Chapter 21
Broken Promises
According to the Trekking guide, Tom was supposed to spend an extra night in Thorungphedi to adjust to the quick rise in altitude. He had chosen instead to spend that time between Manang and Latdhar. Manang was 3,650 meters above sea level, and Latdhar 4,200 meters. Thorungphedi was 4,450 meters, only 250 meters above his present location in Latdhar. He didn’t think the overnight stay was warranted for him; since he’d already traveled higher than that through the far northern reaches. So he decided to travel alone again, directly to the Thorung Guesthouse that lie just before the snowy pass.
“I’ll sleep there, hook up with some people at the Guesthouse; and hike with them through Thorung La mountain pass,” he reasoned, as he examined the map over breakfast.
It was a good strategy, given that he no longer was terrified of the mountain pass - regardless of its reputation. Tom’s confidence had been bolstered by his recent experiences in similar altitudes.
“So relative to the
He liked to think of sea level being equivalent to the altitude of the Ganges in
“I feel like I’m floating on air,” he thought, as he strapped on his large backpack.
He wasn’t worried about much after his recent experiences, and was high on life. Relief at achieving a higher state of awareness, was quickly washing away all of his former pains. So he decided to avoid any unnecessary drama, or distractions, by avoiding contact with other Trekkers. He had enough drama for a while, and wanted to summit the mountain without incident. He was destined to be disappointed; but that didn’t enter into his new, ‘fuzzy’ logic, approach to life.
The hike from Latdhar was less than three hundred meters rise, but it was also in less that seven kilometers distance. Tom had misread his map in his inexperience, and the climb was arduous. Undeterred, he continued on however. While the climb tired him, it didn’t really exhaust him either.
“Its still early in the day,” he told himself. “And I only have another three hours hike to do. I can’t see stopping here for the night, it isn‘t even noon,” he further reasoned. “I can make it. I’ll just be a little tired.”
He didn’t consult his map after his breakfast review of the day’s objective - doggedly sticking to his morning plans. Unknown to him, the second three hours Trek rose over 600 meters in less than two kilometers distance. Tom was to get his first big lesson in mountain climbing.
The path split at one point, and he chose to take the upper route; thinking that it was another one of his favorite goat trails. The landscape then began to change from the occasional scrub bush, to a moonscape appearance. Gone was any life, replaced by gray dirt and grasses. While he had skirted Pissang peak, he’d traveled on goat paths and occasionally come upon groups of goats and wild Yaks. He saw no sign of them on this trail - the footpaths paths were too treacherous for smart animals to travel. As he went over his first mountain pass, a simple gap between adjacent mountain tops, the path turned sharply to his right, and scaled the barren side of a new mountain. He traveled slowly on the path for a couple of hours. The path was like a very narrow ribbon, cut into the cliff-side of a steep, yet rounded, mountain ridge. The roundedness of the mountain deceived Tom at first; lulling him into a false sense of security. As the path continued to rise with the mountain’s rise, the roundness left, and he was suddenly walking on a very treacherous, extremely narrow, path. His pack was feeling heavier and heavier; as he rose in altitude, and the oxygen level fell. At some points, his pack threatened to tip him off balance; and consequently off the mountain itself. He tried to stop and catch his breath, but the path was too narrow and unstable for that. Every time he tried to stop, the gravel under his feet began to crumble and trickle down the now sheer mountainside. Finally, he came upon a small shrine in a flattened niche that had been literally carved into the mountain wall. Unceremoniously, and probably disrespectfully, he pulled himself up onto the shrine, and lay down to rest. He was beyond disrespecting anything - he was just trying to stay alive, by not falling off the cliff path. After a half an hour or so, his breathing became more regular and he opened his eyes. For the first time, he dared to look down below - to the base of the mountain, and the ancient river bed far, far, below. Vertigo threatened to shake him off his precarious perch, and he shut his eyes to forestall his fall. He’d never been good at dealing with heights, but his present view would’ve challenged the bravest steel walker.
Forcing his heart to calm, with his eyes still kept closed; he thought about those men who welded steel ‘I’ beams on new skyscrapers, so high in city skies.
“How high is 50 stories?” he wondered. “Is it as windy there, as here? What keeps them brave?”
Again, the answer came quickly. “It must be balance and centeredness.”
“Don’t let panic rule,” he told himself. “Calm, centered, easy......” he reassured himself.
“Take your time, retain your balance and calm,” he instructed himself, aloud.
He wanted the reassurance of hearing his voice; strong and defiant against the whipping, and screaming, winds’ garbled words. Then it came to him.
“Don’t fight the wind, move with it. The wind can be your enemy, or your friend. As an enemy, it has you beat; as your friend, it’ll help you rise,” a voice spoke to him.
“I’ll stay here, until I feel the wind as my friend,” he resolved.
With that realization, he lay back... even further on the precarious ledge, and curled up into a fetal ball. He removed his large backpack, and placed it between him and the exterior ledge - further fortifying his position. Once he felt safe, secure, and comfortable, he allowed himself to think of sleep. Panic couldn’t rise in his sleep, he figured; and his body and lungs were spent. He felt he needed to collect himself, body, mind, and soul, before continuing on the treacherous path. There was no one there to provide him with an objective perspective, or to even hear his screams if he fell. He had to fend for himself. He was scared, as much as overcautious.
“Caution keeps the big old fish alive,” his oldest son’s voice spoke inside his head.
“Better ignoble caution, that quick death,” his rational mind told him.
“Yeah, about four people die week die on this circuit, many from rock and landslides,” Paul’s voice reiterated silently.
“They’d call my death an accident from a rock, or landslide. I’d surly start one on my way down, that’s for guaranteed!” he reasoned.
After a while, his internal voices quieted. They all schooled him to caution; and so he listened, and he slept. He slept the deep, and totally incongruent, sleep of the truly traumatized. Yet he wasn’t traumatized, he’d put himself into a trance. A mental trance that would give him the time, the sensitivity, and the fortitude; to listen to the winds, and the mountain. Once he heard their voices, he knew, he would be ready and able to move on safely - calmly, and serenely.
He awoke an hour later, in an unusual state of complete and utter calmness. His eyes registered the mountainside opposite him, the range of mountains that rose just as sharply as his mountain from the river bed deep down, below. Alongside the barren mountain, he saw a very thin ribbon rise and fall alongside its midsection. The rippling ribbon was beautiful in its undulating, narrow, and seemingly whimsical line; it mirrored the surface of the mountainside, as it wove around its surface. Then Tom realized that the faint ribbon was a path; one such as his, on the opposite mountain. It too had been cut into the mountainside by brave mountaineers and traders, over hundreds of years use; maybe thousands of years. Emboldened by the thought that many had come his way before, and survived, Tom sat up to assess his situation. He felt wonderfully rested, and calm. His large pack lie at the edge of his small ledge; brilliant yellow, with its rubberized rain cover glowing in the afternoon sun.
He no longer was afraid, although his heightened senses registered a high level of caution. Rested, and relaxed, he could clearly perceive his level of risk; and therefore panic was gone. He stepped down, back onto the treacherous trail, with assurance and confidence. The gravel still crumbled under his weight, but he could sense the rate of disintegration. It was a steady, even rate - not erratic chunks cleaved unpredictably. Somewhere in his conscious mind, he recognized that that could only happen if he lingered too long in one area. He therefore had to keep moving, light of foot, and with gentle footfalls. The cliff side path could support that; as long as he drifted along it, rather than pounding upon it. He quickly but calmly strapped his backpack on tightly; as the small rocks beneath his feet tumbled in an ever increasing rate down the sheer cliff. He took as much time as was needed to assure that it wouldn’t shift around suddenly later, and potentially knock him off balance. But, he didn’t take a minute longer. Just as he took his first real step ahead on his right foot, the one closest to the mountain, he felt the rock and earth give-way beneath his left foot. He didn’t try to force down the panic that would have risen in him earlier; he just took it as a further sign of his present highly clarified judgment.
“You got it, man; go with it,” he told himself with mature, justified, confidence.
“Be one with the mountain, and wind - grasshopper!” he half joked with himself.
It was a half joke, because he’d learned something very important this day - to stop fighting the forces of nature, and to move with them. This cheesy stereotype of Zen philosophy, like many of the other euphemisms Tom ’collected,’ held an important grain of truth......he just couldn’t see it before. His perceptions of it were clouded, due to the surrounding commercialization that exploited, twisted, and demeaned it in the process. It was like a typical Chinese joke......make money on it, while discrediting it; and have even more fun by turning people away from the real truth by making it laughable, and ‘not so clever’ to trust.
“Manipulative people must think themselves very clever, to use the very solution to a problem of trust, as a misrepresented violation of trust; effectively deflecting people from their very deliverance from manipulation.......relegating them to an indeterminable state of aimless confusion. Its this bullshit that has damned many humans to empty lives. ‘Awareness’ to these people, is thinking they finally understand ‘the game;’ when they learn to run others into circles for their personal gain - thus perpetuating the mess, and resulting in further disassociation from real life, nature, and their true natures. This has to be the ultimate violation of trust; the worst crime that can be committed against another person or culture,” Tom realized.
“Knowingly keeping others from fulfilling lives - out of greed, jealousy, or pure selfishness,” he concluded, sadly.
“Well, this one has figured it out!” he yelled out loud to the beautiful blue skies. “And he isn’t giving up.....on anyone! Watch out assholes, you now have a new opponent,” he warned, with utter confidence.
His connection with real life was now fully anchored, and he saw clear solutions for combating lies. The confidence and strength he now felt, with all deceptions finally revealed to him, gave him the courage to not only live, but to defy those who would deceive. The ‘answer to life,’ was to live. And he was determined to live like he had never lived before.....unencumbered by other’s mechanizations.
He truly felt ‘one with nature,’ and in his ‘true natural state.’ Even if, for some inexplicable reason, nature was to surprise him with an unexpected gust of wind, rain, snow, or even a mountainside; Tom knew that he would go with that, accepting that his time had come. It was this very acceptance of his mortality, and his place within the sphere of life, that brought him his strength. For now he understood that ‘survival of the fittest’ didn’t mean ‘survival of the most clever.’ It meant survival of the ones most attuned to nature, and their internal nature. Those destined to fail, and ultimately die unfulfilled, would be those who lost their spiritual connection with each other, and to life.
“Mankind has created an artificial environment around itself, to protect those who desire to function as irresponsible predators. Because of this, it takes longer for them to physically die; but spiritually, they’re dead most of their lives.......usually wreaking emotional havoc on those who weren’t, and those who were struggling to maintain it,” he concluded.
“Children hold the answer,” Tom believed.
“They do, until parents and society ’train’ them else-wise.”
This realization brought a tremendous flash of sadness to Thomas, and he nearly had a misstep- thinking of how his children were being misguided by others, despite his efforts to the contrary.
“Mankind is becoming toxic to real life. We’ve become so removed from real life.”
Tom now realized that he had started to doubt his natural instincts to protect his children from emotional predators; and from those who would deflect them onto paths that would result in hurtful lives. He’d come to feel alone, part of a small minority that was maligned daily for not ‘going with the flow’ of present society. He’d started to believe that the majority must be right, and that he was an anachronism. Now, he felt the truth of this day’s reaffirmation of his basic instincts - his true nature. He had been nearly alone in his convictions, but he had been right. Beat up, dumped on, abused, maligned, and mocked......but right on target. So on target, that he had continually awakened the societal force of blind conformity; and the ongoing onslaught of intentional misinformation, misdirection, and direct manipulation of him and his children. If he hadn’t been raising children, he probably wouldn’t have been so ardently tested. But to educate, train, and guide four children - their friends, and the people they all affected - to defy societal norms responsibly; was a silent challenge to many devoted control freaks. To defy society in this way, to live an open and therefore blatantly defiant life, would be considered a sociopath - if his intentions were not good, and his actions had been hurtful to others. To defy society‘s unspoken rules, and to have no guilt, meant to others that there was something ‘wrong’ with him. But in reality, it was something very right - though also very threatening by its very existence. So they always seemed to looked for something wrong; and seemed to manufacture hurtful situations, to rationalize their attacks upon him.
“Otherwise, they’d have to reevaluate their behaviors. I’ve been a threat to their ‘reality,’” he realized.
“I’m going to have to think about all of this,” he concluded, as he attempted to stem the tide of realizations temporarily.
“I’ve got to stay alive first,” he resolved.
So, Tom nimbly hiked along the trail, retaining his balance, and refining his sense of environmental perception. It was an entertaining exercise, and full of challenge - but devoid of any real fears. He had faced his fears, and won. Now, it was merely an exercise in the skills of action, reaction, balance, and agility. Skills that he needed to develop. He hadn’t been the athletic type most of his life; but his years on the squash court with
“Time will tell,” he told himself. “Time will tell, everything,” he resolved, patiently.
Within an hour Tom was walking into the guesthouse that was his day’s destination. It was the very same building that he had seen on the way, and he was pleased and surprised to see many of his other hiking friends there, already seated for dinner.
“We all got here yesterday and today. Tomorrow we’re all going over the pass together,” a bright and cheerful woman told Tom. “Tonight we eat, and celebrate!” Sandra said, raising her glass to initiate a toast among the table full of trekkers. Tom knew many of the people at the table. Sandra had elected herself social chairwoman, and invited Tom to dinner. There were eight, not counting Tom, and everyone was in great spirits - looking forward to their final achievement of Thorung La, 5,416 meters high - nearly 18,000 feet above the
“I don’t know about you, but I’m having a piece of that famous apple pie they make here. That’s all I’ve been thinking about for days - my goal of food,” Sandra laughed.
“Someone told me that they had it here, but I wasn’t sure if I could believe them, or not. After weeks of beans and rice, I want something sweet!”
“Sounds great to me,” said Tom as he fell into a chair, and set aside his big backpack with a sigh.
“Oh my God, guys,” said Behrens, as he looked at Tom’s pack beside his chair.
“That was Tom on the upper ridge!” he exclaimed as he held up Tom’s yellow rain cover.
“That wasn’t you, was it?” asked Albrecht suspiciously.
“What do you mean?” asked Tom.
“See over there?” Behrens asked Tom, as he pointed out the window, at the mountainside across the valley gorge.
“See the two paths, one low down, and one way high up?”
“Yeah? What of it?”
“We’ve been sitting here, and we watched someone walk across the upper one.....you know the restricted one....and we swore the poor bastard was going to fall. He even stopped and stayed in one spot for the longest time. And all we could see was his big yellow backpack. Now I see this rain cover of yours, and it’s the same yellow color!”
“Well, I have to say that idiot was me,” Tom said sheepishly.
“And yeah, I thought I was going to fall a couple of times. That's why I stopped and took a nap.”
“Took a nap! You crazy fuck! I can’t believe you’d even go up on that path. It’s closed off due to landslides! The guidebook says it’s supposed to be a great hike, but its gotten too unstable to travel safely.”
“I didn’t see any signs, I just followed the trail.”
“Only you, Thomas, only you!” said Albrecht somewhat kindly, and in grudging admiration.
“Good job, mate!” said Michael, the tall Kiwi. “Glad you made it! Although I lost my bet that you were ‘bout to fall to yer death. We didn’t no it was U. Lost two beers to these stinking tulip boys, I did!” he said, laughing good naturedly.
Tom got silent, walked to the windows and carefully examined the mountain trails in the waning light of day. They were right, he could see that the lower trail was wider, and had little or no evidence of slide activity below it; while the upper trail......his trail....was much narrower, and had wash outs all along it. Tom returned to the table, and spoke to the Kiwi in a challenging voice.
“Well then, you’d better be buying me some beers Michael, before I toss you off the balcony and into the gorge, eh?” Tom laughed.
The absurdity of Tom throwing anyone off the balcony, much less someone who outweighed him by 60 pounds, brought a roil of laughter to the table.
“Let me get a picture of you all; while you is still laughing!” Tom said his silly country voice, as he pulled his camera from his bag.
“I know tomorrow all you boys will be crying at the pass. Of course, you could abstain from sex tonight, like those Olympians do, to save up your energy. Well everyone except the Kiwi’s. We all know they can’t keep it in their pants, even if they wanted to!”
“Ha,” said Michael, and the drinking began.
They started drinking early, so they ended early. Everyone wanted to be rested, and fully prepared, for the most challenging portion of the Trek. Everyone surprisingly approached the summit without guides. They were paired up, and prepared to brave the unknown in the company of hiking acquaintances. All of them felt a certain safety in numbers, and naturally joined together the night before the scary event. While the altitude was high, the mountain trail seemed well defined; and the weather conditions were still moderate due to the season. They all still needed the wool sweaters, hats, and gloves they’d carried with significant effort over the past weeks; but the weather was bearable. As the party began to break up, Tom spoke to Behrens and Albrecht.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Tomorrow should be fun. Are you setting your alarm, Behrens?”
“Yes, as always Thomas. You know me by now,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah, I do. You’re very reliable. Please wake me up, o.k.? I don’t have an alarm, and the rooms are soundproof. They look warm, though….with all the rock walls, and such. It’s the most weather tight place we’ve stayed at yet, eh?”
“I, for one, will be using my sleeping bag. Its cold up here!” responded Behrens. “We’ll see you in the morning, Thomas.”
Albrecht nodded, and grumbled something about getting to sleep. The three had walked outside to the rectangular courtyard that contained the doors to their adjacent rooms - it was very cold. The skies overhead were crystal clear, and alight with seemingly millions of stars.
“My God,” exclaimed Thomas. “Look at the sky. The stars are in a different arrangement here then they are at home!”
“You probably can’t see as many at home, due to the lights of civilization. Here, they’re everywhere. I could sit here all night and look at them,” added Behrens, wistfully.
“Not, me. Lets get to sleep! See you Tom,” interjected Albrecht abruptly.
“See you. Goodnight.”
Tom went into his cubical of a room, and closed the heavy wooden door. There was a stove for heat, but Tom hadn’t the forethought to plan on firewood, and didn't want to bother the guesthouse people again.
“It’s too late, and morning will come soon anyway,” he reasoned.
He pulled out his oversized sleeping bag, and rolled it out onto the hard wooden cot. The bag had been a burden to carry, but it certainly had made the Trek bearable at night. He climbed into the sleeping bag, and exhaustion overtook him. He sank into a deep sleep within minutes.
“Thump, thump, thump!” The sound of loud knocking on the neighboring wooden door, filtered into Tom’s languid awareness.
He’d slept fitfully all night. He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position in which to sleep - and to still keep his rumbling intestines from vacating.
“I’d better get moving,” he said aloud.
“Everyone must be getting up now,” he thought, sleepily.
The room was cold, but he found it even colder outside as he stumbled to the toilet. The toilet was an outhouse without insulation, and with only a hole in the floor. He froze as he relieved himself. He noticed that the whole compound was strangely silent, as he walked back to his room. There was an obvious lack of activity, and so Tom wondered if he’d gotten up before everyone else. The only other person about was a cleaning woman, who thundered blows on the wooden doors mercilessly; and left them open as she dropped off linens in each room. Thinking that was odd, Tom looked up to the sky to see that the sun was well risen.
“Oh my God I’ve overslept, and everyone is gone! No way!” he exclaimed aloud.
He went directly to the common room, and found it empty. Going to the windows, he was struck by the incredible daylight view. He was suspended within an entire range of snowcapped mountains - rising amongst a deep, royal blue sky. The view was startling, but he couldn’t appreciate it fully, because he was so shaken.
“Jesus! What time is it?” he asked the Nepali man at the desk.
“8:30, sir.”
“Is everyone gone?”
“Yes sir, they left about 20 minutes ago. Breakfast?”
“Yeah, I’d better eat. I’ll need the calories. How about oat porridge, a cinnamon roll, and mint tea?”
“Milk tea?”
“No, mint tea.”
Tom was trying to keep his composure, but he knew that he was close to losing it.
“Those bastards! They didn’t wake me up to let me know they were going!” he said under his breath.
The mountain man caught his comment anyway, and gave him an understanding look. Tom’s anger quickly followed the sting of rejection.
“No, it really isn’t rejection,” he rationalized. “It’s such a profound level of self absorption, that it doesn’t allow them to consider anyone’s needs, only their immediate desires.”
No matter how he tried to ameliorate the pain, it still felt like rejection.
“I’m not even worth the thought of a wake up call. Men! They can be such pigs!”
Then, he laughed at his remarks, despite himself.
“Listen to me!” he admonished himself, as he waited on his food.
“Get a grip, man. It’s their issue, even if it does affect me.”
He gulped down his food within minutes, and asked for his bill.
"Ok, sir,” the man said, in obvious surprise to Tom’s speed eating.
But Tom didn’t have the patience for a leisurely intercourse, so he set his expectations.
“I’ll go pack my backpack, and come back here to settle up on my bill, o.k.?”
"O.k.,” he said with an empathetic smile.
Tom went back to his room, and threw everything in the pack, without any order whatsoever.
“Hmmm, should I take the sleeping bag? Its large, and weighs a couple of pounds, eh?” he asked himself.
The night before he had been ruthless with his possessions, and had given away at least 10 pounds of stuff to the Nepali guesthouse staff. He’d given them guidebooks, animal horns found on the trail, Abercrombie and Fitch shorts, Calvin Klein underwear, shirts, and even his Q-tips. He gave everything away as fast as he could, so that he wouldn’t falter and retain unnecessary items. He didn’t want to fall off of the snowy trail because his pack was too heavy.
“Every ounce counts at this point,” he believed.
He even squeezed out most of his tube of tooth paste, and poured out half of his bottle of Betadyne solution.
“I’ll keep the medicines, they could be necessary; and, oh well, I’ll keep the sleeping bag. It isn’t that heavy, and it made sleeping in weird places bearable......especially last night. What if I get stranded somewhere on the trail, alone?” he worried. “I might yet need it. If it becomes a burden at the pass, I’ll just throw the dumb thing off of the mountain,” he decided.
He settled his bill at the desk, gave the remainder of his give-away stuff to the kitchen staff, and began to walk out the door for the trail to the pass; then he stopped suddenly, and returned to the desk.
“Oh, hmmmmm.....which way do I go to the mountain pass?” he asked the man sheepishly.
Without a hint of amusement or mockery, all of the staff people pointed out the front door and up into the air - at the same time. It was comical to Tom, and he laughed at himself.
“Straight up, eh? Wow, that's a trip! Thanks for everything, o.k.? Really, I mean it,” he said as he left. The staff people just smiled.
Once outside and on the trail, Tom spoke to himself to still his hurt, and quell his anger.
“Oh well, fuck it! I‘m outta here! I’ll catch up to those bastards, and smile as I pass them!” he resolved.
He set off, very determined, on the dramatically steep path - alone. He did so without regard to how long he would have to hike, or where it would lead him. Even still, he was very anxious about the prospect of following shifting trails in the snow, alone.
“What if I get lost? How will I last overnight in this windswept, ice cold, barren mountaintop?”
But anger quelled his nerves, and he resolved to ‘kick some Dutch ass.’ Within the first half hour, he passed Albert the Canadian. He was a silly guy who smoked and drank too much. Tom was surprised, he hadn’t seen him the night before. The poor guy was breathing with a lot of effort, and having difficulty with the ascent already. He was destined to have a harder day than Tom, so compassion took over and Tom realized his own silliness. Diplomatically, Tom spoke to him kindly and encouraged him along without embarrassing him - by staying along with him.
“Thanks for the time Thomas, but go on ahead. I’m going to be taking it slow today, a? Don’t worry about hanging behind with me, don’tcha know?”
“Oh, I know what you mean. We all can go only as fast as our lungs can absorb oxygen, eh? In this high altitude, the thin air is different for everyone, huh?”
“Yes, I guess you may be right mate.”
“Yeah, well good trekking, and I’ll see ya soon!” Tom finished, as he increased his pace steadily, and passed Albert.
Tom kept the same, steady, pace. It wasn’t his fastest, but it was something sustainable that he felt he could do all day, if need be. He didn’t worry about destinations, speed, timetables, or anyone anymore; and he just kept a pace that he found challenging, but enjoyable. He stopped every so often to slow his heartbeat down. That meant roughly every thirty paces. But in steeper areas, it meant eight to ten paces. His strategy was to keep his heart rate at a steady pace, and to adjust everything else to that. If his heart started to race, he stopped. He figured that his body was trying to tell him that it needed more oxygen when his heart raced; so he listened to his body, and responded accordingly.......moving on, methodically, with an iron will, and in unyielding motion. Soon, he passed the young German couple.
“Hey Thomas, you’re moving along today! What a wonderful day, as for hiking, huh?”
“Yeah, I kinda got a late start - overslept a bit.”
“Hey, your Dutch friends didn’t get you up when they saw you missing from breakfast?” asked the handsome Lars, in a sincere way.
“Nope! The bastards wanted a head start. I guess it just means that I’ve got to do better, smile at them, and show them that being an asshole doesn’t work - nor make you any friends, eh?” Tom said with a jovial laugh.
Both of the Germans laughed, and Lars responded to Tom.
“You’ve got our vote! Good luck, and I hope you pass them!”
It felt good to Tom to have someone understand how he felt, and to encourage him. So, he moved on with further inspiration. It seemed like he walked on, and on, and on, and on; plodding along, forever. Without looking up from his feet, he called out and moved, with a cadence of ‘one, two, three; one, two, three; one, two, three....’ It became like a mountain waltz. Whenever his heart rate rose, he slowed his speed; but he continued on, as soon as it went down - never really stopping. Up and up he went - over 1000 feet, nearly straight up, to the mountain pass. His mind went blank, and time and space no longer held any meaning.
“I feel like a frickin machine of movement,” he observed to himself, laughing at his own stupid joke.
He felt very strong, yet his energy level dropped to zero when the oxygen was depleted from his system. Strength wasn’t an issue, especially since he had gotten into shape through the earlier part of the trek - the oxygen exchange was. He knew he couldn’t push himself to exhaustion, because he wouldn’t be able to recover. Pacing himself was the only strategy that made sense. The trail narrowed after a while, and twisted up alongside the mountain without any pretense of safety. Tom tried to not look down the many thousands of feet, into the gaping mountain gorge. The
“Hey fools,” he shouted. “Gonna knock your candy asses off the mountain, mates! Better run, ladies!”
It was an empty threat that Tom had often yelled at them before, when they had conversed in Dutch - talking about Tom and mocking him, while they hiked together. At the time, he wanted them to know that he understood their mocking, and wasn’t going to put up with the insult. It was a funny way of telling them that he wasn’t going to let anyone mess with his head. Many times he had jokingly warned them: “I know you’re messing with me - just wait until we get to the pass, and I’ll knock your asses off the mountain when you least expect it!”
It was a joke with a barb; one to let them know that they had met their match, and that he expected respect. But now, once they saw Tom and heard his old joke, they didn’t laugh - they sprinted up a small incline, and turned a sharp right-hand turn that hugged the mountain....taking them out of sight. Tom laughed, but was still sad that they had failed the last test he was to ever give them. To him, it was their last chance to redeem themselves. It was now obvious to Tom, that they had left him this morning on purpose.....supposedly to gain some stupid, hormone possessed, advantage to summit the pass first. Tom felt really disappointed in them; and although he knew it was their issue, it still hurt his feelings deeply. His anger was long gone, and only hurt remained. Not only for him being left alone on something that could have been incredibly scary, but for where they were ‘at.’ It was clear that they could never remain friends, and that saddened him immensely. Reflecting on the loss, Tom just kept moving at the same regular pace that he had set for himself early on in the day. He tried to work through all of his feelings as he walked, before he faced the inevitable - him passing them. Within twenty minutes, he found them in a widened section of the trail, gasping for air. Like most men, their hormones had gotten the better of their judgment, and so they were totally wiped out. Tom had practiced what he was going to say, and do, when he passed them; so he was ready for the interchange.
“Hey, thanks for waking me up and waiting for me,” he said to them casually, as he continued to walk past them at a steady pace.
It was the nicest thing he could muster. He didn’t want to sound whinny, nor play a guilt trip on them and be blamed for ruining their trek. So he had practiced what he was going to say, and how he said it; if he ever caught up with them. He wanted to communicate his disappointment; but also, his willingness to move on without recriminations. Fate and physics ended up on Tom’s side, and he was able to do what he’d planned. To his personal chagrin, he enjoyed the bleak looks on their faces, as he kept moving along.
Within 45 minutes Tom was on the top of the mountain pass, and through it. The snow was everywhere, but not cumbersome to hike through; and the pass itself was a wide plateau between two huge mountain ranges. There was a big sign in the middle of the pass that said: “Congratulations, you have successfully gone through the longest and highest pass in the world.”
Tom was dumbfounded, yet relieved. He’d faced yet another undeserved betrayal and extreme hurt; and had learned to channel the resulting anger into something constructive, rather than revenge or hate. As a result, he’d performed an incredible feat. It was a lesson that he wouldn’t soon forget; and he was again thankful for the Tibetan’s influence. He couldn’t think very clearly, but couldn’t stop smiling either. There was an older married couple from
He now understood how regular people glowed with success when it finally came to them. And when asked about how they did it, they simply replied: “I just did it!”
The couple took pictures of Tom for him, and he took pictures of them. All three were giddy with delight. As they talked, and the woman asked Tom questions, they were surprised to find out that they had
“It’s a small world, and a short life, eh?” Tom laughed.
But then, Tom began having problems focusing on the woman’s conversation; and his thoughts blurred together. He felt the effects of altitude sickness nibbling at his senses; and knew that he had to get to lower altitudes quickly, otherwise he would have to be carried out. He wasn’t about to have his present victory over his ‘darkside’ overshadowed by a medical emergency.
“You know, I’d love to talk more - maybe we can tonight at the village? But right now, my head is muddled, and I need to get moving downhill quickly, to get more oxygen. I came up too quickly, I think; and my body is screaming for air. Go figure!” he laughed.
They smiled in understandingly, and the woman responded.
“Well then, follow the Kiwi’s footprints, eh?”
Tom immediately knew who she was talking about. Evidently, the New Zeelanders had left very early in the morning; and in doing so, had started a mad rush of everyone wanting to summit first.
"Ok well then, I’m off! See you at the bottom. Cheers!” Tom said happily, as he lunged down the steep snowy slope.
The guides and maps showed that the downhill hike to Muktinath would take nearly four hours. It was a steep descent of over 1,600 meters - over 5,200 feet. But Tom was impatient, and worried about altitude sickness. He wanted to descend as quickly as possible, and so he ran. Now well accustomed to traversing mountainsides via the narrow and winding goat trails, Tom ignored the hiking trail and descended twice as quickly. A four hour hike, turned into two hours of nearly total running. He was driven to move down the mountain as quick as he could - without falling headlong first. The thought of avoiding a splitting headache, and the vomiting of altitude sickness spurred him on. He ran for hours, nearly falling three times, and forcing himself to slow down. Slowing himself down was nearly, if not, harder that climbing up. There was a lack of control that could have been scary - if he hadn’t allowed himself to let go fully. At times he felt like he glided down the backside of the mountain - on a cushion of air. At one point, he nearly ran into two guys who were hiking up the backside of the mountain. They were both exhausted, and breathing heavily. Tom slowed down, grinding to a quick stop to avoid a collision.
“How much further do we have to go to the top?“ one asked, with a wheeze in his voice.
“Not too much further, but I’ve been going downhill. Its rather steep, so it might take a while. I’d go slow anyway, the altitude will get you otherwise. That's why I am running down....to get to higher oxygen levels quickly. Keep it up! You guys will make it!“ Tom tried to sound encouraging.
“Where are you guys from?“
“
“Really, I’m from
“Whew! I’m not too much for talking today!”
“Don’t worry, they aren’t either,” Tom laughed.
“Well, I have to keep moving. See you around.”
“See you,” said the thin one.
The other one remained silent. He was tired, but didn’t want to show it, and wore a goofy wool hat with strings and pom poms on the sides that hid his face. It was just like the one
“This one must be Sherpa boy!” he thought with a laugh, as he started back running.
The tightness in his head eased off, as the oxygen level rose, and met his welcoming lungs. The throbbing vein on his forehead also returned to normal as he descended. His energy level skyrocketed, as his oxygen starved body was replenished; so he experienced a different kind of natural high than earlier in the day. After hours of running, he slowed down his pace. He looked back up the mountain, and down the long plateau which formed the valley. It seemed like he could see hundreds of miles in every direction, and he saw no one. He felt totally alone, in a desolate part of the world; and it was good. He felt fully alive. He was surrounded by a range of four mountains; and across the valley plateau, he saw a majestic mountain rising directly in front of him - a snowcapped giant. He remembered then, that seven of the ten highest mountains in the world were located in northern
“I don’t know their names,” he said, “but I feel their presence.”
It was awe inspiring, and he thanked whatever forces that drew him to the mountains. He felt safe, secure, and happy to be alive - living such a wonderful experience.
“Its all good,” he yelled loudly, without self consciousness, to the vast open spaces.
The valley floor looked flat, and easy to cross, from the height of the mountaintop; but as Tom descended, it became clear that the valley was bisected in multiple directions by deep chasms. The barrenness of the gravelly surface, and the sharp deep clefts, combined to create a dramatically alien, moonscape, appearance.
“Oh my God,” he thought.
“I’ve got to go up and down those damned things; and then, a few more miles to Muktinath village!”
Fighting a foreboding despondency from the realization, he nonetheless kept moving. He had run out of water well before reaching the pass, and his small breakfast had long since burnt off.
“I've got to make it,” he thought.
“I need some energy. I’ve got to have some kind of food in here,” he said, as he rummaged through his lightened pack.
But before this thought was completed, he knew that it wasn’t true.
“All I have is instant soup, which isn’t too handy without water,” he joked, “and a box of tic tacs.”
Remembering this, he dug deeper until he found the little cinnamon candies. He gobbled them down, and laughed at himself.
“Only me! Miles to go, and only breath mints to eat. Guess I’m set if I meet someone I like, and want to kiss! At least my breath will be good when they find my body!” he joked.
“Sugar is some form of energy,” he rationalized. “I’ll just use the sugar, and make it through!” he cheered himself on.
Returning to his mindless ‘one, two, three...’ mountain waltz, he hiked on without stopping. He knew if he were to stop, he wouldn’t get moving again. He kept to the left side of the chasm ridden valley floor, and thankfully avoided the dreaded up and down hike, through the many gargantuan cracks in the earth. That alone, encouraged him to continue. He moved slowly, but eventually made it to Muktinath. As he walked down the wide main street of the village, he searched out a guesthouse with a nice restaurant. He was famished, and knew he would collapse the minute he stopped.
“Food, hot shower, and a clean bed,” was his new mantra.
Walking like the living dead, he drifted between buildings until he found what he wanted. As he entered the common room, he was surprised to find the two Kiwis finishing up a massive meal. There were dirty plates everywhere, and empty water bottles and candy bar wrappers on the floor around them. Coming up from behind them, Tom was the first to speak.
“Seems like great minds follow the same tracks, eh?” he laughed.
“Is the food good here? I’m dying, and I’ve got get something in me fast!”
“Hoy, Thomas! Fancy seeing you here! You’re the first one to make it through; well other than us, and we started really early this morn.”
“Yeah I know, you started a regular run on the mountain, as it were!”
“Really? How's that?”
“I don’t really know, I overslept! I can only piece together the story. The Dutch guys were to wake me up, but never did. I guess Albrecht saw you guys were gone, and his hormones kicked in!”
“Hey that's hilarious, isn’t it man?” he asked his friend, but didn’t wait for an answer.
“He must’ve wanted to see me bum, he did, that dirty boy!”
“What?” asked Tom incredulously. “You have to forgive me, my mind isn’t working so good without food. He wanted to see what?”
“Here, eat some of this while your food comes,” he said, as he passed him a full plate of beans and rice.
“We told him last night about our funny plan, so he must’ve wanted to be there.”
“I told you we were smart to leave early. Would’ve never gotten our picture, otherwise!”
“Picture?”
“Yeah, we wanted a nude shot of us on the mountain pass. Really hilarious, it was. Worked out fine! In fact, we just got our boxers back on when an old couple came upon us! They thought it was funny, and got a pic of us together.”
“Oh, I met them. The couple from
“Yeah, right! We must have just missed you, Thomas. Damn, you did good to wake up hours late, and still pass all them blokes!”
“Well it wore me out, but it was fun to see Albrecht’s face when I passed him. What a butthead he can be. I’m done with that couple!”
“Don’t blame you a bit. We’s having to get a hot bath now. When the people all start coming, the hot water won’t last long. Howe bout you?”
“I’ve got to eat first, then a bath. Don’t worry, they’re hours behind me yet.”
“Blimey, you are a surprising bloke Thomas. I’d never had figured that!”
“Well I don’t feel so special right now. But thanks for the compliment. The other guys aren't so happy with me, I think.”
“You blew ‘em away, you did! That ‘il pis ‘em, it will!”
“That wasn’t my objective. Far from it! I just want to hike along, and enjoy myself.”
“Objective or not, that's what you’v done, Thomas. After all, these ‘r only men, you know. What do you expect?”
“Respect.”
“They have to give that to you now.”
“Pity, isn't it?”
“You don’t really understand men now, do you Thomas?”
“I guess not all of them. I think I expect more from them.”
“Ahhh, you are tired. Eat and rest, we’ll see you later, dude.”
“See you,” Tom replied tiredly. “Can you do me one favor, though?”
“What's that?”
“Can you stay on one continent with your speech? Dudes, and mates, and blokes! I just can’t keep up with it all!” Tom said laughing.
“Ahhh, you are too much, Thomas. We ‘ave to be getin ready to work in
“Now you’re too much! Don’t get me laughing on such an empty stomach!”
“I’m dead serious on the job thing.”
“I know that, its your vernacular that cracks me up. Its great fun. Why do you think I’m teasing you about it?” Tom said, laughing. “Now get ‘out o’v me sight!”
They left, laughing. Thomas ate plates of food. He then checked into a room, got a hot shower, and fell into a nice warm bed with wonderfully clean blankets and sheets.
*************
Tom opened his window shades, and saw that the sun had barely risen above the long and ragged line of mountains. A heavy mist of clouds hung ominously above them, with a narrow gap of blue-gray sky peaking through. He could feel in his bones, and tell from the skies, that the monsoon rains would soon be upon them.
“It won’t be so fun hiking in that rainy mess,” he thought. “I’d better hurry through the rest of this Trek,“ he advised himself.
Closing the curtains, he proceeded to the wide-open third floor ‘rooftop restaurant’ for breakfast. He’d come to appreciate the rickety, but scenic, rooftop dining areas in
“Weird,” thought Tom. “Too weird.”
The woman walked down the road and out of the village, while Tom silently watched from far above. The road was lined with a five foot stacked stone wall on the left, and a trickling stream on the right. The road rose gently, as it melted into the brown and rock strewn hillside. Within a few minutes, the animals were gone from sight and Tom turned his attention back to his table and his writing. He’d awoken from his first really good night’s sleep in days, and come directly to the restaurant to write a note to his Dutch friends. Yesterday still stung in his memory. Although he wanted to forgive them, they still hadn’t asked for forgiveness - or even verbalized how they felt. He’d seen them at dinner, and passed them twice in the hallways; and nothing was ever said. He knew that the Dutch were proud, quietly reserved, and stoic people; but he wasn't going through another meal of stony silence. It wasn’t his problem, and he was resolved not to take it on by default. He knew that they felt bad, and he wanted to believe that they just didn’t know how to broach the subject - out of embarrassment. They were doing what most men did. Pretending that nothing had happened, and that everything would just blow over; or be blown off. Tom had learned long ago that a lingering malaise was the reward for the person who was blown off without explanation. Just because someone didn’t want to admit a mistake, didn’t know how to mend things, or simply ran away from the issue, didn’t mean things were resolved. Tom had therefore decided that he wasn’t going to carry the burden of other people’s insensitivity any longer; and, he would address the issue via ‘The Letter.’ When Tom wrote ‘The Letter,’ it usually meant the end of the relationship for good; if the other person wasn’t willing to respond or to work any further on their relationship. Tom felt that would probably be the case anyway with these guys; but he wanted to clear the air, and set things straight, before he moved on. The first ‘Letter’ Tom had written was to his ex-wife - when he finally realized the sham of their marriage. He wanted to give her, and the marriage, one last chance. It was brutally honest, and she responded one week later with a simple statement.
“I’ve mourned our marriage, and it is over,” she said, as she handed him divorce papers.
It became apparent that she had it all in progress before ‘The Letter,’ so Tom felt that ‘The Letter’ hadn’t really ended anything; but it certainly clarified his feelings, and allowed him to let go and move on. He felt tremendous pain and disappointment in her values. They were ‘values’ that placed everyone’s needs, and happiness, behind her material desires.
Later, Tom had written ‘The Letter’ to other people who broke off relationships with casual disregard for his feelings. At first, the letters seemed to be hurtful to folks; so with time and experience, Tom learned to write them in a way that would be more constructive and helpful for the person, yet allow him to verbalize the sadness, hurt, and pain that he felt as a result of their actions. He tried to remove all anger from ‘The Letters,’ so that the recipient couldn’t ignore his words through discrediting him as being radical or reactive. Tom found that people had a hard time listening to things they didn’t want to hear anyway; therefore, he was careful to not be prodded into misbehaving - so that they could dodge responsibility again, by pointing to Tom’s strong reaction to their bad behavior. While ‘The Letter’ often took hours to write, and a large amount of emotional energy and time to deliver in the right way, it was worth the effort. Most good people faced with asshole behavior, just walked away from the offending person. They didn’t want any more pain; and sometimes, they enjoyed leaving the asshole in his own mess, to continue suffering. Not Tom. As he saw it, he felt obligated to perform his last good deed for the person; then, he could let go - knowing that he had left them in a better place. While many people might have the interest and desire to help assholes out of their ‘holes,’ they were often too timid to point out the cancer that was eating the other person’s soul. Not Tom. Tom felt that he was being compassionate, and loving, by not leaving them in ignorance.
“So at least they have the opportunity to chose how they’re going to behave in the future,” he rationalized.
While Tom was good enough to accurately locate the offensive emotional cancer, he was still bastard enough to use the knife to cut it out. He felt that the short-term sharp pain cause by his cuts of brutal honesty would ultimately lead to healing, and hopefully elevate the person to a higher level of awareness and sensitivity. Over the past eight years, his approach had worked well; and most people ultimately came back to him, and thanked him - months, even years, later.
Tom completed writing his letter to Albrecht and Behrens. Upon review, he found it clear, succinct, and brutally honest.
“People may disagree with my opinions, but no one can easily ignore sincere feelings,” he said to himself, as he finished proofreading it.
Comfortable that it wasn’t accusatory, and that it was constructive; Tom deposited it under Albrecht’s and Behrens door. Back on the roof, Tom watched the activity on the street below as he relaxed. The movement of children, goats, chickens, and Trekkers was gradually added to the building morning fray. Still though, the village was serene and quietly calming. The most important element in the beautiful scenery was the end of the snowcapped
“Sleep well, last night?” he asked Tom.
“Like a baby, eh?”
“Great, looks like a beautiful day again taday. What are your plans?”
“Well, the last few days have been pretty hard. Six to eight hours of climbing into and out of 19,000 foot altitudes; so my body doesn’t know what the hell to do. It gets more oxygen, less oxygen, heavy exertion, and downhill runs. It’s all confused. I think I’ll just go onto that little village at the top of the
“Bastards, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, they seem to live like frickin termites, without any conscience.”
As they talked, Behrens joined them; and sat down quietly, listening. A Nepali child brought up oat porridge and tea for Behrens, following him not three steps behind.
“They make Hitler look like a saint, eh?” continued Michael.
“Its highly orchestrated and well organized cultural obliteration.”
“I heard that they’ve torn down over 6,000 temples; after stripping them of the Buddhist images, statues, and anything of value. Many of the statues were of pure gold, covered in precious stones. ”
“They didn’t tear all of them down, but most of them. The first ’cleansing’ did most of that, now they’re rebuilding and ’restoring’ them to their original ’state. According to supposed pre-Tibetan history,” informed Thomas.
“I saw pictures of Buddha statues in piles, on trash heaps; and ancient religious art destroyed, or painted over.”
“They’ve slaughtered over 25% of the population of
“I thought that Buddhism replaced Confucian ethics, as being more fully developed logically. It was the intellectuals and ruling families that spread it to supercede Taoism. After Taoism had become more superstitious, and based on magic.”
“I think you’re right, but what happened is that Buddhism took
“All I know is that
Behrens had remained silent, but joined the conversation.
“Its like what the protestants did, after they took over
“Yeah, but this is different. In this day and age, people outside can help. This isn’t new to the Chinese, they’re just more thorough. One ruler, in the third century B.C., established totalitarian control over
“Maybe, maybe. But they’re moving too fast, eh? I’ve got another example of do it quick and dirty. The French recently sank the GreenPeace boat called Rainbow something, through two ‘renegade’ bomber pilots. The GreenPeace boat was making a point about the French nuclear mess; something the French government didn’t like, so they sank the GreenPeace boat. The pilots were captured, and arrested. Then, ‘diplomatic channels’ were used so that they could serve their time in
Even though he was stung by Behren’s harsh words, Tom could tell that Behrens wasn’t bitter or angry - just resigned to human conquers acting like animals, without any keepers. Tom considered it sad to see the despondency in the Dutch, as well as most of the Trekkers from other countries. However, Tom found that if he made a mild challenge to their despondency it evaporated quickly. This confirmed his belief that people wanted to believe in something better; they just couldn’t see how to do it, without seeming naïve, weak, or stupid.
“I guess you’re right Behrens; but it just seems like we could write a few letters, and start an email awareness alert when we get home. If we just boycott Chinese made products, that’ll do a lot. It doesn’t seem like much, but at least we know that we tried what we could. If we do nothing we give the assholes power, and false legitimacy, by default. Cesar Chavez changed the world of migrant workers though a simple boycott. If we don’t support the Chinese financially by buying their products, then they’ll be forced to give back
“Maybe you’re right. It’s something to consider.”
“It doesn’t just end in
“Yeah, its to facilitate tourism.”
“Facilitate tanks into
“
“Shit! They’re doing a hydroelectric dam, and closing off the river here?”
“Yep, they want to. Sux, eh?”
“Jesus!”
They all sat in confused silence, trying to sort out all that they had learned from each other. Individually, the threats of rampant environmental and cultural destruction was hard enough to accept; but by comparing information they found that the situation was even worse than they had previously understood. After a few moments, Behrens took advantage of the break in conversation.
“Hey Thomas can we speak alone, in private?”
“Sure, lets go over there. Will you excuse us Michael?”
“Sure, no problem,” he replied - still absorbed in his thoughts, and relieved to have a break.
“Tom I read your letter. We’re on vacation, and don’t need these complications,” started Behrens, as they stood on the corner of the rooftop.
“Complications?” said Tom incredulously. “You guys left me without a thought, after all that I’d done with - and for - you; and you thought that I wouldn’t be hurt? People aren’t hurt when you’re on holiday? We lose our basic rights as humans because we happen to be in your path? Complications? Not me. I just won’t let it slide. We aren‘t put on the planet for your enjoyment, entertainment, and disposal are we?”
“No, no. Its just you know how it is. You meet many people, go yah da, yah da, ya, have a few laughs - and then go home and forget about it all.”
“Pluueese Behrens! Different people travel for different reasons: to visit, to learn from other people and different places, and to have fun. Other people travel for long periods of time to avoid being held accountable for their actions. It’s emotional dodge ball. Some people just go to other cities to have fun at other people’s expense. They know that they couldn’t get away with it at home - others would call them out on their poor behavior. I feel that you’re sincere in what you do; and by talking to me now, I know that you’re the caring person that I thought you were. But the jury is still out on Albrecht.”
“Thanks, but you just don’t understand Albrecht like I do.”
“I’ve got to tell you, I’ve met some wonderful people on this trip. I know that many of us will be in each other’s lives years from now. I’m not here to mess up your trip. I’m just saying ‘hello out there, you’re messing with people’s lives, please stop!’ It’s just a wake up call, Behrens. You and me, all of us, decide everyday in every way, what kind of people we’re going to be by our actions or inactions. We all make mistakes. Hopefully we learn from them, and correct our behavior - so we don’t repeat them. That’s if we have the objective of being the best people we can be. So if I screw up, I hope you’d be frank enough with me to let me know - so I won’t do it again. If you don’t tell me, I might not even know what I’m doing is wrong, and will therefore continue doing it. When I was younger a lot of people did really nice things for me, and I didn’t appreciate it. I took without giving, and hurt a lot of folks without even knowing it. I feel really bad about that. Once I figured it out, I stopped. When you’re handsome, charming, and self assured as you and Albrecht are, people will naturally want to spend time with you. When you connect with these folks, they’re naturally taking it as serious and sincere feelings. If you know this and take advantage of their sincerity, it isn’t only wrong and hurtful, its bad business. Itsa small world, and a short life. What goes around, comes around. I was just trying to make you aware of the fact that good people night not see this in you, get hurt bad, think it was somehow their fault. Or, they’d understand that it was your fault, and stay away from you to avoid further pain. Other good people, like that woman from
“So you’re shutting us out?”
“Not exactly, I’m just setting healthy limits. Right now, Albrecht isn’t an emotionally responsible person. You are, and are confirming it by talking about things with me. However, you guys are a package deal, eh? And you should be for the trip, because that's how you guys planned it; and you have a long history together. I can tell you love him a lot, and that you see the best parts of him. But when you get home you’ll need to have this same kind of talk with him. Otherwise other people, people you really love, maybe even your fiancé, will have to face the same choice I’ve had to face. I don’t think you want that. My mom always told us as kids: “people will judge you by the company you keep.” That's true. So while I try not to judge you, it’s hard not to ‘include’ you with his poor behavior. And frankly, all of this has complicated my trip and distracted me from what I want to be doing. I’m just ‘uncomplicating’ it.
Here’s my last bit of advice. If we allow those around us to get away with behaviors that are reprehensible, then we’re doing them a disservice and are actually enabling them by not saying something. So while we may not agree with what they do to others, we’re actually helping them continue doing it by sticking with them.”
“So you just shut yourself off from people?“
“No, I’ll continue to leave myself open. Because when we do that, we’re able to connect with people on a really deep level, in a special way; and are therefore able to experience all forms of love - like you’ve never felt before. But, and here is the big butt, I feel like I have to pull back when people prove to be emotionally irresponsible with me. When I haven’t done that, I was continually hurt; and ended up enabling bad behaviors. I personally can’t absorb the selfish drain some people place on me for a continued sense of love. They’re needy, and not giving. Many don’t want to give, simply because it takes too much work. I can still love them, which I do at a distance; but I have to stop the emotional loss. Otherwise I end up drained, and therefore no good to myself or to others who really deserve it. Healthy relationships are a two way street. Albrecht may have to lose everyone in his life before he figures that out. Then again, he’s very attractive and charming; and there are a lot of people around with weak self images that he can drain. So he may never get the chance to figure it out; until he isn’t so pretty. If he waits until his looks are gone, then it’ll be really really hard on him. Hard enough, that he may never accept his mistakes; and then he’ll be unable to make the changes that’ll allow him to achieve a truly loving state. The Buddhists will say that he has more lives to figure it out. Me? I’m not counting on that. I plan on making this one life as good as I can; and contrary to Albrecht’s perspective right now, that won’t be at other people’s expense.”
“Maybe his looks are more of a challenge, than a blessing.....” Behrens commented, quietly.
“Many times its a curse for people; because others cut them too much slack, making things so easy that they never learn to work at relationships. Then they never learn what's really important. I have an idea. Be there for him, but have him come to you when things don’t work out with others - so you can guide him onto a better path. Remember, he should be looking up to you - not the other way around. You’re the responsible one.”
“But he takes it out on me when things like this don’t work out. He’s intolerable today, because of you.”
“Then walk away from him. Its not your responsibility. I may be the biggest asshole on the planet; but that's not your fault, is it?”
“Nope.”
“Then say so. And if he persists in blaming you for someone, or something, that’s totally beyond your control......like me.....then he’s abusing you; and its not healthy for you to be with him. Care enough about yourself Behrens to walk away from assholes. Give them lots of chances if you want to, I do. But once they prove themselves as not being responsible with you, run. Not walk, not saunter away, run. They’ll only take you down, believe me.”
“Thanks, so much Tom.”
“No problem. I think you’re a great person. And I have to apologize to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I fell for Albrecht’s charms when we first met, and I only got to know you by default. I took you both at face value. He was charming, you were grumpy. You’ve reminded me, yet again, that appearances are often deceiving. I guess, like anyone else, I like to believe that all people try to project the truth about themselves.”
“Now that's naïve!”
“Yeah, in some ways; but I still believe that Albrecht wants to be the person he projects, he just doesn’t want to exert the effort to make it real, or doesn‘t know how. He’s begun to believe his own bullshit, and he’s mad at me because I held up a mirror that he couldn’t ignore. And I gotta tell you, there’s another reason to remain naïve. When you take people for what they project themselves to be, sometimes you’re rewarded with the best feelings under the sun. There are a few who really are what they say they are; and they’re so special that you feel like you’re in heaven while with them. If you aren’t totally true to yourself, you’ll easily miss them; because being true to themselves, and nice for real, is what makes them such a pleasure to be around. I guess that's why I like the real Tibetan monks. For example, on this trip I met a great guy from
“Thanks Thomas, I appreciate your time.”
“No problem. You have a good trip, o.k.? You have my email address. Don’t forget to email me pictures of Anna Suga, o.k.?” Tom said, as he shook Behren’s hand for the last time.
“Will do. See you,” Behrens said, with a tear in his eye.
**********************
Tom packed his bag slowly, taking his time readying for the day’s journey. His destination was a short hike to Kagbeni. His guide map called for a one day rest in Muktinath, after the arduous trip over Thorung Pass; but he wanted to keep moving.....however slowly....towards completion of his Trek. After his talk with Behrens, and upon returning to his room, he felt suddenly sad. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the altitude changes, the attitude discussion, or simply exhaustion. But even though he was bone tired, he felt it was better to slow down, rather than to stop fully. As melancholy threatened to overcome him, he threw on his pack and walked out of his room. In the hallway, he nearly ran over Albrecht who was returning from the showers. Albrecht grunted hello, but invited no conversation. Tom didn’t press a discussion either, and walked past him quickly and downstairs. He didn’t want Albrecht to bring him further down than he already felt. So many people had let him down on his Trek that he felt cautious about striking up any new travel relationships.
“Too many hang-ups, and too immature,” was his commentary on that issue, as he entered the common room of his guesthouse.
There, he ran into Sandra; whom he’d named ’Sherpa Girl,’ to immortalize the image of her in the goofy wool hat that she wore while hiking. She was a nice, if secretive, young woman from
“Hey, Thomas. How are you doing? Traveling alone again today?”
“Yep, just a short hike today. Don’t want to sit around and let my muscles seize up. You know how hard it is for us old men!” he laughed.
“Old man, huh. Damn, none of these supposed studs could keep up with you! I’m off today too, to Kagbeni. There’s a good guesthouse there. A Red Lantern, or something, that the guide book says is really good. Its right on the old Kaligandaki Riverbed, and at the entrance to the Kingdom of Mustang.”
“Where are you going after that?”
“
“Why there?”
“Its one of the most holiest places for Tibetan Pilgrims, and I’m working on a book. People go round and round it, counterclockwise many times, to earn Dharma points.”
“I’m not sure they refer to them as ‘Dharma points,’” he said as tactfully as possible, while grinning. “I think it’s referred to as ‘gaining merit,’ for engaging in exercises of extreme self discipline. Pilgrimages can last years, and prostration at holy places gains merit, as does circumambulation. That’s what it’s called. The Hindus do it too, around their temples; and if you go the wrong way, they get kind of upset. By the way, I hope you have a character in your book for me!”
“Oh I do, and you’re some character! Half the guys think you’re gay; yet they want to have sex with everyone, and don’t understand why we don’t want to jump into bed with them. They get mad if I don’t have sex with them, why should they treat you differently? Besides, they’re all jealous of you getting ahead of them over the pass.”
“Well that explains why some people have been so odd to me. I guess I’m no longer a person, since they think I’m fag that won’t beg to get on his knees for them. Nobody‘s gotta be nice to a fag, eh?” he laughed cynically.
“You’re right, it’s fucked up. But they’re men, what do you expect?”
“Not to be maligned.”
“Ahhh, don’t go crying now; otherwise they’ll think it’s true. Besides, you’ve got everyone talking about you. that‘s no small feat.”
“Tell ‘em all that I’m a metrosexual. That should spark some interesting discussions.”
“You’re too fun! See you later.”
“Yeah, I’ll probably stay at that place you mentioned. It sounds good. See you tonight!”
Thomas left the guesthouse, just as many other people entered the common room. Everyone was congenial, friendly, and wished him a good trip. He felt a little better after his talk with Sandra, a little less lonely. But he still felt inexplicably sad nonetheless. He walked leisurely for a couple of hours, and arrived at Kagbeni in the early afternoon. He didn’t see anyone upon entering the village, but two small children suddenly appeared and began playing in the ice-cold stream that ran through the center of the town. At first he worried about their safety, and so he played with them to watch out for them. Then they dashed wildly through the freezing waters to their mother, who suddenly appeared as magically as they had in the silent little place.
“Damn, these kids are tough!” he commented.
The ‘Red Lantern Inn’ turned out to be the Red House Lodge. Since he arrived early in the day, the place was nearly empty, and he had his pick of rooms. He chose a rooftop room, with paper thin walls made of old wooden crates, which opened to a patio-like area on the remainder of the roof. The view was incredible, as the building stood alongside the wide-open ancient riverbed that ran between the bases of two dramatic mountain ranges. There were two other rooms on the roof, one to either side of his. Eventually Sandra and her girlfriend took one, and the German couple took the other. He rested a while, walked around the village, and then took an early dinner in the common room. He ordered plenty of food, and sat alone at one of the two large tables that occupied the narrow window lined room. A large group of travelers sat at the other table, along with an impressive red-cloaked Tibetan monk. They looked at him with amusement when they saw how much food he’d ordered. Puzzled, he noticed that they had various types of food, none of which was on the limited menu.
“Hello there, what is your name?” asked the urbane Swiss woman, who was the obvious leader of the group.
“Thomas. I’m from the States.”
“So I see, as indicated by your large appetite!”
“Oh, that! I just hiked over Thorung pass yesterday, so I’m starved and could eat a cow.”
“I think you have one there.....at least,” she joked, good naturedly.
“What are you eating? It looks good, but I didn’t see it on the menu.”
“Oh my friend and I are traveling into Mustang, to visit the Tibetan school there. This good Lama is our guide. Since I’m not accustomed to the food or water here, we thought it wise to bring our own tinned food, and someone to cook for us. It’ll be an extended trip, and we’ve got to be cautious not to pick up any bugs, you know.”
“Then those are your pack mules down below?”
“Yes, it is quite an entourage when you put us all together. But do come over here, and join us. There’s no need for you to eat alone.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the invitation. I feel especially alone today for some reason. Even though I’ve been with people throughout most of my trip. I was to travel alone on my own journey into
“My, my, you do have a lot to say!”
“Sorry. I just haven’t been with many mature people for a long time, and I guess its all pent up. Most of the trekkers are 20 something's. All full of piss....“ he said catching himself quickly from repeating the potentially offensive euphemism. “Uhhhhm, full of extra energy!”
“Quite! And, even they get ill quite often - hence our safeguard for Swiss food.”
“Do you mind me asking you questions?”
“Not in the least, I find you quite amusing.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was,” she grinned, toying with him nicely.
“Like I said, I’m planning on going to
The strong, red robed, man smiled broadly and nodded in affirmation to Thomas as he introduced himself. Thomas couldn’t pronounce his name, much less remember it, but he was pleased to meet him nonetheless. The man exuded peacefulness and calm, and was affable and approachable. Tom felt none of his former nervousness in meeting someone so totally different from his culture. They had a wonderful lunch, and Tom was quite relaxed as they sat drinking their tea. Now comfortable, he was eager to ask the monk questions and learn his views.
“I’ll start with something good I did,” he thought to himself.
“I have a question of you,” he started. “I often find myself helping people to be nicer to others, but it usually ends up hurting me, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” he continued, as he went on to relate his experiences with Albrecht.
“You see from this example, that I’m trying my best; but I’m still getting hurt. It helped him, and he learned a lot; but I think he’s resentful of me. How can I do that differently, so that I don’t get trashed anymore?” he asked, naively.
He was answered by a protracted silence, where everyone at the table stared at him.
“God, what did I say or do wrong?” he wondered.
He thought that his intervention with Albrecht was a good example, and he was proud of his good efforts.....earning ‘merit,’ the best way he knew how. He expected praise for his handling of the situation. ‘Converting’ a player who hurt people, into a more thoughtful person - at great expense to himself. He didn’t expect all of his fellow hikers to understand, as they were young and absorbed with surviving and completing the arduous trek; but he expected understanding, and even compliments, from this more mature and objective group. He began to panic, as the silence stretched out. Sensing his growing distress, the Swiss woman’s friend spoke first.
“Thomas, why did you do that?” she asked bluntly, like he’d done some horribly wrong deed.
“Uggh, because it became harder and harder to be around him, and I couldn’t go on watching him hurt other people. I felt I had to stop him from continually hurting others,” he said in his defense, as the crowd continued to stare at him.
“That’s nice in a way, but what good will it do?”
“Well, he’ll think twice before hurting others again,” he replied patiently, restating the obvious.
“Will he? Or will he just get better at doing it?”
Stumped, Thomas could only reply with: “I don’t know, I hope he stops.”
Again sensing his growing upset, she smiled before completing her lesson.
“What makes you think that he really heard you? If someone isn’t aware enough to even ask the question, how can they possibly understand the answer? At best, its a waste of your breath and energy Thomas. At the worst, your advice will be misused and they‘ll just get worse. Either way, it only creates unproductive confusion. You may be further hurting a person who hurts already, and is trying to avoid his hurt by attempting to pass it onto others.”
Leveled by her observation, Thomas nonetheless feebly tried to defend his actions.
“But he was hurting people, myself included; and I stopped him. If nobody told him he was hurting people, he’d keep doing it. I’d like to know if I were screwing up and hurting people without knowing it, wouldn‘t you? I think it takes strength to stand up to the assholes, and to let them know that what they’re doing isn’t right, and it doesn’t work. If they see it doesn’t work, they’ll stop for that reason alone.....even if they don’t care about their behavior. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”
“In a way Thomas,” interjected the older Swiss woman. “Your intentions were good, but she’s right. Who are you to decide who is right and wrong? Maybe you are trying to take your pain at being hurt, and putting back on them? Is that a good idea?“
Stunned by his leveling, Thomas couldn’t reply. He was tired, and now frustrated. He thought that he’d done the best thing anyone could do, going above and beyond duty. He had expecting praise for his efforts, and he was shocked that he got derision in return. He turned shades of red in embarrassment, and felt like a fool. Seeing his obvious discomfiture, and his sincere although misdirected efforts, the older women continued.
“Thomas, its o.k.. You’ve said what you had to, and tried to help out. That’s enough, isn’t it? Is there anything else anyone can do to control his future behavior?”
“No,” he said sheepishly.
“You’re right, its up to him. By telling him you’ve done your best in helping him out, and now can let go of it all....him, and ego pride included.”
“I guess you’re right. I’m not letting go of my pain by punishing the people who inflict it on others. Where I convinced myself that I was helping others, I was just passing along my hurt onto the abuser.”
“You went out of your way to do a good thing; but if you continue to press it, you wouldn’t be. I can see that you’re a very caring and thoughtful person. Let that be a good example to others, rather than trying to be their parent.”
“Bingo, you got me on that,” he laughed. “My reputation in
“Now you see. Just remember, everyone must follow their own path. And our paths are ultimately chosen, and followed, alone. Accept that, and be encouraged that they’ll find their way.....even if it takes a few lifetimes.”
“Yes, and although humbling, I appreciate your feedback. It helps me a lot,” Tom replied sincerely. “Especially knowing I’m on the right track. I’m just a little overzealous. That‘s an easy one to fix.”
“Honestly, your energy is quite a shock to us all. After months among the monks, we haven’t been exposed to the onslaught of the ‘whiteface’ for a long time,” interjected the young woman, a bit harshly.
“Well look in a mirror, I think you’re a ‘whiteface’ too,” responded Tom testily, still chafing from his scolding. “The last time I heard that term was from a pretentious British woman who felt excluded from Indian society. I’d watch that one.”
“There you go again!” laughed the older Swiss woman.
“Give me a little time, o.k.?” he laughed. “You know, ‘it’s hard to teach old dogs new tricks,’ eh?”
“That’s for sure, Thomas. Oh no, here comes a large crew for food,” she commented as ten Trekkers, Sandra included, burst through the door boisterously.
“Yeah, and from what I know of them, you’re in for a big dose of ‘whiteface onslaught,’” Tom joked.
After a Texan girl chastised the woman who owned the guesthouse for not having hamburgers and apple pie, and the brash guys had a few beers in them, the Swiss group and their Lama guide tactfully retired from the room.
“Here’s my email, Thomas. Please keep in touch.”
“Thank you, I will. Seriously, I do appreciate all of your help and advice. Never hold that back from me, o.k.? Is that good enough of a question to get an answer?”
“It certainly is. I can see now that you are quite different than most other people, you’re sincerely trying very hard to follow a healthy path. We could use more ‘whitefaces’ like that, eh?” she said, as she inclined her head towards the obnoxious girl from
“Now you know how much of a relief you guys were to me, and why I was so intense. Most of this group, that girl especially, are stressed out. They‘ve lots of things and little understanding for life. They’re just exhibiting their angst. It’s not that they mean to be so emotionally brutal. In fact, they’re trying their best not to be, they just have few good examples to emulate - and those are often discredited. This is what I see and live around all the time; so its hard for me to not do anything, when something small can mean such a big positive change....if they’re able to listen.”
“Yes, I see. You’re much stronger than I, in doing what you do. We have the added disadvantage of being secluded from Western culture for so long. It feels so serene to live with the Tibetans that we’ve forgotten the conflicts of Western societies. This is Samsara, Thomas: the continual cycle of pain and suffering that we foster through our selfish lives, if we don’t make a conscious effort to do otherwise. It’s going to be a big adjustment going home, I can see that now,” she ended, woefully. “Our wonderful time here is coming to an end, and while I look forward to being in a cleaner and safer place, this is an emotionally safer place.....even though its a hundred times more physically harsh. Can you conceive of the gulf that implies between our cultures?”
“Unfortunately, I can. That’s why I’m looking forward to my time in
“Well I hate to say, but
“Good travels,” Tom replied, as she walked away sadly.
“What was all that about, Thomas?” asked Sandra, loudly. “Who are they? Does that monk ever talk? Why did they have dinner with you, and leave after we arrived? People are so weird around here, nobody says anything.”
“Sometimes saying nothing is the nicest thing we can do. How about a beer, and I’ll answer all your questions?” he replied patiently, and smiled to himself.
©Tibet,
***************
©Tibet, Lamplight Unto a Darkened World…the American Delusion, a Parody of life ( L'illusion Américaine, une Parodie de Vie); is copyright protected, by author, Patrick Mahoney. Online Internet Reproduction/Propagation/Quotation Encouraged, with this citation. Any Printed reproduction, other than for personal reading, requires written permission by author, patrickm at http://patrickm.gather.com/ or patrick1000000000@yahoo.com
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