Leeches.

(This is Robin Leech, host of the once popular Lifestyles of the rich and famous. I am using his image instead of that of an actual leech because I am afraid the disgusting visage of a blood-sucking parasite might so repulse readers that they pass over this entry  ...and I feel like I have some pretty good stuff in this one. Certain celebrities might prefer the actual leech picture. )


How many times have you found yourself asking "how do I get all these leeches off of me?" Almost everyone I speak with acknowledges this problem, but further questioning reveals it to be more figurative than literal, reflecting one of the troubled interpersonal minglings of the human condition. In the jungles of New Guinea we should be so lucky. 


Most leeches live in still or slow-moving water. It is a quiet life with few demands to fill their days. With so much leisure one might expect these creatures to have developed some higher order of intellect, yet for all appearances there is one thought that plays over and over in the leeches brain; "I could really go for some blood right about now." The only other thought a leech has is "that'll do" upon spotting anything entering the water.  Leeches will bite slugs, reptiles, fur bearing animals, and of course people. So indiscriminate are leeches that scientists have recently begun sampling the blood DNA taken from leeches for evidence of rare or extinct species, including Big Foot. No longer need they set up trail cameras with motion sensors, Scientists have conscripted a legion of leeches as their squishy minions. 


This would be enough bad news for our expedition into New Guinea. We will wade daily through many streams. But New Guinea is one of the few places that is also home to terrestrial leeches; leeches that live on land, under leaves and in the trees. They rain down if you stand in one place for too long. They scrape off onto your pants as you pass through the brush. Once upon you, the leech then seeks out warm areas beneath the clothing, typically the ankles and arm pits. 


I think you see where we are headed next, and it would be easy to disparage the lowly leech. But he is as God made him, and closer examination may reveal the leech to not be the villain we think him. 
1. The leech attaches to the skin by way of suckers located at the mouth and tail. This creates a sound stable adhesion. The Engineers among us can certainly appreciate such solid structural site preparation. Absent the second sucker on the tail, a leech would flail about causing more damage, like a pitbull escaped from your neighbor's yard. Indeed, compared to pitbulls leeches are kindly and gentle. 
2.The leech injects a local anesthetic chemical before biting. Who else does this?! I've been bitten by hamsters, ponies, and a first grade classmate. None of them cared the least for my pain. 
3. The leech bites you (you knew this was coming) and injects an anticoagulant called Hirudin. This thins the blood and speeds up the process. Vampires skip this step. That is why Hollywood must use timelapse photography when filming a Vampire sucking the blood of his victim. It takes a really long time if the blood is still thick. Many Vampires become exhausted and have to nap. This is to say nothing of the victim, who is probably already late for the opera. So by thinning the blood a leech is in fact doing you a favor. You are welcome. He is saying "let's make this quick and painless and get you on your way." 
4. The leech fills his body with blood. Your blood. Enough to triple his size. I want to point out that he takes the bad with the good. There may be elements of your blood that include residuals of a mis-spent youth. They are now the leeches problem. In fact, I found one Physician who declared "Bloodletting clears the mind, strengthens the memory, cleanses the stomach, dries up the brain, warms the marrow, sharpens the hearing, stops tears, encourages discrimination, develops the senses, promotes digestions, produces a musical voice, dispels torpor, drives away anxiety, feeds the blood, rids it of poisonous matter, and brings long life." Yes, this was a 17th century Physician and medicine has progressed since time. But we should not be too quick to cast off the wisdom of the ages. Think about it. Who has not at one point thought "I wish there was some way to dry up my tears and brain"? Indeed, leeches were once as vital to medicine as the stethiscope. And their medicinal use continues today. Modern day doctors use leeches for treating abscesses, painful joints, glaucoma, myashenia, and to heal venous diseases and thrombosis. Medical leeches are used in plastic surgery, for improving brain circulation and for curing infertility. Imagine what this would cost at a clinic. Yet the humble leech performs it all gratis. Just wade through a jungle stream and start feeling fabulous!

In spite of the obvious benefits of having one's blood sucked by a leech, many Readers may choose to avoid this communion with nature. For them I offer the following commonly prescribed methods of prevention.
1. Tobacco Socks. One should soak his trekking socks in a slurry of tobacco juice, then allow them to dry. Leeches will become sick when their porus bodies come into contact with the residue. They soon drop to the ground and file suit against Phillip Morris.
This prevention works reasonably well for trail trekkers, but is of no value in our expedition owing to the many stream crossings we will wade.
2. Soap. It is claimed that leeches are repelled by contact with socks or boots rubbed well with a bar of soap. The success of this is oft refuted in the internet articles I have found where the author is pictured with blood flowing freely down his shins.
This too will not work for us as many watery plunges will surely rinse away the soap.
3. Lady Socks. In the pigeon english of Indonesia Panty Hose are known as "Lady Socks." The theory here is that nylons, warn next to the skin, make it impossible for the leech to form a seal. He becomes frustrated and drops off, seeking a tobacco sock to calm his nerves.
I am considering this approach and regard myself as confident in my masculinity. But I do wish I could get that Lou Reed song out of my head.
4. Leech Waders. This plastic sock is warn between the foot and wool sock. It fastens just below the knee. Hopeful leeches search ever lower for bare flesh until they are squashed beneath the feet of the Trekker, thusly becoming part of his boots. However, some leeches search high, venturing well above the knee. Nothing good can come of this.
While this may work for short treks, the long days we will put in promise to generate a lot of sweat. That moisture would accumulate within the vapor barrier formed by the plastic wader, causing a host of other problems.
5. Sound Aversion. The same keen sense of vibration that allows a leech to sense your approach can be turned against him . The right combination of chords and lyrics has been proven to make leeches turn on themselves. Such auditory poison is readily found in the classic rock song Knights in white satin by the Moody Blues.
We will pass on this strategy as it holds the potential to be more toxic to humans than leeches.

In the likely event these methods fail and one finds a leech attached to his person there are various means of removal to consider.
1. Do nothing. The amount of blood taken by a leech is inconsequential to a human. The leech will drop off of his own accord when done feeding. Leeches are not poisonous and do not carry disease. That said, I cannot imagine anyone actually doing this.
2. Scream and rip the leech off with your bare hand. This is the best way to end up with a permanent scar. Not given the opportunity to properly release, the leech will probably take some skin with him. He does not mean to. He has no use for it. It was all just a failure to communicate.
3. Inflict pain upon the leech. Many treatments fall under this category; a lit match or cigarette, alcohol, bug repellant, hot water, Fox News. They all succeed in persuading the leech to release quickly, but they also induce such panic that the leech regurgitates its meal back into the wound, virtually assuring infection.
4. The slow scrape. Most field experts recommend removing a leech by using the edge of a knife or fingernail to slowly break the seal around the leeches mouth. Then the rear suction cup can be scrapped free quickly, allowing the leech to drop to the ground where proper retribution is exacted at the heal of a boot.
 
 

When Winners become Dinners.

Cannibals. It's hard to put a positive spin on it. I've tried. Take the fellows pictured above. Nice boys, I'm sure. But for all the in-depth lab work they have enjoyed in Anatomy Class these Cannibals still don't seem to understand which side of the body the spine is located on. It's unforgivable, really. If we are what we eat one can only say these Cannibals have not been eating Phi Beta Kappas.
As the topic of my impending travels to New Guinea have come up in conversation over the last several months, so too has that of Cannibals, synonymous, it seems, with that part of the world. Many people have asked if I will be bringing some form of protection. It goes without saying anything truly effective would be disallowed by TSA. Further, our lack of a common language precludes the possibility of psychological Judo. But the clear advantage is mine, as there is no way these people could know I was a wrestling champion in Jr. High. I am fairly sure they will be taken by surprise when I put a double arm-bar walkover on the first of their numbers. I have not worked up a plan for what I will do after that.
Not to worry. There is very little Cannibalism to be found these days. Missionaries, who first came to New Guinea in the 1870's, have successfully persuaded the native peoples to love thy brother in a less culinary sense. Various occupying forces since time have proven equally convincing. In 2007, a tribe in Papua New Guinea formally apologized for killing and eating four British missionaries in 1878. Though this atrocity was committed by ancestors several generations ago it is considered significant on their path toward second world status that these former Cannibals should declare "Our bad."
Yet it would be incorrect to suggest, as I have in an earlier post, that Cannibalism no longer exists in New Guinea. The Korowai of southeastern Papua have been reported to practice ritual cannibalism up to the present day. A 60 Minutes episode filmed in 2006 documented this practice. I also found an interview with a cannibal on U-tube. Imagine that.  A British crew spoke with one member of a Korowai war party via translator. The native described human flesh as tasting like pig. People, the other other white meat.
But the Korowai are located many unfriendly tribes and several hundred miles away from the area we will be trekking through. We are not worried and I encourage you, dear Reader, to not be either. The bulk of our journey will travel through the tribal lands of the Dani, a native people who long ago abandoned the abhorrence of cannibalism for the sweet sweet taste of cash. With a vested interest in seeing our safe return, the Dani natives we will hire as Porters can be relied upon to serve as both passport and protector. Milton Friedman would be pleased.

Yoga as training

I had a friend named Larry Teeters when I was six. I still remember him and his younger brother Roland. If there was trouble to be had they would have it first and best. They were fast and tough in ways the neighborhood kids came to assume was typical of Swedes, as they and their immigrant parents were the only we had known. So it was hard to believe when Larry's father, who closely resembled Burgess Meredith, enrolled Larry in ballet classes. "He thinks it will make me a better Boxer," Larry explained. None of us understood this or why, for that matter, he would go public with such information. But we liked Larry so we just let it go. I never saw Larry Box, but I did see him perform ballet. There he was in tights, bouncing around on stage with a bunch of girls. I kept thinking it would turn into boxing at some point, like a hockey game, but it didn't. I felt bad for Larry, who looked as though he was fully engaged in feeling bad for himself. 
Then Roland saved the day! He had somehow slipped away from his parents and entered stage right. With arms stretched out wide in a mock ballet pose, Roland crossed to center stage, leaping and kicking at the air until he fell on his can. All the while his face displayed the elation of a human acting out the best idea he has ever had.


I think about Larry Teeters most Wednesday evenings these days. That is when I go to Yoga class. I am learning Yoga because I believe it will make me a better Mountain Climber. This was highly recommended in the training guide for the Carstensz climb. Specifically, the guide recommended "Hot Yoga." I suppose this makes sense in the context of needing greater flexibility for the jungle trek and also preparing one for the equatorial heat we will encounter in July. But, having no prior Yoga experience, I thought it best if I start off at room temperature. Flexibility has always been a challenge for me . The last time I touched my toes was in the womb. My "Downward Dog" pose looks more like a "Downward Lizard". But I enjoy the change of pace, and Lin joins me in the classes. We go out for ice cream afterwards. The thought of ice cream helps me get through those complicated poses where my leg is trembling and I find myself asking "where is Roland when you need him?"

Danger

I want to get this out of the way. I am asked by many people if what I am doing with this Carstensz Expedition is "dangerous." Yes. We will be positioning in small aircraft, trekking through areas known for all manner of venomous creatures and climbing a limestone rock face where any fall is likely your last. That said, I have searched extensively and cannot find a single verified instance of a Carstensz Climber fatality. There have been Porter fatalities, which seem to the greatest degree to have been heart attack or pulmonary edema. These are tragic losses. But thus far no climbers have perished. 
Fewer than 100 people attempt Carstensz Pyramid each year, and less than 500 have summitted since climbing came to this part of the world. So it is possible there just have not been high enough numbers as yet to reach that first sad Climber death. Perhaps more likely still is the explanation that only truly serious Climbers come to Carstensz. A more accessible mountain would draw much larger numbers, a portion of which would be untrained and or unguided.
Take Kilimanjaro, the most climbed mountain in the world. Approximately 22,000 people set out each year for the summit of Kilimanjaro. It attracts many novice climbers enticed by the beauty and exotic nature of the locale. Being a "non-technical" climb, even non-climbers feel empowered to take a shot. As well, the seasons allow for climbing year 'round. So a lot of people, with a lot of ideas, but not a lot of training, stream constantly up the side of Kilimanjaro. Approximately 10 die each year. 
The Guide Outfits I considered for Carstensz all wanted to see my climbing resume as part of the initial application process. In addition, my Guide, Jason Edwards, sent out detailed training instructions which he has followed up on as the weeks passed. Jason added Yoga and rock climb training to the standard core strength, cardio, and endurance training that would be a part of any climb.
All of this does not, of course, make us immune from mistakes or misfortune. We must be focused, patient, and practice all the tenets of sound trekking and climbing. In a similar fashion those who have climbed Carstensz before us have avoided placing that first tic mark on the record. We intend to do the same.

The Route

I arrive in Denpasar Bali at 3:20 pm on July 1 after traveling for 22 hours. As my flight to Timika does not leave until 2:15am I will spend the next 11 hours killing time around the airport in a jet-lagged stupor. There is an executive lounge, but one must be traveling first class (I am not) and be "invited" by the airline (they haven't). I will probably check my gear and find a bench or piece of floor to sleep on.


The 2nd and 3rd of July are spent resting and packing as the team comes together in Timika. I just received word we will be an expedition of 12 climbers! We fly from Timika to Ilaga on July 4th, then trek 2 hours to a tea house that will serve as our staging area. Over the following 5 days we will trek from elevation 2,286 feet to Carstensz base camp at 12,500. 

 Much of this trek is through jungle. It will be hot and muddy. We will be wearing rubber boots. By the time this expedition is over we will have trekked 70 miles in rubber boots. This is what my boots look like

They are Cabella Wellingtons. I wore them today while using my pressure washer. They performed well, which is to say my feet stayed dry. This is a very good start. 

Next I would show you a map of the trekking route, but Google images let me down. I was hoping for an aerial photo with a dotted line marking the path. This is all I could find.  Clearly we will need the help of locals. 

The team should make its summit attempt on or about July 11th. This is done in one shot. We start climbing with headlamps in the middle of the night, reach the summit at 16,024 feet and return back to base camp where celebratory pats on the back abound. Here is a great dotted line picture of the summit attempt route. 

Look at those dots. That is a great dotted line picture. I am not sure why the dots change color. It seems possible this indicates the places where fixed-line protection is used.  I will find out when I get there, though I don't expect there will be any actual dots.

The Plan

I slept awful last night. Leeches. All night long I dreamed of leeches. At one point I dreamed a stranger had entered my bedroom and was releasing leeches beneath the covers at the foot of my bed. I woke with my feet retracted into a cross-legged position. I have been researching leeches for a blog entry. "How many times have you asked yourself," it begins, "how do I get all these leeches off of me?" That is as far as I have gotten. After spending the evening researching the leeches of the New Guinea jungle I knew the answer to this question and many other fascinating facts about these unique and rightly maligned creatures, but I could not bring myself to write them down. I am going to give us both a bit of time on this one. But prepare yourself. It's coming. 

After five major summits in as many years, I took the last year and a half off from climbing. It had been a lot of fun, a lot of work and a lot of money. But I felt burned out. Somewhere along the way I had lost my Mojo. My son, Chase, asked that I take the next year off as it would be his senior year of High School and he wanted me around. I was happy to comply. He had been voted student body President, would return as a varsity member of the state champion Cross Country Team, and looked forward to Prom, college selection, and being a kid one last time. I did not want to miss any of it. I trained less and instead spent more time performing Improv at the Upfront Theatre. A new character, Schlomo Rabinowitz "Yiddish Psychic", emerged during this period. 

I decided I needed to deconstruct my climbing and let the pieces lay in a pile for awhile, see what I might be inspired to build back. As the months rolled by I thought very little about it. Yet I knew I was not done climbing. The first thing I missed was the blogging, a means of both preserving my experiences and sharing them with others. For me, it is the sharing of moments that makes them meaningful. I wanted more of that. I suggested to Lin that she be a part of my next climb, still not sure where that was. "Not necessarily doing the climb," I clarified, "but being there when I come off the mountain, experiencing the place with me afterwards." She accepted. This would mean doing a climb during our summer months when school was out and Lin was on break from her job with the district as a sign language Interpreter. At this point I had two remaining names on my Seven Summits list; Everest and Carstensz Pyramid. Everest was out, being a March-May climb. I looked at the rain tables for Carstensz and determined July-August to be an ideal time for an attempt. So the plan was hatched. I would leave for Indonesia, do the climb, then meet Lin a short flight away in Bali afterwards. It would be romantic and restful. Then Lin came up with a variation; We would both leave Seattle the same day. Lin would fly east to Munich, by way of Iceland. I would fly west to New Guinea, by way of Taiwan. Lin could spend time traveling Europe with her daughter Rachelle (who lives and works in Munich), while I was on the climb. She would then fly to Bali to be with me. A week later we would return home together, retracing my path through Taiwan. In the end Lin would circumnavigate the globe. We began making arrangements immediately. 

Everything had to center around the climb. I would need a high quality Guide Service with extensive experience trekking to and climbing this very remote mountain. There were only four outfits that met my criteria. One of them, Adventure Consultants, had guided me well on three prior climbs. But I had also gotten to know some of the other companies as their teams moved up the hill in tandem with us. I wanted to give them a try. In the end I decided to sign with International Mountain Guides, IMG, based in Ashford, Washington near Mt Rainier. I had gotten to know IMG's head Guide, Phil Ershler (First American to summit Everest by way of the North Face) and observed their teams to be well-managed and efficient on the mountains. 

Originally I had entertained the idea of a fly and climb strategy, where a chartered helicopter whisks climbers over the jungle, over the mud and mosquitoes and rain and problematic negotiations gaining permission to cross various tribal lands. Over the rivers, the blisters, the questionable food and venomous creatures. Over the hills and marshes, and aches and pains. It deposits climbers at base camp, elevation 12,000 feet. The 4,000 feet remaining to the summit is climbed in one day, then that same helicopter extracts the victorious climbers to comfort. It sounded pretty good to me. But... 

A good friend of mine did this a year earlier. Or I should say he barely did this. His team arrived in Timika, where they remained stranded for a number of days owing to yet another strike at the Freeport MacMoran Mine and civil unrest that resulted in the canceling of landing permits in the area and the sudden absence of aircraft. The entire expedition would have been scratched if not for a local contact that met a man wearing an aviator's hat while standing in line at the Dunkin Donuts. As luck would have it he was a helicopter pilot. His "bird" was almost done being repaired and he either had a permit to fly that region or didn't care that he didn't. A daisy chain of fuel provisions was stocked at various village clearings leading to Carstensz and, one by one, the climbers and gear where transported to base camp.  They summitted Carstensz and managed to rescue a sick trek-in climber during their extraction operations. Like most major climbs this expedition spent a fair bit of time teetering between success and complete failure. 

Any land-based approach would certainly incure its own share of uncertainty, but at least there would be some sense of self-determination. If we could last the jungle trek we would almost certainly get our shot at the summit. This to me seemed a safer bet than trusting the fates of machine and bureaucracy.  So I commited to a trek-in expedition and began training.

The Seeds of Singing

I try to learn as much as possible about the places I am going. However, the demands of training and blogging often limit how much reading I am able to fit in. Selectivity is the key. So I was all too pleased when my good friends Jeff and Leslie gifted me the above title; a novel set in Dutch occupied New Guinea in the 1940's. Sure, at 500 pages (and no pictures) it was a meaty work and I would have no time to read any other offerings particular to this region. But this novel offered the promise of historical context (WWII), interactions with indigenous peoples, the observations of Anthropologist, and a worthy mingling of the flora and fauna. It delivered all of this, often at the same time, as forbidden desires were indulged by the side of jungle pools. Though my prudish sensibilities were alerted, my academic needs were given just enough to keep them going. So, in the interest of research, I pressed on with the reading, finishing it in a matter of days.        Here is what I learned.  
1.  It was almost impossible to get a good mint julep in 1940's New Guinea. 
2. My money is always on the guy with the poisonous blow-darts.
3.  A leach can fit through the lace grommet of a boot.
4. Headhunters are not so much bad humans as  misinformed collectors.  Let's not judge.
5. The heat of the jungle acts as a sort of moral kryptonite.
6.  Malaria is so prevalent in New Guinea that, prior to pharma preventatives, you might as well have just lay out in the evening air and gotten it over with.
7.  The tribes of New Guinea really really really really dislike one another. Good luck Kofi Annan.
8.   It is advisable to yield on price when bartering at the point of a bayonet.
9. There use to be a really good living in growing rubber.
10.  The natives upriver liked white men  ...lightly braised with a plantain gravy.