Passage of Time

And just like that, fall season is over. It was like an Indian wedding. Nature bursting with bright colors, and visual feast lasted almost a week, like an Indian wedding. Nature and humans absorb from each other and pretty soon start reflecting each other. That is why perhaps, residents of Republica de California, where weather never changes, do everything to stem the passage of time with a little help from Botox infusions and surgical enhancements. City of Los Angeles may not have natural beauty, but it sure has lot of man made beauty, if you know what I mean ! 

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring again. A time be born and learn, a time to grow and be fruitful, a time to slow down and colorfully wither away, a time to stop and depart & a time to be reborn. Or if you prefer an analogy from animal kingdom , time to enjoy like naughty monkey, time to work like an overloaded donkey, time to bark like a bite-less dog & time to stare like a toothless hog.  And someone please cancel that re-birth program....too expensive ! 

There is an inexplicable joy and comfort in experiencing all the seasons. Every change opens a small window and lets one witness the phenomenon of Passage of Time. The person in the mirror reminds us of the passage of time too, arguably more so for the fairer gender than "los hombres". But the act doesn't bring much joy.  In this electronic age, where every instant is recorded with enough gratification to fill any gap in between, passage of time has become dimensionally diminutive . We read the teabag wisdom, which exhorts us to stop, smell the flowers, enjoy the season. And then we wring the extra tea out, discard the teabag and go back to our desks....witness passage of time....got no time to spare. Perhaps time passes, perhaps it doesn't but we all sure will pass. Time is the greatest teacher, but we sure make one sorry group of student body. Some worse than others, but none living up to the expectations of this great teacher. No wonder, that The greatest teacher has killed each and every one of its pupils.

Physicists are the arguably the only group of people who believe that they can see the passage of time. But trust a physicist to bring the unaesthetic language to describe the phenomenon........Big Bang is best they came up with, which is better than space-time continuum. They came up with a catchy "Light years", but dietitians started using it as euphemism for the yester-years of their clients. Theoretically Einstein-ian time is bendable. My famous experiment of "Treadmill running" proved that time does indeed slows down considerably when speed increases, but alas! In real life, it is the newton-ian principle of gravity which comes alive with passage of time. Stand in the front of the mirror and person opposite you will remind you of gravitational pull, and once again the fairer gender is more prone to scientific shock. As my friend's father, senior senor Ortiz says," be warned!  First the hair turn grey, and then they turn loose". And just when the follicle shedding is about to make the Newtonian principle come alive, they get stuck to your back and Darwin's theories don't seem like theories anymore.

Since time immemorable, passage of time has been on our minds and in our words. Some times, time hangs heavy on hands and sometimes Passage of time becomes a race against time. We teach young ones to put their pants on, one leg at a time. Benjamin franklin told us that Time is money but I know of no one, who has been able to make withdrawl from this ATM. Unfortunate delinquents of the society do time, many return for another time. Delinquents of wall street who avoid time, can take note because attorney general assures us that it is just a matter of time. Does the Time rejoices every friday evening and look forward to beer pressure? Concept of months was invented by a research grant from Julius Caesar, who was probably trying to impress a lady with funny hat ,"Hey, Can I see you in July? btw, July is named after me...Julius, July.....just letting you know". We ring bells on arrival of a new year to remind us that we are living on borrowed time.

What is your favorite time?

"Breakfast time, Lunchtime and dinnertime"

"Do you have the time?"

No sir, I wasted mine before you did.

"If you waste time, then doth time wastes you - W. Shakespeare"

You are right Sheikh Pir. That is why I stopped reading classics and concentrated on math and science.

"Qué pocos días son necesarios para que pase un siglo - Bram Stoker"

(How few days it takes to pass a century)

These are profound words from Dracula. Can't mess around with him.

"And then there is a concept called Daylight Savings Time".

Can the daylight be saved? "No, unless you can run faster than speed of light", a physicist will argue. At one time DST provided temporary employment to clock re-setters and now a temporary nuisance to general populace. Legal minds at ACLU take note that with this dubious premise, government is clearly infringing on our personal liberties by forcing many of us to reschedule our hour of bowel movement....liberty can't be any more personal. It is said that concept of Daylight Saving Time when once explained to an old native Indian, he replied "Only a white man would believe that you could cut a foot off the top off a blanket and sew it to the bottom of a blanket and have a longer blanket".

My first rumination about passage of time started with a conversation with my grandmother many years back, when I found that she didn't know how to read the time on the wall clock. For her, tick-tock of clock held no more meaning then a dull lullaby, inducing siesta at pre-determined time. Passage of time was simple, and perhaps key to her longevity. Sun is rising, sun is up, sun is down is all she needed to know to get through the day. Lunar calendar is what was needed for monthly scale, just to remember the religious events. And after the seasonal divisions, things got a little complicated on the annual scale. Folks from my grandmother's generation divided the passage of time by events. They could recall the birth of certain child relative to the year, when brown buffalo had a calf and milk was plenty, or the year of the great floods (which by the way, happened often), or in rare moments of sadness, the year the country was divided, the year of Partition. 

 With concept of mortality eventually beginning to dawn upon me, Passage of time is no more that seemingly infinite series of fleeting moments. There are times now when I wish that fleeting moments would slow down, slow down just a little bit. And then, just like that, fall season is over.

Tall Tales from Mt. Adams

Reaching the Summit is optional, Getting down is mandatory - Edmund Viesturs

Our caliber (or lack thereof) in physical activities have always conformed to good old Clint Eastwood axiom : A man has got to know his limitations. Only reason Edmund Viesturs appears up here because my well wishing friends, who never miss a chance to drop hints, presented me with this book called "English Writing for Dummies". As the book tells dummies, and I quote, "Open with a quote, and end with a Quote". Strange thing is that all three copies of book I have received say the same thing.....what a co-incidence !

It was that time of the year again. Time, when some of us let the members of fairer gender know, "I am doing this to raise money for Breast Cancer Research.......and when it comes to shopping, I still BEG to differ".

Begging : An art, which dogs and men have been trying to perfect since Adam asked Eve out.

This year, our team had picked beautiful Mt. Adams on the southern end of Washington, as our symbolic fight in the Climb to Fight Breast Cancer. It was also going to a sort of re-union of the old Mt. Olympus crew.......Your Honor Marybeth Dingledy, David "mangler" Kendall, Jeff Hazeltine, Steve Bley & and last but not the least, soon to be domesticated animal Chris Awad, who after benefiting from our valuable advice on various methodologies on "How to Propose" in previous years, was now planning on some continuing education in the area of animal husband(ry).....A high altitude Bachelor Party !

We were also joined by Chris, Chris and Kris. Yes, there were four people with acoustically indistinguishable nomenclature on this climb. For Chris' sake, why can't parents name their kids something unique....like Satnam. And one of these, Kris, happened to be very charming intellectual Kristina. What is this american obsession with shortening perfect names?

No Smooth Sailing this year !....
There were signs that it is not going to be smooth sailing this year. First, I tore my soleus and calf muscles (bending down and reaching for that dropped glazed doughnut is not a good idea at this age) which severely abbreviated my training routine. And then, the flight to Seattle was marked with a four hour delay, two of which were spent inside the plane sitting on the tarmac. Steve was kind enough to come around again for pick up. Chris Awad and I have been beginning to be known as Steve's annual friends. One friend who looks a like a terrorist, and the other who talks like one. Mrs. Bley makes great food, as always, and we have been known to attack food and wine supply lines with some Italian+Indian gusto.

Drive to Trout Lake....
Trout lake is a small place, where we had decided to spend the night before the climb. Drive from Seattle is scenic I-5, as always and it turns even more scenic as one turns on hwy. 84 along the Columbia river, which divides Washington from Oregon. The Oregon side of the drive is lined with many waterfalls. I highly recommend stopping, even if for a few minutes at Multnomah Falls. And Hood river, OR is where the team got together for some usual pre-climb libations at a place called Everybody's Brewing. Libations continued well into the night at Trout Lake inn.

Did I say, there was to be no smooth sailing!....
After a latish start to gear check and the nearby ranger's station, we were told by the guides (Mark, Sondra & Cliff) that trail head to our chosen route (glacier route as opposed to much trampled south spur route) is good 45 minutes drive on a reservation. After negotiating the dusty road for about 45 minutes, suddenly the caravan stopped. One of the guides in leading car came out and informed us that we have to turn around and we are on the wrong road for 45 minutes.....another sign that there was to be no smooth sailing this year!

He claimed that Guides are pretty solid on finding directions on the mountain but their record is mixed on the roads. I am sure that this timely interruption was perhaps brought around by the Lady guide Sondra. As you know, we have all been there.....Man driving the vehicle, misses the right exit and ends up in a different State or Canada.....and a woman sitting next to him with a frown of the size of minor moons of Jupiter.

Finally we reached the correct trail head, put on backpacks and were on our way. Initial part of the trail passes through a forest, which got burned in a forest fire recently.....nature's fury. We were chugging along but due to late start, things were not looking well. Guides decided that pace is a little below par and decided to take a direct short-cut by whacking our way through the short brush. We followed and some two hours later, ended up in a large gulch, with snow on the base, but lined with over 20 ft. of almost straight scree on both sides. Apparently, this gulch is usually snow-filled to the brim and crossing it is a child's play but not that day........another sign that there was to be no smooth sailing this year! After finding a part of the scree, which seemed negotiable on one side without rope and with rope on the other side, everyone crossed over and we made to the base camp by almost seven.

We are Pro-Choice but....
As we found the place to set up the tents, there arose a Choice issue. I will go on the record here to let women know that I have always been, and always will be a Pro-Choice person. With all the tents being three person tents, Kristina, the charming intellectual, had to make a choice...who to tent with. Chris Awad & I or other Chris & Chris. She chose latter and we sought from Kristina, what in corporate lingo is called, self-improvement feedback. Apparently, the underlying reason for her choice was an information of un-sound quality, she had received in Seattle....our reputation for flatulence ! I will admit that Chris and I have a certain predilection for excessive off-color mirth, but flatulence?.....a cathartic Joy, which God in his medical wisdom, distributed equally to both genders, but empowered only one to admit to exercising the blessing with regularity.

Ladies, I will go on the record here once again. If you are looking for a flatulence-less man, then your only option is to pray hard for significant advances in Genetic Engineering. Short of that, all other temporary options you have, involve use of a wine bottle cork.....& I will not delve into that subject for it opens a whole new passageway to a new chapter of off-color mirth.

Kristina's choice meant that our good friend Steve Bley was tenting with us and with three amigos, it meant un-restricted flatulence complemented by a complete linguistic liberty. As the forefathers said through US constitution : All men..........in pursuit of flatulence, liberty and resulting happiness.

It was a wind-wind situation...
Flatulence inside aside, night wind outside was also howling and fluttering sound of tent fly was really loud but we got some sleep. In the morning, when guides came to wake us up, we noticed that all our sleeping bags and other stuff were covered with thin layer of dirt. And that is when we asked each other with gentlemanly politeness :

" Who the &%$# went out to take a #$%^&* leak last night and forgot to zip up the #$%^&* side? What the &%$# ? "

And a check revealed that everything was in order. Nothing wrong with side zip. The fine dust, which happened to be in the air, apparently was getting through the vents of tent. Which explained why the food was tasting pretty gritty !

After breakfast, Snow school was in first item of order on second day. Guides believed that instead of preparing you for self-arrest, better to train you so that you never get to self-arrest situation. Snow school was a lot more elaborate than anything I have done in the past and I personally thought it was pretty good. After snow school, rope teams were divided, and we geared up (with crampons) and in spite of weather forecast and picking winds, it was decided to give summit a shot.

A matter of Degree...
Somewhat gentle slope turned soon into a relent-less 40 degree slope, and the real climb was on. It didn't matter how much distance we covered, every time I looked up, the destination seemed to be at the same distance as before. And we were looking up pretty often because every now and then a loose rock will come hurling down the slope. Safety rule for loose rock hurling down is to stop and watch. Most of the time it will be on a different trajectory, like an adjacent railway line, but every now and then we found ourselves on the same track as the train is. Guess what, we had to move.

As we got higher, wind picked up and even though it was manageable, but every now and then a wind gust of 40+ miles/hours would come through. And many a times it brought lot frozen moisture with hitting like little stones. We hunkered down with ice axes dug in. Guides started worrying about the situation as it was beginning to get unsafe and could get worse at higher altitudes. We were still a good 1500 ft. below the summit, when we decided to call it off and return to base camp.

Due to lose rock situation, turning back is not so simple as no one is watching the falling rock. So belay device was put on we were lowered down backwards about 400 ft. before it was decided to climb down normally. During the climb down, a hurling down loose rock came too close for comfort twice. One of them, which seemingly came out of nowhere as it came diagonally was big and spine-shattering scary.

Looking forward to a drink.....
Once outside the danger zone, we stopped by to take some pictures and Your Honor told me that she is looking forward to be at base camp and have a drink. She had packed some Bourbon with her. And I, ever the gentleman, told her and she doesn't have to wait till the base camp. I was carrying my stock of Scotch in my back pack for I had planned an intoxicating celebration for the summit !

Now I don't want to say that people of this team were carrying a lot of alcohol but I think there was enough for a small Bachelor party. Here is the synopsis

Person #1 : Bourbon
Person #2 : Scotch (Johnie Walker double black)
Person #3 : Bourbon (High end brand)
Person #4 : Single malt Scotch
Person #5 : Bourbon
Person #6 : God bless this guy because not often, someone carries a six pack of Beer

What happened to the Animal Husband(ry).....
I can let all the gory details out but this is a respectable blog, which is meant to be read aloud to young children of impressionable minds, distinguished guests and lady friends on Friday evenings. Let me just say that consumption of alcohol was accompanied by a very nice looking blow up Sheep..........I am sure you get the idea.

And in the end......a quote....
On last day, we all got down the mountain to a much needed shower and then began our personal wine and beer fest in Hood River, OR. Strange stories from the past and laughter rising from the bottom of the soul.

On the day of judgment, this blog will be used against me to justify what has already been decided and just waiting to be pronounced. I hope that some leniency will be exercised on the grounds that I am personally documenting the truthful evidence ! Here is A link to the Climb Pictures



There are a few reasons why we do this. Primary reason is that we want to raise money for breast cancer research. Second reason is that we want to spend time climbing a mountain with people, whose company we really enjoy. And after that, if we can reach the summit some times, then that is good too. - Steve Bley

Me Talk Sweet Today

Some people eat to live and some live to eat. We Punjabi folks have often been relegated to the latter, and for a good reason. Every city in Punjab has its claim to a niche product in category of snacks and sweets. Hoshiarpur has its Samose wala, Phagwara has its Gajrele wala, and Jalandhar has its Cheese-Chili wala. If gluttony is a sin then try committing the sin ( and ask immediately for forgiveness) in holy city of Amritsar, whose claim to fame in edible category is for certain perishable goods….and they perish very fast, when my brother is in town. Some of these Vendors are a hole in the wall places and some a little bigger but almost none elaborate. No wonder that one invariably needs a local connoisseur to guide you to such places.

Every product is designed to hit very specific nodes on your taste buds with precision of a laser guided missile. And I should know, for I come from a family where at least four generations have been known to pride themselves on their fondness and prolific consumption of snacks and sweets, especially the latter. My grandmother, may god rest her soul, once requested my father that even though she intends to depart this world abruptly, but in case God wills to keep her on this earth in an unconscious state for some time then make sure not to hold back the sweets from her diet. And my father like a duty bound son, promised solemnly that if situation ever calls for it, he will puree her favorite sweets and add them directly to the I-V line. And why not? Before we decided to suspend his driving privileges on grounds of public safety, my father used to ride his scooter over an hour to an obscure place to get ਬੇਸੱਣ (Besan). Our tastes in Besan have differed but he claims that this particular one brought him many kilos of joy.

My brother and I happen to be chips off the old block. The thing is woven into our DNA, which incidentally also explains the double Helix structure around our waists. Scientific principle is much clearly illustrated by my brother though. We have been known to skip the service at the Temple to explore and pay obeisance to these chapels of gastronomic nirvana. And this December, I was told of ਬਿਰਜੂ ਬਰਫੀਵਾਲਾ (Birju Burfi-wala) in town of ਗੌਰਾਇਆ (Goraya).

Ladies and Gentlemen, there is Burfi and then there is Burfi of Birju Burfi-wala. Birju apparently started making Burfi in 1952, so he had a good half a century to perfect the recipe and perfection in simplistic form is what he has done. In this modern era of flashy commercialization, where vendors treat Burfi as nothing but another sugar delivery device, trying to fool our overloaded senses with an odor of cardamom, a silver foil and unscrupulous use of milk powder, this Burfi is in a class of its own for simplicity and taste. Milk thickened over slow heat to the right point, and just the right amount of sugar. A good Burfi is not to be chewed. Just take a bite and keep it there to let the outer layers melt and fill the nooks and crannies of your palate, before letting the inner ਖੋਆ (Khoa) crumble with a minor implosion.

Today I am having the last piece from the box of Burfi, which I brought back. To the multitude of reasons to visit India, I have just added another few sweet Kilos more.

Irreverent Letters

March 23, 2013

Senor Pope
I know God is omniscient but it seems that He has completely forgotten that snow belongs in winter and not in spring. Could someone shoot a memo to Him?

April 18, 2013
Senor Pope
OK I get it. You are the chief lobbyist with connections to the Big guy. All I asked (nicely) was why there is snow in the spring. Do you really have to rub it in by sending it down three days in row…a foot of it? I was looking forward to gardening, not shoveling. You and I have our differences but poor bunnies in the backyard ain’t looking happy either. Guilty by association, I guess. I hope we are done now showing off. Btw, how is your new gig going? The job sure has its perks. A fancy bulletproof Pope-mobile, a personal posse of Swiss fighters. Talk to those Swiss guards, they will tell you all about the importance of precision…especially in weather patterns. And what is up with that big Hat ? Who designed it, Don King? You fix this snow thing and we will get together to celebrate, talk a little politics, over, shall I say, a few Chalices of wine. My treat. And I know a great bar, right by the Basilica !

May 1st, 2013

Senor Pope
It is May here and I am enjoying the 10 inches of snow which came down this morning. Buried my garlic crop, but what is couple of cloves between friends. People are saying, Lord acts in mysterious ways but you and I know there is no mystery. Earlier in the season, when moisture was needed, one of you was goofing off and other was busy preparing for an important “Conclave” thing. And now you are fixing the water shortage by making up the average. I get it. Btw, we just call it election these days. If we start calling it a Conclave, the voting percentage will drop to just a few "Cardinal" offenders. But I like the White Smoke thing, very stylish indeed. Someday, we may announce the election results with White Smoke too, if Willie Nelson gets “conclaved”, or maybe we need a leader who wouldn't inhale. Please disregard all my earlier complaints. You know how we humans are. We like to blame others for our misery. But I must admit that you guys are good. Just a few millennia of practice, and you already know how to take credit for all the good stuff and ward off the blame for anything negative. Corporate America will be lucky to have you in their management cadres. My spouse is the same too. Only yesterday morning, she couldn’t find her Cell Phone, and lo and behold, that too was my fault. Well, summer is rolling around and you guys should drop by in July, when tomatoes are ripe and peppers are hot. My home made hot salsa is served with killer Margaritas. Now I don’t want to brag here but a few sips of my scotch spiked Margarita, and even you will be forced to describe the concoction as nothing but Divine.

October 27th, 2013
Senor Pope
Fall is wrapping up and I marvel at nature. Changing colors reminds me of passage of time, and I am not just talking about the color of my beard. We even had a little taste of winter with a few inches of snow, which melted on its own.....just the way we lazy humans like it. Anyway, I would like to thank you for straightening the weather thing earlier. A fabulous salsa and Margarita season we had this year. It does not matter if it was my incessant complaining or that "anonymous" check I sent to help defray the legal costs. I wonder if you have considered some public de-frocking. It could be more effective. Der aayed, Durust aayed (Corrections to one's mistakes often come late) is what wise men say in my land.

And talking of mistakes, I heard that a serious mistake has been detected on the coins issued by the Vatican to commemorate your favorite motto "Miserando atque eligendo" (Lowly but Chosen)....you folks spelled JESUS wrong ? You spelled him LESUS ! As my english teacher who had the misfortune of grading my high school term papers was known to say,"For the love of LESUS, can't you do a little Spell-check"?

And talking of Spell-check, would it be possible to send a warning thunderbolt of lightning by the Microsoft Office. Every time I write a report, their Spell-check software changes my overtly pious name "Satnam" to either "Satan" or "Santa'. If you are not familiar, latter is just a capitalist version of the former. Come December, and a Beer-fed one will be seen at every temple of Capitalism aka The Mall.

And talking of thunderbolts of lightning, it might be good idea to send a really high voltage one by the House of Representatives, Senate & White House.....and perhaps on a regular basis. Trust me, it will be a single act, which could convert agnostics into believers en masse.

Well, you do all this, and I promise to stop using HIS name in vain, except at all the PAR 3 holes, for post-life flagellation which I am sure to receive, would be worth the divine help I am trying to invoke to score another Hole in One..........FORE......I mean AMEN.

A Capital Experience : Mt. Rainier

It was time for that annual good deed and to test the boundaries of Clint Eastwood axiom : A man has got to know his limitations. Do good deeds really require a motivation? Why do people ask Why? Why can't some deeds be done just for the sake of deeds? Why do I drink only local beers, you ask? I can satisfy your curiosity by saying that it is to intoxicate the local economy but the fact is that good deeds are to be done for sake of good deeds.

Annual Climb to Fight Breast Cancer is one such deed. For 2013, it was fundraising and a symbolic show of struggle and a very possible victory against the malady with a climb to the crown jewel of pacific northwest : The Rainier.

Fundraising Blues

Fundraising : The act of asking donations mostly from same people again and again. Pestering near and distant family members is a must. Co-workers and friends are on the hook and complete strangers are not off-limits either. A good avenue outside Golf courses to invoke God's name in vain, unless the fund-raising is for a church.

What makes fundraising a really "capital" experience is the friendly banter, which takes place to complement the annoyance. Besides the usual good lucks and be safe, here are some chosen comments received this year and relevant commentary.

Mt Rainier?  aren't you getting a little ambitious? It is good of you to climb for charity but don't add to my tax bill by becoming yet another guy, the emergency rescue workers need to fly in from the glacier....

Spoken like a short term thinker there. Imagine all the long term savings to the taxpayer, not to mention the immense joy it will bring to the masses, if I don't return at all. In fact, the latter logic is so compelling that even my own spouse is thinking of making a donation....which if it does occur, would be rated at same probability level as church conferring Sainthood upon me. Now that I think about it, Saint Satnam does have a kind of nice ring to it. I will be the patron Saint of scotch drinkers.

I hope one day I do at least a fraction!
Gracias pero cuidado. When it comes to beer and scotch, I sincerely hope you stick to the fraction. 


Don't hurt yourself - we need you on our ping pong team ;-)
So there we have it folks. The great American plan to beat the Chinese at their own game with help of a transplanted Indian! Really Capital !

Doad Sahib! This should get you off my back for another year at least :) 
Aren't you glad you know someone, who gets off so cheap :-)))

May the views at the top be clear and breath restoring!
E....L....O....Q....U....E....N.....T

Go Satnam and team Goat! Once again, I will miss climbing with you.
I must make it clear to my friends from state of Wyoming. The "Goat" simply refers to Goat tavern where we have been known to gather for pre and post-climb libations.....nothing more ! What happens at the Goat stays at the Goat.

How many more years you are planning on doing this *-+%$? I am dipping into my Children's college fund this year for you.
I do not know how long but Takao Arayama climbed Everest at seventy one years of age. I talked to both my nephews (your sons) about this college thing. Younger one is sure that he can manage a scholarship. The older one told me,"Even without this, Dad should start planning on delaying his retirement by at least ten years".

Climbing for charity? This is a brilliant concept! I guess drinking for charity hasn't caught on yet....
And if drinking for charity does come to pass, you and I will be the front runners and we better be, because we definitely need to get to the serving table before my brother does. More alcohol has been known to pass through my brother than many of the breweries.


People and Gear
Team of eight gathered in Seattle for gear check on August 7th. Some new faces (Rowena, Mark, Kate, Lisa) and some whose trails have crossed before (Carol, Chris, Steve and I). Some first timers and some have endured it before. Some young and some a little advanced. Steve Bley has been a motivator to us, since we met him first time as a Pentagenarian on Mt. Olympus. He is now officially over 60 years. Being a gentleman he is, he does not prefer numerical association.....he prefers a venerable term : Sextarian !

Gear check is mostly a check, check, check, until we arrive at the item in the list known as Pee Bottle and a serious discussion ensues. This is an item which remains optional until you find yourself hunkered down in a tent at 11000 ft., with pee pressure building, and nature awaits you outside in form of thunder and snow storm. For males, the item is nothing but an emptied bottle of Gatorade. For females, things are a little eh...complicated. There is an accessory involved : Pee Funnel. Mechanics are a little fuzzy to me but apparently the mantra is "Practice, Practice, Practice". As they say in old country, "Practice makes a woman perfect, and a man over-confident". 

In a moment of Gear induced sincerity, our very accomplished amiga, an extraordinarily charming specimen of fairer gender, who has trampled many a mountains, admitted to us, "Satnam, I like Pee funnel, but I am sure I want a Penis".

At this point. I will let readers take a pause here to let the momentousness of these historical words sink in. Not often, a desire for this part of male anatomy has been expressed purely for its ease of liquid discharge utility. With these words, "this king of anatomy", who since era of Adam and Eve, has prided himself on being the eternal provider of entertainment in spite of some recent loss of evolutionary ground to artificial insemination, was finally relegated to a lowly part time job in the department of sanitation.

Climb Day 1
An early morning drive to the trailhead with packed backpack. Even without tents, it still added up to over 40 lbs. Guides gave us the gist of first day schedule. We marinaded ourselves with some sunscreen and got on the way. Trail upto Muir camp is well trampled by climbers and day hikers alike. Mount Rainier is visible in all its glory right at the trailhead itself.....like a big old tree looking down at you. It was a clear calm day and Mt. Adams was clearly visible in the distance. Snow line began after pebble creek and some of us changed from regular hiking shoes to climbing boots aka Frankenstein footwear. Camp Muir is pretty impressive with stone shelters and pit toilets. As expected, it was very crowded. We had one shelter to ourselves. Bunks were there with foam pads and we made ourselves at home. Steve shared his Bourbon stock and dinner of Bean Burritos was incredibly good. Sunset from camp Muir is a beautiful sight.

After dinner we all tried to get some sleep and best way to break ice when eight people are trying to sleep in close quarters on a snowfield is to tell some dirty jokes. And yes, one of us, who shall remain unnamed, asked for advice and ideas on how to propose....and got a sackful of it.

I hardly ever sleep up there. Just lie down straight and let at least the muscles recover.

Altitude Gained : ~4500 ft.
Miles covered : ~ 4.5 miles

Climb Day 2
Wake up and 7 AM to clear out the bunks for next team, which was due to arrive later. Get ready, pack up and head to the kitchen tent, where pancakes were on the menu, bacon and eggs for carnivores. After breakfast and tea, it was time for snow school. Brush up on proper footwork, crampon walking techniques, self arrest. And then it was time to pickup the backpacks again and head to Ingraham flats camp at ~11100 ft. From then onward, it was to be all crampon, all rope team climb. 

It took us just slightly over an hour to get to Ingraham flats camp, where another team was clearing up the tents for their downward journey. Original plan was to rest at the second camp, wake up in the middle of the night and do a sunrise climb to the summit. However guides proposed a sunset climb to the summit on the same afternoon, which has its own advantages (no traffic, lazy short third day etc.) and a vote was taken. It was to be Sunset climb. Looking back at it, perhaps we should have stuck to the sunrise climb plan. It might have given a better shot at summit attempt for everyone in the team, and maybe somewhat easier pace too. But it wasn't meant to be.

One gets a really great view of Yakima peak from Ingraham flats....seems as if you can touch it by just reaching right across a large crevasse.

Anyway, six of us decided to give sunset attempt a shot. We packed only the essentials (clothing and just enough food and water) and by 12:30PM, we started our summit attempt in three rope teams of two climbers and one guide each. From here to the summit was to be done in three pitches only. 11100 ft. to ~12300 ft., from 12300 ft. to ~13300 ft. and then a final push to the summit.

First Pitch
Due to constantly present danger of ice and rockfall, first pitch to the top of disappointment cleaver has to be completed as fast as possible. We were told ~2 hours. Part of the first pitch is on snow and part of it is on loose rock. You don't want to know, what it is like to climb on loose rock while fully attired (boots and crampons) for a snow climb. At the end of first pitch, one more climber decided to head back and one more returned during second pitch. Now we were only two rope teams.

Second Pitch
Second pitch has a portion which is extra technical. Path is extremely narrow and grade steep, so rope has to be periodically clipped into and un-clipped from fixed anchors. This portion of climb also has about one 12 ft. vertical climb, half of which is fixed ladder. This vertical scramble is immediately followed by a 12 ft crevasse crossing over a ladder, covered with a plank. This crevasse bridge which is at ~12500 ft, is actually visible from Ingraham flats camp (~11100 ft.). Crevasse crossing over ladder plank is actually much easier than one thinks. Rope is clipped into fixed anchor, hold ice axe securely in one hand, hold the support rope in other....and walk across as if it was a zebra crossing......Simple !

Later, when I asked Carol if she managed to get some photos or video footage of ladder and crevasse crossing with Helmet cam, her reply was, " Heck no. I was busy trying not to DIE !!!"

After this technical section, there are a series of switchbacks and some steep sections leading to the summit. At this point we noticed that weather was beginning to turn bad. Visibility was degrading, wind was beginning to howl louder.

Final Push
After a short break on the glacier to put on our wind gear, we made a final push for the summit. Perhaps weather had spooked the guides or perhaps we were too tired but pace was ratcheted up. Carol is in extremely good shape but I am sure that Mark, Lisa and I were operating in a gear, which until then we didn't know existed. This  is the time when one falls back on Psych tricks to keep one going....my favorite (and a really stupid one) is - These legs and feet are not mine, they are someone else's. And sometimes you think about people who have endured worse things, like Cancer....and that gets you another thirty minutes.

As guides often drill into you that getting to the top of the mountain is only half the battle. One has to be sure at all moments that one has enough juice left to get oneself down too, which is not easy. Anything less than full honesty puts not only oneself in danger but also jeopardize the rest of the team.

I think that if up climb pace was any higher than what we did there that day, my lungs would have exploded, but they held on. We had climbed the last ~900 ft. of vertical gain in about 45 minutes.....and then all of a sudden at 5:14 PM, we walked on to the Mt. Rainier summit crater. There was no sunset. With visibility no more than 30 ft. and howling wind, we somehow got the banner shot and a few pictures. We thought we will take 20 minute walk to the summit rim but exhaustion and weather was against us. Some 20 minutes later, we started our descent.

Worse part about descents is one can see where the camp is and yet one knows it will take a while. At ~9 PM, we walked back into the Ingraham flats camp. Utterly exhausted, and then the worse happens....and I knew it was coming. After burning so many calories, you would think that you need food and I had lost it. Jhangbu had prepared a delicious soup, which on any other day would be gone in no time but that night was different. A few gulps of Bourbon didn't help much either. I somehow shoved down half of soup down my throat.

This is not uncommon and my friend Steve Ortiz and I have come up with a theory. Your body's CPU, which is running a frequent systems check, after this grueling ordeal, checks the vitals and infers that this body is pretty close to heaven (in my case Hell) so it figures out : No need for food. And it shuts down the App called Appetite. Next it figures out that you don't want to walk into heaven (or hell) with your eyes closed, so it shuts off the App called Sleep. So there, you have perfectly logical explanation for the phenomenon.

And that night, while lying awake with lost appetite, we were also hit by a heavy duty thunderstorm.......remember that optional Pee Bottle !

Altitude Gained and Lost : ~3200 ft.

Climb Day 3
A sweet deal was offered for day 3. Get up early (6:30 AM), get down to Muir Camp, and have a breakfast of fresh pancakes. I was still groggy and appetite-less but seemed better than shoving down granola. Plus no blue bagging.....Pit Toilets are heaven. 

After lazy breakfast and tea, we headed down. After some futile glissading attempts, we just walked down finally we saw a welcoming sight : The Parking Lot ! It was about 12:50PM. I looked back at Mt. Rainier and issued a quiet Thank You note to the mountain for considering me worthy enough.

None of this would have been possible without our superb guides. A quietly determined Lauren Edwards, who has a few Denali summits under her belt. Though when you look at her slender petite form, you see hardly anything under her belt. Efficient Garrett, who has been up at Mt. Everest a few times, and hold your breath....it was his 177th time on Mt Rainier. Jhangbu....the man is from Nepal, need I say more. Plus I got to practice my Hindi with him after a very long time. And last but not the least, Devin the enforcer......Devin holds a dubious distinction of guiding us to the top of two most beautiful mountains, Mt. Olympus and Mt. Rainier....on days when visibility is low, winds are harsh and frozen rain is giving company. Is the correlation between bad weather and Devin a co-incidence....we don't think so !.....And we may complete the mathematical proof by doing another climb with him.

This team of eight gave their best....ordinary people brought together by a cosmic confluence of luck and extraordinary circumstances. I, the desk jockey, just happened to be at the right place at the right time.

Most often asked question after such a climb is "So, what is your next climb"?

And my answer is the same, "This is it. I am done. I want to walk into the sunset with a beer bottle and a Golf bag. Not with a 45 lb. backpack, pee bottle and a Blue Bag".

Enjoy the Mt. Rainier Pictures.

And here is short video of climb put together by Kate Roll

Some Notes Off Key too

There is definitely a difference between engineers and artists. Artists are born and engineers are programmed. Becoming an engineer is easy. If one can't figure out the right answer, just learn to figure out the three wrong ones. Artists on the other hand have infinite permutations and combinations to choose from, and then to come up with that one painting, that one sculpture, that one melody. No wonder, we, who are devoid of any such trait, envy the artistic community. Actually, envy is perhaps not the right word. After all, it is one of the deadly sins. Personally I prefer urdu word “Rashq”…..Envy with positive connotations.

When it comes to musical melodies, I am a person of very limited choice. I admit that I have listened to Beatles’ “Money can’t buy you love” but it was more for philosophical reasons than musical. When it comes to music, I revert to my collection of old hindi songs, Ghazals and some Punjabi. A collection of over 2000 pieces neatly catalogued into series of "Meri Pasand" and most of it goes back to my college days...I know, it sounds pathetic but can't be helped. No doubt, that limited taste presents its problems in dreary routines of life in western world. Have you ever tried to run 3 miles while Bhupinder hums “Dil Dhoondta hai Phir wahi phursat ke raat din” through your portable mp3 player? Or tried to keep pace while an indecisive Lata surmises “Ruke Ruke se Kadam, ruk ke Bar Bar chale”.  And Jagjit Singh, May god rest his soul, is worse. Listen to him and Lata's "Bar Bar chale” indecisiveness ends with one ending up in a real Bar rather than a gym.

My personal favorite for my exercise routine is a two in one….Music+Motivation by an in-imitable Mohd. Rafi.

Sab se Pehle Suno Mian, karke varzish bano Jawan

Chehra palish kiya karo, Thodi maalish kiya karo

Ishtile se uthe kadam, Seena jaada to Pet kam,

Ai kibla, Ujle baalon ko rang dalo, ban jayo Gulfaam

(Listen to me, Oh aging Sir, 

Exercise and regain youthful vigor.

Polish your face and get massaged-in,

Step in style, blown chest, Gut sucked in.

In those gray hair, add some dye, 

And turn yourself into playboy)

It all started last year with a conversation with my old talented friend Kulpreet Singh Badial, who happens to be an accomplished Tablist. I know, English majors among you are cringing….Tablist! Well, the word has been specially coined for accomplished Tabla players. It is not inducted into the dictionary yet but negotiations with Merriam-Webster et.al. could conclude any minute. You see, we Punjabis, who were taught English by an extremely underpaid but well meaning teaching staff, think that suffix –ist is the ultimate indicator of strength…..Pian-ist, Cell-ist, Flut-ist, and let's not forget the power of F-ist. English language is full of exceptions and the exception to the rule is Agricultur-ist. Here strength doesn’t matter, for sooner or later an Agriculturist will get screwed by a third party. The 'regularity' with which Kulpreet Badial is hitting his Tabla Riyaz (practice), either the word Tablist will soon become a part of lexicon, or an investigation will be launched into use of experimental steroid, Musical Milk of Magnesia developed at Tablabs research.

Now, I don’t want to give a wrong impression here that we can become artists, because everyone knows that we belong to a class, who have an unshakable belief in Clint Eastwood axiom “A Man has got to know his limitations”. Btw, not many people know that Mr. Eastwood happens to be very accomplished Pianist himself. There is a reason and purpose, why God has assigned folks like I to the lower band of distribution. And I am as comfortable in my assigned band as a swine ensconced in a sty. However, an occasional stroll outside the assigned band is still in the realm of possibilities. As a great man once said - Try to learn everything about something, and something about everything. And hence, the inception of this notes-worthy idea. Aim was to get the fingers to glide over the keys correctly (most of the times) for some tunes, figure out the notes of some old Indian songs from my youth and learn just enough to be able to play on a Keyboard for inebriated dinner guests, who may not notice an off-key note or two or more. Or better, inebriated enough to perceive off-key notes as a variation of the original score…….an unoriginal score!

We engineers have been taking a direct approach to everything. Many of our kind have been known to approach the opposite sex with an opening line – “You know, I am an engineer and I love to experiment”. The results of such approach of course are binary – all or nothing. Someone tells us, Read the Manual – We say Bah !.....Take Lessons – We say Poo-Bah ! Direct approach is our mantra. "Punch in some keys and let’s see what happens" is our modus operandi to learning. After all what is the difference, computer keyboard or musical keyboard......it's all just Keys !

First Step

The first step in learning to play Keyboard is to bring the Keyboard you bought at a garage sale, out of the storage, and into the living area. It is highly recommended that one clean it thoroughly before punching in any keys, for  it might spew some dust stuck in between keys, into your nostrils. I did not learn this from my personal experience. I actually read it in the manual.

Both Hands?

If you ask me, playing Keyboard with both hands is highly overrated. For novice experimenters as I am, I highly recommend keeping one hand free to hold that glass of Scotch. Unless you are blessed with a spouse, who is ready to stand by you unconditionally (and hold the glass) during this rougher phase of your musical career.

Getting There

Hidden somewhere in the major scales, minor scales and Thaats (Hindustani system of music, which forms the basis of countless Ragas) and at least three different octaves, is the combination to the melody you seek. Laxmikant-Pyarelals of the world knows where it is, folks like I have no clue, and Bappi Lahiris of the world knows someone who knows. 

After many months of enjoying a relationship of mutual contempt, my Keyboard and I finally warmed up to each other. It was almost accidental when I punched keys C (Flat) and c (Sharp) of upper octave in succession, and an image conjured up. An image of a young Shabana Aazmi, on rooftop of a house with beautiful southern coastal Indian backdrop, drying her laundry, smiling coyly to herself, humming, and waiting for Mr. Singh. Yes, that accidental punching happened to be a few opening notes to Pal Bhar mein yeh kya ho gaya from movie Swami. Considering that melody flows (as opposed to jumps), engineering logic dictated that next notes must be in the general vicinity. And sure enough, a few more punching in of keys and voila, now I had something which does hum like Pal Bhar mein yeh kya ho gaya.

C'c'C'c'C'aC'a


Following the same irrefutable logic, the notes to next line of the song (Woh main gayee, woh dil gaya) turned to be a little lower on the frequency scale, but with a similar pattern.

aC'aC'agag

And just as is true for weight and effect of opening lines in conversations with opposite sex, rest comes  relatively easy. The keys to first two lines of the song happen to be all from c Major scale (or Thaat Bilawal of Hindustani system). And hence, we are now narrowed down to a manageable subset of keys (btw, this is generally true but not always, as some songs do use more than one scale). Pump more Scotch in and Punch out some more keys of c Major scale and one pretty much has the song. With a thankful smooch to young Shabana Aazmi....wait is over. Mujeres y Hombres, les presento, la cancion indu muy sonora

A few more notes have been unlocked from persistent punching in of keys in months of winter. Here is a medley of many a mukhras (opening notes) of old hindi songs from an era, which arguably has produced bulk of evergreen songs, whose charm have refused to succumb to harshness of time. Many songs from this era has often accompanied me through my ruminations and moments of solitude. Unaided by musical milk of magnesia, regularity of my Riyaz leaves a lot to be desired and some notes here and there are off key. I recommend getting  a drink before you press the play button. And talking of drink,  I have completely run out of Scotch. So if you do end up liking this medley, please send me a bottle or two. As a return favor, I promise to play free at your childrens' weddings and birthdays. And thus, virtually guaranteeing an early and speedy departure of unwanted guests. If, per some remote chance, my single-handed effort fails to live up to the task, I swear, I will start playing with both hands.

My Grumpy Valentine

Valentine’s day just went by and Pope resigned. No connection between the two but I was hoping that as a parting gift, preaching from a comfortable yet fashionable pulpit provided by a pair of red Prada shoes, Pope Benedict might offer some benediction to tortured masses by clarifying the Valentine’s day matter just as the venerable institution has clarified by weighing in matters of evolution, planetary motion and gravitation. And now just like other old people, Pope will be retiring to Florida, where he will pray for the soul of Florida election commission.

Getting back to main topic, to the historically uninitiated, Valentine’s day has its apparent roots in memory of Saint Valentine, who was incarcerated for secretly performing marriages at a time when marriages were banned. Yes, I know, marriages were banned once, henceforth, known as the Good old days. Marriage, as we know is the longest running experiment in human history, in spite of its proclivity towards frequent failures. In case of failure, main experimental parameters vehemently blame each other. In case of success, God is often credited, albeit falsely, as true credit belongs to first order products of experimental parameters. I am up for any celebration, but to comply with spirit of original intent and act of Saint Valentine, the day should be celebrated by only single people. Married people should be exempt from these forced festivities, having already been de-Valentined in the eyes of state and religion. Married folks already have a thing called the Anniversary. It’s the day when two people try to recall the details of same accident, while a disinterested third party tries to figure out if two parallel unrelated events are being related and would there be fusion without cosmic intervention.

So how did we get from the days of Saint Valentine’s secret marriages (circa 2 AD) to modern day mid-February mushiness and a coordinated assault on credit cards. Well, start with a first blame on English poet Chaucer (circa 1380 AD), who wrote this (original reproduced here verbatim)

For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.

(For it was on Saint Valentine’s Day, when every Bird came there to chose his mate).

Now the older readers are thinking, what is up with these horrible spellings. Was Chaucer heavily chomping on some Colombian contraband? With such spelling abilities, did English consider deporting him to France?The younger readers, un-aided by a spell-check, are saying, "What spelling mistakes, looks Klear to me".

And talking of french, Duke of Orleans (circa 1400 AD), who while incarcerated in Tower of London, sent this note to (apparently) his wife. This is the first known Valentine sent by regular mail (according the important research conducted by Hallmark and Hershey’s).

Je suis desja d'amour tanné
Ma tres doulce Valentinée.

And with help of my omnipresent polyglot friend Google Singh, I got it translated it into both Punjabi as well as English. Only English version is being presented here for your safety

I am already sick of love,

My very gentle Valentine.

English is not my primary language but does the words “Sick of Love” mean anything to you? And it was a matter of time before they started brainwashing young minds with extra-mushy nursery rhymes (circa 1800 AD)

The rose is red, the violet's blue,
The honey's sweet, and so are you.
Thou art my love and I am thine;
I drew thee to my Valentine:
The lot was cast and then I drew,
And “My Accountant” said it shou'd be you

OK, I admit that “My Accountant” in the last line was my own editing. Original word was “Fortune”, which for all practical purposes, is intricately tied to one's accountant.

Apparently, Valentine day is the day when some 190 million Americans, challenged in the area of sentimental composition, rely on Hallmark et. al. to provide them with an expensive ($2 per word) aid, to convey their inner feelings. The racket of course goes on as long as the effort remains written and anonymous. Once you go from written to oral, the words which come out are er….er….er….and as they say, To er is Human!...and the racket goes on. 

And yes, there are other Valentine’s day gifts, heart shaped candy and heart shaped chocolates. They are all bad for your Heart. This year, I noticed a Pizza joint with Valentine day special….a heart shaped Pizza. Nothing else says, I love you hot and heavy, better than a heart shaped Pizza. Throw in some cheese bread, buffalo wings and a large Coke and you may be able to seal the deal, if you know what I mean. If your Valentine date is taking you to a Pizza place, you sure have a big thing on your hand.

According to the survey conducted by reliable people of Surveys Galore, Valentine’s day is the 2^nd most despised day of celebration in the US. Which begs the question, what is the first one? Here is a hint. Section of society, which despises Valentine’s day, loves the other one and vice-versa. Needless to say, the validity of this survey is highly questionable, for no frigging way, St. Patrick’s Day can be the most despised. Who, I ask earnestly, in their right minds, could ever despise drinking whole day?

Valentine’s day is celebrated outside the western world in variety of forms. My Korean friends tell me that 14^th of every month, and not just February, is a love related day in Korea. Starting from January, Candle Day, Valentine's Day, White Day, Black Day, Rose Day, Kiss Day, Silver Day, Green Day, Music Day, Wine Day, Movie Day, and Hug Day. Black Day is the day when un-attached Korean people eat Black noodles to celebrate (some mourn it) their single-hood. Black Day falls on April 14^th, which in the USA, is the penultimate day to send your “Sweet Valentine” to the IRS (Internal Revenue Service). And may God help you if you don’t profess your love and promise (till death do us part) to IRS, in writing, by April 15^th. For the purposes of maintaining international peace, I must declare that I received this information from my South Korean friends. North Korea, apparently as a nation, also sends an occasional Valentine to South Korea and Japan. Their Valentine card is often tied to a ballistic missile for speedy delivery. No love lost there.

On a typical V-day early morning, a conversation takes place

“Love is in the air”.....She coos

“Really. That sure explains the smell”…...He wonders

[A pregnant pause, as she weighs her rejoinder against the fact that Mr. Singh has never capitulated to any other pressure except Beer Pressure]

“Will you be my Grumpy Valentine”.

“With Pleasure my lady, with pleasure”.