In late October of 2008 I went to Nepal to do some trekking in the Annapurna Region. The trip was a private one, organized for me by Geographic Expeditions in San Francisco. The time of year was right – post-monsoon – and the towering, snow-covered Himalayan peaks were all clear as a bell.

Early one morning we took a flight from Pokhara – west of Kathmandu – to Jomsom, north of the Annapurna massif. It was more than spectacular! The small, twin-prop plane cruised at 10,000 feet up the world’s deepest gorge while majestic 8,091 meter (26,545 feet) Annapurna I and Machapuchare towered 16,000 feet above it on the right and mighty 8,167 meter (26,795 feet) Dhaulagiri on the left. It was over in just 25 minutes with an abrupt landing on the short runway at Jomsom, carved precariously into the hillside. Never before have I been airborne looking up to the summits of mountains practically 3 miles above our flight path!

After several days hiking at 9,000 + feet, we went back to Jomsom to take the return flight to Pokhara early the next morning. The day dawned clear and bright but the wind was blowing down the gorge from the north. No incoming flights had arrived by 8:30 AM and we had been booked on the 7:30 AM flight out. My Nepali guide, Madhav, quickly confirmed that all flights were canceled for the day and no one knew what tomorrow would bring. Even if there would be flights then, they would be fully booked. It appeared that we were indefinitely stranded in the wilds of northern Nepal, just below the Tibetan plateau!

That certainly wouldn’t do, but Madhav was very resourceful. He quickly negotiated with a local driver who had a fleet of Indian built “jeeps” to take us by road, instead, down the Kali Ghandaki gorge. Road??! It had only just been built and it was horrific. It looked like they barely scraped the surface with a bulldozer. Full of rocks, potholes and mud. Also crowded with trains of burros plying the old trade route from Tibet to southern Nepal. But it was the only alternative to remain on my schedule and it turned out to be a real adventure! It would ultimately take 14 bone-jarring hours in all.

We set out in the fully-packed SUV. A small gratuity got me a seat in the front instead of in the back cargo area. I could see everything clearly as we wound down the gorge, bumping and grinding our way along. To my left always was the wild and fast-running Kali Ghadaki kola (river), over a steep, unguarded embankment. To my right were menacing cliffs with the risk of sudden rock falls ever present. Down the middle was a nightmare that was called the new road down the gorge.

After about an hour bouncing around in my seat, we came to a vast impasse on the road. There had been a massive landslide awhile back wiping out at least a mile of road and embankment. Nothing was left but a precariously sloping pile of rocks and mud. So we disembarked and picked our way gingerly through it to where the road resumed again. Madhav had arranged for another Jeep to be waiting for us at the other end.

Last week I returned from a whirlwind trip to Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I was honored to be a keynote speaker on the subject of petroleum legislation at a UNDP-sponsored conference on “Fueling Poverty Reduction with Oil and Gas Revenues”. The conference was attended by well over 350 participants from Cambodia, the neighboring countries, international oil companies and international experts. It was a huge success with daily press coverage and maximum publicity.

Getting there was no fun. I sat 13+ hours on the flight to Tokyo and then changed planes to Bangkok for another 6 hours. I left at 1:00 PM on Sunday and arrived in Bangkok at midnight on Monday. A stroke of good luck was that United’s outgoing flight from Washington Dulles was delayed, so to prevent me from missing my connection in Tokyo Narita, they put me on Japan’s ANA instead. Business Class on ANA is much better than anything United has!

After a good night’s sleep at the Novotel Airport Hotel in Bangkok, I took the 50 minute flight on to Phnom Penh at 6:00 PM on Tuesday. Upon arrival I was pleasantly surprised by a small but modern airport, rapid and efficient immigration procedures (I had an invitation letter from UNDP) and hassle free cab service to the InterContinental Hotel, where the conference would be held during the next several days. A nice, lavish hotel with all amenities.

The conference opened with me in the receiving line to meet the Deputy Prime Minister and other Cambodian dignitaries. It was the first time that I had been treated as a VIP since I retired from the World Bank 7 years ago. I was slotted in neatly between the British and Norwegian Ambassadors. That was fun! Then after the national anthem and opening remarks and addresses, I got up to give my 20 minute PowerPoint presentation to a room full of attendees. Nothing too daunting, though. I had done similar things so many times before. It all went very well, in any event.

Cambodia has no petroleum production as yet, but it’s hopes are high. Chevron – my old company – has drilled several discovery wells offshore in Block A, but it has not yet released any definitive results as yet. It is estimated/hoped that they have encountered somewhere between 500 and 700 million barrels. Unfortunately, the geology of the area is difficult and the recovery factor would only be 10-15%, rather than a more normal 40-50%+. But even so, it would still add over $1 billion to the Cambodian economy, which is sorely needed. There are severe shortages in-country of their staple rice crop, as well as of cooking gas and cooking oil. The Prime Minister banned rice exports to protect the national supply and imposed price controls on other commodities – all in just the week that I was there. I read in the Daily Cambodian that restaurants in Phnom Penh were closing because they couldn’t afford cooking gas or oil, both of which had doubled in price in only a few days. Cambodia had been ravaged by 25+ years of civil war and strife and it is now trying gallantly now to find a new national identity and stability.

One evening we were all taken out to dinner at a new hotel, right along banks where the Tonle Sap and Mekong rivers converge. A nice place with a prime location. But it was hot, humid and buggy as the evening wore on. I did some networking and struck up a conversation with the Minister of Commerce. A man in his late 40s/early 50s who was well-dressed, spoke impeccable English and had been educated at Stanford. He told me that his daughter had just been accepted at Cal Berkeley and Georgetown and that she was in the process of deciding where to go. The Minister planned to bring her to DC to see Georgetown. So, as an old Emeritus Adjunct Professor of the Law Center, I volunteered to show them around when they came. We exchanged cards and then he gave me a welcome ride back to the InterContinental in his official black Mercedes S Class limousine.

After the conference ended a few of us were asked to go to the National Assembly to reprise our presentations and advice for a group of key parliamentarians. These would be the people whom, amongst other things, would have to consider and pass the petroleum law, about which I had spoken at the conference. They listened with rapt attention and then asked some very good questions. The Chairman was particularly interested in some follow-up training to be able better to assess draft Petroleum Laws which may be presented to the National Assembly for consideration. I told him about our twice-yearly CWC training course in London, “World Legal Systems and Contracts for Oil & Gas”, which I teach along with my good friend, Jay Park, of Macleod Dixon in Calgary. While it would be very expensive to send Cambodian participants to London, it would certainly be possible to bring our course to Phnom Penh for 40-50 participants. We’ve done this for Pemex and Repsol in Mexico and will do so this June for WAPO/Sonogol in Luanda, Angola. So I left that thought with the Chairman, along with the same suggestion to the directors of the Cambodian National Petroleum Authority and their UNDP sponsors. Let’s see what develops.

On the way home I stopped in Bangkok again and saw my good friend at Chevron, Nancy Wildman. Nancy is a geologist posted in Thailand for 3 years. I met her on an earlier Wilderness Travel trip to Tibet. She’s a good strong hiker and a lot of fun. Nancy came to get me at the Novotel with her driver and we headed downtown to Wat Arun, “The Temple of Dawn”, on the banks of the Chao Phyra River. There we rented a long-tail boat were cruised through some of the nearby canals, or “klongs”, along which people live and work. Very scenic. I remember doing it years before with my brother, Richard. It was a very hot afternoon, so after the klong cruise, we went over to the posh Mandarin Oriental Hotel (where I used to stay in my World Bank days) and had a few beers in their delightful river garden. Then we headed back to Nancy’s neighborhood for a nice dinner.

As left I Bangkok early the next morning for the long haul home, I hoped that something would come of bringing our training course to Phnom Penh. It had been a quick but fruitful visit. I hadn’t had time to go to Siem Riep and see the incomparable Angkor Wat. But I would certainly like to return next year to do it all.

I strongly support the current Tibetan movement for cultural independence! I am shocked and dismayed at the recent brutal events of repression in Lhasa and the outlying provinces – Gansu, Xinjiang, Sichuan and Yunnan – all heavily populated by ethnic Tibetans.

I have been to Tibet several times and I identify and empathize with both its culture and its people. All through the heart of Tibet – Lhasa, Gyantse, Shigatse – these old cities have been converted into Chinese “new towns”. The great Barkhor plaza, in front of the sacred Jokhang Temple in the heart of old Lhasa, was created by the Chinese razing Tibetan homes and shops to establish a line of sight and control over the local citizens. Even in the best of times, poor and pious Tibetans, dutifully spinning their prayer wheels and circumambulating the Jokhang clockwise to perform the sacred kora, do so under the watchful eyes of armed Chinese police.

When I was last in Tibet, in 2005, I became quite friendly with one of our local guides – Tashi. He was a family man and a hard working, jovial spirit. He told me that he had tried to visit India many years ago on pilgrimage to Dharmasala, the seat-in-exile of the Dalai Lama. He had no exit visa but he tried to walk over a high pass with some colleagues. They were all arrested by Chinese border guards and imprisoned. I asked Tashi how long was he incarcerated. He said for over 8 months, in a nasty, dirty jail. He told me laconically that he was subjected to “struggle sessions”, political indoctrination and almost daily beatings. Then they let him go. He has no passport, however, and he can never leave Tibet. But he has made himself a nice life working for Wilderness Travel.

We traversed southern Tibet together in Land Cruisers. After we left the Rongbuk Valley and Everest North Base Camp, we were driven across the spectacular high Tingri plain and then abruptly down into the increasingly lush forests approaching the Nepalese border at Zhangmu. As we were about to walk across the Friendship Bridge into Kodari, Nepal, Tashi gave me a big hug and said goodbye. He had to go all the way back to Lhasa by the tortuous road we had come, as he couldn’t cross over into Nepal and fly back from Kathmandu.

These gentle people want nothing more than to preserve their ancient cultural and spiritual heritage. They deserve it. I support Tibetan autonomy and the return of the Dali Lama to Lhasa as the rightful spiritual leader of his followers. If not, may the fierce protector, Chana Dorje, wreak his vengence on the occupiers! Om mani peme hung.

There are still at least three places that I intend to visit in the Himalayas. They are Sikkim (India), the Annapurna Region and the Khumbu Region, both in Nepal.

Sikkim was an independent state, but is now part of India. It sticks up like a thumb between Nepal to the west and Bhutan to the east. It borders on Tibet to the north. It is a little known Himalayan paradise dominated by the world’s third highest peak, Kangchenjunga, to the northwest. This coming October I will fly to New Delhi and then connect to Bagdogra. From there I’ll be driven to Sikkim’s capital, Gangtok, via Kalimpong. From Gangtok I’ll hike down through villages in the northwest – Yangsum, Rinchenporn, Hee and Pemayangste – right under the towering mass of Kangchenjunga and the eastern Himalayas. I’ll finish by visiting Darjeeling and staying at a tea estate nearby – the Glenburn Tea Estate. This is my own custom designed version of Geographical Expeditions’ trip, “Hiking Village to Village in Sikkim”. Have a look: http://www.geoex.com/trip.asp?tripID=4948

The following autumn I plan to do another custom-designed GeoEx trip to the Annapurna region of Nepal. From Kathmandu I’ll fly to Pokhara, Nepal’s second largest city. From there one can already see the Annapurna massif and the incomparable twin-summited peak, Machapuchare – “the fish’s tail”. The first trek goes to Ghandrung, lodge-to-lodge, through Damphus and Birethani. At that point one is at the entrance to the Annapurna Sanctuary, one of the most spectacular mountain cirques in the world. After absorbing the scenery and taking some day hikes, I’ll return to Pokhara through Nayapul and fly north to Jomsom. The flight goes through a deep river valley with the twin 8,000+ meter peaks of Dhalaghiri and the Annapurnas towering on both sides. Jomsom is just below the Tibetan plateau and is decidedly Tibetan Buddhist. I’ll trek to Marpha and Tukche and visit the Sanga Choling monastery. In Jomsom I’ll sample Tibetan culture again – which I have done several times before in Tibet and Bhutan, and then return to Kathmandu for the famous morning flight east, down the Himalayan range, over the top of Mt. Everest.

The Khumbu has always been my dream, but I’ll have to work up to it. It is a very demanding trek, no matter how far one gets. It starts with a flight from Kathmandu to Lukla, at over 11,000 feet. Then a several days trek up to the Sherpa capital, Namche Bazaar. Acclimatize there a few days and continue to the famous Tengboche monastery – the twin sister of the Rongbuk monastery, which I visited when I trekked to Everest north base camp in Tibet. How much further I go after that will depend on my acclimatization, the weather and how I am feeling. Ideally, I’d like to climb Kalar Patar (“the black rock”), which is a subsidiary peak of the Everest massif at over 18,000 feet. It is THE place to get a classic view of the Everest cirque from the south – Everest, Lhotse (with the Khumbu glacier ice fall in between) and Nuptse – all 26,000 feet and above.

Those are my plans for the next few years – God willing! If I can realize them, there will be a lot more spectacular photos on my web site. Just click on the “Photos” tab.

I wrote this entry in April, 2006, right after I had returned from Argentine Patagonia. But somehow
I lost it from my Blog. A friend kindly sent me a copy electronically so that I could restore it.

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This entry fittingly invokes the name of Greg Crouch’s epic book, “Enduring Patagonia”. I just returned from Buenos Aires after
decompressing there for a few days with my trekking buddies, Ian Newport and Bill Carmichael. Together, we spent over two
weeks enduring and enjoying Patagonia.

The “Above the Clouds Trekking” (badly) organized trip was to have two distinct treks – the Estancia Maipu to El Chalten crossing
and the circuit of Cerro Huemul. We had assumed that the first would be a reasonable warmup for the second. Wow, were we wrong!
The crossing to El Chalten was brutal! Of course Greg Crouch and his climbing partner, Jim Donini, had thought it to be just “a walk in
the park”, but both, having just climbed Cerro Torre from the west in winter, are in another league entirely!

After a day at the rustic Estancia El Condor on the shores of Lago San Martin, we drove down the road early the next morning to
Estancia Maipu and began a 3 day 30+ mile trek to El Chalten. The first day was supposed to be “a gentle ascent through beech (lenga)
forests” to the foot of the Del Gordo (“Fat Man”) pass. Immediately the terrain turned sharply uphill on an ill-defined track. It looked
like only horses and wild guanacos had ever used these trails. Later we found out that only 40 people had ever completed the crossing
and 19 of them were our current party! The weather was bad to start and got worse. Never before have I experienced sun, rain, snow,
sleet, fog and punishing wind all in one day, with frequent changes amongst them! The ground was sodden wet from a week of previous
rain and the mud balled up and clung to my boots with each step. Soon I was dragging a few pounds of mud along with my tired ass!
Four hours into the crossing we stopped for lunch and discovered that one of our party was missing. While the guides frantically backtracked
looking for him, I took off by boots to discover two big, nasty blisters on my heels. I had never gotten blisters before and this was a hell of
a place to start! But Alberto Del Castillo, our local chief guide and owner of Fitz Roy Expediciones, disinfected them and taped my heels so
well that I was able to continue on with very little discomfort. Our missing party was also found and we continued relentlessly on, uphill.
It wasn’t until over 4 hours later that we arrived in our Camp 1, just beneath the crest of the 5,050 foot Del Gordo pass, high above the banks
of the Rio de Los Portones, as evening was falling. The gauchos had gone on ahead by horse and set up the camp.

Day two of the crossing commenced with an hour’s steep ascent up to and over the Del Gordo pass. Then we began to descend into the
steep valley of the Rio de Los Portones. As a new “delight”, we had to ford the river several times, necessitating removing one’s boots,
rolling up one’s wind pants and putting on Teva sandals to cross the icy waters! Sometimes we were able simply to jump from rock to
rock in the river bed, but more often then not, we forded. The day ground on, relentlessly, up and down. The terrain was difficult at best!
Bogs with tufts of button grass, rocks, boulders and scree, calafate bushes to scrape at one’s gaiters and the ever present wind. The weather
changed constantly but settled, for the most part, into light snow/sleet. This was actually quite welcome over the alternative of driving rain!
In any event, we slogged on for 11 1/2 hours until we reached our Camp 2 in failing evening light. All were quite exhausted and
wondering what the hell the last day would be like, previewed to be “the longest and perhaps the hardest as well”!

I was sure that I could hike on, but my heels were certainly bothering me. An alternative was discussed, to which I quickly agreed.
Instead of hiking the last 10+ miles, I would ride them on a pack horse along with the gauchos. So, the group left on foot and, after
watching the gauchos break camp, I mounted my steed, “Muracho”, and headed off across country with 3 trains of 4 horses and another
sole rider. We crossed some quite difficult terrain, but Muracho was very sure-footed. At one point we had to dismount to allow the horses
to cross over the river in a very narrow and steep-walled canyon. One of the horses almost lost it going up the dizzying far side bank.
However, after 4 hours riding, we caught up to the group on foot ascending a very steep slope leading to a mirador or viewpoint.

I rode to the top and there in front of me was a commanding view of the Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre massifs, 2 hours away in El Chalten.
It was breathtaking! The weather was clear but the wind was howling. I rode back down a way to gesture to Ian and Bill that the slog ahead
of them would be well worth the view! Then we lunched in the saddle and headed off down steep and relentless slopes towards El
Chalten. I really enjoyed riding! All that I had learned about horsemanship years before in Palos Verdes, CA, came back to me and I was
able to sit a good saddle at a walk, trot and canter. We even had some flat meadow stretches where I opened Muracho up to a full gallop.
It was exhilarating! But the best – and worst – was still yet to come. Approaching El Chalten after a very steep descent, we had to ford the
swift-flowing Rio De Las Vueltas. It was at least 50 meters across and who knew how deep? I urged Muracho on into the river and gripped
him tightly with my calves and thighs. The swift current seemed to push us further downstream than we were making progress across. I
lost my stirrups two-thirds of the way across and hugged Muracho by the neck, urging him on. He swam mightily and we reached the far
bank, half soaked. It was wonderful to ride the last few hundred meters to our delightful rustic inn, the Hostelaria El Puma, where I promptly
enjoyed an ice cold bottle of Quilmes beer!

I spent the next 4 days at the El Puma nursing my heels and tending the big roaring fire of lenga wood in the main sitting room. Ian, Bill
and the group headed out the next day in pouring rain and stiff wind to begin the Huemul Circuit trek. This is a circumambulation of Cerro
Huemul, which lies just south of the Fitz Roy-Cerro Torre massif, bordering west on the great Southern Icecap and southeast on the Viedma
Glacier and Lago Viedma. I felt sorry for my colleagues for the weather conditions which they would have to endure, but I stayed put, warm
and content, reading books in front of the fire for 2 days. Then my guide from my last Patagonia trip in 2004, Cristian Lopez, came by and
we agreed to do some day hikes around El Chalten the moment the weather improved.

The third day dawned crystal clear. The west winds from Chile had blown away the clouds and rain and the granite giants of El Chaten were
out for all to see. I had rarely before seen such a perfect day in Patagonia! Cristian arrived at 8:30 AM and we set out on a 20 km trek to
Lago Torre at the base of Cerro Torre, Torre Egger and Cerro Stanhardt. Approaching the first mirador, we could see the
Torre massif outlined sharply against a pure blue sky. The towers were coated on the west side with snow and rime but the eastern
faces towards which we walked were clear, cold, sharp, gray granite. An amazing 200 meter snow mushroom had built up on the summit
of Cerro Standhart. We continued on over the second mirador and, eventually, through Agostini Camp (where climbers were busy readying
assaults on the Torres while the good weather held) to the scree and glacial moraine slope leading up to Lago Torre. Surmounting this,
we arrived at the small lake which is formed by the runoff from the Torre Glacier at the far north end. Some fresh icebergs had calved into
the lake and floated around in odd shapes and various hues of white to deep blue. Most impressively, Cerro Torre penetrated the cloudless
sky like a knife blade. It is arguably the most beautiful granite spire in the world and certainly the most difficult. It wasn’t climbed until the
late 1950s and not very often since. Cristian and I sat and ate our packed lunches while reveling in the wonder of this unique mountain and
glacial cirque. The walk back was invigorated by a sense of both accomplishment and deep satisfaction.

Meanwhile on the Huemul Circuit, I learned that the group would be returning a day early, having not completed the circuit. The first day
had been all rain and wind and the second day even worse. They had made it to their first camp at Laguna Torro, but had to stay put all
of the second day, riding out the storm. When the third day dawned clear and calm, they were to move up to cross the snout of the El
Tunel Glacier, ascend 5,000 foot Windy Pass, have a spectacular view of the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap and then descend to a camp
beside a small lake and a refugio hut that had been placed by the Argentine Department of Glaciology for Ice Cap field studies. They
managed to cross the glacial snout and ascend Windy Pass, where they had, by Ian and Bill’s accounts, a spectacular and almost mind-blowing
view of the great Southern Patagonia Ice Cap. But the camp further on had been flooded by the torrential earlier rains, so they backtracked
to their Laguna Torro camp and returned to the El Chalten the next day.

After recuperation, we all set out the next day for the port on Lago Viedma where a boat took us on an hour’s ride to the snout of the
Viedma Glacier which calves into the west end of the lake. Unlike the heavily tourist-populated Perito Moreno Glacier on Lago Argentina,
we had the Viedma Glacier all to ourselves. It is vast and its western reaches descend from the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap far above.
We scrambled over well-worn, smooth-polished and deeply-grooved rocks marking the area from which the glacier had recently
retreated in the last 10 years. Arriving at its snout, we all donned ice crampons and walked out on to the glacier itself. It was made
up of large, sharp, granular compacted ice which would cut one’s hands if one fell. It was a circus of up and down dips, huge ice seracs,
slender penitenties and occasional gaping, bottomless crevasses. We navigated our way carefully around it and took lots of photos. Our
excellent local guide, Luchy, lent me his ice ax and ice tools and I had a go at front-pointing up an ice serac with my crampons while
hammering in the ice hammers alternatively as I ascended. About 5 meters up was enough for me, but it made a great photo!

The rest of the trip had several notable highlights, including a stay at Estancia Cristina, a working sheep estancia; a traditional asado
meal; a visit to downtown El Calafate (one street full of tourist-oriented shops); a stay at the famous Los Notros Hostelaria directly
facing the Perito Moreno Glacier, 7 kms away (spectacular view!); and a visit to watch the Perito Moreno Glacier calving great chunks
of ice into Lago Argentino from its 10 story high snout. Also, generally, the food and wines in Argentina were sensational and often up
to haute cuisine gourmet standards. I didn’t lose any weight on this trip, as I had in Tibet 6 month ago! Ian, Bill and I continued our
culinary and wine degustations in Buenos Aires after leaving Patagonia and developed a real taste for fine Argentine Malbecs, Cabernets
and Sauvignons from the Mendoza valley. We toured Buenos Aires, enjoying the cafe life and dolce vida, especially in the old San Telmo
district and around Puerte Madero. We walked all over the city and enjoyed the ambiance of its European/Latin flavor. Of course, we
visited the quite bizarre and baroque La Recoleta Cemetary to see the tomb of Evita Peron. In all, we definitely endured, but greatly
enjoyed, Patagonia!

Last summer we had to say goodbye to the old “Victor” powerboat in Maine. It was 19 years old and feeling its age. Nice as it was – a 1987 Stingray bow rider with 120 hp Mercruiser inboard/outboard engine – the damn thing increasingly just wouldn’t start! I would spend more time trying to get it going than I would spend cruising out on Pleasant Lake! Finally things reached crisis proportions. The engine died completely. It would cost more to replace the engine than the boat itself was worth! So I sold it for salvage/parts to a local who collected boats to refurbish as wintertime projects. Good luck to him! It gets pretty damn cold in Maine in the winter!

Going back to my Camp Powhatan boating roots, I decided that I wanted, instead, a good, reliable outboard. Also, a smaller, quicker boat. After shopping the late season market at the many marinas along Route 302, I finally saw what I wanted. A brand new Boston Whaler 130 Sport with either a 25 or 40 hp Mercury outboard. It was already the third week in August and the summer was drawing quickly to a close. Most summer people leave just after Labor Day. I was in a big time buyer’s market!

Jordan Bay Marina on Route 302 was where I had seen my boat. I had done a lot of small business with them before, buying cleats, shackles and other dock and boat fittings over the years. Now I wanted a big ticket item. The sticker price was more than $14,000. But since I was in no rush, I had a very good bargaining position. I could easily wait until next summer to buy. The people at the marina were anxious to sell, so, after a successful sea trial on Little Sebago Lake, I agreed to buy for $10,500, with free winter storage and a $500 incentive rebate from Boston Whaler. A hell of a deal!

Please go to the Boston Whaler web site at: http://www.whaler.com/Rec/default3.asp?boatid=3 where you will see photos and specifications for this nice boat. I opted for 25hp to start, as that cranked it along at over 30mph, flat out. When I take delivery this summer I will add a BW red Bimini style sun top and a full length boat cover. Also, the name on the side: “Victor II”.

I had considered naming her “Gray Falcon”. Why? Well, the two mythical sons of Chief Powhatan (after which our old summer boys camp on Pleasant Lake was named) were Red Eagle and Gray Falcon. My good old buddy across the lake, Bob Toll (Chairman, Toll Brothers), has a big sailboat named “Red Eagle”, but he also had named his corporate Lear jet “Gray Falcon”. Besides, a portion of our Dad’s (Victor) ashes are in Pleasant Lake, so his namesake should fittingly cruise about above them. I’ll post photos of it in action this summer, once I have taken delivery of it at the Casco boat ramp in early July. I can’t wait!

Three weeks ago I camped my first night at 17,000 feet beside the Rongphu (Rongbuk) Monastery in Tibet. As the sun went down a real chill arose in the oxygen-thin air. But to compensate, right outside my tent door flap, was the North Face of Mt. Everest, bathed in late evening “alpenglow”. I could hardly believe that I was really there!

Since I was 8 years old I have been reading mountaineering books. I love the world’s high places! The ultimate, of course, is Everest, “Chomolangma” in Tibetan; “Qomolangma” in Chinese – either way, the “Goddess Mother of the World”. At 8,850 meters (29,035 feet), it is truly the roof of the world. To get there to see it has been a lifelong pilgrimage for me.

I have seen Everest before from the southern, Nepali, side. It is magnificent and impressive, but it hides all but its forboding black summit triangle and snow plume behind the massive 26,000′+ Lhotse-Nupste wall. From the north, however – Tibet – there is no mistaking it for anything but the world’s highest mountain. There is nothing in front of it. It dominates the head of the Rongphu/Rongbuk Valley, looming 2 miles above my already high perch at 17,000 feet. All snow and fluted ice, with only Changste, its north subsidiary peak, dwarfed in the foreground. The great Nuptse wall shines white to the west, but it doesn’t obscure the view. No, there is no doubt but that one is in the awesome and exclusive presence of the Goddess Chomolangma!

The morning broke clear but cold. The sun illuminated Everest first but did little to warm us in the deep lateral valley. There was a coat of hoare frost on my cheerful yellow tent and my breath created rime patterns inside. But I was warmly snuggled in my fleece and down sleeping bag. At 7:00 AM, still dark, a friendly voice said, “Good morning, Sahib, bed tea?” It was our Sherpa crew bringing us a choice of black or sweet masala tea to awaken us. I have never had a better morning cuppa’!

After a hearty breakfast the sun finally reached down into our narrow, deep valley, warming us all. Today was the day we would go to Everest North Base Camp, 5 miles away. There were options, including a ride in a primative, ramshackled pony cart, driven by a Tibetan drover. But we were here to hike! So, along with my most hearty companions, I filled my water bottle, extended my Leki walking stick and set out at a brisk pace. 5 miles is a comfortable walk on the C&O Canal at home, and 500 feet gained over 5 miles is nothing to be concerned about. But try it from 17,000′ to 17,500′! Fortunately, I had had no problem at all with the altitude, but others in our party were not so lucky. Several felt quite light-headed, with headaches, and declined the walk. As I set out I thought of my regular WB/IMF retiree hiking companions at home, “The Sunshine Boys”, who were with me in spirit.

It would take us about two hours to reach our goal. We stopped often to admire the view and to rehydrate ourselves. At that altitude one must drink a liter of water an hour to stay adequately hydrated. Some huffing and puffing, but, for the most part, we hikers were well acclimatized, having been above 12,000 feet for 10 days already. The landscape was barren and severe. A cross between what I would imagine a similar walk would be like on the moon or Mars. Huge metamorphosized sedimentary rock walls hemmed us in on either side with rockfall littered all around us. Pieces ranged from pebbles to house-sized. Only a bare suggestion of hearty moss or patches of stunted plants upon which the herds of local yaks and dzo foraged. Indeed, they had been foraging outside my tent most of the previous night!

We arrived at lower North Base Camp to find a random tent town of tea shops, curio sellers (“Lookee, lookee! You like buy Everest rock? Good price!” – trilobite and ammonite fossils) and local characters. Also the world’s highest post office. Here one could send a postcard home stamped “Everest North Base Camp” (I sent one to my brother, Richard – but would it ever arrive?). There was a “supplement” of 15 yuan ($2) a card to be posted – hastily pocketed by the Chinese postal service attendant. I still haven’t heard yet whether Richard ever received his card.

Getting clear of the commercial clutter, we climbed a final hill (puff, puff!) and stood at 17,500 feet overlooking the real climbers’ Base Camp location. Down below us was a cluster of tents holding the members of a Japanese expedition about to attempt the traditional Northeast Ridge route up Everest. First they would have to negotiate the snout and body of the East Rongbuk Glacier, covered with a thick layer of moraine and scree. This would take them to Advanced Base Camp at the foot of the technical 1,000′ ice wall behind Changtse, leading up to the North Col at 23,000′+. From there the route follows the North Ridge to the Northeast Ridge, over three large rock steps ultimately to the summit. Many have tried but few have succeeded. The Second Step is a massive 40′ rock and ice wall at over 28,000′, already in the “Death Zone” (over 8,000 meters).

For a moment I wished that I was 30 years younger and about to join the party on the summit attempt. But I consoled myself by realizing that I was standing where George Leigh Mallory had first stood in 1921, surveying a line up the North Face with his pioneer English climbing companions. When asked why climb Everest, Mallory had simply said, “Because it is there.” Mallory, and his young Cambridge climbing partner, Sandy Irvine, had last been seen below the Second Step in 1924, heading for the summit in deteriorating weather. No one knows to this day if they ever reached the summit. Mallory’s body was not discovered until 1999, where it has now lain for 81 years, in a snow-bowl at 28,000′+, beneath the Northeast Ridge.

As we started back down, we met a party of Tibetan pony carts which had been secured for us by our Tour Leader, Hashmat Singh. We felt compelled to ride them back down to camp. It was a harrowing descent in these rickety carts, and all we had to show for it on arrival were some very sore butts!

I wandered over to the Rongbuk Monastery to reflect on my morning’s experience and to meditate. This monastery – the highest in the world – had been painstakingly reconstructed, stone-by-stone, in the 1990s, after having been completely destroyed by the excess ravages of the Chinese “Cultural Revolution” in the 1960s/70s. It was small, cosy and cheerfully lit with yak butter lamps set out before the Buddha. The few monks in residence were chanting their morning prayers. In the courtyard, one young monk drew my attention to the field of green prayer flags (traditionally: yellow, green, red, white, blue representing the elements: earth, water, fire, cloud, sky) fluttering in the breeze on the hill behind the monastery. There were about 40 of them. Each one marked a known death of a climber attempting the North Face of Everest, and this was only from the Tibetan side! One last time I looked up at the immense North Face and moved my eyes east from the Hornbein Couloir to the Great Couloir, above the Yellow Band, behind Changtse, to the bowl-shaped snowfield at 28,000′ below the Northeast Ridge. “God rest you, George Mallory”, I thought.

I just returned from a glorious week of hiking in Chamonix/Mt. Blanc in the French Alps. The weather was superb all week – better than I ever saw it during the 2 years in which I lived nearby in Geneva in the late 60s. Each morning as I walked out of my hotel to go hiking, Mt. Blanc and its surrounding peaks and glaciers were so clear and close I could almost reach out and touch them!

The first day I took the telepherique up to the top of the Aiguille du Midi at 12,000+ feet. It was a cold but sunny and snow-clad domain. Watching all of the Japanese tourists shivering and taking a million pictures, I headed towards the exit for the Vallee Blanche. It said in French, “Alpinistes Only!”, but I was well-equipped with fleece and an ice axe. So I took a stroll out on the glacier in the vast, snowy valley which drops down dramatically and eventually to become the great Mer de Glace glacier. If I had had a guide and a companion, I could have climbed up the great snow hill of Mt. Blanc or its neighbours, Mt. Maudit or Mt. Blanc de Tacul. As for the Grandes Jorasses, I could only look in wonder.

But, instead, I took the telepherique back down to Plan des Aiguilles at about 7,500+ feet and head off on the classic traverse across the Grand Balcon Nord under the Chamonix Aiguilles towards Montenvers and the terminus of the great Mer de Glace glacier. It was spectacular! On the way I looked up at the Petite Charmoz and the Aiguille de L’M and recalled fondly how I had once climbed them in 1968, when I was young, spry and foolish!

For the rest of the week I hiked the Grand and Petite Balcon Sud on the Brevent side with spectacular views all along of the Mt. Blanc massif, the Aiguille Verte and the Drus. I met some nice people along the trail and had very pleasant casual hiking companions all the time. I also enjoyed hiking along the swift flowing River Arve in the valley up to Les Praz, Tines and Argentiere. Every day was an adventure – but that is what I had come for!

Needless to say, the food was excellent too. Each evening I would stroll through Chamonix and select a brasserie or bistro for the evening’s repast. I had both fondue bourgunione and fondue fromage Savoyarde, as well as raclette and some very good carre d’agneau, sole meuniere and a few escargots to boot – all washed down with good French wine. No meal cost more than 35 Euros, which was quite a good deal!

Well, now that I have completed the high points in the French and Swiss Alps – Chamonix, Zermatt and Wengen/Grindelwald – where to go next June? I am thinking of the Italian Dolomites next year.

The C & O Canal runs 183 miles from Georgetown in Washington, DC, to somewhere in Pennsylvania. It is a national park and it is very well maintained. Fortunately, it is easily accessible from almost anywhere along the DC, MD, VA border along the Potomac River, which the Canal parallels for the most part.

My dear friends,Ian Newport and Herbert Morais (we are know collectively as “The Sunshine Boys”), join me every Wednesday morning for a 5 mile hike along the Canal.
Sometimes we hike into Georgetown but, more often, we start at old, historic Great Falls Tavern in MD and hike either up to Swains Lock or down to Old Angler’s Inn. Other times during the week I go hiking there myself. I try to do 15 or 20 miles a week to stay fit. This morning I did a section of the “Billy Goat Trail” which diverges off the Canal towpath and wends its way right along the banks of the Potomac before regaining the Canal about 2 miles further along.

The Potomac today was roaring with meltwater and it was a white, churning cauldron above Great Falls. I couldn’t believe the kayakers who were paddling into the main current below the falls and riding the whirlwind down stream! I watched for awhile with my only companion being a big blue heron who stood impassively on a nearby rock outcrop. I pretty much had the towpath to myself, as it was a brisk, cold day with intermittent sunshine and an occasional sharp wind. But spring is coming and it will soon blossom green and beautiful again, although I truly love all of the seasons along the Canal. How fortunate it is to have it so invitingly close by!

We just returned from a week’s skiing at Wolf Creek, CO. It was awesome! Wolf Creek gets the most snow in Colorado. We saw a graphic demonstration of this fact – it snowed every day and dumped 33 inches of fresh powder on the slopes! The result was the best skiing conditions we have ever seen anywhere! The resort operators called it “hero snow”, meaning anyone could do anything they wanted on skis in such incredible conditions. Even though we never saw the sun, the skiing was sensational and the slopes were not crowded at all. We had a ball!

Nearby Pagosa Springs, where we rented a villa, is famous for having natural warm mineral springs. Every evening after skiing we went to the Springs Resort to soak. It was so soothing! The water is naturally at 140 degrees and it is stepped-down in a series of outdoor pools to anywhere from 98 degrees to 108 degrees (the “lobster pot”). There were waterfalls to stand under and a delightful ambiance to soak away the day’s strains from the slopes. All of this for $15/person! We will certainly return next year or, alternatively,
try nearby Purgatory Mountain in Durango. Cheers all,

Bill