Saturday, December 5, 2015

I want to see mountains, Gandalf, mountains!

Ok, I don’t want to make this into a rant or anything that resembles one.  Hopefully more of a reflection of some things that I see in my surroundings and somethings that I see in myself.  So far in my traveling Asia I have had way too many good experiences that thinking about the small moments of the bad seems insignificant and quite a waste of time.  I’ve had a lot of time to reflect over the last week or two.
I’ve only talked about this to a couple people that are close to me but I’ve been struggling with a complete lack of energy for the last couple weeks.  Going for food a block away from my hostel has sucked all the energy that I have for the morning or afternoon, depending on which meal it is.  I try to be pretty tough when ailments come my way so I’ve done my best to power through it.  I climbed a small mountain the other day.  When I say small, I mean it.  It took less than an hour to get up to it but around here it’s one of their prized peaks.  That was all I could do that day.  I strolled down to a waterfall in the “wilderness” close to town.  I felt like I barely made it back.  Getting to it maybe took 45 minutes but coming out I was so tired that I hitched a ride back to town once on the main road.
My brother counseled me a bit on it, giving me all sorts of crazy ideas on what could be wrong with me.  Erik, I know you’re a concerned brother and I love you but the parasite conversation could have gone unsaid, at least in the detail we went into.  So it got me thinking.  Normally I’m a very active person.  At home I climb mountains, cliffs, run, swim, ski, workout, do some stretching that I sometimes tell people is yoga,  whatever I can fit into my day to keep my sanity.
Luckily, the heaviest part of this fatigue hit me when I arrived in the Cameron Highlands.  This is the place I could call home, or most like home.  It’s cool.  It’s clean.  There are pine trees.  The people are super friendly.  There is terrain, meaning it’s not flat.  My hostel is awesome.  I sleep in a little room the size of a broom cupboard but there’s wifi that works sometimes and I have a good book with me so I’ve managed quite well.
Just to clear the waters, I went and got checked out at the local hospital to be safe since it hadn’t gone away in 10 days.  Since I wasn’t physically ill they brushed it off and said I have travelers’ tiredness.  The doc didn’t give anything but a quick, broken english explanation and handed me a paper for a vitamin B complex injection.  I went upstairs, as ordered, and handed my paper to three guys hanging out.  They weren’t even in hospital clothes.  They took turns looking at the paper and then handed it to the third guy who was one the phone.  He looked at it and pointed his hand to a hospital bed.  The guy in the bed next to me had a fresh cast on.  I knew it was fresh cuz there was plaster on the bed, floors, the guy’s other leg and even his clothes.  I didn’t get a chance to look at the ceiling.
So I sat down on the bed and waited.  He got done with his conversation and pulled the paper wall around me for privacy.  He told me to drop my pants and picked up the syringe that I saw was sitting there, unattended before I walked into the room… One sore butt cheek later I walked out of the hospital at least knowing I made an effort to figure this out.  I’ll know in a couple days.
I listened to an interview with one of my all time favorite alpinists today (while wearing a shell, one of the few times it’s been cool enough to warrant protection from the rain) and it got me longing.  Damn, I miss those days in the Sawtooths when the warmest part of the day is on a grueling uphill slog and once you get to the mountain pass the winds howl for you to zip that puffy back up.  I wore the light puffy I’ve had stuffed in the bottom of my pack the other night.  It felt amazing.   I could have had a fever but I’m pretty sure my boxers were still wet from the rainstorm I got stuck in (happily) on a short hike to the top of Mount Jasar, a whopping 5,565 foot peak (hill).  I fully own that I’ve been slightly brainwashed by working in an outdoor apparel company for the last four years.  But damn, does it feel good to wear a jacket again.
On road trips there is, inevitably, a difference in AC preference; I’m always the one who wants it colder and and there is always someone who wants it warmer.  I’m a big fan of one argument that usually gets me my way.  “You have the luxury of putting on a jacket.  I can’t take my skin off.”  Well, SE Asia, you listening?
I know I can handle it.  Sweating never hurt anyone.  I drink tons of fluids.  It’s completely manageable.  But holy shit is it uncomfortable.  I think sleep is the worst.  I’ve traveled with friends that will only sleep in air conditioned rooms in hotels.  That’s cool.  I’m stoked for them that they can afford that.  I actually went against my instincts and joined them for a few nights here and there.  It did feel like paradise to be able to actually have a blanket or even a light sheet on top of me for that matter but I know that’s not sustainable for me.
I’ve got X amount of dollars for this trip before I dip into money that is not intended for my traveling.  That money is set aside for my future.  I’ve got to have something to come home to and if I luxuriate myself in 65 degree sleeping quarters and continental breakfasts I’ll either be home well before St. Patrick’s Day or be the guy who has no choice but to live at Mommy and Daddy’s as he makes up for his plunders.  I’d rather be neither.
Wearing tank tops, shorts and sandals is fantastic.  Beaches are unreal.  Surfing is something I can’t quite describe at this point, mainly cuz I suck at it but I know it’s something I will pursue for the rest of my life.  Having sand between your toes while having a beer with some new friends feels so absolutely surreal that I always think I’m going to wake from a dream.  I have had too many moments in the last couple of months where’ve I stopped in my tracks and thought aloud, “I’m in Indonesia...” or “I’m in Malaysia…”
Everyone always talks about their perfect vacation is sitting somewhere on a beach, sipping some tropical drink and watching the waves.  I’ve done that, a bunch.  I love it too.  I’m extremely grateful for what I’m doing right here, right now.  I have full intentions of traveling the rest of this region of the world.  If I don’t take advantage of this opportunity now I may never get a chance to come back.  Who knows?
The way I have been traveling is what I’m questioning, I guess.  I’ve made it a point to stay in certain areas and really get to know the area.  They have all been hot, humid areas.  Yes, I did buy the ticket to Jakarta to explore Indonesia.  Yes, it is extremely close to the equator.  It is busy, really busy.  I find it really hard to escape the noise, the smell of exhaust fumes.  There seem to be few opportunities to explore the wild places, which I’m most interested in.  Most of it I explore without the help of guides or paying for services but I’m finding that for me to really get out of the cities and explore like I do back in Idaho usually costs some bucks.  Normally it’s more than my daily budget.  I get it.  This region knows it is a major tourist destination.  I don’t blame them for capitalizing on it.  They don’t have much money to begin with and it is a very lucrative way to charge the vacationers with money to blow.

***Tangent***
I purposefully came with a backpack the size of a carryon bag.  Bus rides are easier that way.  Planes are way easier that way.  But hell, what I wouldn’t give for my tent, sleeping bag, pad and my stove.  There are a lot of people I meet that are traveling with true backpacking packs.  What I come to find out though is that they are usually full of things like large containers of shampoo, hair dryers and enough clothes to let them wear something clean for a week or two at a time.  I’ve got three pair of underwear.  Two pair of shorts and a handful of shirts.  I’m not afraid of doing my laundry in a sink (usually once a week).  Most people think I’m roughing it but to me it’s just logical.  The way I’ve packed has limited me to staying in hostel rooms and eating out a lot.  I can’t really complain too much about that.
But mountains, oh my god I miss mountains.  There is a national park in Malaysia that has trekking in it.  I’ve been looking into it but it seems like you have to hire a guide, pay for all the equipment and have them do everything for you.  I think it’s my stubborn outdoorsy side that is quietly thinking, “Damnit, give me that map and tell me which route and I’ll figure it out for myself!”
I remember when I was in a small village on the island of Lombok, Indonesia at the foot of the erupting Mount Rinjani.  No Mom, I was 100% safe from any volcanic activity.  The village has many rice fields and a “monkey forest” that were popular tourist activities.  The lodge I was staying at was pressuring me to have them guide me through the rice fields and into the forest.  That was absolutely not an option for me.  They insisted.  And insisted.  They were wanting to charge more than the cost of my room (which didn’t have electricity for most of the night).  No way.  I politely asked them if I was going to offend any farmers if I walked them alone.  They reluctantly told me no but were positive that I would get lost and need rescue.  I said thank you and I would make sure that I was very careful to remember the way I came.  Scowls from everyone in the conversation.
Lo’ and behold, no getting lost, no rescue and I wandered onto a great waterfall and navigated the “monkey forest” no problem.  Upon my return though it was clear that I wore out my welcome.  Listen, I know that guiding tourists is a good way for them to make money.  I tip when I can, I don’t haggle for the absolute best price each and every time for a room.  But I don’t need to have someone hold my hand so walk on some dirt.
I don’t think I’m some expert outdoorsman.  I don’t think that I can always be an independent traveler.  And I know that I have a lot the learn about different cultures and the natural world.  But man I really want to get into some pristine wilderness.  I know it’s here.  Not the jungle treks that cost $100 for two nights and trash thrown left and right or the hike up a volcano that can be $200+.  Some areas you “can’t” even enter without a guide.  My stubbornness wants to ask “do you lease/own the rights to this land or are you just lying to me for what’s in my wallet?”  I’m pretty f**king elated that I come from a state that has the most wilderness in the lower 48.

***End tangent***

So, I want to continue my exploration of SE Asia.  I think as I move north the temperatures will reduce and I will be more comfortable.  Many things are on my mind though.  Plans change.  I can’t fathom a year spent in a region that hovers just above the equator.  My body is not made for that.  My pace might quicken slightly.  I might find places that are more temperate and savor them for longer.  Throw in a beach here and there and I think I’ll be happy.  And who knows, after I’ve traveled to the places I’m most interested in here I will have some money left for, oh, I don’t know, New Zealand or even dirt bagging it around the states and climb my brains out.  But for now, I will wait and see if my lethargy and numb left butt cheek will finally go away.
I guess what I’m getting at is that I’ve been dreaming of wilderness, of mountains.  Like I said, the beaches have been great.  I’m from Idaho so I’m not naturally a water person but I know that there are lots of things to do on the beaches and in the water that I haven’t tried yet.  But damn.  Some mountain scenery would go a long way for me.  Since this is kind of what my life is right now, if someone were to ask me where I’d like to go for vacation I would say, without any hesitation, the mountains.
That’s a big lesson I’ve learned so far.  I have soaked in the waves, the sun and the sunscreen and it has been good.  I wouldn’t change that for anything.  But the real lesson for me is perspective.  I don’t think until now have I realized how damn lucky I have been to live in an area with true mountains.  Ya, you gotta have the gear if you want to go on a multiday anything trip.  Backpacking.  Climbing.  Fly fishing.  Rafting.  Or friends if you’re lucky enough to be apart of a group of people that are willing to take you.  I think a lot of the locals that I’ve talked to would have to change their underpants if they could see first hand the sheer grandeur of Alice Lake after a 10 hour push to your campsite and how good some shitty dehydrated backpacker meal tastes after working so hard all day.  Or how good a warm BPR tastes after making what should have been a 12 hour day of climbing the Elephant’s Perch into a 20 hour day push cuz you missed the ferry and had to hike the perimeter of Redfish Lake in the dark.  Or sharing that laugh of amazement  with your ski buddy after the two of you just found the one run on the mountain with stash after stash of untouched powder that everyone else seemed to have overlooked.
There’s some old saying that goes something like “you don’t know love until you’ve lost it.”  Well, I haven’t lost the mountains.  But when I reunite with that love of mine, the fire will be intense and I will never again be short on firewood.