Chola Shan-main route

Day 1- Chengdu to Bamei -Today was a driving day. Left Chengdu at about 8:00am going west past Wolong Panda Preserve and the Siguniangshan area. We were held up by highway construction, while the workers blasted the hillsides. -By lunch time we were approaching a region where the Yi minorities live. We reached an altitude of 4300m when we went over Balang Shan pass. The scenery resembled that of Colorado’s only a lot more grandiose. Instead of millionaire condo’s and weekend homes speckling the hillsides it was rural Yi villages. We continued west past the Yi and reached the region dominated by the Chiang (Tibetans). The culture and architecture was now all Tibetan. We reached our destination at about 9:30pm. Bamei is a sleepy Tibetan town surrounded by rolling green hillsides. The people wore there traditional outfits that they have worn for centuries teeming with color and pattern. The faces were dark red, and leathery in appearance due to generations of exposure to high altitude sun. -A true highlight of the day would be waking up in the middle of the night, feeling my way through the pitch black courtyard of our guesthouse, squatting over a hole cut in the middle of wooden planks and having a diarrhea episode. This continued throughout the night and into the morning when I was then joined by Chinese climbing mates. Three of us side by side squatting with nothing separating us; it was a good way to get acquainted with my new climbing partners. Day 2- Ganze and Maniganghen -We continued west in our little van for another full day. We passed infinite rolling green hills dotted with Tibetan villages perched on the hillsides. Prayer flags worn by weather were placed along mountain passes, bridges, and certain hillsides thought to be holy. Occasionally we would see thousands of colorful prayer flags placed layer upon layer changing the green hillside into a Christmas tree of color. -We stopped at an open-air market in Ganze to purchase our food supplies for the duration of our expedition. Jon Otto negotiated most everything but we all had our own small missions within the bustling street market. TJ and I were to buy 60 eggs and pack them adequately for the horse ride into base camp. After about an hour we had enough smoked pork, vegetables, and fruit to last 8 guys for 8 days. The local Tibetans of Ganze thought we were a real spectacle with our van packed to the ceiling with climbing equipment and food. -Ganze was an amazing scene; narrow streets bustling with activity; Buddhist monks in tattered orange and maroon robes, Tibetan cowboys wearing robe type things and cowboy hats, women with braided hair dangling to their wastes. The women would braid in colorful strands of ribbon and large turquoise beads. Some women had small brass ornaments with a large piece of turquoise in the middle set off kilter on their head. Women and men alike sport numerous rings, necklaces, and earrings. Although very 3rd world in appearance the people of Ganze and western Sichuan are beautiful. Ganze had a certain quality to it, having not been tainted to the slightest degree by western culture. -Maniganghen is where we slept for the night. Upon arrival I left the group and wandered into a narrow and muddy ally while greeting people with a smile and the words, “Tashi Deli” (hello). I came upon a white temple adorned with thousands of prayer flags. I stared at it for awhile until I was joined by a local woman. She smiled and gestured with her hands. She was absolutely beautiful, not in the attractive way but in a completely peaceful, untainted, spiritual way. She could not speak Mandarin or English but it did not matter that we could not communicate. Being in her presence seemed almost like a dream. Being with her at that temple surrounded my tattered prayer flags made me realize I had finally escaped both Western and Han Chinese influences. -I closed the night with about 10 violent bouts of diarrhea, stomach cramps, and vomiting that left me in tears. I layed sleepless wallowing in thoughts of expedition failure as I clutched my stomach. Day 3- Maniganghen to Base camp -I woke up feeling a bit better. I ate some bland mantou and a Clif bar and it settled well. The morning was spent practicing prussic exercises in the wooden scaffolding of a nearby building. Villagers quickly surrounded us and took turns inspecting our colorful climbing equipment. -By noon we had driven to the trailhead of Ganhaizi Lake which would eventually lead us towards our base camp. We hired local porters and horses to assist us in carrying our equipment to base camp. Altogether there were about 7 men, 5 women, 10 horses, 2 dogs in addition to the eight of us and all of our equipment and food. They were just as interested in our colorful gear as we were in their indigenous attire. We stuffed our gear in burlap sacks and dangled them on either side of the horse as counterweight. These porters were new to the job so they had to be coaxed the entire way. I rode a horse carrying all the plastic boots and ice axes. The axes dug into my leg along the ride but later I found out they were also digging into the side of my horse leaving a small spot of blood on his white coat. One of the porters seemed aloof yet more astute then the others. I made an effort to speak to him in Chinese and he immediately took a liking to me. Like many on the porters he would not let anybody ride his horse. But he always made sure I was on the back of his horse for the river crossings. His name was Lago. For a short spell I hiked behind two of the females. They kept laughing and looking back as we scrambled our way up the rocks. They stopped occasionally and picked little berries off ground shrubs and offered me some. I accepted them but secretly threw them out while they weren’t looking. I didn’t want to take any chances after my previous days episodes. They happily ate and laughed while the horses carried the burden. The rest of the scramble to base camp was too difficult for horses. We tied up the horses and the porters loaded the gear on their backs. They used handmade ropes to lash the equipment onto their backs. My teammates hiked ahead while Jon Otto and I stayed behind to coax the porters along. One of the older men finally stopped and asked for more money to haul his load. Jon Otto blew up and essentially told the guy to fuck off and that we would carry it. Jon and I took turns shouldering the load to base camp. The porters were colorful characters full of laughter and trickery. However, they were inexperienced with the service aspect of their job. They all thoroughly enjoyed the handful of trail mix I gave them once we arrived at base camp. -Now I rest at the base of Ganhaizi glacier. A waterfall crashes down the rocks with melt off from the surrounding mountains. Our base camp has a mess tent, two large tents, and two small tents. We are in a marshy field surrounded by an amphitheater of unclimbed peaks. Chola Shan still lies far in the distance concealed by clouds. Day 4- Base Camp -I slept well on top of my new -40 degree bag by Shehe. I awoke twice in the middle of the night to pee in my bottle only to realize the bottle did not have enough capacity. It’s a scary feeling when it is pitch black and the only indication of the urine about to overflow into the tent is the pitch gets higher as the liquid nears the top of the bottle. -The morning was spent reviewing knot work, ascending fixed lines, and roped team travel. -While others rested in base camp, George, TJ, and I decided to go on a late afternoon acclimatization hike. We ascended a valley full of wildflowers and fresh green tundra, our goal was to ascend the valley, pop out on top of a little peak and get a view of the glacier we would soon climb. Two hours later and about two thousand feet higher we had reached our spot. TJ checked his altimeter. We had reached an elevation of 15,123 feet. This was officially the highest I had ever climbed. George, TJ, and I bonded well along the way as we speculated as to the other climber’s strengths and weaknesses and discussed our experiences in China. -Jon and George concocted a pressure cooker out of our mountain cook wear which yielded a delicious lemon poppy seed cake. Day 5- Acclimatization hike to Camp 1 -We got off to a late start this morning but by 10am we were on the trail. Nima was in the lead with TJ, George, and I at his heels. Wudi and YT were significantly slower. I even backtracked down a ways and lugged up YT’s pack. I started thinking of it as a game, sure I can get myself up this mountain, but if I can help everybody to get up the mountain that is an even better feat. -We negotiated some wet 4th class climbing. It was a rocky pitch at a 45 degree angle made difficult by the crashing water that was between us and where we had to be on several occasions. -George and I exchanged viewpoints on living in China as we pushed towards the Ganhaizi glacier at 15,000 feet. He has been in Beijing that last several months and I have been living in Chengdu. We had a lot to talk about. -Wudi and YT were about out of commission at this point with various ailments. Headaches, knee aches, dehydration, exhaustion-I don’t know. -The cirque of peaks which I will call the “Chola Massif” was stunning. The flat glacial basin is surrounded by an amphitheater of jagged pinnacles, all of which are currently unclimbed. I was like a kid in a candy store dreaming of the possibilities. Chola Shan loomed mysteriously in the background covered completely in ice and snow. -At three different times throughout the day large seracs separated from the glacier and crashed down the cliffs towards our base camp (not in a dangerous way). The thunderous roar of the car sized blocks of ice reminded me I am not in Colorado anymore. -I hung back on the descent to make sure Jon was okay leading Wudi and YT back through the water climbing section. To be honest my head and body were tired and I didn’t mind hanging back to see if Jon needed help. I think my mood was obvious at base camp as I scarfed down my soybean and smoked pork pasta that Nihui made. I tried to have some light hearted conversation with the crew. It was a highlight watching Jon and Nihui have a late night chibotti cook-off (chibotti is a bland Nepalese flatbread). -The stars were incredible above the jagged silhouettes surrounding our camp. Day 6-Ascent to Camp 1 -A nice night of sleep infused with high altitude dreams; dreams of trapping jaguars and past girlfriends. -Chibotti and eggs fueled the day. We already knew the way to ABC so we all took off at our pace. I chose to go on Diamox despite my success with the altitude thus far. I just wanted to be able to concentrate on climbing technique and the spectacular view without having to factor in problems with altitude. There will be plenty of challenges to cope with in the coming days anyway. -The heat is intense today. Protecting all skin is a must; the previous team was baked to a crisp, literally. -After ABC we popped onto the infinite glacial plane. My crampons made a crunching noise with each step. Occasional glacial streams snaked through forcing us to make running jumps to continue on. Camp 1 is at 16, 500 feet. The altitude is not bothering me but my body is beat from the 3,000 foot elevation gain loaded down with my big pack. Day 7-Camp 1- Glacier Life -While lying quietly in my sleeping bag, I could hear the glacier below me talking. An ever-present creaking and the glacier moves and separates. -During dinner last night the glacier made a huge adjustment below us. TJ and I looked each other mildly concerned. Jon Otto just let out a jolly laugh assuring us that these moans from the glacier were normal. -As the sun heats up the day, rocks that are otherwise frozen in ice are set free sending them tumbling down around our camp. I am sitting cross legged on a rock with coffee in hand. A small crevasse separates me from the camp. Most people are boiling snow inside their tents. As another cluster of rocks melts free and tumble toward our camp, TJ and I just smile at each other. My hands tingle as I write; this is a side-effect of Diamox. -The mountains are large and intimidating full of steep cliffs, icy seracs, strong winds, and infinite solitude. The mountains seem calm, too calm. The weather has been far too cooperative thus far, I since something coming in. Plan for the worst, hope for the best. -Now the three of us, George, TJ, and I lay quietly in our yellow tent. George is reading The Economist while TJ and I scribble down notes from the day. The tent next to us has Jon, Nihui, and Wudi, they are bantering noisily in Chinese. YT and Nima are a bit further down the glacier. This evening as the sun set behind the mountains Nima took a solo run up a 200m 70 degree pitch of ice and snow to rescue a fixed rope left by a previous team-finders keepers. -“You haven’t lived until you’ve shit into a crevasse,” ~Me -The afternoon was spent practicing crevasse rescue. After all the technical practice was done, Jon turned us loose to ice climb. I was first. George lowered me about 60 feet into the murky crevasse. Chick, chick, pock, pock- ice climbing becomes a real rhythm. Ice climbing at 16,500 feet-why not? -Its funny the things you can become good at when you spend enough time in the mountains: dancing effortlessly through boulder fields, route finding, shitting in crevasses, washing dishes with sand, boiling snow for water, predicting the weather based on cloud formations, drying sweat soaked clothes on a line inside the tent, pissing in a bottle without being able to see—things like that. -Our team has spent a week together and we are finding our harmony. Each day our routine gets more efficient. This is good because tomorrow we rope for real and ascend to camp 2. Day 8- Ascent to Camp 2 -Arising from camp 1 to yet another perfect morning. Blue sky all around, cold crisp air, and pristine mountain views in all directions. I ate granola with powdered milk and George and I again reveled in our morning brew. Our morning goal was to be packed and ready before the other tents—we did. -From here on out we would be going alpine style, living solely out of our backpacks. Jon put Nima and me on a rope team trusting in my Chinese ability. Jon, TJ, and George were on another team and Nihui, YT, and Wudi brought up the rear. -For about 5-6 hours we trudged up the glacier laced with crevasses. The summer sun was both a blessing and a curse. It made the crevasses more obvious but it also made some of them impassable by weakening the snow bridges. It was a winter wonderland with snow and ice piled in unimaginable ways. It looked like a Dr. Seussian nightmare. -Nima and I made a good team, communicating in Chinese limited us to only the sheer necessities of communication thus leaving me with a lot of alone time. I concentrated on my breathing, ice axe and crampon technique, and of course the scenery that only a handful of people have ever witnessed. -Camp 2 is at 5,344m and I can feel it to. We all find ourselves out of breath after such tasks as putting up the tent. Nima and I took about 20 steps and then took a 20 second rest; this was of course 20 steps of post-holing. It was a slog but I enjoyed every breathless step. The high altitude sun exposure is getting worse, my face and hands are weather beaten and my eyeballs are frying. -Although the weather was again beautiful, there was a significant buildup of weather systems. I have a feeling our fun in the sun days are numbered. It’s an interesting phenomenon being at eye level with the rain as it drops from the clouds. Day 9- Camp 2 to Camp 3 (19,000feet/5800m) -Dang, it was a chilly wake-up. The whole scenario threw me off physiologically. I managed to make an instant cappuccino and choke down some dry granola, but between the cold and the food time table, I was off. -We arose at 4:30am and had broken down camp and roped up by 6:30am. The sunrise was breathtaking (or maybe it was the altitude). A spectrum of color ranging from blue down to a burning yellow and orange. The light from the glowing orange ball put a surreal light onto the north faces. Dark gray clouds swirled around the peaks until they were dissipated by the suns glow. -Nima and I couldn’t get into sequence. He kept pausing to scribble Chinese characters into the crusty snow to see if I understood: meiguoren (American), Zhongguoren (Chinese), Que’er Shan (Chola mountain). Of course I understand. -I was slow but methodical; most of the day was simple 30-45 degree snow slopes that our crampons gripped perfectly. There were a few hitches though. We snaked our way through large systems of crevasses sometimes climbing into them only to make the steep climb out. We were right in the heart of the Dr. Seussian wonderland of snow and ice. - It’s a precarious position our three yellow tents are in. If you look out the vestibule to the left you can see the snowfield leading down to camp 2, if you look out the vestibule up and to the right you can see the summit of Chola Shan looking down on us with mist swirling all around, behind our tents is about a 75 foot drop-off into a snowy crevasse. In the distance are dark gray rain clouds and a faded rainbow. -We jumped into our tent at about 1pm to escape the blistering sun. We boiled snow to replenish our supply of water and eventually dozed off from exhaustion. By the time we stirred again the mountain was engulfed in a storm. Icy snow pelted our tent for hours. It was pleasant to drift in and out of consciousness as the storm ran its course. The storm had subsided by the evening. -The inescapable sun is taking the greatest toll. TJ’s lips are swollen and blistered and his face is beet red. My hands are maroon and painful and I’m afraid the condition of my face is nearing TJ’s. Otherwise, there is optimism in the air because tomorrow will be summit day. - I am becoming one with snow. I sit on snow, I sleep on snow, I boil snow to drink, I wet my dry mouth with snow while I climb, I use snow to anchor my tent, cold crusty snow is my friend, warm and soft snow is my enemy, today it snowed, I have lived on snow for five days now, I rinse my toothbrush in snow, I wash my pans with snow, I relieve myself on the snow, the crazy thing is that the snow is actually burning me. -Must ‘hit the sack’, wake up at 3:45am, and push for the summit, feeling strong, loving life. Day 10- Summit Day -“A war of attrition” as George calls it. Who will be the last one standing? You or the mountain? (I suppose the mountain will always be standing). The ‘war of attrition’; going against extreme weather conditions, eating a lousy diet of mountain food, sleeping on the ground, hiking and climbing immeasurable distances, battling oxygen depraved air, why do we do it? I suppose to see if we can. Few humans are put into such circumstances of pushing their body and mind to the absolute brink. Cheers to those who do. (Don’t worry, we were just talking, the climb is not that hard) Every night TJ reads us a quote of John Krakauer’s, “A Walk in the Woods.” Last nights quote struck me more than others. “I had an overwhelming amount of energy and ambition in which society provided no outlet.” Perhaps this is why high altitude expedition climbing appeals to me. -George and Jon awoke at 3:30am and set out by 5:00am. We were to wake up an hour later and allegedly they would already be in the process of leading the route. The rest of us were awake and geared up by 6:30am. A weather system had moved in over night and now the entire range was blanketed in a thick fog. It was a white out; no discernable difference between ground and sky. It was wicked cold too. As we trudged up the slope I noticed that everything had a thin layer of frost on it. My dark gray ice axe was now glistening white, carabineers, jackets, the rope, and even YT’s face was frosted over. We followed the crampon impressions that were left in the crusty snow by Jon and George. After about two hours the entire team had come together but something was wrong. Why weren’t George and Jon on the summit yet? Everyone was hunkered under a lip of icy stalactites where a little hole led to an ice cave where we could escape the wind. George was having a muffled conversation over the radio. I could hear Jon climbing high above us but couldn’t see him. Everything was silent except for ice pickets and carabineers clanging together. The war of attrition was in full swing. Chola Shan is making us work for the summit. The mountain waited for the last and most critical day to unleash this storm. We waited for a couple of hours while George and Jon tried to find the route to the summit, they were misled several times and had to start again. After two hours of wiggling my extremities to keep them from going numb and having a mundane and preoccupied discussion in Chinese something happened. An act of brawn by TJ—he had had enough of the ice cave and we were going for the top. We weren’t sure if the fixed ropes were in place or the exact whereabouts of where George and Jon were. TJ was going up with whatever was available. I suited up as well. This led to a chain reaction of people ascending. First TJ, then Nima and I, and a little while later YT, Nihui, and Wudi. A 70 degree slope led to ridge. I plunged my ice axe into the crust with my right hand, jumared with my left, and a kick-kick with my steel pointed crampons. The altitude, cold, and sheer rush of the climbing took my breath right out of me. It appeared the fixed lines were in place, we were climbing to the summit. After finishing the slope I came upon the final ridge. Jon was waiting at this point and he was full of zeal. This was his second summit of Chola Shan and he was now going to successfully lead his team to the top. His attitude renewed my confidence and I continued up the ridge. On my left a snowy overhang leading to an endless field of crevasses; on my right about a 3,000 foot drop to oblivion. Luckily the storm concealed this aspect. The ridge itself was about three feet wide with a fixed rope secured by a couple of pickets and ice screws. What more could you ask for at 20,000 feet? George, TJ, and Nima waited for me on the summit and Jon quickly followed behind me. We snapped a picture displaying the American flag since TJ and I were now the 7th and 8th American’s in history to reach Chola Shan’s summit. George was the first Aussie, Nima had done it twice in the last 3 weeks, and this was Jon’s third attempt and second successful summit. Altogether less than 40 people have reached the apex of this mountain. It was a proud moment for me but I didn’t dwell on it for long. A series of rappels down and I was back in the ice cave waiting for my team to return. Three hours later TJ, Wudi, Nima, and I were glissading on our asses down the very slope I thought was so treacherous that same morning. -People are happy but exhausted. Again we are confined in our tents at camp 3 while the weather continues to pass through. Our tent has developed a strange funk no doubt from days of having three guys wearing synthetic fiber, not washing, not changing clothes, sweating profusely, and oh yeah—flatulence is a side effect of altitude gain. But none of that matters. I used Jon’s sat phone to notify my parents half was around the world, “I had made the summit.” Tomorrow we will descend to base camp where there will be a little bit more food variety. Day 11-The descent to base camp -It was time to get off the mountain, no matter how good or bad the conditions of a high altitude mountain, they take their toll on you. I am certainly battered both mentally and physically. -We awoke at 6am and again we were stuck in a cold, dense fog. The little ice pellets that pounded our tent sounded like we were in a room full of type writers clicking vigorously. It was cold work breaking down camp but soon enough we roped up and were headed down. The conditions were bleak but we were driven. I led my rope team through the white-out following Nima’s tracks best I could. Gore-Tex was in full effect wicking away my sweat while deflecting the ice pellets. With our 60 lb. packs the icy crust was no match for our weight causing us to post-hole most of the way. We came upon camp 2 and broke it down and loaded it onto our backs. We had to wait for the slower members to arrive before we pressed down. It was a shivery wait. We decided to take a short cut to avoid navigating through the gauntlet of crevasses. The short cut would require a short walk north and then a 250 meter rappel that would land us right on top of camp 1. Jon created a v-thread anchor; I flaked our four ropes and tied them together. I rapped first, shaking our all the tangles as I descended. It was a great rappel down a 70 degree slope with shallow and soft snow awaiting every plunge of the feet. Once my mates TJ and George had joined me at the bottom we radioed up to the others that we were continuing on. I suppose that we felt guilty that we were faster then the others because we decided to bare the burden of all the teams gear. By the time we had broken down the contents of camp 1 and ABC our packs were in the 80lb range. By this time the weather had cleared up and it was hot again. However we were forced to wear our plastic boots and Gore-Tex layers since there was absolutely no room left in our packs to put these things. We made the long trek across the glacier field. I felt like a monster with my giant pack and my steel pointed crampons making grinding noises against the rock and ice of the glacier with each step. We then bumbled our way down the scree field and back to the water crossings. The otherwise easy rock climbing through the water section proved difficult with our top heavy packs. It’s an unnerving feeling while you crimp down on a small hand hold and the weight of your pack shifts downward. Not to mention the sun was melting the snowfall from the previous days and the river was higher and faster than before. As if the situation wasn’t precarious enough, someone had removed the fixed ropes that Jon and I had put up several days prior. The three of us managed this section it just required some committing moves and getting really wet. Even our Gore-Tex and plastic boots couldn’t hold back the rush of the water. My boots were water logged for the rest of descent. -Yao Zhen had been guarding our base camp the last several days. He watched as we descended and had a video camera ready for each of us as we triumphantly through off our packs and collapsed. I was the first to return. I gave Yao Zhen an out of breath interview in Chinese as I tore off my clothes and headed for the river. I took a cold ‘bath’ and lay in the sun with George and TJ. A cold beer would have made the situation perfect but boiling water with tang would suffice. Within three hours we had all returned safely. George and I rigged a nice rendition of macaroni and cheese. We were working with scrappy ingredients and some language barrier but we managed to find gouda cheese, garlic, onion, pepper, salt, powdered milk and pasta. What more could we need? Our western companions were especially happy with our concoction. -An ice storm, crevasse crossings, rappelling down a snow slope, moon walking on the glacier, grassy tundra, loose scree, fields of boulders, some rock climbing, wading through water falls, and finally arriving at our marshy campsite. I slept well that night. Day 12-Breaking down base camp, the porters, and Ganze -At 11:00am a scout for the local porters came into camp. He was a dark skinned beady eyed man with long black hair and a well worn cowboy hat. To expedite the process of hauling our gear out we carried down all of our bags down the steep sections so we wouldn’t have to wait for our porters to arrive and do it for us. We loaded our backs down heavily and scrambled down the rocky sections. While others went back for a second load, TJ and I were left to guard our gear. No sooner had I kicked off my shoes and started writing in my journal then the porters started to ride up. They were a wild bunch this time. The whooped and hollered as their horses grew nearer. It sounded like they were all doing their own impression of the Howard Dean speech. Yaaaaaahhhhhhhggggghhhh!!!! They came upon me fast recognizing me as one of the Westerners that can speak Chinese. They were fired, spouting off new demands, and the negotiating prices. I humored them but reminded them I was not the decision maker on this issue. For about two hours TJ and I sat with this ragged bunch while we waited for our team to arrive. They each took turns trying to sell us their beads or other trinkets. One by one I turned them down until Lago approached. We still had an understanding together so we decided to trade. I traded by 40 Yuan western style watch for a strand of beads that he pulled from around his neck. I think we both felt as if we had scored a great deal. Other members took turns trying on our sunglasses and laughing. There was even a pair of Buddhist monks trying to earn some extra money. -My horse had a wild hair on its ass. It would occasionally bolt off unexpectedly until I gave the reins a mighty tug. -We were seen off by the region’s famous Llama. He has prowled barefoot in the mountainous region for years. He is a big man with muscular arms, long wild hair, a shiny orange robe, and a smiling face. He doesn’t know hardly any English but he does know how to say, “I like Americans! (with thumbs up) and I hate Chinese!” Crazy shaman. -It was a bittersweet horse ride down the mountain and around the lake. I kept looking back at the mountains that were my home for the last 8 days. Lago and I talked a bit on the way down; he had many questions about American life. -We sat at the park entrance for about an hour while we waited for Jon to file a report about the theft from ABC and the poor service of the porters. We made a big deal to pack out all of our trash in addition to all the other trash from previous teams. We filled up several burlap sacks full of waste and paid to have them hauled down the mountain. Once at the ranger station the porters untied the trash sacks from the horses and casually poured the trash into the river. Did it dawn on them why we even hauled the trash out, paid them money to carry it for three hours? Nope, they just tossed it in the river for the next town down river to enjoy. -We were back in Maniganghen ready for another spectacular meal. This time I was not ill so I put down quite a bit of food in the Tibetan trucker town. Tsampa, yak butter tea, rice, and several traditional Chinese dishes. I finally got to have my celebration beer although it was warm Chinese beer. I would liken yak butter tea to liquid carpet; rancid milk, oily, and salty. -Our goal was to reach the hot springs in Ganze so we could bathe. What a treat that was. If you think Colorado’s hot springs are dirty and smelly, wait until you experience the hot springs in Ganze. I’m not so sure I got any cleaner after bathing in the hot sulfur water, but it was relaxing. Day 13- Ganze and the long road back to Chengdu -George, TJ, and I arose early to explore the streets of Ganze before our van left. The town was quiet at 7am but we wandered around waiting for the town to wake up. We had youtianr, baozi, and xifan for breakfast while beggars latched onto our arms at our table. It was a bit distracting. Occasionally Buddhist monks would walk by and belt out a jolly, “Hellooo!” The town came alive with Buddhist monks, cowboys, and farmers. Everyone had a tough look on their face until they caught sight of us and no matter how hard they looked they would manage to smile and let out a big, “Hellooo!” The monks wore maroon hats that projected out in front of their foreheads like a patio awning. The Tibetan cowboys were strong and dirty guys with long tangled black hair topped off with a beaten cowboy hat. Grumbling tractors trolled the streets full of the days produce. Occasionally we would see Muslim Hui people with their thin black beards and white laced beanies. The streets of Ganze are a scene straight out of Indiana Jones. -The drive out was as beautiful as the drive in and I was incredibly relaxed and at peace with myself. Occasionally I would see an eagle soaring overhead. Half way into the drive, Jon and I were in the middle of great business discussion when we noticed dirt and weeds flying up on either side of us. Then our van actually caught air, “Lao Ma!” “Wake up!” We continued into a field and eventually rolled to a stop. Our van was quickly surrounded by the local farmers whose land we had just encroached. Everything ended up being okay except for our rapidly beating hearts. If Lao Ma had fallen asleep like that anywhere else on that narrow road and we would no doubt tumble to our deaths. -Saving Face: Lao Ma did not apologize and none of us spoke of the incident as is custom in China. Instead he tried to redeem himself by driving dangerously fast to make up for lost time. We whipped around blind corners, screeched our tires, attacked pot holes at full speed, all while staring out the windows hundreds of feet down to the rapids below. We asked him to slow down because we were in no hurry, but he only went faster. Saving face. There were no seatbelts in the van so we just clutched our seats and hunched up like little kids about to be struck by a parent. Arriving at our hotel that night was a big sigh of relief. Our van did break down outside of Bamei leaving us stranded for several hours while we waited for the local mechanic to help us out. Day 14- Arriving in Chengdu -A simple day of driving. Lao Ma had cooled down by this time and we were driving at a manageable pace. The new highway construction did not effect us too much either. We arrived in hot and humid Chengdu at 7:30pm. TJ and I ordered a huge plate of dumplings at my local restaurant, and then we proceeded to pass out. Day 15- The celebration -TJ and I spent the day indulging in the city. Our expedition was over, our training regimen could end, and we could celebrate. We had an expensive meal at a Thai restaurant near the Traffic hotel. I then introduced him to corn flavored ice cream. We bought souvenirs in the Tibetan district of Chengdu. -Our team celebration dinner was spent at a hole in the wall Muslim joint. We dined medieval style with hundreds of skewers of mutton, flat bread, and a never ending supply of beer. By the time the spicy dapanji came out we were all stuffed but we managed to choke it down. I should have been hauled out in a wheel barrel. We toasted numerous times and tapped our paper cups of beer together. After the dinner TJ, George, and I went out on the town. We hit all the expatriate hangouts. Reggae bar, The Shamrock, Mega Mei. Cuba libres, Red Bull vodka, long islands ice teas, Tsingtao beer, Jack and coke—everything I’d been missing. TJ lined up a row of shots and the bartender lit them and the expanse of the bar on fire. We sucked the shot up through a straw and the bar crowd cheered. By that time we had met up with Ryan who had just returned from traveling around Lhasa. We met some Frenchmen who took us to Mega Mei dance club. I was dancing with a smokin’ hot Chinese girl that the Frenchmen later informed me was a prostitute. Back to city life. My seven weeks away from alcohol, smoking, and junk food, erupted into one wild night of fun. The expedition is over and I’m back in Chengdu.