Breathless in Bolivia

        Huffing and puffing is what we did mostly during our six day hike in the Bolivian Andes. The peaks and surrounding plateaus and lakes paint a tapestry of awe, jaw dropping beauty woven together by the threads of the mountain ranges crisscrossed by its hardy peoples and fauna. The three days of 'acclimatization' we did in La Paz, seemingly evaporated in a day-long trudge alongside llamas, some sticking their tongues out as if sneering at us :)  

       End of Day 1 at the refugio felt certainly like our last day in the mountains! Why continue this self-inflicted pain, while we can instead be goofing with props in the salt flats - Salar de Uyuni or be dazzled by the colors and sounds of the Amazon jungle in the lowlands. As our thoughts drifted into this stupor, our guide and cook jolted us back to life with boiling cups of mate de coca (Coca tea).  A bowl of quinoa soup with vegetables fills in for appetizer and main course and we settled into night 1 of a week-long sleepless penance in the Altiplano. 

      In come a village of the Aymara people, and they file orderly around the dinner table and on the floor of the refugio, men, women and children. They shared a meal of mostly boiled potatoes and some fish over pondering of the day's happenings and mis-happenings marked by quiet laughter . without wasting a minute, they cleaned up and turned in for the night. As we learned over the next week, the Aymara (indigenous mountain people) of the Andes lead a hardy subsistence comprising of farming at high-altitude in nutrient-poor soils and herding llamas and sheep.

     Over centuries, the Aymara have endured and suffered invasions by the Incas, the Conquistadors  but now the modern-day plague of environmental disasters and climate-change induced droughts, displacements have challenged their livelihood like no other. They share the common humiliation and discrimination that spans the narratives of indigenous people across the globe. The people that revere the land they tread on, the people that live in harmony with nature, tread lightly, are trampled upon the most by the depravity and seemingly self-defeating advances of modern civilization, like in most countries. 

    Our cook Felix was stumped when we first announced we prefer vegetarian food and he couldn't wipe the confused look off his face for the whole week. He was challenged immensely to cook us different veg meals, settling on the same quinoa soup with veggies(potatoes) everyday and the saving grace for all of us was the tiny bottle of hot salsa we picked up at the supermarket in La Paz prior to start of the trek. A few drops in the bowl and the transformation almost made converts of both Felix and mountain-guide Rudy!! They were the first to reach for the bottle at every meal, albeit sheepishly and were crushed when we ran out a full day before the end of our trip. Enuf said abt the trail food :) Felix is Aymara himself, but he seems to have descended rapidly much further along from the basic rehydrated potatoes and fish diet of his people.

     Our itinerary took us through some incredible scenery comprising glaciers, the notable among them being Condoriri or Kunturiri(head of the Condor), mountain passes, lakes inc laguna Khotia, Ajuani, Sistana, Jurikhota and the peaks - Pico Austria, Condoriri and Potosi. These are in the west, part of the Cordillera Real range which is 125 km length of solitude, snow fields and granite walls. The hiking seemed like the most challenging we've done on account of the unforgiving altitude but the views equally rewarding. I tried to project glimpses from the BBC series (I had seen as a kid) 'The Flight of the Condor' on to the vistas we encountered but alas, what we saw was missing both abundant ice and wildlife, lost to a mere four decades of 'advancing' civilization and  climate change. It was a 3 part juggernaut of a nature series from the 80s that spotlighted the Andes, the coast & Atacama desert and the jungle(Amazon) in each of the parts. Those scenes from the documentary, forever etched on my mind are mere snapshots of 'what once was' contrasted with our trip, a 'what is today', though still stark and stunning.

     Evo Morales, the first Bolivian president of Aymara descent passed some landmark laws uplifting indigenous voices and in 2010, enshrining Mother Earth's rights to clean air, water, biodiversity, and the like. He proclaimed “Humanity can either save capitalism or our Mother Earth". But as we continue to learn the lesson to this day- nothing is binary. Binary is not a choice, our choices aren't binary and life itself is a lot more complex and the solutions and approach need more nuance.

      After the hike, we spent a couple of days in Isla del Sol, the island on Lake Titicaca,  which sits atop the Andean plateau bordering Peru and Bolivia at 12,500 feet. So we resumed our drifting among the clouds, enjoying the company of several donkeys with toothy smiles. Sunrises/Sunsets are spectacular here, evoking the island's Incan Gods in a divine dance of light rays. 

     We carried on chewing coca leaves to counter the effects of the altitude and life choices in general:) Coca leaves are harmless and a mild stimulant, contrary to what the DEA would have you believe, classifying it under the Schedule II list of substances. Schedule II, my foot! Coca leaves are loaded with  vitamins and iron. The leaves' benefits are many and constitute a giant miss by the authorities with its misguided war on drugs, being fruitlessly waged for decades now. For more on this topic, check out the National geographic anthropologist Wade Davis' essay titled 'Divine Leaf of Immortality' on coca leaves and the accompanying cultural suppression.

     One last day in La Paz, which is a study in contrast between its indigenous traditions and modern urban life. Telefericos or cable cars traverse the dizzying heights of the canyon walls that the city is laid upon. Surrounded by the peaks of the Illimani, it paints an imposing picture of an ancient culture leaning into modern conveniences, while keeping its soul intact and colorful. To discover Bolivia's culinary range beyond the 'quinoa soup con potatoes' prepared by chef Felix, we chanced upon 'Gustu', an ambitious restaurant project by the co-founder of the hugely popular 'Noma' of Copenhagen. It was revelatory, a blend of ingredients and flavors from the Amazon, the highlands, and the farmlands. The kitchen staff were all bubbly, aspiring local youth ready to experiment and blew our minds and taste buds but not the wallet! 

     We left, as always humbler for the peek into the unrivalled grandeur of the Andes mountains and the beautiful people who worship and safeguard the "Earth Mother", Pachamama🙏

Juxtapositions in jetlag

 The first few days back from our annual visit to India have become an all too familiar drag. My dazed thoughts ping pong between the quiet hums of emptiness which we instantly become aware of here and the loud but lively chaos of home (ahem former home) - Chennai. Heck it wasn't even called that when we were growing up here. It was our dear Madras, fashioned as such by our former homies, the Brits. we were blissfully oblivious to colonial names, mid day heat and hordes of people. Instead, my memories of childhood - drifting through the trees of IIT endlessly searching for woodapples, soodukottai (for scorching unsuspecting friends with ..) , gulmohar flowers to munch on, neem fruits to bite into and spit amid a backdrop of the very things I avoid as an adult now - oppressive mid-day heat and crowds. I once again pine for some 'noise'. Be it sounds of horns honking, dogs barking through the night, loudspeakers blaring devotional tunes at ungodly hours and at decibel levels that would annoy even the most forgiving of our many Gods :)  

My morning run today fades into a meditative recollection of the numerous characters I encounter on daily runs on the streets of Neelankarai. Including the aging and humungous 'foreign' breed dog laboring through its morning walk goaded on by his handler with a lathi in hand, trailed by jeering street dogs. The few times my eyes met the dogs', he seemed to moan 'what the heck am I doing in sultry Chennai, take me home'. The middle aged man chanting 'Om Nama Siva..' loudly as he made hasty work of his morning ritual walk. The many stray dogs that adopted the various homes that lined the streets, judging people and pet dogs alike while fiercely guarding their territories from other strays who felt equally entitled. The cat Kalyani that belonged to the fishing folk who lived nearby and has raised several generations of a feline family tree that could rival the entire population of small towns in America in sheer numbers. On this most recent visit, I learnt she moved to a nearby neighborhood to start a new 'township' or maybe cult this time. Leaving the current digs to her trusted daughter. The sleepy cow that ambled through the cross street, always seemed to have missed the morning call to milk on cue and also appearing to pray for mercy for her tardiness. The murder of crows atop the power lines plotting their next meal which typically ranged from upma(breakfast porridge) to curd rice (rice with yogurt) to left over biryani packets to unlucky sewer rats that float up as bloated carcasses by the road side. The dude who is adorned in branded clothing from head (band) to foot(wear) and swinging his arms so wide, he is tantalizingly close to taking out fellow walkers or joggers who come anywhere near him. The groups or gangs of people who maybe friends or colleagues gossiping as they walk together, adamantly walking side by side enveloping the entire stretch of road, creating bottlenecks and stranding other morning warriors in infuriating run-ins and 'traffic-jams'. I could go on about the actors on feet alone but I must also acknowledge the people on cycles (tea vendors, trash pickers, and so on), motorbikes, cars, school buses, all vanishing through the morning fog like Jason Bourne in a market in Marrakesh. 

At the end of this sensory overload of a morning run, I get ready to indulge in a piping hot south-Indian filter kaapi(coffee), but alas it is the American Mr. Joe Cuppa heralding what promises to be another quiet, boring day filled with routine and minutiae. But I feel comforted knowing I can always close my eyes anytime and revisit the colorful denizens of my fatherland. 

Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address - Greetings to the Natural World

Thanksgiving holiday traces its origins to the early 1620s when the Pilgrims invited the Wampanoag (Native American people), who originally taught the settlers how to grow corn, squash among other produce, to a feast to celebrate a successful harvest. A few centuries removed from those days, the human civilization has been on a tear of development and progress at great cost to the natural world. The rampant logging, the mining, the mega-dams and mountains of plastic have ravaged already fragile ecosystems across the planet. And here we are debating if we can cap temperature rise by one and half degrees and how. We have alienated mother nature beyond measure, subjected native people to incalculable suffering and destroyed our own sense of belonging to a shared community of all living beings and ecological balance. 

Perhaps this year, when we give thanks to loved ones around us, we reassess our place on this planet and with a sense of humility and commitment to making a change, taking guidance from Indigenous people who inhabit pockets all around the world. They have always understood the profound connection to nature, respected it, and lived in harmony and abided by the principle of taking only what they need from this earth. 

    A good place to start our recalibration is the lovely book Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer about “Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of the Plants.” I'd argue that it has to be part of mandatory school curriculum giving our next generation the right perspective on science and nature. The author passionately narrates the Haudenosaunee’s Thanksgiving Address which is a stirring and evoking reminder of the various elements that enable our very being. The Haudenosaunee are Indigenous people from the Central region of present day New York State. Written in Onondaga language Ms. Kimmerer (a member of the Potawatomi Nation herself) explains that the Thanksgiving Address "is far more than a pledge, a prayer or a poem alone, it is at heart an invocation of gratitude . . . a material, scientific inventory of the natural world." It invokes the “ancient order of protocols” which “sets gratitude as the highest priority.” She says that “as it goes forward, each element of the ecosystem is named in its turn, along with its function. It is a lesson in Native science.” 

Reflect on it as you read or recite this address and let it bring you a sense of belonging and fill your heart with love and gratitude. 

Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address Greetings to the Natural World 

 The People 

 Today we have gathered and we see that the cycles of life continue. We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things. So now, we bring our minds together as one as we give greetings and thanks to each other as people. 

Now our minds are one.

 

The Earth Mother 

 We are all thankful to our Mother, the Earth, for she gives us all that we need for life. She supports our feet as we walk about upon her. It gives us joy that she continues to care for us as she has from the beginning of time. To our mother, we send greetings and thanks. 

Now our minds are one. 

 The Waters 

 We give thanks to all the waters of the world for quenching our thirst and providing us with strength. Water is life. We know its power in many forms- waterfalls and rain, mists and streams, rivers and oceans. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the spirit of Water. 

Now our minds are one. 

 The Fish 

 We turn our minds to all the Fish life in the water. They were instructed to cleanse and purify the water. They also give themselves to us as food. We are grateful that we can still find pure water. So, we turn now to the Fish and send our greetings and thanks. Now our minds are one. 

 The Plants 

 Now we turn toward the vast fields of Plant life. As far as the eye can see, the Plants grow, working many wonders. They sustain many life forms. With our minds gathered together, we give thanks and look forward to seeing Plant life for many generations to come. 

Now our minds are one.

 The Food Plants 

 

With one mind, we turn to honor and thank all the Food Plants we harvest from the garden. Since the beginning of time, the grains, vegetables, beans and berries have helped the people survive. Many other living things draw strength from them too. We gather all the Plant Foods together as one and send them a greeting of thanks. 

Now our minds are one. 

 The Medicine Herbs 

 

Now we turn to all the Medicine herbs of the world. From the beginning they were instructed to take away sickness. They are always waiting and ready to heal us. We are happy there are still among us those special few who remember how to use these plants for healing. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the Medicines and to the keepers of the Medicines. 

Now our minds are one. 

 The Animals 

 We gather our minds together to send greetings and thanks to all the Animal life in the world. They have many things to teach us as people. We are honored by them when they give up their lives so we may use their bodies as food for our people. We see them near our homes and in the deep forests. We are glad they are still here and we hope that it will always be so. 

Now our minds are one 

 The Trees 

 

We now turn our thoughts to the Trees. The Earth has many families of Trees who have their own instructions and uses. Some provide us with shelter and shade, others with fruit, beauty and other useful things. Many people of the world use a Tree as a symbol of peace and strength. With one mind, we greet and thank the Tree life. 

Now our minds are one. 

 The Birds 

 

We put our minds together as one and thank all the Birds who move and fly about over our heads. The Creator gave them beautiful songs. Each day they remind us to enjoy and appreciate life. The Eagle was chosen to be their leader. To all the Birds-from the smallest to the largest-we send our joyful greetings and thanks. 

Now our minds are one. 

 The Four Winds 

 We are all thankful to the powers we know as the Four Winds. We hear their voices in the moving air as they refresh us and purify the air we breathe. They help us to bring the change of seasons. From the four directions they come, bringing us messages and giving us strength. With one mind, we send our greetings and thanks to the Four Winds. 

Now our minds are one.

The Thunderers  

Now we turn to the west where our grandfathers, the Thunder Beings, live. With lightning and thundering voices, they bring with them the water that renews life. We are thankful that they keep those evil things made by Okwiseres underground. We bring our minds together as one to send greetings and thanks to our Grandfathers, the Thunderers.  

Now our minds are one.  

The Sun  

We now send greetings and thanks to our eldest Brother, the Sun. Each day without fail he travels the sky from east to west, bringing the light of a new day. He is the source of all the fires of life. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Brother, the Sun.   

Now our minds are one.   

Grandmother Moon  

We put our minds together to give thanks to our oldest Grandmother, the Moon, who lights the night-time sky. She is the leader of woman all over the world, and she governs the movement of the ocean tides. By her changing face we measure time, and it is the Moon who watches over the arrival of children here on Earth. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Grandmother, the Moon.  

Now our minds are one.  

The Stars 

We give thanks to the Stars who are spread across the sky like jewelry. We see them in the night, helping the Moon to light the darkness and bringing dew to the gardens and growing things. When we travel at night, they guide us home. With our minds gathered together as one, we send greetings and thanks to the Stars.  

Now our minds are one.  

The Enlightened Teachers 

We gather our minds to greet and thank the enlightened Teachers who have come to help throughout the ages. When we forget how to live in harmony, they remind us of the way we were instructed to live as people. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to these caring teachers.  

Now our minds are one.  

The Creator 

Now we turn our thoughts to the Creator, or Great Spirit, and send greetings and thanks for all the gifts of Creation. Everything we need to live a good life is here on this Mother Earth. For all the love that is still around us, we gather our minds together as one and send our choicest words of greetings and thanks to the Creator.  

Now our minds are one.   

Closing Words 

Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address Greetings to the Natural World We have now arrived at the place where we end our words. Of all the things we have named, it was not our intention to le ave anything out. If something was forgotten, we leave it to each individual to send such greetings and thanks in their own way. 

Now our minds are one

Of shellcasings and bunkers in the land of milk and honey

    Tramping through the last patch of forest towards the end of Day 7 we are in anticipation of what the next guesthouse was going to bring. Every evening, capping a day of hiking along the pristine 'peaks of the Balkans' trail, stepping into the rest stop was like unwrapping a xmas present :) We could not have predicted the experience @ Guesthouse Shqiponja in the Drelaj village. The Shala family runs it and the senior Osman Shala had a personal war journal which was subsequently published and in the forms of books we all could take in. Flipping through with trembling hands, you are transported to the horrors of the not-too-distant-past war that ravaged these parts. The dark history that kept the western Balkans under wraps and isolated from the rest of the world, rears its ugly head.

     Until this point, our encounters of the myriad bunkers on the trails were mostly curious photo ops. Not so much thoughts of war or divided peoples. But Mr. Shala's diary makes one confront and learn what makes people tick even in the midst of jaw-dropping beauty. The war crimes unspeakable, the scarring permanent for most who endured it. A few seemed to wear it on their faces, given all this transpired a mere 20+ years ago.. in our generation. Not a distant Nam memory or a WWII tale from grandpa. But what stood out in the 10 days we spent hiking was how resilient people are, how fast they rise back up and build livelihoods. The warmth and genuine affection they offer complete strangers, the smiles as they worked their butts off. As if only they knew all too well how blessed it is to have the moos of a cow and the baahs of sheep penetrate the cool nights in the place of artillery and gun fire. The prayer call from the mosque snapped us back to the evening and the pleasant company of fellow hikers in a cozy home. Dinner was promptly served and we are once again treated to the riches the land offers - produce from the garden, freshly baked bread and the fresh milk, cheese, curds from our company in the latter part of the hikes as we descend into valleys lined with pastures of cows and sheep.  On cue Ranga asks for chili or hot sauce only to get back an all too familiar shrug that seemed to say no and 'nice try' at the same time :) We won't get into the ifs and but ifs of the long and bloody war, complexities of the former Yugoslav territories far exceed the layers of the Flija bread! The flija bread of the Kosovo region is a labor of love, takes a few hours to bake and transports you to a special place as you peel the delicate 40 something layers and indulge in its buttery goodness. 

       As we hiked from one hut to the next and met with some of the folks who run the guesthouses, we heard tales of the visionaries and planners of the PoB or Peaks of the Balkans loop trail. Some of them we later learnt actually worked on it, like Enko and Plav Polia! After the war, they set to work on an ambitious blueprint- A 120 mile cross-border trek through the Accursed mountains (part of the Dinaric Alps) and unite people in a shared goal of establishing a spectacular hike through pristine regions while providing means to the shepherds of the region. They were convinced to open up guesthouses for the hikers, thus creating one of the most beautiful and unique experiences for people on the multi-day traverse. For decades, these mountains dotted with thousands of bunkers installed by the paranoid dictator Enver Hoxha seemed impregnable and imprisoned its own people within its giant massifs and steep gorges. These days, some of the only reminders of the past are the occasional shellcasing in the dirt.

        It truly is one of Europe's last remaining wilderness. The endangered Balkan lynx, wolves and bears are known to roam its mystic corridors. We were stoked to see the Triton newt in a few glacial lakes. These prehistoric creatures are so agile and thrive in the vegetation-rich waters. A diving rat was making their lives hard though, he would dive every few minutes, grab a newt and bring his catch to his borough on the lake shore for a quick meal and swoosh..back in the water. A couple of days, the huts are in very remote regions, basic but comfortable and most true to the sensory lode of living among livestock and the hardy people inhabiting this rugged landscape. Staying in a Kulla or a miniature stone fortress offers a peek into the traditional style of living of affluent mountain folk forged by weather, culture and need for security.  One of the highlights of the path is that it is filled with fresh, ripe berries (black, blue, rasp.. and billberries) all over, giving us purple tongues and making us unwitting seed dispersers 😜. In the valleys and close to the pastures, the way is lined with fruit trees - apricot, plum, pears and apples, all in season. These fruits go into making a potent mountain spirit called Raki or Rakia, a strong distilled liquor made with fermented fruit. It's been called the drink that unites, for good reasons that I can't seem to recall..hmmm. The slopes on the Albanian side are famed for their rich bio diverse plethora of prized herbs that bring about everything from flawless skin to eternal life. The mountain tea (Caj Mali) from some of these herbs is soothing, flavorful and an excellent starter on cold mornings. Colorful bee boxes dot villages in lieu of post boxes and produce decadent honey of varied tastes and hues, also a daily treat served with the day's dairy output. 

       Even the stray dogs seemed to inherit the fierce independence distinctive of the region. On our very first day from Theth to Valbone, over a 1000m high mountain pass, a dog from the village of Theth accompanied us all the way without so much of a hint of weariness or doubt. On the first few turns, heading out of Theth, we were convinced she would turn around and head home. But no, she was surer than us, seemed at ease and definitely pushed us too! This became the common theme over the upcoming days as we chatted with other hikers who shared similar stories. I was glad to save juicy morsels from our guesthouse meals for them keeping the 'bland' cucumbers, tomatoes and cheese for my trail lunch. The dogs wanted no part of that trio and we too shared that sentiment by Day 5 :) Oops.. did I say that out loud!

     The multi-day hike has a bit of everything - gorgeous mountain scenery shrouded in cool mist in the mornings, craggy peaks that sometimes straddle the boundaries of 3-5 countries, forests and meadows covered in a riot of flowers & insects, turquoise alpine lakes and sheer knee-shredding descents into valleys and pastures. Some of the sheep, in their unshorn splendor reminded us of Bob Marley and seemed to mime

'One love, one heart.. Let's get together and feel all right'. How apt in this place and in these times!

One love, one heart

Let's get together and feel all right

Hear the children crying (one love)

Hear the children crying (one heart)

Sayin', "Give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel all right"

Sayin', "Let's get together and feel all right"

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Let them all pass all their dirty remarks (one love)

There is one question I'd really love to ask (one heart)

Is there a place for the hopeless sinner

Who has hurt all mankind just to save his own?

Believe me

Pandemic missteps - Episode One

Among the lucky people, who are able to ride out this pandemic from home..I'm sure there are some epic tales of doing silly shit. Here is my humble contribution.

In the quest to keep fit in the absence of the usual avenues like gym, tennis, etc, the hubby and I are forced to become workout buddies and few options to do that. There is one bicycle that hasn't been used in years, one  waiting to be assembled and sitting in the box it arrived last October! Before we summoned up the right mindset to work on that project, we started to go for short runs in the neighborhood to work up a decent sweat and justify the food & beverages that were to follow during the course of the day.

Two days into the running 'regimen', hubby decides that we must mix up the scenery a bit. Sure.. as long as it isn't too far from home, as per the governor's orders and conscious of watchful eyes. We drove up to the nearest univ campus which has been evacuated to clear out all the germ-carries aka college kids. It's deserted and we feel good about ourselves. Dear hubby, who is running for the 3rd consecutive day for the very first time in his life, slows the pace a tad bit ... to a crawl. He is a good n natural athlete, just not into 'mind-numbing' running. I don't want to get ahead and lose sight of the one and only physical connection I have in the whole world now (sorry Kobe) and decide to follow 2 steps behind like an obedient doggy. 10 mins or so into the run, the campus dorms and sports venue comes into view and he looks over to assess the emptiness of it all. "Never before seen footage of deserted college campus". Feeling confident in my stride and pace, I follow suit to take in the empty scene and ..whoosh. Splaat..kaboom!

I'm splayed out on the concrete pavement wondering what hit me, super mad at Ranga who seemed pleasantly amused by why I'm licking the very pavement we are running on, while just 10 mins back, I gave a preparatory pre-run lecture on "don't touch anything. I mean nothing, not trees, not buttons to trigger walk signs, fences, nothing. Just keep your head straight, be aware and run a steady pace"!! Splotches of blood start to appear on my sweatpants and I glare at the culprit who had no business being there, right in the middle of the pavement - a fire hydrant...argghhh. Thankfully due to the lockdown, nobody else saw the Darwinian event unfold or watch me eat crow with a serving of humble pie :) Running has been a little different since then, I nearly slammed my head into a signpost while keenly watching the pavement for rouge fire hydrants and now I can't figure out what I should be looking at while running. How did I do it all these years?

Details no one asked for: It was a solid hit by metal on knee but thankfully nothing broken and no serious injury thanks to the 0 mph pace, and no visit to doc needed. Only shame and embarrassment punctuated by laughs and back to working out with the same partner and hubby the very next day. Just lot more aware of the surroundings. And I keep safety tips close to my chest, no need to lecture other adults :)

Stay tuned for the next pandemic misstep next week, that one on bicycles!

An ode to the porters of Kilimanjaro

We are here to fulfill our dream of climbing Kilimanjaro. And here you are climbing the mountain every other week to fulfill your individual dreams of becoming a farmer, becoming a tourguide, dream of becoming unshackled from the rigors and burden of hoisting us, tourists on to the mountaintop.

The irony of our dual goals is not lost on us as we scramble daily to remain dry amidst the constant downpour. Our guides tell us it's a blessing in disguise. The rain constantly recycles the freshness of the air, keeping it replenished with much needed oxygen for our starving lungs. We had the air knocked out of us just the day before we were scheduled to start our climb. In a cruel twist of fate, Kobe & his daughter Gigi and seven others were snatched too soon from us. True to mamba style, we resolved to do our best to honor Kobe and his unmatched determination to be better than the rest, better than Mike.

Rain, our constant companion in the 6-day climb, kept us wet, just uncomfortable enough to savor the day's end at the campsite. The entire crew was amazing, constantly working to dry our gear, most importantly the boots, so much so one day Afraeli, one of the team, came back to the tent with a sheepish grin and shoes that were toasty and smelled like bbq :) Chef David made the right mix of soups, carb laden pastas and meals to keep us energized and the guides shut out any talk of how we are doing pace-wise or what was ahead more than a day in front. It was simple - pole-pole and sippy sippy. Walk slow and easy, drink plenty of water throughout. And drink we did, how can there be any water left on the mountain at the rate at which we are gulping it. The wonders of diamox, the altitude adjustment meds, comes with a complementary curse -  you have to drink water constantly to let it do its thing. And that meant peeing the whole time. In the cold and wet night, we had to scramble out of the tent to pee several times. I was going to reflect on life, ponder some heavy topics during the trek and instead my mind was constantly flooded with recurring urges to pee!!  My dreams all had the same abrupt ending - I was rushing to relieve myself mid-scene. A couple of nights though, we were treated to spectacular, starry skies with the shining mountain in the backdrop.

The flora and scenery on the climb was unique, unlike anything we've experienced in diversity and shapes on any single mountain. Being so big, atleast 5 different ecological zones are thriving and each comes with it's own set of flowering plants, ground-hugging vegetation and critters. Starting with the cultivation zone on the lowlands, where crops like banana, maize and coffee are grown on the well-watered slopes, giving way to the montane forests upto about 2800m. The forests are filled with ample bird song, chatter among colobus and blue monkeys and fluttering butterflies in a canopy of wildflowers in all their tropical glory. Bearded lichen sway back and forth on tree branches and contrast with the resplendent colors and emerald green of the forest floor. Next up is the most distinctive and defining zone on the mighty mountain - the healthlands and the moorlands. Giant lobelias and towering groundsels or Dendrosenecio kilimanjari dot this landscape. Dead leaves are never shed, instead forming an insulating layer to protect the plant's core. These giant groundsels are a study in evolution nurtured by the mountain over the course of hundreds of thousands of years. White-necked ravens seemed like they tagged on from home, keeping us familiar company and at times the only life in sight amid misty and dreamy curves along the trail. Scenes from LOTR and 'the never ending story' drift in my head as we amble along the ethereal slopes and valleys that dominate days 2 and 3.

 Now the end of day 3 was a tale in itself. The itinerary calls for a long day's hike upto Lava tower which stands at 15000 and some feet for acclimatization before descending to Baraanco camp at a much lower 13000 ft. On our way down from Lava tower, things turned chaotic. We heard several guides shouting warnings in Swahili at the top of their lungs amid loud, crashing noises. A group ahead of us was crossing over a raging stream made turbid by months of incessant rain when suddenly there were calls to stop. A massive landslide got set off along what was now a violent river and boulders the size of buildings came crashing down. We were in shock and watching the spectacle unfold. The group that was crossing was splintered in half and the other half was stranded with the rest of us on this side of the mountian. Nature's fury unfolded righ before our eyes for a good 40 mins or so and finally some of the guides collectively decided to turn back. A smaller stream that we had just crossed a short while back turned into it's own horror show of a landslide and rocks came crashing down there as well. We were caught in between the dueling slides and I could hear fleetwood mac ominously singing landslide at our group funeral! Another 30 mins later, this slide subsided and water began to flow once again in the place of rocks. We made our way back up the punishing steep slope once again to the top of Lava tower. We had pretty much given up on forward progress at that point and were resigned to getting off the mountain in one piece, albeit a few days earlier. Our guide Joseph, who is a study in patience and cool proved his grasp of the mountian and it's varied moods. Rather than continue retreat like some of the other groups, he chose to wait and wait.

And it paid off, the mountain eventually calmed down and some of the porters from our group who had crossed over came back to assure us things are well once again. We were heaved across the once scary chasm and made it to camp in moonlight and pensive silence. What a relief!

One of the highlights of the hike, is the scramble up Barranco wall which was shaped by violent lava shearing and collapsing a side of the mountain. Several hugs and kisses to the wall later and helped at times by our guides who helped bridge my 5 foot reach across wider breaks in the jagged wall, we reached the top of the wall followed by Karanga camp for the evening. This is in highland desert territory, all the way till 5000m. The landscape is barren and alien like Mars. This eventually gives way to the arctic zone, marked by scree, snow and the last vestiges of the glaciers.

Switching gears to the team that makes it all happen. Our group was two guides, Joseph and Ismail aka Suma, a cook - David, a guide-in-apprenticeship MBaeni and 10 porters with each porter limited to carrying 20 kilos on his/her back. Yes, there are the occasional female porters too. Recent rules established by the union has brought some welcome changes to the climbing tours and conditions of the porters and are enforced very rigidly by the authorities at the gates where we set off. The porters in their stride like gazelles, sprint at unbelievable speeds while at the same time balancing the heavy loads on their shoulders or heads. They set off last after breaking down camp every morning and are all magically set up and ready when we reach the next campsite in the evening - majji moto (hot water) in hand and wide smiles masking a hard day's work. At the outset, we felt like the sheer size of the group was over the top. Not like we were breaking a pioneering path along a never before trodden mountain and we are used to carrying all our stuff in our backpacks in our forays in the wilderness. But our guides assured us, this is all 'good' income for the locals and not to worry ourselves guilty about what seemed like needless luxury - a portable toilet for ourselves, hot food for every meal, warm water bottles to tuck in our sleeping bags to keep us warm in the freezing nights and a dedicated customer rep of sorts among the crew to tend to any request we had! In short, we were pampered and kept in good spirits the whole time.

Day 6 and we arrived early at the last camp before summit, at Barafu - an elevation of 15,000 ft. Nervous and anxious, we plan all the details, our attire, food and hydration. Took around 20 mins to put on 4 layers of clothes on the top and another four on the bottom and turn ourselves into stuffed dolls ready for a night on the cold slopes. Rain had turned into snow that afternoon and promptly at midnight after downing another hot porridge made miraculously at that ungodly hour at that ungodly elevation, we set off. Lines of headlamps snake around the dark edges the whole time and 6 hours later, welcome streaks of red dawn broke through the sky revealing a snowy mountaintop cloaked in sheer, blinding white.  Mawenzi, one of the three peaks (Kibo and Shira are the other two) is stunning in the morning light and our muted trudge continues till Stella point. It's a few hundred feet from here till Uhuru peak, 'Freedom' in Swahili. A quick history on the name Uhuru Peak aka Freedom Peak. The peak was named Uhuru in 1961 to celebrate the independence of then Tanganyika from British colonial rule. An army officer climbed to the top of the moutain and hoisted the national flag at the peak. Tanganyika later joined together with Zanzibar islands to form Tanzania.


After about 45 mins along the rim, between glacier on one side and the crater on the other, we make it to the said point of Freedom, the roof of the great continent of Africa. Note in hand proclaiming our love for Kobe, we take a few pics and murmur silent goodbyes to Mamba. On our way down, gazing at the deceptive snowcover, it's hard not to draw parallels between the dwindling and scarce glaciers atop Kili to the fate of the entire planet balanced precariously in our bungling hands. Are more mountains on this beautiful earth, going to turn into brown ghosts of their former snowy glory? Creating in turn arid, desolate foothills that were once thriving and rich ecosystems sustaining abundant life now only existing in lore. Will the elephant herds of Amboselli fade away into mere images in coffeetable books and relegated to the history channel :( The rapture of monkeys and birds in the forest below dispel the foggy thought and the entire team breaks into the customary Kilimanjaro song at the base. More Mambo-Jambo-Abari-NZuri till we reach the gate and Hakuna matata for now.

Mamba...out!

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Greetings earthlings!
Every 4 years, around mid-June most of the planet goes into soccer frenzy while the US keeps itself strangely entertained with the NBA draft, summer picnics and graduations! FIFA world Cup 2018 is underway and the host country Russia's mascot for the games  is the goal-scoring wolf, Zabivaka.

But the true animal ambassador this year, is the soothsayer/mouse-slayer/museum-dweller cat Achilles. He resides in the St. Petersburg museum and has been designated the official psychic. He predicts the victors by choosing between two bowls of treats with flags above them. Check him out in action here:

http://www.bbc.com/capital/story/20180613-how-algorithms-predict-the-winners-of-the-world-cup

I have a prediction too - with all the picking left to do, Achilles is going to be packing on some pounds before the world cup ends!