Review of Lost Horizon by James Hilton

James Hilton’s 1933 Lost Horizon is one of few books that has survived the test of time yet continues to fly low under many radars.  A mix of intrigue, spiritual profundity, exotic adventure and (perhaps) a touch of fantasy, the story of Conway and the mysterious Shangri-la he encounters is full of thought-provoking questions, and thankfully, not many answers.  A book which will turn in the mind after, its length does not describe its depth.  

Set in the era of the book’s publishing, Lost Horizon is foremost a frame story.  The book opens with a group of school fellows, now in middle age, discussing a former classmate who has disappeared in Southeast Asia under mysterious circumstances.  One of the group possessing notes taken from a delirious conversation with the man just before the man disappeared, the narrative soon switches to the notes, and the wild, possibly imagined tale leading up to the disappearance takes center stage.  

Conway, the man who has disappeared, is the idyll of the English gentleman—at least at the outset.  He’s intelligent, he speaks numerous languages, he’s cultured, has impeccable manners, plays the piano, and has served his country in World War I.  Handsome to boot, he seems every mother’s dream of a son.  Kidnapped and taken to a strange land, he soon finds himself dealing with awkward social situations and a sub-culture with more doors closed than open.  A mystery within a mystery, the secrets of Shangri-la are slow in coming, but expand with each reveal that culminate in a major decision for the man.

Review of "Seven Years in Tibet" by Heinrich Harrer

Undoubtedly made famous by the film of the same name starring Brad Pitt, Seven Years in Tibet, as is usually the case, is a better book.  The story is visually stunning on screen, but the hardships and troubles Heinrich Harrer and his partner experience getting to and surviving in the Himalayan kingdom are revealed in more affective and detailed fashion on the page. Having almost a fictional feel due to larger-than-life size of the story, Harrer’s autobiography of his transition from prisoner in India to adviser to the Dali Lama makes for amazing reading.

Working as an Austrian mountaineer at the outbreak of Word War II, Harrer was suddenly “the enemy” in British occupied India as Germany attacked in Europe.  Placed in an internment camp at the base of the Himalayas, Harrer bided his time and eventually escaped along with Peter Aufschnaiter.  Their escape did not immediately reap benefits, however.  The greatest mountain range in the world greeting them, the pair’s plight through the Himalayas tested every bit of integrity and will to survive they possessed, and is a great travelogue by itself for anyone interested in survival stories of the range.  Staggering into the Shangri-la kingdom in the Tibetan plateau months later, suffering the long-term effects of altitude sickness as well as bone and nerve issues, they hoped life would get better.  Learning of the strange white men who’d found their way into his land, the Dali Lama, then just a boy, opened communication with the duo, and was soon absorbing every ounce of knowledge they had of the outside world.  The rest history, it’s this relationship, and the titular seven years the two spent in Tibet that are the truly poignant side of the tale.

Review of "Below Another Sky" by Rick Ridgeway

The name Rick Ridegway will not be known to many.  Amongst mountain climbers and environmental enthusiasts, however, it is.  Part of the first American team to climb K2, he has gone on to be one of television’s leading producers of environmental documentaries and the author of several books, all generally focused on mountaineering.  Despite having an interesting personal history, his 1998 Below Another Sky: A Mountain Adventure in Search of a Lost Father has other aims: to kindle an appreciation of mountain wildernesses in a daughter who lost a father climbing.

In the early 80s, Ridgeway was climbing with a group of friends, among them Jonathan Wright.  Descending, they decided to have a little fun by sliding down a snowfall.  Something they’d done often, an avalanche nevertheless ensued, and Wright died in Ridgeway’s arms minutes later.  Asia, Wright’s daughter, was just a baby when the incident occurred.  At the age of 20, however, she desired to see her father’s beloved mountains and the place he died. Asking Ridgeway to be her guide, Below Another Sky is that journey.

Culture Corner: Tibet Part III

(In case you missed them, Part I is here and Part II is here.) 

After our four day hike, we returned to Lhasa for a couple of days to regroup and re-supply for our next hike near Lake Nam-Tso.  One of the highest lakes in the world, it's almost in the clouds.

Arriving to a hive of buzzing lakeside tourists, we chose a mountain to climb and walked away from the din.  (We chose the darkened peak in the middle with the sliver of snow on its shoulder for our climb.)

And for the four hours or more it took to walk the open plains to a good campsite, this was our view of the eastern horizon.

Beside a nice stream with Nam-tso in the background, we set up shop amongst the sheep and yaks.

The following morning we began our assault on the mountain we'd chosen.  Checking in at 5791m (18,999.3 ft. for those doing the math), this is Mount Kong La, maybe.  (Based on the sparsely labeled map we had, I'm only guessing this is Kong La, or at least its brother across the valley.)

The going was not easy.  Like trying to climb a sand dune, the rocks just slipped out from underneath your feet, making your already oxygen deprived muscles work five times as hard to take a single step.  Near the top it was literally take ten steps, then take a ten minute break to recover.  

Wanting to make a snow angel, I visited the patch of snow after climbing the peak but was sadly disappointed.  What I thought was snow was actually a block of ice sprinkled with snow, and if I'd tried to make a snow angel I would have slid down the side of the mountain to my death.  Snow angels are supposed to be fun!

Exhausted from the climb, that night we slept soundly, and the following morning headed back to the hive.  As we walked that day, rainstorms swept over us, one of which you can see making its way over the lake above.

The Tibetans have prayer everything: prayer flags, prayer wheels, prayer money, prayer yak skulls, and here are prayer stones.  There was a lengthy, knee-high wall made of these.  God – wait, Buddha - only knows how long they took to chisel.

Strung across everything, bushes to mountain tops, roofs to cairns, synonymous with our travels in Tibet was the prayer flag, seen blowing in the wind above.  Each of the colorful pieces of cloth has a prayer written on it, and with the same intent as incense and candle smoke, what's written is caught in the breeze and sent heavenward for the gods to hear.  A bit more subtle than speaking in tongues.

After returning to Lhasa, we spent a day or two around the city before the Fragrant Fighter flew back to Europe and I returned to my university, but not before we took a peek at the symbol of Lhasa and former home of the Dali Lama.  Above is the Potala Palace with pilgrims making the clockwise circuit in reverence.

THE END

(In case you missed them, Part I is here and Part II is here.)

Culture Corner: Tibet Part II

After visiting Lhasa, we traveled into the countryside to begin a four day overland hike.  But in order to adjust to the altitude, we first had to spend a couple days at Ganden Monastery (above).  (In case you're wondering, this photo, like all the others, has not been doctored; the colors are real.)

These are some of the monk's cloisters at Ganden.

Painted on both sides of the entrances to all Tibetan Buddhist assembly halls and chapels are protector deities.  Above are two of them.  The style of art is called Thangka art.  Like the roof beams and trim, they are painted in such minute detail you find yourself drawn closer, one step at a time as some strange little detail arises from the chaos.  (If you want to see something neat, highlight this photo; it's like an underwater rendering.)

And after acclimatizing, one foggy morning we started our hike. The yaks didn't seem to mind the weather...

The second day of our hike involved a tremendous uphill climb, so we opted to hire a guide to handle our heavy packs.  Desiring a genuine Tibetan experience, we hoped a yak could carry our packs, but according to our guide: "One yak: no good.  Two yak: no good.  Three yak good."  Unfortunately we didn't have enough baggage to warrant three yaks, so we used his horse instead.  (Tibetan rule of thumb: less than three yaks together and things can get unruly.  Ha!)

Along the way we encountered homes of nomadic yak herders, the traditional Tibetan way of life.  As our guide knew the people living in this particular yak-hair tent, we stopped in for a cup of yak butter tea. (If you can't tell, the yak is life to them.  Along with transportation and baggage handling services, its hair provides shelter and clothes.  It's milk provides food and beverage, and when old, it provides meat.  And as there are no trees in most of Tibet, when dried its dung provides fuel for fire.)

A kind and friendly man, this was our guide, Undoo.  Solely by meeting the other travelers passing by his door he could speak a few words of English, and what we couldn't communicate using this language, we used a combination of body language, Chinese, and Tibetan to express ourselves.  It goes without saying Nietzsche's effect on existentialism was not discussed.

This was our campsite at the end of the second day's hike.  It's difficult for life to be more idyllic.

After hiking two mountain passes, our trail went steadily downward the remainder of the way.  Combining our decreasing altitude with the confines of a moist valley, trees began to spring up, as did several homemade bridges.  Here is the FF navigating one.  

And by the fourth day hiking out the valley, we began to encounter civilization, again.  This was a little village of maybe one hundred people.

In the middle of the afternoon on the fourth (and last) day, we stared down the the final leg of our hike.  Here I'm cursing the prospect of the next hour: dead ahead – pun intended.  Boo!  (You should know that once we reached the end of the length of road pictured above and turned the corner, another length loomed ahead.  It was a loooong afternoon.)

At the end of our four day hike was the village of Samye, pictured above.  Sadly, this is the last photo of the FF alive.  We were so tired from our hike, he was unable to get out of the way and the sheep trampled him in a violent death of hooves, matted wool, and bleating.  (If Frau Fighter should read this: don't worry; your son is still alive.)

Part III coming up...here (Part I was here.)

Culture Corner: Tibet Part I

To get to Tibet you must either, fly, take a train, or do what a band of monks did, hike for five months on a pilgrimmage. We chose to fly, which makes the above Tibetan Himalayas.  To my knowledge our airplane was not flying anything less than normal cruising altitude – at least I assume they don't want to fly any closer to these mountains.  So to be this close, the only remaining option is that these mountains are really tall.

The capital of Tibet is Lhasa, and pictured above is its city square: the Barkhor.  The whitewash building with maroon trim in the background is Tibetan Buddhism's equivalent to Mecca or the Vatican: the Jokhang.

 This is a detail of one of the Jokhang's awnings.

A back street of Lhasa.

Some of the many street vendors.  This one is selling all varieties of yak cheese.

Another of the market streets in the inner city.

A Different view of the Barkhor.  The two poles are prayer poles and they are wrapped in yak hair and prayer flags.  The white cone is a small oven used to burn sage (it's partner is under renovation).  In the background is the Potala Palace – symbol of Tibet – and the mountains surrounding Lhasa.

 

Standing beside one of the side chapels at a monastery called Sera (just outside Lhasa) is my partner in crime during the trip, The Fragrant Fighter.  Aside from handling the roles of chef, jukebox, and chief navigator, he is also responsible for a lot of these photos you're looking at.  

This is the Main Assembly Hall at Sera Monastery.

On the outskirts of Lhasa are many monasteries, of which one of the larger is named Drepung.  Above is a photo of one of the gods in the main assembly hall there.  Although it may look small, this statue is as tall as two men (or two taller women!), and with the intricately carved backdrop, is about two floors high in total.  The face is painted with gold and the clothes adorning the statue (or, as my father would say, heathen idol) are made of silk, just as the white scarves draped across its lap are.  Don't ask me who the god is...

Part II up next here...