Similar nerves as when parachuting too. Damn.
Sunday the 26th of October 2003
Well... last night... bottle of Becks... Tracey Chapman... kit... nerves... dreams... Couldn't get hold of Chris, and old friend of mine, tradition is for us to go out for a drink before an expedition of mine (lucksake of course). Well, having said that I got avalanched and put in hospital the last time, so maybe it's not so much for the best! Final call the Ben, my climbing partner for this trip. Shit. Honestly, I've NEVER had nerves like this before an expedition, but then it stands to reason I guess, never had one this big before, this long, of this height and scale... damn. Roll with it... 06:30 tomorrow morning the dance begins. Maktub.
Monday the 27th of October 2003
Uurrrgh. Am in Dubai in the Arab Emirates, just had the long flight from London Heathrow, early get up, said goodbye to mum and got a lift to Heathrow of the neighbour Lee via his workplace. Not feeling all that bad to be honest with you, it's far more comfortable on planes than it is on coaches/Eurolines. They even fed me and gave me a few glasses of wine; watched Matrix Reloaded then drifted with dreams and country music till landing time. Luck of the Maca though and my onboard computer broke/crashed. Hey ho! Dubai terminal is very upmarket. It's dark and I fly on to Delhi in a couple of hours so I'm not going to see much here. I guess it'll keep till Delhi.
Wednesday the 29th of October 2003
Delhi, my oh my. *see attachments coming soon It's teeming with con artists; all everyone is after is money. Your money. Poverty in Delhi is less than I expected. Haven't done too badly so far. Have spent £60 but that includes 4 nights hotel, food costs and bus ticket to Manali in the Himalaya, plus a couple of Indian clothes (trousers, long shirts, scarves etc.) which are very posh apparently. Images that strike: dead dogs lying around, busy traffic, touts, rickshaws, samosas off street vendors, hotel with a plane propeller as a room fan plus cockroaches, no shower and lots of noise without a window. Getting tired of saying "no" or "I'm just wanting a walk" or wondering if someone will stop trying to trick me for money and simply try violence. Bring on peaceful mountainsand lonely treks, for Macas' do not survive in places like Delhi for long. Far too much of a country bumpkin and mountaineer. I'm really looking forward to Ben turning up the day after next, safer in two and some company would be lovely. Odd, if I was by myself in mountains I probably wouldn't feel a bit lonely, but I do here. Fuck doing 3.5 months by myself after Ben leaves, I'll hook up with someone I think. Fancy seeing Nepal at some point too. Feeling drained and disorientated somewhat, though today has been productive. I now know where to meet Ben, where the cash points are, where nice tea shops and street stalls are, the bus station for Manali, gonna see if I can pluck up enough bottle to walk the streets long enough to get to the Red Fort in East Delhi without succumbing to spending on the touts and cons.
Yep, off to Snowdonia on Monday, planning to come back Friday, fly out (the following) Monday. The struggles with the soul continue unabated. Had a bonfire last night with mother, Sandra and David. Poi's and fire breathing; you know my mother seems to shun with disdain or revulsion every skill and trade I learn, she could not even remotely connect with any of the wider experiences of my life. Intellectually maybe, but not grasp them. She can never grasp me. Who I am. I could live with this easy enough if she would cease to make such insinuated assumptions as to the person she would like to beleive I am, desperately trying to fit me into some sane tick box pidgeon hole somewhere. Anyways, besides that I got myself a new email address '[email protected]', pesnya being Russian for song, cute somewhat I thought. Sent a rather long set of letters to Corina at NST too. Though I truly have no idea what I am doing there. Maktub.
Sunday the 19th of October 2003
Day of nothings, packing for tomorrow mostly. I went for a short walk with mum and Pam over Hurcott woods again. I need to go, not just Snowdonia, I need to fly out. Fighting mental stagnancy. I don't seem able to settle, to either read or right, meditate, nothing. So I'm going to bimble for four days from tomorrow. Sent a letter to Alex, a girl I travelled with last year, odd to hear from her now.
Monday the 20th of October 2003
Am bloody cold. By lake Bala in Southern Snowdonia, made it here in two hitches which is real good by any standard. Took ages to get out of Kidderminster on the first hitch though. I hate being looked down upon by people when I'm hitching, all I'm trying to do is live life. It's very beautiful here and it's good to be out of Kidderminster, but the temperature has seriously dropped since I was in the Breacons. Now... some macaroni cheese I think... one week to fly too... damn.
Wednesday the 22nd of October 2003
Mad two days. After Monday I ascended onto the Abergernolwyn ridge (after being chased across a field by a herd of cows and bulls!!), anyways, it then started to snow, and snow lots, white out to about 5m - I got lost. I didn't have a map so I guess I was never really 'found' in the first place, got soaked to the skin, came off the ridge in the evening and slept in some woods in a somewhat uncomfortable basha. I have lost my fork and lighter (muppet I hear you cry!) so eating cold cans of spagetti without utensils is somewhat unpleasant. Today I left the woods and walked into town for some food, then hitched here to Fairbourne beach. Like everything else in this trip it has been very beautiful - but so, so cold!!! Anyways, it's about 3pm now and am going to start hitching home to Kidderminster, plan to arrive tomorrow.
Thursday the 23rd of October 2003
Kidderminster once again. Sunset with Cader in the background with snowy peaks, cold meals, wet bashas, lovely. Hurt my foot in the Breacons, it's still hurting a bit, guess it'll heal up eventually. Have been getting nervous of the upcoming trip now, doing it on really poor gear with very short money a long, long way from help, or relate-able cultures even. I guess it's good to be slightly nervous. It'll certainly be the most ambitious trip I've ever done. Been avalanched, shot at, mugged and worse so I guess little new else can happen. Hitched from Llangollen this morning fairly quick, no particularly remarkable hitches. Always hard going as soon as I get near Kidderminster though. Like I grow tentacles or something.
Saturday the 25th of October 2003
Couple of days r+r, cleaning kit up, packing for Monday - am ready to go now. I was playing with the idea of going home overland from India, but after really looking at it, it just doesn't seem feasible. You have a choice, to go West is Africa, yellow fever and the Sudan war, to go NW is to go Iran, Iraq, Syria, which is a lovely suicide run, North is Tadzhik and Uzbekistan and they won't let you in too easy, NE is China, so no, they won't let you into Saudi Arabia and you'd probably end up dead in Yemen before you made it that far, and East is a forever of continents before England. So flight is my only real option back home. Maktub. So yea, one day left, like waiting for the start of a race or something. Odd feelings. Had a letter from Corina at NST yesterday, she's well, but Phil, a guy who used to work for me, his mum's died, so he's quite a mess. Like a brother to me is Phil, kinda wish I could see him before I left, just to get drunk for old times sake. Condolences in alcohol. Sent a little notebook of quotes I'd been working on to Corina today though, nice gift I thought. Having a fire with mum and friends tonight, so yea, just waiting now with very little left to do. Done all warm up exercises, packed, recovered, what else is there you know? I think the real jump and fall starts on Monday, the past couple of weeks literally just a warm up of falling, like training before a parachute jump. Similar nerves as when parachuting too. Damn.
Sunday the 26th of October 2003
Well... last night... bottle of Becks... Tracey Chapman... kit... nerves... dreams... Couldn't get hold of Chris, and old friend of mine, tradition is for us to go out for a drink before an expedition of mine (lucksake of course). Well, having said that I got avalanched and put in hospital the last time, so maybe it's not so much for the best! Final call the Ben, my climbing partner for this trip. Shit. Honestly, I've NEVER had nerves like this before an expedition, but then it stands to reason I guess, never had one this big before, this long, of this height and scale... damn. Roll with it... 06:30 tomorrow morning the dance begins. Maktub.
Monday the 27th of October 2003
Uurrrgh. Am in Dubai in the Arab Emirates, just had the long flight from London Heathrow, early get up, said goodbye to mum and got a lift to Heathrow of the neighbour Lee via his workplace. Not feeling all that bad to be honest with you, it's far more comfortable on planes than it is on coaches/Eurolines. They even fed me and gave me a few glasses of wine; watched Matrix Reloaded then drifted with dreams and country music till landing time. Luck of the Maca though and my onboard computer broke/crashed. Hey ho! Dubai terminal is very upmarket. It's dark and I fly on to Delhi in a couple of hours so I'm not going to see much here. I guess it'll keep till Delhi.
Wednesday the 29th of October 2003
Delhi, my oh my. *see attachments coming soon It's teeming with con artists; all everyone is after is money. Your money. Poverty in Delhi is less than I expected. Haven't done too badly so far. Have spent £60 but that includes 4 nights hotel, food costs and bus ticket to Manali in the Himalaya, plus a couple of Indian clothes (trousers, long shirts, scarves etc.) which are very posh apparently. Images that strike: dead dogs lying around, busy traffic, touts, rickshaws, samosas off street vendors, hotel with a plane propeller as a room fan plus cockroaches, no shower and lots of noise without a window. Getting tired of saying "no" or "I'm just wanting a walk" or wondering if someone will stop trying to trick me for money and simply try violence. Bring on peaceful mountainsand lonely treks, for Macas' do not survive in places like Delhi for long. Far too much of a country bumpkin and mountaineer. I'm really looking forward to Ben turning up the day after next, safer in two and some company would be lovely. Odd, if I was by myself in mountains I probably wouldn't feel a bit lonely, but I do here. Fuck doing 3.5 months by myself after Ben leaves, I'll hook up with someone I think. Fancy seeing Nepal at some point too. Feeling drained and disorientated somewhat, though today has been productive. I now know where to meet Ben, where the cash points are, where nice tea shops and street stalls are, the bus station for Manali, gonna see if I can pluck up enough bottle to walk the streets long enough to get to the Red Fort in East Delhi without succumbing to spending on the touts and cons.