September 19 – 22, 2016

When I was a kid, one year I found my parents secret hiding spot for Christmas presents. It was 1981. I was 7. Young enough to be innocent, yet old enough to be crafty and resourceful.   The Empire Strikes Back had just blown up the box office and taken America by storm (or by force?). I had been openly campaigning for the Millennium Falcon. It’s all I wanted. I’m sure my parents were utterly annoyed from hearing my incessant pitches for weeks leading up to Christmas about how good I had been that year. I had secretly been looking and 1 week before Christmas, I found the spot…and there it was. I had the X-Wing Fighter and Tie Fighter, and now this. Could I hold it together and not blow it? All I had to do was act cool for a week and it was mine…all mine (yes, I realize I sound like a typical spoiled kid). The galaxy was ripe for the taking. The anticipation and buildup was intoxicating. I couldn’t sleep. It was like being on a natural Mountain Dew buzz…combined with the fact that I regularly drank Mountain Dew like water (and likely more than water) as a kid so I had an actual Mountain Dew buzz. Try to imagine what that was like. The week had agonizingly crept by.  Somehow I had kept it together. No one knew that I knew. Christmas morning came and there was no let down. I tore through the wrapping paper and box, turning them into material resembling Death Star shrapnel. It was everything that hoped it would be, such that, it is actually still in a box in my dad’s basement in Michigan today. No dad, I’m not coming to pick it up yet.

The Himalayas. This is my adult Millennium Falcon. I have been reading about this magical place for years. The mountains. The culture. The people. The food. The spirit. Every beautiful thing speaks to me. Flying over them in the plane from Kathmandu was like finding that hiding spot. I couldn’t touch them yet, but I now had confirmation of existence. I had read blogs. I had talked to people. I had seen pictures. Nothing could fully prepare me however. I was overcome with a feeling of pure joy and uncontrollable anticipation. For the first time that I could remember, I had that jittery Mountain Dew buzz again. The seatbelt sign was merely a suggestion as I scrambled from one side of the plane to the other to get another and perhaps different view.

The first stop is Leh. It is the capital of the of the Ladakh state of the Jammu and Kasmir region of Northern India near the Pakistan and China borders. Leh sits at 3,500 m (11,500 ft) and is surrounded by the 3 highest motorable roads in the world including  Khardong La at over 18,300 ft. Beyond those passes you are surrounded by a chorus of 7,000+meter (22,000+ ft) peaks. It is literally, breath taking…yes, literally. Gone is the 90F smothering blanket of wetness that was Delhi. My plane landed at 7am to a crisp and dry 38F cloudless morning. The mountains are a dry, barren moonscape with a few Bob Ross-esque happy trees sparsely dotting some of the neighboring valleys. Not only is it Christmas morning…it’s a white Christmas.

I am immediately aware that I am near the borders. There are armed military everywhere, all carrying automatic weapons. Nobody smiles. The airport is surrounded by 10 foot stone walls and razor wire. I quickly grab a taxi and within minutes I arrive at Skyland Guest House. It is down a beat up dirt road, with pot holes that could swallow a Fiat. It is close enough to walk to the city center but far enough for it to be serenely quiet. My room is 1,200 rupees (about $17). The managers are a delightful couple in their 30’s, Lynn from Australia and her husband Sandup from Ladakh. They have an adorable 1 year old son named Oscar and a 4 month old St. Bernard named Marley who has penchant for chewing ankles. There is a beautiful courtyard with an organic veggie garden and an apple tree. Upon walking through the gate, I am greeted warmly and promptly served a hot masala (chai) tea. The warm and home like atmosphere feels like a hostel as it seems to attract solo adventurous travelers. I could stay here for weeks.

By 10am, I was high on 3 cups of delicious masala (the adult Mountain Dew) and had a new crew of fellow explorers including guys from Singapore, Belgium, Southern India, and Japan and ladies from France, Japan, and Russia. As we discussed our travel plans, we took turns sharing what we thought each other’s countries were stereotypically known for. Here is the consensus. Belgium: amazing beer and cyclocross yet terrible weather, which makes the amazing beer and cyclocross that much better. Japan: smart, tech savvy, yet socially awkward people. France: rude and smelly people (because they invented perfume I guess?). Singapore: Nobody knew much about it so Jaime  had to tell us…they strive to be the best at everything. Waaa waaa…Kinda lame. Southern India: Spicy food, tons of people, and terrible drivers. America: Everyone has a gun…and Donald Trump. I wish I was making this up. I really do.

Later in the day, I am slowly walking my bicycle down one of the narrow corridors in the old part of town when I nearly bump into a retired couple. I smile and apologize. “Hi!”, said Pam. “We saw you in the airport. You were the guy with the bike. Where are you from?” “Colorado”, I replied proudly. “So are we!” Pam and Stan replied in unison, equally as proud. “We’re from Boulder. What about you?” Half chuckling, I replied, “Boulder. What part?” “Oh, we live in South Boulder”, said Pam. “What street?” I asked, chuckling louder. “Off Table Mesa.” Chuckling louder still, “What street?” I asked again. “A street off of Dartmouth called Kenwood.” Pam responded, perplexed as to why I am now chuckling more prominently. “Why? Do you know the area?” “Yes. I live on Dartmouth, literally 1 block away.” We all shared a familiar laugh. Sorry to digress but I have been having these random chance encounters for a year now and it always makes me smile. Life just seems to be 1 series of chance encounters.

The annual Ladakh festival began Tuesday. Pam, Stan and I watched the parade through town and then followed it into to the polo stadium to watch the opening ceremony. There is seating for locals, for tourists, and then a special section for government officials, military, VIP’s, and the like. Pam and Stan are friends with a Lama in town, so they are sitting in the VIP section and invited me to sit with them. All of the regional heads of state are seated 1 row in front of us with cameras pointed on them. Sometimes life throws you a curveball, and sometimes it just lobs a giant softball at you.

The ceremony is a beautiful spectacle comprised of exquisitely and colorfully dressed dancers and musicians in their native wear. Leh is a melting pot of people from China, India, Nepal, and Tibet. There is a very heavy Tibetan Buddhist monk population making it the most prominent religion, followed by Muslim, and finally Hindu. The people here are all genuinely kind and their smiles warm.

On Wednesday, I decided to do a final tune up ride to test out my bike, but mostly to test out my lungs. Tomorrow I will go north first, over Khardung La, before heading east then wrapping back around and pointing south. It is a about a 3 day detour but it seems like the right move. I am really in no rush to leave this magical place.  While riding some of the high roads around Leh, I decided to stop at Shanti Stupa. It is a picturesque white washed place of worship, inhabited by Buddhist monks, set high on a mountain top over looking Leh, some 1,500 feet below. I was admiring the sheer beauty when I was fortunate to meet one of the monks named Lobzang Thinlay. His flowing burgundy robe, eyes filled with the wisdom of his 60+ years, and compassionate smile made me feel immediately grateful for this chance meeting. I shared with him my story and he invited me in to his home to have tea and learn more of my travels. It is a small, yet warm room, approximately 10’ x 10’. The smell of incense permeates the space, and the view from his window overlooks the Leh valley. There are ornate rugs covering the floor with pads for sleeping under the ones along the wall. The walls are colorful and have photos of the Dali Lama. There is small table that we sit at and enjoy our masala tea. During this peaceful stillness, I am compelled to just be present and sit quietly and feel grateful for this experience. His iPhone rings. He looks at me, embarrassed, and apologizes for the interruption. I chuckle, mostly at the fact that he has an iPhone (actually an iPhone 6). After his call, he made us some thampa. It is a brown, doughy paste, that you squish with your hand to form into a ball, that is made from barley, sugar, water, cheese, and butter. “It’s good for health. Will keep you strong on your journey”, he tells me.  After an hour of talking, it was time to go. He gave me a small bag of his barley for my travels. Of course, he has a selfie stick. We took some photos and shared several laughs and heart felt hugs before parting. It turns out he is on Facebook and we’re now officially friends.

As I prepare to move on, I will be sad, but grateful for the laughs and memories that I have shared with those that I have met in Leh. We’re all wandering the world with youthful curiosity and exuberance, searching for experiences and connection.  Everyone you meet in life, whether it is just in passing at the airport or someone that remains in your life forever, plays a roll. It is these encounters that shape our lives and perspectives and make the human experience so addicting.

Have you ever seen a Border Collie get excited? They waggle with their entire body. This is the feeling that I have of my time in Leh. The smiles and connections from every person that I have met here warm my heart and inspire my own waggle.