A Wild Ride or Two

Of course nobody climbs to 11,000 feet on a fast, Rob is fictional, who would jump out of an airplane and I only read about the Sai Gon and Mekong. A total work of fictional creation.

It was a cool October day at 7 thousand feet. We had fasted for 3 days. Grapefruit and one raw egg and a tablespoon of peanut butter for breakfast. Think it strange is OK. We drove to 8,500 feet elevation. And we began the ascent to about 11,000 feet. The idea was to see how outside of our bodies we could get drug free.

Around 10,000 it started kicking in so we adapted and decided to go to a saddle at about 12,000 feet. We had boots and shorts on. At those elevations there is little atmosphere to block the sun’s rays. I figure we were getting good and burned at about 9,500 hundred feet. Part of the experience we knew and planned for it. The idea was to do nothing about it. Brisk 45 degree air with a burning sun is optimum.

Rob McMahon was a fine friend of mine. We seemed to have a desire to go crazy. Do not go crazy by yourself. That is not a good place at all. And yet it is.

We slowed to a snail’s pace and laughed. But a misstep could have cost us. I started getting silly at about 10,500 feet. But deadly serious at 11,000 feet, hihihihi. By that space Rob was off in la la land. They say at that place on the mountains a strong wind can take your breath away, literally. You know like 70 mph winds with a down draft. No real problem, you just duck behind a big rock and breathe into your hands.

The bummer about the high altitude winds are when they cross you. It begins to require both hands and feet. Not real comfortable and slow going. Funny but it is easier to do this in ice pack and crampons.

So it finally fully gets to you. The hike and the nature and the rocks and the wind become just a part of what is. But things like you may think about today are so far away. It is transforming. It is not a “let go” it is a let go or die.

We were looking at each other and saying “do not sneeze” but laughing hard enough to lose our breath. You see there is no pressure up there. A sneeze can blow an artery in the eye as there is too little pressure to keep it stable. Actually the blood in your body starts pounding away because of lack of external pressure. We take air pressure for granted.

So there we were in the saddle maybe 500 mile views in different directions. Rob whipped out a sage “stick”. What a trip, we could hardly light it on fire due to lack of oxygen. We sat there knowing we were a few loads less than a load of bricks and that our ladder was not reaching the top. We had done it. And now were goofier than a 3 dollar bill. Take my word for it. You can get “high” without drugs. So out they came from my pack.

Two huge pastrami sandwiches with everything loaded on. Two milks and two root beers. These we going to send us off into the unknown after fasting. I pulled out a pepperoncini and Rob said my eyes went crossed. He guzzled a whole root beer and could not move for several minutes. No anxiety, just naturally stoned out of our small pea sized brains by sugar. “Holy shit Dierker this is a trip”. “hey buddy we still get to go back down and get an oxygen rush”. “Oh crap we would die up here with a joint and beer” hihihi.

We only have about 3 hours of light left. Let’s get the hell out of here quick. The trip down was uneventful if you do not count talking to an eagle and all things turning a light hue of green and the sound of waterfalls where there weren’t any. We all get “tree huggers” but we were rock huggers. By base camp we did not speak. In fact we did not speak for days. Some experiences need time to simmer like a good stew.

Well later we jumped out of a perfectly fine airplane near Tucson Arizona. Then that old boy took off to Riyadh Saudi Arabia and me to Saigon Vietnam. We met up a few years later and regaled each other with ridiculous stories of world travel. Another buddy slamming beers with us declared that it was all made up, but then said that the weird part was he did not think so. He and three others quizzed us for some time and kind of just shook their heads. I had four children and Rob flew out of a third story window during Marti Gras in New Orleans.

Sometimes I wonder how rich I would be now if I was normal. Kind of fun to think about. But the answer is always the same. I would not be as rich.

So I was sitting and buying beers and holding court in this riverside outside bar on the Sai Gon river. English and Vietnamese were limited. But they being in tourism and me studying made our pigeon English and Vietnamese fine for guys getting drunk. My motorcycle driver and my riverboat taxi man. I through it down. I could do something more Vietnamese than either of them. The bet was on and onto the river taxi we went. I had done my research as that was really my job so I kind of cheated.

A six pack and onto the taxi we went. Across the Potomac I yelled. But I also pointed to the other side of the river. A place where it was strictly business and no tourists entered. This is where they loaded boats or maybe ships with rice for a trip down the river and onto the Mekong and shipped to America. So I knew about it. To their chagrin I took off my shirt and shoes. They were getting nervous. Then I directed the taxi up alongside a rice hauler. To cut to the quick I hoisted two ten kilo bags of rice and walked up the plank and dumped them into the hauler. The plank almost broke under my weight.

So much laughter and pointing, all the rice wine I could by nearby was not enough. The ship took off and us dockhands watched a son go down. Life is good. I say “son” for my youngest is named “My Son”, kind of meaning “America’s Vietnamese Child”.

I do not regret what I have done, and not even what I have not done. But I have sure had fun getting it done. 20 years later and Khanh and Tri remembered me next time and free taxis all around. Seems that they did well telling the story of the crazy white American.

Now those of us who have led a crazy life like to tell the stories. This seems like a good thing. Perhaps us crazy folk also play a role in life. Maybe we balance out the other side which I like very much nowadays. A friend recently told me that my lunacy made his normalcy a good place to be. Some truth there it would seem. So I responded that his normalcy made my lunacy a safe place to be.

Let us love the crazy and the mundane. We need each other. Remember this is just a long tale.