The Adventure

The Beginning-
I believed I was crossing the river Styx, out of hell into the world of holiday and peace. Instead I found myself sitting squarely in the jaws of Hades.
After it taking three days in Ktown to get visas to Tajikistan, visiting the consulate each day and waiting in line for 3 hours at least, the trip continued. The morning drive from the capitol of Astan to the border of Tajikistan was absolutely stunning; sunrise that morning in the Hindu Kush was breath taking. We followed a river continually higher and deeper into the mountains, the road was embraced on either side with dark greens, and then just above the riverbanks, houses were built into the valley sides as if building blocks stacked by a child. Rising high above them were the shear sides of magnificent mountains, still capped with the last remnants of winters snow. Our driver was confident and only slightly risky, which made for a wonderful and comfortable drive. After having left the capitol at 5 am, we arrived at the border at eleven-thirty, excellent time, considering the country we were traveling through. After leaving passport control, on the Astan side, we looked forward to using the new bridge, my country had just given to cross, unfortunately it is only for motorist, we would take the boat. They managed to extort ten dollars a person for a five-minute ride in a rust bucket of a boat, in site of a beautiful bridge. Once we crossed, about noon, things took a downhill turn. On the tajik side we were greeted by a single soldier, guarding a shack, and nothing else, so we waited twenty minutes for the “immigration officer” to come so he could write down our names in his little book. We then waited another thirty minutes for a rickety old bus to come and take us, for another dollar, the half-mile to the actual customs and passport control station. There, we waited in another line for an hour while the TEN people in front of us went. Passport control wrote our names down again in a little book before sending us into the customs room, where we waited another fifteen minutes to be seen, here is were the real trouble started. I had brought a knife along for the camping and fishing I was hoping to do in Kyrgyzstan, the customs officer decided I shouldn’t have it and wanted to take it, then proceeded to unpack my entire bag, including having me take my sleeping bag out of its compression sack. I, in Dari, asked the agent if he did not like Americans, it worked, he then stopped making any trouble about the knife and finished up the search quickly. At this point in the story is where my life became incredibly torturous, and one of the worst possible days for Lee. He had brought an old dueling style pistol from Aland as a gift, he had no problem taking it out of the country, had the receipt and all. However, the authorities on this side of the river decided to take the next ten hours of our time doing paper work and arguing with Lee about trying to bring it into their country and failing to declare such an item (an Aland copy of a pistol, not functioning, bought for fifty bucks). We finally arrived in Dushanbe at eleven thirty at night, lee having had to leave his passport and the pistol at the customs office half way from the border to Dushanbe and the problem continuing the next day. Lee was finally able to work it out, albeit without continuing with the gift for his father. The one “positive” is customs gave us a “free ride” to Dushanbe.
The next day we needed to buy our tickets to Bishkek, this proved to be an arduous task as well. We could only find one ticket to our next destination. We asked at every possible office. Only one ticket. I told Lee to take the ticket, meet his family there, who with Aussie passports had been able to go through the country to the west of Aland and make the entire trip in a day, and I would fly to Istanbul for vacation instead, we then asked the right question, was a “more expensive” one available. This being an Asian and formerly soviet country we had the second ticket in thirty minutes. Then, buying by my return tickets I got my dates mixed up, fortunately I realized it in time, but then needed to change one of them. I once again ran into difficulty, on the dates I needed to fly there were no seats available. I once again asked the right question and for a small fee I was able to buy the needed ticket. After waiting a couple days for our flight we headed to Kyrgyzstan.

The Conference-

The time spent on the shores of lake Isyk-kul where days of teaching, worship, fellowship, and relaxing. I went to the conference knowing very few of the people that worked in Aland, now I count several of them among my friends. I was also able to meet people from all over the world, and of course run into people that I never expected to, it’s a small world and Y makes it smaller. It was a full moon that week and I spent almost every night walking the beach and grounds of the resort, it was time well spent.

The Adventure-

Day 1- The Day began with the end of the conference. After saying goodbyes and trading emails with about a hundred people I set off on my adventure. I had only the name of a friend’s family member, a few phone numbers, the name of a town and beach, a taxi coming to get me, and an itch for a little adventure. I made it to the beach, and waited for about an hour knowing that the family member was at work and could be a little while before arriving, but my friend, Alexei, a guy, decided he could use a visit to his family and met me at the beach and accompanied me for the adventure. Upon arriving at the house we were immediately taken to a different beach near an old soviet shipyard for a quick swim. The lake is the second largest mountain lake in the world and is large and deep enough that at one time the soviets used it submarine for training, as well as other large ships, some of which were built at these ship yards, now they are only used for occasional repairs to barges on the lake. We then went back to the house for dinner, a bit latter we picked up some smoked fish for an evening snack, during this time it was decided that we should go to small pond to hunt for crawfish, being a good ole southern boy I was champion of the evening, they were in hip boots and I in my Teva sandals wadding around the pond, my years of playing in creeks played off, I caught the majority of them myself and immediately gained credibility with the guys. We arrived back at the house about 2:30 am, and were up again the next morning at eight for the next adventure.

Day 2- This day was full of traveling around the east and south side of the lake. It began with a drive far up in the mountains for a few good photo opportunities. Along the way I saw double humped camels for the first time. My guide for the week was an older Russian man who works as a mechanic, in his fifties, named Demetrie. He is full of knowledge and history about the places we passed. We stopped at one place that looked like nothing more than a few mud mounds, they were however the only remains of an old smelting site along the silk road were travelers would stop for important metal tools or to trade ore. He continually pointed out what once was and what is now. I was amazed through out my time in Tajikistan and Kyrgzstan the fondness in which soviet times were referred too. People were happy during that time, provided for, the infrastructure of the country was good and many other positives, there was less freedom of press, but there was little press, there was little choice of vocation, but even today people simply follow in their families footsteps or have the job with the greatest pay, it is not a matter of choosing a job because you love it. I at times felt myself embarrassed at the propaganda about the Soviet Union that I have simply believed the soviets did do terrible things in other countries, but those are not the only things. The nomads here are still nomads, mostly untouched in their way of life for the last thousand years. Demetrie is Proud to be a Russian as well as Kyrgyz and I heard all the stories. One story he shared was the legend as well as the history of the formation of the lake. The local myth is a story of three brothers fighting for the love a woman. There are three winds that blow across the lake, from the north, south and east. Each one is said to be a brother, one stronger than the other two. They fought until they had killed each other and then became the spirits of the wind. The one from the south will at times carry radiated wind into the town from mountains full of uranium and cause slight cases of radiation sickness. The woman in her despair wept enough to fill a lake with tears, and then cast herself down from a mountaintop creating the great chasm that is now the lake. The water is slightly salty, said to be her tears. The history is that at one time many people lived in the area that is now the lake, a great earthquake caused a valley to form. At first the people built dams to hold back the water, but a second earthquake years later created the great depths that is now lake Isyk-kul. Even to this day, with diving equipment, you can enter the water to see the ancient homes, still complete with dishes and the belongings of people that were trapped in their homes. The lake who’s name means “hot lake,” was filled with water from the river that once ran through the plains that were there and the many hot springs that surround it. Due to the size and depth of the lake it creates a very moderate climate, cool summers, it was in the sixties and seventies most of the time I was there, and cold a night, as well as warmer winters, the town I was in rarely gets snow, even while the mountains may have several feet of it.
The last half of the day was spent at a “dead” lake. The water was so thick with salt and minerals that swimming was not necessary, I could sit in the water with my hands and feet out of the water; it was truly a unique experience. Once we arrived at home they heated the sauna for us and we were able to bathe in it as well. It was the perfect end to a long day.

Day 3- “Fish Soup”
This day I began fishing in grand style. We enlisted a young family friend to help us out with knowing where to go; he was however not considered entirely trust worthy so Demetrie came along with Alexei and me. As it turned out he is not so much untrustworthy, but very scatter brained, and although he works as a guide in the summer season, starting in a couple weeks, we took the wrong road about three times before arriving at the river. We began fishing by taking off down a ravine that normal people with out fishing gear would probably take rappelling equipment for, but not us. It was about a 250-meter drop down to the river. From the bottom we worked our way up river fishing in the small holes for whatever we could catch. I was told that we would be making fish soup out of whatever we caught so size didn’t matter. I was fishing very traditionally with a hook, line, sinker and a worm. At times I was pulling fish out at the rate of two or three a minute. Many of them very small, but hey, fish soup. Hiking up river was an adventure in itself, it was definitely a steep creek, and at times it was waterfall after waterfall, with pools of fish at the bottom of each. The sides were covered in thick brush and lined by sheer cliffs, the sun only hit the bottom of the valley for about two hours it was so steep, deep and narrow. Here the water and air was clean enough that we drank straight from the river. The fish had great eyes and would always see us coming if we weren’t careful; it was like fish stalking rather than just fishing. At the end of the day after about 5 Kilometers of climbing/fishing/hiking, we arrived at the end of the valley to a waiting picnic and hot tea, just as it was starting to rain a cold drizzle. After the picnic I cleaned my fifty fish and enjoyed the warm car ride back. That night I received a lesson in Russian history from Demetrie and was asked why Americans don’t learn Russian history, but there they learn American history. Luckily, I love history and remembered enough Russian history from studying European history to ease his mind.

Day 4- Walking out to the van this morning I noticed fresh snow on the mountains, a surprising site for mid-June, but perfect, in Aland it has been over a hundred consistently for the last month already, and I have a hot summer to look forward to. Having to pack and dress warm was wonderful. We took off to the far side of the lake a couple of hours away to one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, and on the border with China. We started this days adventures with a quick hike up to a group of three waterfalls. Each one was between forty and sixty feet high. The hike was almost straight up at times and after having hiked so much steep terrain the day before it was a welcome challenge to stretch out my sore legs. We hiked up and down in about two hours, at times hiking shirtless due to the heat and other times in a fleece jacket, freezing in the rain and sleet, I love mountain weather. After the hike we hopped in the van and drove to the Chinese border, so I could see it, then found a nice place for a picnic. After lunch they dropped me off next to one of the most picturesque rivers I have ever seen. I only caught a couple fish hiking the couple miles down to where they were waiting for me, however it was one of my favorite days of the trip. That evening we decided to head to the very end of the lake and then further into the mountains to where Demetrie’s cousin works as a forest ranger/game warden for the government in the national forest. We stayed in a very basic cabin (no running water, but a satellite dish) and were once again treated to an evening in the sauna. After the sauna I walked out side to a sky filled stars that I had not seen in many years. They air was so clear and the light so dim that the gases of the milky way seemed to be clouds of deep purple and pink floating between the stars. I felt that if I were to climb a tree my head would be in the stars. Jupiter was slowly making its way across the southern sky and turning away for just a few moments you could notice his grandiose movements. It was difficult to pick out constellations the stars were so thick. Every few minutes I could watch the bright streak of a falling star across the sky. It was as if the eternal creator had set a cosmic orchestra of silent beauty for the pleasure of who ever chose to raise their eyes to see it. At times such as these I understand why they are called the heavens.

Day 5- After about four and a half hours of sleep I set off before sunrise for my last day of fishing. The sun came up with a brilliance I have long missed. The valley I was in was a lush green with shades I had forgotten could exist. There was no brown anywhere in site. I walked along the creek through thickets of wild blueberries, spruce, fir, and aspen trees rising to filter the sunlight into beams of sparkling diamonds reflecting off the rushing water. I only spent a couple hours fishing due to the fact that the fishing wasn’t overly productive and I was incredibly sore and worn out from the previous few days of hiking and fishing. After a quick breakfast we hit the road for about six hours to finish the circuit around the lake stopping at museums and sites along the way. Including a museum, monument and grave of Russian Explorer Nikolai Przewalski, toted there as the worlds greatest scientist and explorer. In four expeditions through Asia he traveled almost 50,000 Km by horse, recording all that he saw. Discovering, for the west, animals such as the double humped camel and a small horse that now bears his name, for the first time, in total nearly a thousand new plant and animal species were included in his journals. Those were the days when traveling was a true adventure.
After 5 days, I had fished, hiked, climbed and relaxed all in an extreme style. It was a great adventure making friends and seeing some of the most striking places this small country has to offer. Demetrie has opened his life and home to me the next time I choose to come visit. I do hope to visit this most incredible country again.

The ending- I am now headed back home, another five days with a couple flights and days between them. I feel refreshed, but tired. When I get home I will have been gone for a month. I am ready to be back in the city that has become my home, to play with my Dog, and to enjoy the café. Adventure is the spice of my life and the last weeks have been curry to my soul.

Tonight, I felt small

Tonight I felt small, looking into the vast expanse of space. I, for the first time, realized just how far away the heavens truly are, I can see only the stars of our own galaxy and the pinpricks of those too far away for my mind to comprehend. The stars look as if portals into the floor of heaven itself, with myself separated by the clear, thin shelter of this planets atmosphere and then nothing, but nothingness. I sensed the huge awesome space of this existence I live in and the minuteness of my body in relation. It is so grand, I am as a grain of sand at the bottom of the sea looking up into the glittering sunshine of the surface, fathoms of distance away. The calmness of this night is pervading in its beauty. I cannot escape it, but with sleep and the arrival of day, the reflection of the sun in the sky shutting out the expanse for a day. At the exact moment I felt most alone, instantly I sensed my eternal creator standing at my shoulder, as I sat, his hand wresting on me, so tangible I was afraid to turn my head that I might catch a glimpse of his figure. This was created for me, to see my size, to understand my finite nature, to know that even in such majestic emptiness the creator of it all can stand at my side and whisper in my ear that I am his, that he is who he is. There is great holiness in such unreligious encounters as this. Although the heavens are untouchable, the one who lives in them is standing, gazing with me, enjoying, loving what is intrinsically real. Moments as these no faith is needed to believe, for time and space have been bent into the hands of their creator to reveal not only what is seen, but what exist.

Normal

Sitting eating dinner with a local friend of mine tonight, I realized normal is a word that has greatly changed in meaning for me over the last couple of years, in great and small ways. The restaurant I was eating in sits next door to the home of a former warlord who is now a minister in the national government, during dinner he left in convoy with a large armed escort of possibly twenty men, in my life today, completely normal. Seeing men with automatic weapons on a daily basis is completely normal. Not being able to remember the name of the food I am eating, normal. Mixing two or three languages into a single sentence, normal. What is usual, typical or expected in my life has completely changed. I struggle at times wondering how far to let my mind except these changes. I want my eyes to always see the extraordinary, but my mind copes with the pain entangled with truly seeing. I want always to have the ability to remain comfortable, even outside my comfort zone, but how do I remain comfortable in a world that is slowly tearing itself to pieces. I find myself wrestling with the world in which I live. I need, normality and comfort, but it cannot be at the expense of desensitizing myself to the world. True hope can only exist if I see the world as it is, along side what it could be. However, seeing the world as it is means accepting that the pain and suffering in it is an intimate emotion.
Normal for the majority of my life meant certain food, familiar scenery, access to advanced technology in almost every realm of life, sanitation as a standard, traveling without jet lag, long time friendships in close contact, comfort and safety. Now, nearing the ripe old age of a quarter century none of these are normal in my life. I ask myself the question how many of my mindsets should change? What constitutes compromise and what contentment? Wisdom is having experience, knowledge and good judgment, the quality of being wise. I desire for my entire to life to lead to wisdom, applying the experience and knowledge I have gained in a healthy way, but experience and knowledge can also lead cynicism if unbalanced. I want to be worldly wise with heavenly compassion. I want the usual, typical and expected to be the unnatural, to live supernaturally. Life is a contradiction, one whose facets I must strive to see resolved.
Just over a year ago I struggled with were to find hope, now I struggle with how to see it realized. I find that it is with this friction that the cutting pain of this world can be mellowed and the dullness of the tools we use to see it can be honed. Just as a rubber band is useless when slack, one tensioned holds the power to move great distances, or hold together great numbers, but if pulled to far will break, repairable, although scarred. It is the tension of the moon and earth that creates the beauty of crashing waves, the tension of light through prisms that creates rainbows, the tension of emotion that creates excitement. Living in the tension of normal and extreme I can feel the slightest movements in the things tensioned with me, but the balance of keeping them from breaking, is one of intricate trust in a hope that must be true.