Wednesday, May 27, 2009
I got my ass kicked by a herd of Himalayan yaks today. Jeff and I started off from along the river as they grazed, a dozen or so, loaded heavily with huge baskets and bags. We headed up the mountain on a steep incline. A couple hundred metres up, we heard the clong of yak bells - the herd were just below us.
An unusually competative fervour came over me (maybe it was defiance from dodging yak dung all along the path). Jeff urged me upwards, to stay ahead of the herd. At 4000 metres elevation, there is only 60% of the oxygen of sea level. So after a few minutes of climbing at a speedy pace, my heart is pounding and my breathing laboured.
Regardless, I raced ahead to keep ahead of the yaks, who meandered steadily up the trail, as if taunting me. The trail became narrower, the incline steeper. The black horned beasts were damn near vertical now, clockity clacking along without pause.
We came up to a cliff. I was really winded now, and worried about getting nudged towards the high drop. So at last I succumbed, straddeling the inner rock face in submission. The yaks passed by, brushing my backside. They trudged along for a few metres, then suddenly stopped for a rest, oblivious to my mild humiliation below.
Later, I thought seriously about odering a yak steak for supper, perhaps to reassert the dominence of my species. But, I'm learning to understand my limits and accept that my body is just not designed for this landscape. So, I had some yak cheese curds instead and called it a day.
Perhaps that competative spirit will reignite for Trailwalker? I hope I can keep pace! I'm sure it will be easier at sea level, but yikes, 100kms???
An unusually competative fervour came over me (maybe it was defiance from dodging yak dung all along the path). Jeff urged me upwards, to stay ahead of the herd. At 4000 metres elevation, there is only 60% of the oxygen of sea level. So after a few minutes of climbing at a speedy pace, my heart is pounding and my breathing laboured.
Regardless, I raced ahead to keep ahead of the yaks, who meandered steadily up the trail, as if taunting me. The trail became narrower, the incline steeper. The black horned beasts were damn near vertical now, clockity clacking along without pause.
We came up to a cliff. I was really winded now, and worried about getting nudged towards the high drop. So at last I succumbed, straddeling the inner rock face in submission. The yaks passed by, brushing my backside. They trudged along for a few metres, then suddenly stopped for a rest, oblivious to my mild humiliation below.
Later, I thought seriously about odering a yak steak for supper, perhaps to reassert the dominence of my species. But, I'm learning to understand my limits and accept that my body is just not designed for this landscape. So, I had some yak cheese curds instead and called it a day.
Perhaps that competative spirit will reignite for Trailwalker? I hope I can keep pace! I'm sure it will be easier at sea level, but yikes, 100kms???
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