A culturally insensitive, politically incorrect and historically inaccurate account of trekking in the Hermit Kingdom.
Chapter Two — Ben from the Outback
Ben is the youngest of our group but will still turn 40 the day we leave Bhutan. He grew up in what sounds like a survivalist-style farm deep in the Australian Outback. Self-sufficiency and a propensity to ‘make-do with what you have’ are not just virtuous qualities out there. They are survival necessities, to hear Ben tell it. I’ve never figured out what his Dutch immigrant father farmed out there. They apparently can’t even grow enough grass for a golf course in that part of the world. So Ben learned to play golf hitting fairway shots off some sort of mat. He learned to putt on oiled sand ‘greens’. I can’t quite envision what an oiled sand putting surface looks like. Ben probably wondered why they were called ‘greens’.
Whatever Ben’s clan are growing down there, kangaroos and wild pigs were a consistent crop threat. So Ben, his father and brother spent a great deal of time concocting elaborate schemes to rid the area of Roos & Pigs. This sometime involved his brother and father setting up cross-fire kill zones over a low rise. Ben would ride an ATV equipped with speakers blaring the original AC-DC circa Angus Young. On the ATV he would herd the Roos towards the kill zone over the rise. This was best done at night. One night a startled Roo kicked Ben in the head. He went tumbling off the ATV and wasn’t found by his brother until it was nearly light. An effective Pig culling strategy supposedly involved cutting one hind leg off a mid-sized piglet, tying the maimed creature to a stake and waiting for the rest of the pack to come to investigate. Not many survived the ensuing fusillade from the sawed off shotguns held together with duct tape that the brothers carried. But somehow more Pigs would return the next season and work for Ben and his brother would begin again.
Ben lives in New York now and probably hasn’t killed anything in many years. Excepting an unlikely late night visit from number two horseman, we don’t think he will have much trouble on what is turning out to be a pretty easy trek. The only trouble he is having is with the beer. There is nothing wrong with the beer but there is something wrong with Ben. On our last trek he discovered he may have a slight propensity to altitude sickness. We never really established if that was the problem but on that trek he looked like a zombie after a few days and had a constant dry cough. It didn’t stop him or slow him down much at all. He is stubborn and accustomed to hardship. But on this trip, in an unusual moment of forward planning, he has been taking Diamox to prevent a recurrence of altitude sickness. Diamox needs to be taken for several days before ascent. One of the little advertised side effects of Diamox is that I makes all carbonated drinks taste like something that has been squeezed out of thrice worn, moist hiking socks. Ben keeps trying the beer anyway and it’s not working. After three days he declares that he would rather have a mild case of altitude sickness than suffer beer deprivation.
