chilsond891@gmail.com

I am climbing Mindlessly 110 meters of vertical pocketed limestone These gooping coral Karsts carved by acid and wind The beach bar below grows smaller Its patrons reduced to specks against white sand Natalie belays from a ledge below Ready to save my life if I fall Conor & Sara battle the pitch behind and below us Their head-tops faintly visible now and then between bulges of rock Tonsai Beach, man That little peninsular nook in the coral cliffs Against the Andaman A palm dotted line of white against blue…. Brain enters the chat!! The wall above is blank. Hanging on a good hold, the rope is clipped to a bolt at my waist Hmm The next bolt is 5 feet above me. Hmm Breathein… Wrack brain Palms sweat Chalk up Breatheout… Breathein… Wrack brain Chalk up Take? No Breatheout… Breathein… Oh no I see Fear grows sharp at my temples Behind me hangs a coral tendril The very tip of a 200-ft stalactite An Alice and Wonderland spire with rails of coral tufas Leading up- The stalactite is too far to reach So- I secure my feet I calm my mind and bring focus to my body And I lean my center of gravity away from the security of the wall And into the Exposure. Brain exits the chat!! Tilting away from the main wall My chest faced against the 350 feet of open air beneath Until… My hand reaches the stalactite! I press HARD and get a bit higher I transfer my foot across the abyss to the hanging pillar Now I am wedged between the two opposing surfaces Limbs spread like a starfish I am secure! I yell jovially to Conor, belaying on the ledge 80 ft below “Yo, check me out!” With a strong pull against the stalactite, I can get my other two limbs over Three quick moves up the tufa rails like a gecko and I am onto the ledge! I’m ecstatic to simply chill on that little stalactite porch for a minute And rest my body And mind… Brain enters the chat! This would be a nasty fall! My rope is still clipped to a bolt ten feet below my body on the opposite wall! I need to clip the next bolt! I crawl down a 45-degree coral rail on my butt, towards the main wall With a lump in my throat I lean out again, over itI plant my hands against the main wall in the downward-dog position The Exposure fills my field of vision. Brain exits the chat!! With practiced smoothness I pull a quickdraw from my harness and attach it to the bolt I pull up as much rope as I can reach and clench it in my teeth I reach down another arm’s length and pull more rope This is the critical moment- a fall here would mean 30 or 40 feet of fa- *click* With that always-satisfying noise the fear at my temples abates The rope is clipped to the bolt at my face I am safe. I clamber back up to my stalactite porch And rest. I can see the anchor, with its slings and rings and bolts It is on the main wall just above and to the rightSunk into a pleasant looking ledge A simple 8 foot traverse on thin, chalk-covered pockets This is my path My body feels eager to be done with this pitch, now To relax that rubber-band tension in its gut But I ask myself to wait Take it all in- the views, the feeling of height, the seclusion Remember- this is enjoyable Okay, enough of that. Quickly now, without thinking! Brain enters the chat!!

I’m writing this from the confines of a ramshackle tin hut at the top of a mountain deep in a remote part of the Himalayas. We have been stuck here for two days with no sign of a chance to leave.  Our mountain prison is called Malana. This village thousands of feet above a precipitous valley is home to an reclusive community of Hindu Brahmans who are so high caste that they refuse to touch anyone from outside of their community. If you make a purchase in Malana, you must place your money on the ground outside of the store and wait for the shop-owner to collect the cash, to avoid accidental contact. When you walk through the village, there are extremely specific paths that you may walk to avoid tainting the spirituality of the village. If you err from the path the locals yell at you in their language like angry Ewoks (a ancient language which only this community speaks, by the way). They also grow (some would say) the most potent hashish in the world. The mountainsides and gardens of Malana are covered with acres and acres of wild cannabis. Truly, it’s the only productive thing that grows in this harsh mountain environment, and so it is cultivated with a literal religious fervor. To the Hindus, Ganja is the body of Lord Shiva. So the drug isn’t seen as a mild vice as we see it in the West, but as a legitimate path towards spiritual awakening. So I think pretty much everybody in this village is stoned. This, combined with the high caste exclusivity, makes Malana a really weird place. And thanks to the monsoon rains we are stuck here. Manali Our journey began in Manali, Himachel Pradesh (not to be confused with Malana). Well, our journey began in New Delhi but I’ll skip the 14-hour bus ride and slew of tuk-tuks that it took to deliver Natalie and I up from the chaos of Uttar Pradesh to the pristine Himalayas.  Manali is a busy mountain town at the north end of the Kullu Valley, formed by the Beas Rivercascading down from the mountains. It forms the base of an ancient trade route between the Indian plains and the Tibetans of Ladakh.  Today, Manali is a bustling tourist town for Indians across the subcontinent, and the ancient trade route is one of the most famous motorcycling roads in the world- the Manali-Leh Highway.  Riding this epic Himalayan highway to Ladakh was our original goal upon arriving in Manali. But we soon learned of some rules preventing us as Americans from doing this on rental bikes, so we had to develop a new plan. India is the land of motorcycles, and Himachel is the motorcycling capital of India, so I knew we needed to try a motorcycling road trip even if it couldn’t be the Manali-Leh Highway. We decided on a trip up the Parvati River valley to Malana. I had heard of Malana from a wise Irishman I met in Pokhara as the source of “Malana Cream,” the best hash in the world. He told me the people there were not truly Indian, but descendants of Macedonians left over from Alexander the Great’s conquest into Hindustan. He also told me that the locals believed themselves to be so high caste that they wouldn’t touch someone from outside the village. This stuff was just too curious so I was eager to check the place out. We easily rented a motorcycle from a local shop for just Rs. 1200 per day. We got a 2017 Royal Enfield Himalayan 411– a beastly bike with a beefy suspension designed for navigating the challenging dirt roads of the remote Himalayas.  I had an inkling of the challenge that lie ahead- steep, narrow dirt roads hewn into thousand-foot cliffs in death-defying switchbacks. But as with all new challenges, you really can’t comprehend what’s ahead until you dive in… The Journey to Malana We picked up our motorcycle and bungee-corded our trekking packs to each side of the back rack. Our tools got bungeed on right above the back wheel. We had spare tubes, spark plugs, fuses, cables, and all the tools like wrenches and pliers and tire irons that we would need in case of some mechanical failure. The bike looked cool loaded up with all our stuff for trekking- a true adventure mobile designed perfectly for navigating the rough mountain trails that lie ahead. I felt that familiar giddiness of knowing a true adventure lie ahead, with all its challenges and mysteries. The first part of our journey took us out of Manali and down the great Beas River valley. We took the high road east of the river through the many villages of Kullu. The road alternated between trafficky towns with big trucks loading apples for export down into India, and peaceful winding roads through pine forest. As we descended further, the valley opened up into a huge expanse populated with lots of small homes lining the river and dotting up on the mountains. At some points we could probably see thirty miles across a giant valley to a mountain that disappeared into the clouds. As we went further down the valley, the towns got busier and more crowded. It definitely felt like India, with honking and pedestrians everywhere and tons of Dhabas (small family restaurants) boasting Indian cuisine from across the subcontinent. The riding was pretty relaxing, aside for the jarring practices of Indian drivers. There is no right of way and nobody heeds lanes. This means you ALWAYS have to be ready to slam on the brakes in case someone comes into your lane. Many Indian drivers won’t even look before they pass- it is the responsibility of the driver in the opposite lane to squeeze onto the shoulder to make room for the vehicle passing in the other direction. If there is no room both drivers will slam on the brakes to avoid a head-on collision. I’ve thought a lot about Indian society

Base Camp When Jordan and I were spitballing about this Langtang Valley adventure, we knew we were going to be sorely tempted by some of these mountain peaks surrounding the village of Kyanjin Gompa. We were excited to behold the behemoths of Langtang Lirung and Gangchempo, but being a pure novice to alining I wasn’t deluded enough to think I could try one of those. Yala Peak was always a stretch but I think we both believed we had it in is to climb. The turning point came when we met Dawa, a middle-aged Tibetan local of the Langtang Valley. He told us he had climbed Yala hundreds of times and would be happy to show us the way. So we locked it in. As we continued up the valley towards Kyanjin Gompa, I now had a new destination in my mind- Yala. So once we were in Kyanjin Gompa we met Dawa and his friend Dun-Du to plan our ascent. I borrowed a heavy winter jacket and gaiters from Dawa. I would use my own backpack, shoes (low top Asolos), crampons, and pole. It would turn out that I was a quite underprepared to take on an 18,000 ft peak but that is a problem for later. Dawa’s childhood friend Dun-Du was also joining on the climb. The four of us set out in the early hours of the morning, up the valley eastward towards the high glaciers and snowcapped peaks. We trekked for a few hours on a path hewn into the steep side of the mountain. The landscape was intimidating, with the steepest mountains I’ve ever seen in my life. Unlike the Rockies with their rounded tops and long slopes, the Himalayas were like jagged shards reaching vertically high into the sky. The slopes were littered with loose rocks and boulders that looked like they should have rolled down the hill centuries ago. Big Himalayan Ravens hung above us matching our speed in the fast wind. A herd of wild Himalayan Tahr (goats) stampeded across the path in front of us. Dawa and Dun-Du were delighted by the goats and we stood and watched them for a while. At a strategic location the Tibetans had gathered some wood fuel under a dry rock. The four of us loaded up with lumber on our packs so that we could have fire at the camp tonight. After this waypoint, we turned left against the mountainside and took steep switchbacks up the mountain. We arrived at a series of primitive stone huts- Yala Base Camp Yala Karka. Jordan and I pitched our tent in the lower hut while Dawa and Dun-Du pitched theirs above. Dawa started the fire and got some tea and coffee on, then some ramen noodles. I ate a Cliff bar and then Dun-Du gave me some coconut cookies and called it “mountain food” so I ate the whole sleeve of packaged cookies in about a minute. One or two large ravens trotted about the camp confidently asking for bits of food. After lunch, it started snowing hard. We retreated to our tents at around 2 pm and got in our sleeping bags. Around dinner time we climbed out of our snow covered tent and brush the couple of inches of snow that fell off of the rainfly. We trudged through the powder up to Dawa’s tent and they had the fire ripping with pasta on the heat. We at a meal of pasta with ghee and fried onions & garlic. Everyone took a few swigs of Rakshi which Dun-Du fondly called “mountain medicine.” The snow was still falling lightly when Jordan and I retreat back to our tent. Then began a painful night of altitude sickness in the cold tent. I had a splitting headache behind my eyeballs and slept in short fits with intense waking dreams. Summit Push When I stepped out of the tent at 3:30 am in the pitch black darkness of the mountains, I almost tumbled over from disorientation. The sky was clear for the first time I had seen on the trip. There were millions of stars- more stars than I had ever seen, framed by the great black ridges of the Himalayas in all directions. The Milky Way cut a brilliant purple and orange streak across the sky.  We ate a simple breakfast of rice with ghee over the fire and headed up into the darkness. It took a few hours of steep walking in the snow before we even saw Yala peak. Then we descended for a while to a small frozen pond and then the true climbing began at the base of the mountain. My little rubber crampons broke immediately. I probably wouldn’t do a climb like this in so much snow again without good crampons. My lack of an ice axe was supplemented by my trekking pole which actually held up very nicely and proved an absolute necessity for bracing against slides. I immediately stripped off most of my layers and filled my now-heavy backpack with these layers. The first part of the climb was through steep, snowy rock fields where the footing was never secure- on slippery snow or loose rock. Then we got to a very steep (maybe 30-degree grade) section with deep snow, which we crossed transversely against the slope of the hill. The hill terminated at a cliff just to our right hand side so sliding was not an option. I felt pretty worried about my flat shoes on this section, but on each step I kicked my toe in several times to hard pack the snow around my step, and dug my pole in to my side and it was pretty secure. Again- crampons would have been very nice. We then did some light scrambling with our feet and hands up snowy, loose rocks and then climbed another huge steep boulder field.  I began to feel very tired. I found that I had to do a few things to prevent despair from creeping

After so many weeks skimming the world like a flat stone across deep water, I needed to do something.   I knew that biogas is a thing in Nepal from some Engineers without Borders work I had looked into back in college. So I emailed some NGOs I found on the internet and within a few days I was having tea at my local Indian spot with Kalyan Bastola from the Nepal Biogas Promotion Association.  Kalyan told me about some work his group was funding in the provinces of Kaski, Syangja, and Myagdi. The first two were maintenance projects and the third was a new installation. I decided I would join for the maintenance first, to get a concept of the running system and common failure mechanisms.  Quick Rundown on Biogas “Biogas” is what comes out of the top of a reactor called an Anaerobic Digester. Its good to think about this reactor as a “digester” because this is just a pressure vessel that “digests” food- extracting nutrients and farting out the waste gas. The food for the digester can be anything organic- from actual food, to cow shit, and many things in between.  The gas is mostly methane and carbon dioxide with trace hydrogen sulfide and water vapor, and some other miscellaneous volatile organic compounds. Good for burning.  And then… there’s that good stuff. The Digestate. Think of the Digestate as the nutrients an Anaerobic Digester would absorb if it were a sentient being and not an inert pressure vessel buried in the dirt. The Digestate is that nutrient-rich, carbon-sequestering, water-absorbing compost which replenishes the soil. So you put shit in one end, and out the other ends you get 1.) highly calorific gas and 2.) inert carbon based compost.  And so the corn grows and buffalo eat the corn husks and then shit in a big heap in their pen. And that shit (sorry, feedstock) is gently placed down into the Anaerobic Digestor buried next to the buffalo pen. And in the Digester the feedstock decomposes into fuel gas and compost fertilizer. And humans cook their food with the biogas fuel, and grow more food with the fertilizer, and the cycle continues, as it always has, with humans nicely replenishing the carbon and nutrients in the soil and getting some energy out to boot. The Anaerobic Digestion process for waste biomass is generally good for the planet. It definitely beats putting your banana peels into landfills, where trash is buried under heaps and thus decomposes without exposure to oxygen. When this happens, the carbon molecules have no oxygen to bind to, and thus form methane CH4. Methane is a horrible, horrible greenhouse gas.  It is much better to promote decomposition of biomass with exposure to oxygen such that the molecule CO2 can form instead, because CO2 is a less potent greenhouse gas. This is what happens when you compost. So Anaerobic Digestion is about comparable to composting in terms of carbon emissions (assuming biogas is fully oxidized). However in contrast to composting, Digestion produces usable chemical energy for the user. This is the idea to help rural farmers in Nepal. Its particularly potent for Nepali farmers who rely so heavily on firewood for fuel. Firewood which has been cut from the hillsides in droves, leading to landslides which cripple the nation every monsoon season. Firewood which belches ash particulate in the low-ceilinged mud-brick hut with the baby sleeping in the next room. De-centralized, renewable energy accessible to a remote farmer in the mountains. That’s the idea. Let’s Do It Kalyan hooked me up with two Nepali guys, Rajan & Devendra, and soon enough we were loading our equipment onto a bus in the early morning in downtown Pokhara. I would take the bus with the equipment and the other two would ride a motorcycle down to Syangja. I stood on the busy street of downtown Pokhara with Kalyan, Rajan, and Devendra. The morning air was still cool and fresh and the sun peeked out from the hills. Taxi hawks pestered me about where I was going, trying to offer rides. The haggling abruptly ended and the bus started to move. It was packed with Nepalis brimming out the door. Kalyan and the others shouted, “Go!” and a few words in Nepali. The bus was packed and I hesitated to get on but grabbed onto the sidebar lining the doorway and pushed my onto the bus as it peeled out into the street.  The bus was packed with people standing in the aisle, and small children stacked up on the seats. I had my full “house-level” backpack on. Immediately, a man from the second to last row waved at me to come forward and gestured to the seat next to him. I shuffled through the crowd, dropped my pack in the middle of the aisle, and squeezed in next to the Nepali man. I had a vague idea of where I was going. I knew for sure we were going to the district of Syangja, one of the 77 districts of Nepal. Kalyan had said we’d be going to the town of Mirmi. However while we were in the street I thought I heard something else… My seatmate asked me where I was headed and I had to admit I was not sure, to his total confusion and amusement. Anyway I had the equipment with me so I knew I would see those guys again.  That bus ride was tough, though saved by the majesty of the Nepalese countryside. The bus was certainly designed for the average Nepali, whose height may be about 8″ shorter than me.  I was either straight backed with my knees pressed hard into the seat in front of me, or else slouched with my knees lifted against my chest. My huge bag was my right armrest, and people clambered over my bag to reach the last row. I talked at length with the guy next to me until he got off with his family. Then I slept in fits

Ranakpur Jain Temple Pictured above is the Chaumukha Temple in Ranakpur, the largest Jain temple on earth. I stopped in rural Ranakpur for one night on my way from Jodhpur to Udaipur to see this impressive white marble place of worship. Here, I learned about Jainism for the first time. All in all- it seems to me that Jainism boils down some of the most essential aspects of the human condition while shedding many of the the dogmatisms of other belief systems.  I entered the cool marble structure out of the 105 degree heat of the day, leaving my shoes behind, as well as all food, water, and leather. The temple was quiet and cool. Intricate white marble carvings of Hindustani idols peered down at me from every square inch of the walls and ceilings in the 48,000 square foot temple. I wandered about, listening to the audio tour, bare feet padding softly on the cool stone floor. I quickly became lost among the 1444 marble pillars, 29 halls, and 80 domes. It felt good walking about in that temple observing the carvings and artwork; I felt my body instinctively move more slowly and attentively. The temple had a very logical architectural layout. In the center was a building Gambhara within the temple housing a stone carving of the Supreme Preacher Tirthankara of Jainism, Rishabhanatha. He was white marble but for wide, white painted eyes that glinted in the low light of the temple. Extending from the Gambhara were four long hallways in a cross. Each hall was lined with domes, each supported by nine unique carved pillars. One pillar in each dome was always built slightly crooked for some reason that I can’t remember or find on the internet! It was a fun exercise to try and find the crooked pillar. At the end of each “hall” was a terrace looking out on the jungle with a huge carving of an elephant in the center. Jainism & Hinduism Jainism arose out of Hinduism at around the same time as Buddhism (roughly 500 B.C.) Like Buddhism, it was a reformist movement against the ritualized Brahmanic schools of Hinduism at the time. Jainists sought to distill some of the most essential aspects of Hinduism- like mindful enlightenment, Samsara, non-violence, and non-absolutism, while rejecting the entrenched power structures such as the caste system. Hinduism and Jainism influenced each other massively in the millennia since Jainism’s inception. It seems that Jainists held fast to a few doctrines of Hinduism and even distilled these truths by shedding the encumbrances of mythology and the justification of political hierarchy. These doctrines are the pursuit of Enlightenment through non-attachment Aparigraha, non-violence Ahimsa, and non-absolutism Anekantavada.  Aparigraha Non-attachment & the pursuit of enlightenment Aparigraha refer to complete non-possession or earthly materials and relations as a means to transcend base human desires to achieve a higher state of consciousness. Most Jainists are permitted to own some essential personal possessions, however Jainist monks vow to possess nothing. Through eschewing the material world and using meditation to become truly aware of one’s own consciousness, an individual can escape the endless cycle of birth and death. If enlightenment Moksha is attained, the soul joins the supreme soul Atman. In Hinduism, the many deities probably arise from the supreme soul; however, Jainists make no claim to such mythology. They simply state mindful meditation and understanding of the human condition to be the highest state of enlightenment and the primary goal of existence within the Wheel of Samsara. Ahimsa Non-violence Ahimsa follows from the concept of Samsara. All living organisms labor within the Cycle and can transcend species between reincarnations through sufficient attainment of Karma; thus- all beings possess a soul. This seems to be the root of the Hindu philosophy of non-violence against all living things. Many Hindus debate this principle and follow it to varying degrees, while the Jainists codified it as an essential edict. It is probably true that the codification of Ahimsa within Jainism bent Hinduism in this direction in successive centuries after the founding of Jainism. Clearly Jainism and Hinduism influenced each other as time passed. I see Ahimsa all over the place in India. Of course, the food is the best vegetarian food in the world and leaves no desire for meat in one’s soul. All animals are respected and many revered; you see them hanging out in all sorts of places they probably shouldn’t be simply because the locals respect them too much to move them. Trying to navigate your scooter through a herd of cows in the city square Ahimsa. Politely edging past a wild horse on the path Ahimsa. Smiling back at a stray dog who wandered into the restaurant Ahimsa. Even the low creatures are tolerated in human establishments to an astonishing degree. Bugs, salamanders, spiders, birds, aren’t really a cause for alarm in hotels or restaurants (though I usually run in $5/night hostels Aparigraha so that could be skewing the data). Snakes remain an enemy but still not one to be killed! Four out of five establishments on my street in Pokhara have at least one active birds’ nest inside.  Of course, Hindus apply a healthy dose of nuance and skepticism to the concept of Ahimsa. Otherwise the people probably would not exist today. Jainists, on the other hand, benefit from insulation within the non-violent and non-dogamtic Hindustan, and thus can practice strict non-violence. The amount of questioning and debate that is permitted within Hinduism extends far beyond that permitted in Christianity and Islam which have somewhat centralized power structures. This is another principle that the Jainists distilled in their own religion, influencing Hinduism in the process. Anekantavada Jainists believe in non-absolutism Anekantavada. Reality is many-sided, and there are infinite ways to approach truth. In this way no truth should be treated as absolute. The most common error that humans is make is to think that their version of truth is absolute, and anyone who acts against that truth is evil. In fact, everyone has a unique perspective and way of looking at life. According to Jainism, all religions and philosophies should be tolerated. In Hinduism, the principle of non-absolutism seems to be reflected by the