7/8/2006         

Into Tibet.  The longest 1000 kilometers.

During dinner in Garmu, China we asked our new Chinese friends questions about the mountain pass that lay ahead.  "How much oxygen do we need?"  "What about fuel?"  "What will they do if they find out we're not Chinese?"  Having been warned of our impending death countless times in the past, I think we tend to take advice from the locals rather lightly.  This time the advice just felt different.  One of the two men was a bus driver who was very familiar with pass.  In his mid 50's, he was short in height but spoke with confidence.  We told him of our plan to ascend the first pass halfway up, and then setup camp on the mountain to acclimate our bodies to the altitude.  "Not possible.  You'll die." was his reply.   Hm...OK.  "Now.  Which part of the plan will result in our death?"  How am I supposed to respond to that?  He started writing distances on the back of a napkin and scribbling Chinese characters next to each.  He listed distances for fuel and shelters over the next 1000 km.  He said if we could reach the shelter that was 3/4 of the way up the tallest pass, then we should be able to make it back to a reasonable altitude by the end of the following day.  "Don't stop on the top." he said.  The next morning we bought 3 bottles that each supplied about 30 minutes of oxygen.  We bought heavy winter jackets for Yuan at an army surplus store, then strapped one oxygen bottle to each bike and headed towards the mountains.

The transition from the sandy dessert to the mountains was abrupt.  There was literally a spot where we could see sand dunes and snow capped mountains at the same time.  It was about 3:00 p.m. during a food break when Rodger started to notice that he had a headache.  We jokingly noted that a headache is the first symptom of oxygen sickness and got back on the bikes.  Although the mood was light, I'm sure that we were both thinking about the same thing.  That is; the horrible description that we read earlier about oxygen sickness.   We arrived at our destination right as the sun was disappearing behind the mountains.  It started to get cold fast.  The shelter cost $5 per person.  It was a single level building with solid concrete walls.  The rooms were all connected together to form a rectangle around a central gravel yard.  We drove our bikes through an iron gate into this yard and parked in front of our room.  I looked down at my GPS as I stepped off the bike.  "Hey guys, 15,200 feet up."  A large horned goat came to check us out as we moved our gear into the room.  The room was all bare concrete and contained only beds with no furniture.  Although the little town didn't have electricity, the shelter had a generator that they used to provide power to our 4 electric blankets. 

At dinner Rodger became nauseous and started to feel light headed.  I knew something was wrong we he didn't even touch the sweet and sour chicken...he usually has a piece between his chopsticks before the plate leaves the waiters hand.  A local came and sat down at our table to see what we were doing in town.  When he lit up a cigarette next to Rodger, Rodger gave him a look that would transcend any language barrier.  It would loosely translate to "You're about to get punched in the face."  The guy ran off.  We decided it was time for bed. 

Andrew, Yuan, and I all woke up with headaches and couldn't get back to sleep.  In the morning we all felt completely drained of energy.  Rodger stumbled into the room and leaned back against the doorframe.  "Man, you look like death", I said.  "I’ve been up all night puking dude (burp) and that damn goat wouldn't leave me alone."  He described the feeling as the worst hangover known to man, but you don't feel any better when you throw up.  The oxygen did nothing for the symptoms and only helped with the shortness of breath.  Getting out of bed was a chore. And packing the bikes took an hour because we had to sit down to rest every other minute. 

With the bikes finally packed we all sat on a curb with our heads resting on our thighs.  Rodger and I slowly discussed our options.  A long and deliberate breath separated every sentence.  Rodger could barely stand up, how could he ride a bike?  We considered turning back.  After 30 minutes he decided he would ride full throttle until he was over the mountain.  It sounded sketchy, but he did say that he would pull over if he began to feel light headed.  He didn't want to wait another minute so he got on his bike.  We wished him luck and he took off.  Yuan handed me a piece of bread.  I swallowed a small bite and then fell forward to my hands and knees and threw up.  "Lets get off this mountain."  Every time you turned your head it throbbed.  Ridding a motorcycle over dilapidated roads in this state was hell. 

After 200km we reached the peak.  The roads turned to clay as the weather turned to hail and rain.  I had to lift my visor up to see.  Just then a "gnat like" bug collided with my eyeball.  After thinking that things couldn't get any worse I realized the gnat wasn't dead.  I needed both hands to keep control of the bike and I really didn’t want to stop.  I left one eye open so that I could see and attempted to crush the bug between my other set of eyelids.  The next 5 minutes were a wrestling match between the bug and my face.  Finally he stopped buzzing.  Anyway, it turned out that the elevations that we were given about the towns were incorrect.  We road all day and into the night and ended up over the peak but at the same elevation that we were at the previous night.  Great.  It took 3 days before we were low enough to hold down any food.  All this said, Tibet has probably been the most amazing part of the trip so far. 

-J.