1/8/17 – 1/15/17

We passed through a gate and were literally, (or as close to literally without being literal) in another world. The road, once flat, in an instant vaulted up, into the rolling hills, a mere stepping stool precursor to the daunting peaks that define this area that lay waiting for us in the coming days. In life, when a door opens, simply take one step forward and walk through. This is Arunachal Pradesh. Arunachal literally means “land of dawn lit mountains” and is home to 26 indigenous tribes. Much of this state remains beyond tourism’s reach but new areas are slowly being opened. China has never formally recognized Indian sovereignty here and it took the surprise 1962 Chinese invasion for Delhi to really start funding infrastructure. (the Chinese voluntarily withdrew) To cycle here is an opportunity afforded to very few people and even fewer dare to embark. Arunachal Pradesh is a place that India, and the rest of the world, has largely forgotten. It is tucked in between Bhutan and Tibet, and feels very much like each. As a result of this proximity there is a heavy military presence, with frequent check points, and special, difficult to procure permits are required for foreigners to enter. We are limited to a maximum of 30 days stay.

Our first destination is a town named Tawang which sits at nearly 10K feet. It is as close as foreigners can get to Tibet. To reach it, we must cycle nearly 200 miles from sea level, where we currently are, over a series of 7K – 10K ft passes, each dropping us back down to a valley, before a final 3 day ascent over Se La Pass at nearly 14K ft and into Tawang.

This is truly an area void of tourism. The villages in Arunachal Pradesh are small and the provisions are basic. We are continually aware that that this is not in any guide book. For this, we are rewarded with an experience like no other. A snap shot of an earlier, simpler time. Accommodations for lodging are rare. We finished our 1^st day in a small village, after a long and abrupt climb from Assam along a newly paved 2 lane road gently slinking its way into the mountains. There was a small hotel, but we all agreed that camping seemed a much better option (I’m trying to be subtle, but you get the idea). I was approached by a local man in his 30’s. His name is Thuptan and is a doctor. He speaks remarkable English and has a lively sense of humor. We immediately hit it off. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this. I have a home with 2 apartments. My family lives on one side but the other is completely open. You can stay there.” Welcome to Arunachal Pradesh, an area seemingly battling Assam as the home of the kindest people in the world. We made our way from the village center, about 1km into the residential area. His parents and siblings greeted us immediately with warm tea and even warmer genuine kindness. Before we could change out of our cycling clothes, local regulators showed up. They saw us roll into town and followed us to his house. There were 3 men but only one that spoke English. He is in his 50’s, full beard, long, curly, unkempt black hair pulled back into a pony tail, bent wire rim glasses, tattered clothes and a fur hat. Overall, pretty disheveled. He resembles an Indian version of my neighbor in Boulder, CO, whom I affectionately (and secretly) call Hairy Gary. Indian Harry Gary, lacking any official forms, instead asks the family for plain paper (because he didn’t have his own) whereby in an effort to appear official, fired off a series of very rudimentary and standard questions such as name, occupation, purpose of visit, etc which he scratched down on the paper. Basic due diligence. He asked to see our permits and passports, zoomed off to town to make copies then returned shortly after. Sensing that this was not going to be a stern interrogation, I proceeded to soften him up with some light humor, something I think that initially made my Swiss friends a bit nervous. They have had much more serious encounters in China so were inherently more cautious. After 30 minutes of playful banter, Indian Harry Gary and his 2 sidekicks bid us a “happy journey” and went home to enjoy dinner, thus concluding our first benign checkpoint experience.

After a warm dinner, we retired to our apartment which turned out to be simply an unfinished and unfinished space with 2 bedrooms and a wash room. No electricity, no mattress. There was a wooden bed frame, however it was too short for my air mattress so I slept on the concrete floor. It was shelter and we were all happy to have it. I enjoyed (yes, enjoyed) a chilling bucket bath before diving into my sleeping bag for the night. It is January and we are once again in the mountains, exactly where I want to be, back where my heart grows.

We awoke the next morning to a knock on our door with hot tea and biscuits. After several photos and warm hugs, we were on our way, down hill. Because this region is mostly forgotten and undeveloped, my map is limited, at best, and we are largely cycling blind, something I relish. This was the first indication that we will have no idea where food was available or where we would sleep each night. Tourism is not common and I couldn’t be more excited. The air was crisp, damp. In my mind I was back in Michigan as a 10 year old boy, playing AYSO soccer on a Saturday morning in the same crisp, damp autumn air. It is a feeling that will always be part of me. It is home, which is exactly how I was feeling after only 2 days in the Arunachal Pradesh mountains. This night, we once again arrived in a small village, did not find any hotels, but instead were granted permission to camp in a primary school house. There were 3 stores in town, all selling only the most basic of food options. We collectively settled on 6 packages of Maggi (ramen noodles), a few potatoes and some soya meat, that we prepared on Ivo’s camp stove inside our class room. In addition, we were given 2 bags labeled as “baby weaning food” that one of the teachers offered, which when mixed with water formed a sweet, and nutritious paste. The teacher was very concerned about our well being but gave us all he could. The people here truly are amazing. They have nothing but give everything. The school was basic concrete construction with numerous broken windows, metal cans in the center of each class room and a stack of fire wood to keep warm. The ceiling was charred black. We pitched our tents and by 730pm, we were clean from another frigid bucket bath, fed with instant noodles and baby food, and were fast asleep, indoor camping style. We awoke the next morning to a very cold, frost laden, frozen ground, slowly hardening us for the looming climb to Tawang.

We have not stayed at a hotel, nor paid for lodging or food for the first 3 nights, but I feel that we were hardly “roughing it”. On the 4^th night, we again crossed paths with our old friend Dr. Thuptan. He passed us in his car while we were stopped for lunch in front of a Tibetan monastery, over 150 miles from when we last saw him. Still think things are random? When we met him originally, he was only visiting his family but now was on his way back to his home in a town named Dirang, which happened to be our target for the day. He gave me his mobile number and when we arrived that evening, he made a bid for “kindest host ever”. Dirang has plenty of nice accommodations, but Thuptan would hear nothing of it. He took us to his home, and insisted that we stay. It was a nicely furnished 2 bedroom apartment. Just offering us lodging twice already would rank him near the top, but not to be outdone by future contenders, he staked his claim. He boiled water for each of us for a hot bucket bath, something we had not had in nearly a week. Next he took us out to dinner, purchased a local sim card for my phone and loaded it with 1.5GB of data, then, wanting to respect our privacy and space, graciously and generously went to his friend’s house to sleep, giving us, 3 near strangers, his house for the night. Not to tarnish this image, Thuptan showed up promptly at 730 a.m. to take us to breakfast and send us on our way. We tried, almost insultingly, to reject some of his kindness or at least offer money. Nope. He wasn’t having it. The voting is closed for “kindest host ever”. Winner. Don’t look over your shoulder, Assam. Arunachal Pradesh is vying for your title as well.

From Dirang, we began our final approach to get over Se La Pass and on to Tawang. We knew it would take 2 very long days of arduous climbing in deteriorating and unpredictable weather conditions culminating in camping somewhere around 11k feet, since again there would be no lodging. Around 3pm, the sun was setting behind the towering peaks and it was getting cold. There were patches of snow and ice on the ground. We looked for a school, church, or any building to give us shelter from the night, or even flat area to make camp. The entire area was a sprawling military base. We knew we would not make it over the pass and faced the dilemma of being forced to retreat 20km to the last village, negating 3 hours of climbing, or talk our way onto the military base. After an hour of talking to several soldiers and being told to go down to the next village, we continually appealed to a higher authority, whereby, without precedent, an officer showed up and offered us his personal home on the base, with a chef. It was a white, 2 bedroom, 2 bath house, known simply as the “white house”. Ornate rugs adorned the walls and soft, comfy couches and beds were the standard befitting an officer. Dinner was served to us in the formal dining room. I struggle with the kindness that we have experienced in the past 2 days. I cannot imagine, in the US, the land of fear, someone offering his home to 3 dirty and complete strangers, foreigners, then leaving so they can have privacy. This followed by a military officer offering lodging in his home to foreigners, on a military base, again, without him being present. I’m pretty sure this has never happened.

The next morning it was cold. We’re at 11k feet. I unzipped my sleeping bag and could see my breath. The water buckets for bathing were frozen as were the pipes to get water. We were provided an amazing breakfast from the same military staff that prepared our dinner, before we set off for the final 3 hr climb to top of Se La. Coming from sea level to this elevation in only a few days can sometimes cause problems but I was feeling strong. Each pedal stroke I am more calm, more aware of this amazing gift that I’ve been given, seemingly with an unlimited renewal policy. Ten kilometers from the top, the road became slushy, then snow packed and icy. The challenge of cycling this beautiful pass, in the winter, charged me forward. Shortly before noon, the 3 of us crested the summit of Se La Pass and enjoyed several cups of hot chai at the warming hut, operated of course by the Indian military.

It was quickly evident that we climbed up the leeward side of the pass. As we descended from just under 14k ft, the wind from the opposite side of the pass smacked me in the face. Blowing shards of ice raked across the only exposed portions of skin on my face. It was below 30F, but the sun was out which helped negate some of the chilling wind gusts. The road was completely iced over and in places was drifting closed. It was a daunting task simply keeping a straight line as I surfed my 80lb bike down the treacherous winding winter road. Two days ago I was sweating, in sandals, as I slogged up this mountain pass from sea level. In 3 hours I was back down to 6k feet, among lush greenery and the Jang waterfall.

A day later, and another all day climb, we arrived in Tawang. It is a small town that lies at 10k ft and is the Indian gateway to Tibet. People here are distinctly Tibetan looking. We had hoped to travel north toward the border but were informed that as foreigners, we cannot. It is an area that is almost exclusively all military.  It is the off season in Tawang. The town is sleepy with not much buzz and it barely stirs to life prior to 9 am. The streets are empty and frozen before the sun reaches them for the first time each day. It is cold, and there is no power in the city until 530pm. The temperature during the day is in the high 30s and dips into the high 20s when the sun sets. There is no heat in any hotel and we found only 1 building with any heat source. It was a restaurant with a kerosene fueled heater where we took all of our lunches and dinners huddled around. In between meals, I spent the day, in my thermal clothes, reading in my room, snuggled in my down sleeping bag. We all managed to motivate one day to visit the Tawang Monastery, the largest Buddhist monastery in the world outside of Lhasa, Tibet. There is something about the mountains that just wraps me with warmth, in spite of the harsh, raw cold. I’m having very powerful dreams about my past year. Strong, vivid emotions and visions of things I cannot change. Perhaps this is indication that my body is finally purging these emotions, releasing me, and allowing me to move forward. Tomorrow I will awake, anxious to continue my seemingly unlimited renewal policy in this enchanting place.