Kathmandu- the 4th world

It is 2:30 a.m..  I am in the Tibet Guest house in Kathmandu, jet lag.  I am down in the reception area.  It is a modest reception space but has beautiful Thanka paintings an art form dating back to the 6th century.  I sit on a Tibetan carpet covering a sofa with gaudy patterns. The ceilings have beautiful alcoves with recessed lighting casting a calm mood, a dim single light bulb lights the reception desk.  The workers sleep on the sofas at night.  They are in deep sleep and the bbc news flickers on a TV with poor reception.   When I was writing the last blog entry I saw something out of the corner of my eye.  A big dog, black with a curled tail, trots in through the entry doors to the hotel.  He acts as if this is everyday affair for him.  He roams around sniffing corners comes looks at me then turns with a confidence.  Imagine a ferrel dog just trotting into the front doors of a nice hotel in downtown New York and just trotting around...........

The dog trots to the stair case just behind me with a confidence of ownership.  He squats and relieves himself at the base of the stairs, stands, looks over at me as he trots out the doors as if to say "what are you doing in my hotel at this time of morning?"  and disappears into the Kathmandu night.

Why we climb

  

At 17,300 after returning from a summit attempt on Kangchung.  All the elements did not come together for us to reach the summit.

It is often thought we climb mountains because of an adrenaline rush.  I have had someone that knew very little about me say "your an adrenaline junky."  I cannot speak for all climbers, climbing is a very personal experience.  Yes I am sure there are those that love the rush but I  believe there is a more universal reason as to why we put ourselves in a dangerous situation every time we step into the Alpine Arena.  Yes there is the physical movement of pushing the body to its limits, the journey, the intense beauty that stirs the soul, the purity of adventure which gives flight to the spirit. These are given in such an untamed environment.  There is something else I believe most climbers experience.  There is the elusive "living in the moment" that often escapes us in our daily lives but is an integral all important part of every climb.  The environment in the climbing arena demands that we be "in the moment".

Last year before leading a trip around Mt Kailash I was driving home from a training session on Mt Rainier.  The road from Paradise lodge to the valley floor is winding with sharp hair pin turns.  I remember straitening my vehicle and seeing a little squirrel in the center of my lane.  I thought he was going to move but as I approached he froze 10 feet in front of my bumper.  I continued thinking that if he stays put he will be fine.  I centered him between my wheels and thought I was driving over him.  When I looked in my rearview mirror he was smashed.  At some point he had darted under my tire.  I slowed the car, pulled to the side, and ran back to the dead animal.  I cried and cried and gave him a burial at the side of the road.  It reiterated how life is so tenuous.  I knew life was tenuous because I almost died at the age of 40 with a rare disease (read surviving a bone marrow transplant in this blog).  Running over the squirrel had me thinking about the seconds that  possibly separate us from death.  While I was in the parking lot at Paradise a thousand elements had to happen in just the right order for that little squirrel to be under my tire.   The time it took to Load the car, the seconds it took to roll down the window before starting the car, talking with friends in the back seat, the few extra second I took sipping on my water at Camp Muir, saying hello to someone in the parking lot, dropping my keys before opening the car door, and thousands more.  If one of these actions was 2 seconds later or earlier would the squirrel be alive?  It is a question I ponder and have no answers but I believe if I was 2 seconds earlier or later the squirrel would be alive.  

Climbing for me is being aware of the thousands of elements that culminate for us as climbers to reach a summit and the intense focus needed to move through these elements.   Snow conditions, humidity, cloud patterns, where you pitch your tent, condition of the mind, wind, what you ate before summit day, how you adjusted your pack, where you placed your anchor, and even when you left your car or home, and thousands more.  Also understanding that these elements are the same ones that can culminate in our being at the right or wrong place at the right time.  When your in an arena where you understand that if you had left 2 minutes earlier on a day where a huge avalance sliced across your climbing route, and that you would have been dead if you left 2 minutes earlier, makes me very alive in the moments on climbs.  Depending on the grade of the climb there is also the extreme focus it takes to hang on to a ripple in the rock the thickness of a dime with room for 2 fingers while trying to move to another dime size ripple.  I am definitely not thinking about my bills at home or dinner tonight and those moments from hold to hold are all that exist.  Climbing forces you to be in the moments and it seems in these wonderfully fun, scary, physically demanding, mentally draining, really really scary, exciting moments, a lifetime takes place.  Yes a life in just a moment forced upon us by the alpine arena.

surviving a bone marrow transplant

There is no guarantee that you will be alive tomorrow or even in the next 10 minutes.  I have a bit of experience with this.  If you have not read my profile I am a bone marrow transplant survivor.  You can read my profile in the right column of this blog.

In April of 2004 I had just returned from an expedition where  Greg Valentine and I had climbed a peak that had never been climbed.  Going were none had gone before.  When I returned from that expedition I was in my dream, climbing the high mountains in the Himalaya, exploring new ground both physically and spiritually.  The peaks name was Nireka and it stood at over 20,300 feet.  It was my  16th expedition.  I was healthy, strong, and planning my future expeditions.  I had a resting heart rate of 38 beats per minute, similar to Lance Armstrong.

By August, just 2 months later I was struggling to survive.  I was diagnosed with a rare auto immune disorder.  I had Aplastic Anemia.  My body quit producing blood.  Daily I was working with 40 percent of normal oxygen levels.  A walk to my mail box just 30 yards away was my new expedition, at the end of which I was left totaled.  My chances of survival were slim.  I had severe Aplastic Anemia.  Not only was I not producing oxygen rich red blood cells but platelets that keep us from bleeding to death were at a dangerously low output.  A low normal platelet count is 150,000.  My count was 14,000 and at one point would dip to 1000 platelets.  I also had no immune system.  My white blood cell production was so low that catching the common cold could have killed me.  At one point I ended up in emergency because of a sliver in my thumb.  My body could not stave off the minute amount of bacteria.  My only chance of survival was to have a bone marrow transplant.

On October 5th 2005 I received the cells of a non related donor from Italy.  Today October 5 2013 I am 8 years from transplant.  I live with the understanding that there is no guarantee that you will be alive tomorrow or even within the next 10 minutes.  Some may think this is a morbid view on life.  It is neither morbid nor a view.  It is truth.  Once I accepted this truth the energy I used running and fearing death, scratching for security, and putting my dreams on hold, gets put to use in a more positive way.  Think about this.  There is a possibility that you may not be alive tomorrow.  How are you going to live in this moment and the next minutes?  Pursue your dreams now as if there is no tomorrow.  The length of life means nothing if it is empty.  I would rather live a short life being in my dream, following my path, doing what I love, then live 200 years as an empty vessel.

There is no guarantee that you will be alive tomorrow or even in the next 10 minutes.  Security is an illusion and is a marketed idea with a high price, usually driven by fear.  Get out there and follow what you love,  mold your life into what you want it to be.  Follow your path.

There is no guarantee that you will be alive tomorrow or even in the next ten minutes.  Be alive now.