Club Member Spotlight
Adventures with Ruth in China – The Pilgrimage
Dale Blanchard
In the February newsletter I said:
I was in the middle of a kidney stone attack (another story for another time) and about 3 km from the pass, I needed a rest. Just off the road there was a black-tented nomad encampment. When we stopped, all the people of the camp came running up to see us. Ruth explained that we were going up and over the pass. A couple of the people took one look at me and decided most emphatically that I was not going to make it to the top.
That kidney stone attack had actually started two days before while we were on a "rest day" and decided to make a pilgrimage around a holy lake. Actually, it probably started before that. For the past several days we had been riding through country where everyone drank salt tea. Previously, all the way through our trip, we were stopped frequently by people offering us yak tea. But in this latest region they boiled their tea leaves in salty water. Salty water triggers my gag response and I got tired of that rather quickly. I basically drank just enough tea to be polite when we were stopped by people. Unfortunately, I didn't drink much else either and probably allowed myself to become dehydrated.
In any case we had arrived, after a long, cold, rainy ride, at a fairly large village called Maniganggo. We found a guest house just after dark in a misty half-rain and were very tired and cold. Once we got into our room, we took a few minutes to talk about what we were going to do tomorrow. We knew that we had a very hard day in front of us. It was supposed to be about 25k to the top of the next pass which our map showed to be 4,916 meters high (16,124 feet, nearly 4,000 feet higher than Maniganggo). After that it was another 41k to the next village and we really had no idea of whether it would be downhill, rolling, or what.

Since we were tired, cold, and more than a little discouraged by the rain we had just ridden through, we decided to take a day off. The map showed a lake with an altitude of 4,069 meters (13,346 ft.) about 11 kilometers south of Maniganggo. It was supposed to have a pilgrims' path around it.
The next morning we were greeted by a bright, sunny day. We got up early and had breakfast -- thin rice soup, oily pastries, and tea -- in the dining area of the guest house. Then we were on our way, this time on unloaded bikes which made the 11k slightly uphill ride seem easy. As soon as we arrived at the lake we saw a group of monks sitting under a gazebo. They waved us over and we discovered that a local high-ranking lama was there with his entourage. Of course, they invited us to have tea with them.

After we had told them all about our trip across China to that point, the lama strongly encouraged us to take the pilgrimage around the lake. There were lots of good-deed points involved. During her study of the Tibetan language, Ruth became quite involved with Buddhism, karma, and all things associated. For her the prospect of good-deed points was irresistible and I figured that if some of them happened to fall my way it couldn't hurt.
http://buddhism.about.com/cs/ethics/a/BasicsKarma.htm
So, with visions of good-deed points dancing in our heads, we locked up our bikes while the entourage loaded us up with even more deep fried pastries. Pockets bulging, and each carrying one bottle of water, we were on our way.
Our pilgrimage started out with a well-marked trail and lots to look at. We came upon large boulders with holy inscriptions carved on them. Other boulders were beautifully painted with both scenes and inscriptions. I had first become aware of such carvings and paintings a few years earlier in Pakistan and later in Bhutan. Those, however, were ancient; these were fresh and new. It was exciting to discover that people were still doing this.
As we came near the far end of the lake, however, things began to change. The trail became thin, broken and hard to follow. Eventually it petered out entirely. At the far end of the lake was a huge glacier and many streams of icy water flowed from it into the lake. Two of those streams were big, rivers really, and we were going to have to cross them. While they were not terribly deep, just about to the top of my knees, they were very swift.
Ruth was quite sure she could not cross, but I convinced her that we could make it. I looked around and found a large tree branch. I was able to use it as a third leg to brace myself and made my way out into the stream. I then anchored myself firmly and reached the tree branch back to where Ruth was standing.
With great trepidation she took a firm grasp on the branch and started pulling herself to where I was standing. When she got there, she could barely keep herself in place because of the current. We then decided that the best way to proceed was for me to use the branch as a third leg while Ruth used me in the same way, bracing ourselves against the current, taking small steps toward the other side.
Fortuitously, the second river was not quite as wide and, using what we had learned at the first river, we made it across with little trouble. The trail on this side of the river, however, was even worse than the one we had just followed. There was a hillside on this side with many small trail branches leading down to the lake. These seemed to always dead-end at the water and we would have to retrace our steps back up the hillside and continue on. After nearly two hours of this we were both pretty well exhausted. Any good-deed points we were getting were well-earned.
Fortunately, the end of the lake kept getting nearer and as we approached we saw a small hut that looked like it was inhabited. We knocked on the door and were greeted by the two young nuns who lived there. Tea, of course, was the next order of business. The two women asked us to sit on small stools while they made tea and attempted to carry on a conversation with Ruth in her limited, and out-of-dialect Tibetan.
I had been sitting there for about five minutes when a deep pain began to develop on the right side of my back. As a teenager, while boxing and engaging in other athletic endeavors, I had been kidney-punched enough times that I recognized the pain as kidney related. Not good!
I asked Ruth to make my excuses and made my way outside. My back spasms were becoming more severe and by the time I was completely outside I was unable to walk. I lay down on the grass, assumed my best representation of a fetal position and tried to keep from vomiting. Two young monks happened by and saw me lying on the grass. One of them hurried inside to tell the nuns what was happening. Two more monks arrived and soon I had two nuns, four monks, and Ruth standing over me, waiting for me to die as best I could determine. Ruth took pictures.
After half an hour I was able to sit up. It was getting late in the day and I realized that we could not stay there forever. There was just one problem, well one immediate problem: our bikes were on the other side of the wide river leading out of the lake. The river was not very swift here, but it was fairly deep, over my waist most of the way and quite possibly deeper if there were holes I could not see. It was something like a mile, or maybe two miles, down-river to a bridge and then we would have to come all the way back to the bikes. I had no faith that I could walk that far.
About that time a man on a horse rode up. Salvation! I asked Ruth if he could take us across the river. She looked at me doubtfully, but turned to the man and started talking to him. In a minute she turned back to me and said he would take us across the river for two yuan each (25 cents). Just then the man said something and Ruth asked him to repeat it. He wanted five yuan each, still a reasonable price. As soon as she had told me the new price the man spoke again. This time he wanted ten yuan each. There was a pattern developing here that I did not like. He spoke again and his new price was 20 yuan each.
It was quite clear now that this man saw us as his path to a better life, and I told Ruth that I was not going to play into his game. "How will we get across?" she wanted to know. "Watch," I said and waded out into the river.
The man shouted something but I didn't look back. "He'll do it for 10 yuan," Ruth called to me. "Sounds like a good price," I answered, but kept wading toward the other side. "Take him up on it. This river is too deep for you." If the water was up to my chest, it would be up to Ruth's chin. Oh, and did I mention that this was a glacier-fed lake?

In a moment I heard splashing behind me. When I looked back Ruth was perched up behind the man on the horse and they were coming across. When we were all on the other side, the man looked down from his horse and gave me his best Tibetan dirty look. In return I gave him my best American friendly smile. "Greedy bastard," I said through gritted teeth.
But of course that's not the end of the story. Yes, we did manage to get back to our guest house in Maniganggo before dark and without serious hypothermia. It was mostly a downhill run back to town and I was able to ride it all in spite of being kidney-punched with every bump and every pedal stroke.
No, the story is not over yet because you still have to meet The Little Monk and hear how he contributed to reducing my life to its bare essentials. But that's a story that will have to wait for another time.
Close this article |