Study Abroad Journal Archives

Amazonia & Tiputini Biodiversity Research

Where is the most biodiverse place on the planet?

In my search for far-flung places to study, I met Professor Kelly Swing, an ecologist with the University San Francisco de Quito (USFQ) in Ecuador, who believes the Tiputini Biodiversity Station (TBS) may well be that place.

Swing told me that the station's output of research marks it as a world-leading biodiversity hotspot. While there are other sites of similar importance, these do not offer the same level of access and safety for researchers.

My arrival in the Amazon town of Puerto Francisco de Orellana, Ecuador, better known as El Coca, was little short of disaster. On flying out of Quito, the Andean city nestled at the foot of the infamously active Cotopaxi volcano, we hit turbulence and heavy rain as the plane descended into the Amazon basin.

Packed with an odd mix of environmental researchers and oil workers, the 12-seat twin-engine propeller plane was forced by the weather to turn back across the mountains and the safety of Quito.

The sound of the jungle grew louder as I looked around and saw nothing but trees and mud. It was my first time in the Amazon and I started to think that I might just be in serious trouble.

There was a light rain, no shelter, and the only thing to do was follow the muddy track and see where it led. But which way to go, left or right?

At that moment, a tall, strikingly confident Indian strode out from the forest and walked straight up to me.

He spoke to me in Spanish, "What are you doing here alone?"

I was half terrified, and half relieved to see someone. In halting Spanish, I explained that I was a visitor from the University, and that my car had left without me because I had arrived on a later plane than expected. I was worried he might stab me and steal my camera, but instead he offered to show me the way to the hotel normally used by the university in El Coca.

Although I was stranded for a few days until I got things sorted out, it allowed time to get to know my rescuer. It turned out that he was not just any random passer-by, but a famous environmental campaigner – Moi Enomenga, Huaorani Indian and Amazon eco-warrior.

Moi is an Amazon celebrity, the son of a proud indigenous leader who chose the traditional life over the ideology of early Christian missionaries. His father took his family deep into the Western Amazon to an area known today as Yasuni National Park, and so instead of learning the Bible, Moi learned deep indigenous knowledge and the cultural traditions of the Huaorani.

The man I met near the runway at El Coca, little did I know, was also the Huaorani jungle boy featured in Savages, a best-selling book by award-winning writer Joe Kane. Moi had matured to become a leader of the local indigenous movement trying to defend the rainforest against the oil companies.

He certainly helped me out – a total stranger in the forest.

Moi's example shows that one man who chooses to raise his voice can speak for the collective resources of the largest – and most endangered – natural habitat on the planet. Protecting the Amazon rainforest is his life's work, and the Yasuni National Park and surrounding area are testament to his ongoing success.

His recent project is the creation of a new protected area named Yame Reserve, in honor of his late father. In the light of all the growing threats to his environmental and cultural heritage, his willingness to network with tourism organizations, conservation groups, the Ecuadorian government and the United Nations offers hope to this globally vital, and profoundly endangered, natural paradise.

NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC 2012 | "Ecuador's Yasuní Park is one of the Amazon's last wild frontiers, boasting an incredible biodiversity—treetop orchids, prowling jaguars, nearly 600 species of birds—and serving as home for two indigenous nations. But a vast untapped oil supply beneath the forest floor is attracting the attention of multinational oil companies. National Geographic sent a team of five photographers, each with a different specialty, into the heart of the Amazon to document the delicate balance of life in Yasuní and how it is being impacted by the demand for oil."

It was an Ecuadorian holiday weekend and I was unable to get a call though to USFQ. Given my limited time schedule, it was looking like the Tiputini trip was off.

I didn't know exactly where the Tiputini Biodiversity Station (TBS) was, and my assumption that it was "just down the river" was way off.

For several days, I explored El Coca. The Spanish I gained from studying abroad in Spain was a godsend. I met taxi drivers and boat transport services, and eventually a group of oil workers at a makeshift helicopter pad.

They told me it was next to impossible to get to TBS without an organized expedition. The oil companies and other interests had a variety of armed guards, checkpoints and road-blocks along the route. There were also the issues of traversing several rivers, and, of course, a wide range of natural predators, including snakes.

Making phone contact with the university was the only way in.

Puerto Francisco de Orellana | Maplandia

After several days of this, I returned to the hotel one evening, and reception informed me that USFQ had called. My transport to Tiputini was arranged.

Due to my delay and problems in scheduling transport, I would have to travel to the Biodiversity Station at night. My first reaction was shock, but I figured I was in good hands with USFQ, and there was a full moon and clear sky.

It was a long night, traveling by jeep, by boat, and on foot. First we traveled several hours downstream on the Napo River to the village of Pompeya and the entrance of an oil operation.

In order to pass the oil company's security checkpoint, I needed to produce my passport and the yellow fever vaccination card, which I had gotten in Quito a week earlier. The guards at the checkpoint were armed, dressed in military fatigues, and seemed larger than life.

Next, we drove several more hours by jeep to the reach the bank of the Tiputini River, arriving at just after midnight.

The best was yet to come – we had to navigate the river, a deep and narrow channel carved through the clay that forms the Amazon Basin.

In a motorized wooden canoe, with the help of a small group of Quechua Indian guides, we powered down the Tiputini River toward the station, dodging obstacles in the water as insects pelted us in the face for two hours.

My knuckles turned white from clutching the sides of the canoe to avoid being catapulted into the river as it tilted sharply left or right to avoid rocks, branches and sand-banks.

Above, the river naturally created an opening to the sky, and the full moon was visible the entire night. The air was fresh and clean. Once my eyes adjusted, I could clearly see the river and banks in the moonlight, and I felt exhilarated to be in the real Amazon at last.

Austria & the Sound of Music

Galapagos Islands Ecology & Conservation

Fortunately, I had packed several surfboards for the trip, and was able to meet up with the local surfers, who explained that although sharks are definitely of concern, they are well-fed due to the natural abundance of fish in coastal waters, and not generally interested in eating surfers.

However, Galapagos sea lions were another story, particularly males protecting females, and mothers protecting their young. Males reach weights over 400 kilos and females average 120 kilos when full grown. Although they barked at me in the water, and chased me around a little, nothing serious happened.

I had surfed among frisky sea lions before in California, but sharing the waves with large marine iguanas was a first for me. I watched as they launched themselves off the rocks and dove through the big waves like fearless prehistoric surfers.

In 1835, a 26-year-old Charles Darwin (1809-1882) arrived in the Galapagos Islands aboard the Beagle, a 10-gun brig-sloop, captained by Robert FitzRoy, landing at San Cristóbal.

Forever touched by his experiences in the Galapagos, Darwin went on to develop his theory of evolution, and is best remembered for his research on the process of natural selection. His name, now a globally-recognized acronym for his scientific theories, is often expressed as simply "Darwinism".

As far as we know, Darwin didn't surf, but it is safe to assume that he marveled at the big waves, as well as the wildlife around San Cristobal.

Today, the port city of Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, capital of the Galápagos province, remains the oldest permanent settlement of the islands.

Jewel of Travel Award Winning Essay

My dream of international travel

In my early thirties, I was lucky enough to be able to realize some of those dreams. I visited the Far East and the Middle East. I paddled a boat through the Amazon Rainforest, drove a camper through the Australian Outback, and trekked through the Tibetan Plateau. I saw the Great Pyramid at Giza, skateboarded along the Great Wall of China, and saw the sunset at the Taj Mahal. I crossed the Yangtze, cruised down the Nile and studied the archaeological sites along the Indus. I visited the great museums and historical sites of London, Paris and Rome.

20 to 30 countries

Between 20 and 30 countries, I was in a process of personal realization.

Along with fulfilling my colorful dream of world travel, I had directly encountered appalling acts of deliberate pollution, manufactured poverty, environmental disruption and human suffering.

In every corner of our world, I found a one-sided, undeclared war against nature. I realized that my own jet-set carbon footprint was contributing to the problem, and that I, like almost everyone else, did not know how to be part of the solution.

Global issues

I had seen DDT powder scooped into baskets with bare hands in markets in Ecuador, and found gold- and oil-mining companies spilling mercury and lead into Amazon tributaries. I had witnessed organized religion tearing apart a Holy Land.

I had endured air pollution in China so thick that I could feel my life expectancy drop with each breath. I had witnessed violence, sickness and hunger in India and Africa. I had seen sewage, plastics, and nuclear waste dumped into our seas and oceans.

Everywhere I had met people who were concerned about these issues but could offer no solutions.

Burden of knowledge

Travel has taught me that I must, without surrender, be grateful for whatever happens.

Albert Einstein explained that the most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is all comprehensible. Those who want to understand the current state and complexity of today's world are destined to carry the burden of that knowledge.

As I confront the geopolitical, economic and environmental issues that are harming our species and our planet, I inevitably feel deeply concerned and accountable. The more I know, the more I owe.

Silk Road Journey to the West 絲綢之路

Although a long journey across deserts and mountains, it was certainly not as difficult as in the past. By 2001, modernization in Xinjiang had brought hotels, tourist amenities, and transportation networks, including a new rail link between Urumqi and Kashgar.

I hope you enjoy the highlights of the 1995 and 2001 photo journals below, and find the links to Silk Road maps, presentations and resources helpful.

For more information, please contact me or visit my university course at Eastern Civilization.

In the summer of 2001, I made an agreement with the University of Hawaii at Hilo (UHH) to conduct independent research on the Silk Road. I proposed to travel overland from Xian, China, to Delhi, India.

My Liberal Studies Adviser, Prof. John Cheng, agreed, providing I visited Harappa, the Indus River Valley Civilization site, and Taxila, the Gandhara Civilization site.

Taxila was one of the most ancient universities in the world, where people from all over Asia and the Middle East came to study and teach. At least eighteen subjects were covered, including medicine, religion, and science. Instruction was available in at least five different languages, and this multicultural environment contributed to the pre-eminence of Taxila as a center of learning from the 5th century BC until the 2nd century AD.

Taxila was a key site where the ancient Greeks met the Buddhists, a cultural coincidence that occurred at the dawn of Mahāyāna Buddhism and the birth of the Gandhāran Civilization.

I was fortunate to be able to visit the Sirkap archaeological site at Taxila, evidence of an ancient Greek city in South Asia.

My plan was to follow in the footsteps of the Buddhist monk Xuanzang (玄奘) (c. 602–664), who traveled to India in the 7th century, during the Tang Dynasty, and kept a detailed account of his travels.

His journal, Great Tang Records on the Western Regions (大唐西域記), is an outstanding treasure of Chinese history.

Nine hundred years later, Xuanzang's true story was brought to life in the16th century Chinese novel Journey to the West (西遊記), one of China's "Four Great Classical Novels."

Ancient History – Gandhara Civilization
Archive.org – Sir Aurel Stein
Depts.Washington.Edu – Great Tang Records on the Western Regions
Gutenberg.org – Journey to the West
Harrapa.com – Ancient Indus Valley Civilization
Kenyon College – Silk Road Links
Silk Road Foundation – SilkRoadFoundation.org
The Silk Road Online – The International Dunhuang Project
UNESCO – About the Silk Road
UNESCO – Magao Caves
UNESCO – Taxila
University of Washington – Sirkap Photos (Patricia Young)

Cape Town South Africa study abroad with SIT

Fortunately, at this point I heard about the School for International Training (SIT) at Cape Town, South Africa. They offered a pathway to a six-month student visa through enrollment in their program in Arts and Social Change.

SIT is a globally-respected institution, based in Vermont, USA, with a philosophy based around intercultural exchange and experiential learning. They're the result of a 1932 project called “The Experiment in International Living”, from which one participant, Sargent Shriver, would ultimately develop the Peace Corps.

"Just to travel is rather boring, but to travel with a purpose is educational and exciting." – Sargent Shriver

The SIT Cape Town program included homestay accommodation, and classes at the University of Cape Town (UCT). The day my SIT acceptance letter arrived, I packed my clothes and surfboards for the trip of a lifetime to South Africa.

It was longest commute to school I ever had, the better part of two days and nights.

Kona – Honolulu – Chicago – Washington, D.C. (Dulles) – Frankfurt – Johannesburg – Cape Town.

Once I got to the university, I was pleased to find that the campus offered spectacular views from the top of the gently sloping city, at the foot of the city’s iconic landmark, Table Mountain.

In 1997, the study abroad program I attended was called South Africa: Arts and Social Change. The program is still running, currently under the name South Africa: Multiculturalism and Human Rights. The program continues to offer students opportunities to explore issues of multiculturalism from historical and contemporary perspectives, and to visit important cultural and environmental sites around the country, such as Soweto (South West Townships) located southwest of Johannesburg.

The history of Soweto illustrates the segregationist thinking which lead to the 1948 establishment of Apartheid.

During Nelson Mandela's 18-year imprisonment on Robben Island, he drafted Long Walk to Freedom: The Autobiography of Nelson Mandela.

Visiting the prison, now a living museum, I met an ex-inmate who knew Mandela personally and told me about Mandela's commitment to education and learning, especially reading books, as exemplified by his famous remark, "We'll turn this prison into a library."

South African History Online (SAHO) | Robben Island
Long Walk to Freedom Prison Manuscript | View or Download

My first impression of Cape Town was of an Atlantic coast, multicultural city, with sandstone mountains towing over picturesque white sand beaches, reminding me of Rio de Janeiro.

Over the course of time, I discovered much more about the city, taking public transportation to school, visiting townships, and eventually living within walking distance of Glen Beach. Surfing the waves at Glen Beach connected me with Cape Town's surfing culture and from then on I felt like a local, with a tight-knit group of friends and opportunities to travel to other surfing spots.

I surfed some of the best waves in the world with the Cape Town crew, including Elands Bay, on the Atlantic Ocean coast, north of the city, and Jeffreys Bay, on the Indian Ocean coast, east of the city.

Bartholomew Dias captained the first European vessel around the Cape of Good Hope in the name of Portugal in 1488, returning home after a skirmish with local tribes. Ten years later, Vasco da Gama rounded the Cape, and was the first to reach India by that route.

Nearly a century later, Sir Francis Drake, the legendary English explorer, described the Cape of Good Hope in his ship’s log as, “the fairest Cape we saw in the whole circumference of the earth.”

Among members of the international surfing community, the powerful waves around the Western Cape province are legendary, and I was keen to see them for myself.

Before the semester abroad was over, I felt that I needed to see and learn more of the country and its rich history, so I bought a ticket on the Trans-Karoo, South Africa’s cross-continent rail system linking Cape Town with Johannesburg.

I was intent on experiencing Xhosa and Zulu cultures, seeing Durban and the Indian Ocean Coast, and visiting the country’s legendary game reserves to see the wildlife I heard so much about for myself.

The Trans-Karoo was the modern-day route of a much older story in the European quest to push east and across the continent, namely the 1837 Great Trek undertaken by the Voortrekkers, South Africa's Dutch pioneers.

After arriving in Johannesburg, my first stop was the Voortrekkers monument, a focal point in South Africa's historical geography which I had studied at UCT (see photo below).

The Voortrekkers (Afrikaans for the ‘first pioneers’) are comparable to the American pioneers, zealous Christians who ventured across a continent in search of a new land, encountering native peoples, and facing challenges and dangers. Whereas the American pioneers headed west in their covered wagons and encountered Native Americans, the Voortrekkers headed east and encountered the Xhosa, Zulu, and other large tribes already occupying the land – and poised to defend it.

Descended from the Dutch East India Company's original settlers, the Voortrekkers were hearty adventurers left behind from an early supply station at the Cape of Good Hope. They were Boers, Dutch pastoralists, dissatisfied with British rule, choosing instead to make the “Great Trek” and face untold dangers and bloodshed in the African heartland.

They camped at night with their covered wagons drawn in a “Laager” – That is, they formed their wagons into a tight circle to provide security. Laagers were more than a campsite; they represented an isolationist mentality, first from the church in Europe, then the English church in the Cape, and on the frontier from the Khoi-San, Xhosa, and Zulu.

To the Voortrekkers, the African interior was terra incognita – a foreboding land of savages and wild beasts – but the Voortrekkers pushed east with great South African pride, “Ons vir jou Suid-Afrika,” which meant “We for you South Africa.” Outnumbered by large and powerful Zulu tribes numbering in the thousands, they nevertheless pressed on into Kwa-Zulu Natal, where they were narrowly victorious at the Battle of Blood River in 1838.

Armed with a doctrine of supposed racial superiority supported by religious belief, their guns were loaded with "Bullets with butterfly wings," a modern graffiti I saw spray-painted on nearby street-corner by local youth targeting ideological connections between the Voortrekkers, the institutional segregation employed during Apartheid a century later, and the residual challenges they face today.

I was fortunate to tour Soweto with Max Maximum Tour Company, run by a Soweto local named Max, a Xhosa man about my age with first-hand experience with the sufferings of Apartheid.

In 1976, as a young boy, Max witnessed the force of the apartheid system against unarmed children of Soweto: “They opened fire on us with live rounds and ran us down with mine-resistant ambush-protected vehicles called Casspirs, ominous war toys named after the South African Police (SAP) and the Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR).”

The Casspir I saw looked like a truck straight out of a Mad Max movie, with tall military tires, armored plates, bulletproof windows, and the only entrance through a hatch on top.

Max took me to see the monument and small museum honoring Hector Pieterson, the first student killed in the riots which began on June 16, 1976. He showed me a group of white storage containers, with black and white photos on the walls illustrating the chaos and violence that had claimed somewhere between 200 and 700 lives.

I walked around, practicing what little isiXhosa I had learned at UCT, meeting people, and exploring squatter shacks as well as some newer parts of the city with electricity and improved roads. People were friendly with me, especially when I said, "Molo!" (Hello!) and "Unjani wena?" (How are you?) in isiXhosa.

My camera was a great tool to break the ice when I asked residents if I could take pictures of houses and families.

One of the highlights of living, traveling, and studying in South Africa was going on safari at Hluhluwe-Imfolozi Park in KwaZulu-Natal Province. Seeing Africa's legendary wildlife with my own eyes was a life-changing experience, deepening my understanding of natural history and the role that human beings play in conservation.

I have posted a few photos below, and links to Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife, the official website for park management conservation and biodiversity in KwaZulu-Natal Province. Click on a photo to enlarge or visit Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife pages for the Hluhluwe-Imfolozi Park camp areas.

Other than the draw of surfing some of the best waves on the planet, I chose South Africa for my African study abroad experience as there was relatively less chances of catching malaria than in other countries in the region.

But this wasn't always the case.

It was diseases like sleeping sickness and malaria that would echo the name “Dark Continent” behind the very mention of Africa. I learned that malaria came from Italian words meaning “bad air,” because it was believed to be an airborne disease, which was partially true considering that mosquitos are definitely airborne.

The TseTse fly was actually the greatest single factor for the name “Dark Continent,” causing sleeping sickness in man and ‘Nagana’ in livestock. The fly made much of central Africa, and Zululand in South Africa, virtually uninhabitable for the Europeans.

In 1945, DDT spraying wiped out the fly, but a recent outbreak was reported during my stay, just north of the South African border.

Seville Spain study abroad with CCIS

For more than 15,000 years, people have been creating extraordinary art on the Iberian Peninsula.

Beginning with images of bison painted on cave walls at Altamira over 15,000 years ago, the art that we can see today in Spain covers the whole of human history. The ancient Greeks and Phoenicians, the Romans who dominated Spain for six hundred years, the invading Germanic Visigoths, and the Moors from North Africa who crossed the Strait of Gibraltar, bringing Islamic art, architecture, and religion, all left their artistic and cultural legacy on this unique country. As an American, the experience of living and studying in Spain brought history into my life in a way that I hadn’t encountered before.

The Plaza de Espana and the Maria-Lusia Park were a short walk from my apartment, and I passed through them nearly every day. Many times I met new people, Spanish couples young and old, horse-drawn carriage operators who took tourists for rides, and occasionally Gypsies offering a rose in exchange for good luck or a curse, depending whether or not I was willing to give up a few pesos.

The spectacular architecture of the Plaza de Espana has featured in many famous movies, including Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Star Wars Episode II, Attack of the Clones (2002), and The Dictator (2012).

A topic of personal interest to me is Islamic-influenced Spain, sometimes referred to as Al-Andalus, a term recognizing the Muslim territories of the Iberian Peninsula. At its greatest extent during the 8th century, Islamic rulers governed most of Spain and Portugal.

During the 780 years (711-1492) of the Moors in Spain, Islamic territories waxed and waned depending on political tides, creating frontier areas where Christian and Islamic influences were in close contact, politically, culturally and economically. For example, a close look at place names around Andalusia reveals many towns with the name "de la frontera" added.

Beginning in 711, swift-moving Islamic armies from north Africa invaded Spain, and in less than a decade occupied nearly all of the Iberian Peninsula. A process of acculturation followed, and Spain developed, and flourished, into a hybrid civilization comprising Muslims, Christians, Jews, Gypsies, and other cultural influences.

Although conflicts certainly existed between the various cultural traditions and religions, they were, for the most part, mutually tolerated and therefore combined to form a new culture. As a result, Islamic-influenced Spain developed into one of the most sophisticated cultures that Europe had seen since the fall of the Roman Empire four hundred years earlier.

One of the more fascinating outcomes was the arrival of ancient Greek and Roman knowledge which had been preserved in Islamic libraries. While living, studying and traveling in Spain, I learned that ancient Greek philosophy, math, and science, which had long since been translated to Classical Arabic, was translated back into Latin, Spanish, and other European languages during the Moorish period. This knowledge had been lost in Europe because of the Christian habit during the Dark Ages of burning all books other than the Bible. It is ironic that after Christians had destroyed all the pre-Christian written history and wisdom of Europe, much of this knowledge arrived back in the continent through the Moorish influence in Spain.

This is to say that the great body of Greek knowledge, as well as ancient works from Persia, India, and China, essentially unavailable to the West for several centuries, became available once again. Notably, areas of knowledge and research, particularly math, architecture, and astronomy, which had been familiar to adepts in ancient Greek and Roman cultures, had been further developed by Islamic scholars, and subsequently, this powerful knowledge flowed into, and through, Spain, eventually reaching important cultural centers in France, England, Germany and crucially Florence, Italy, where these books helped to kickstart the artistic and scientific revolution that later became known as the Renaissance.

The culture of Al-Andalus thus had a major impact on the shift of Western Europe out of the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance.

I was fortunate enough to study this topic at the International College of Seville, and to visit key sites with my professor, Oxford-educated Richard Bastin, who I nicknamed "Señor Bastino" due to his expertise in Spanish culture and history, although he was actually English. Our travels together included a visit to Toledo, where scholars at the Toledo School of Translators undertook the important work of translating the ancient texts into European languages in the twelfth and thirteen centuries.

Al-Andalus | The Art of Islamic Spain | 55 mb PDF 464 pages
Andalusia's official tourism portal | Andalusia.org
Cathedral de Sevilla | Virtual museum
History of Islamic Spain – Unknown author | 20 mb PDF (132 slides)
Met Publications | Al-Andalus: The Art of Islamic Spain
Museo Nacional y Centro de Investigación de Altamira | National Museum of Altamira
Museum of the Alhambra | Alhambra De Granada
Museums with No Frontiers | Discover Islamic Art
Paleolithic Art of North Spain | Altamira Cave | 3 mb PDF in Spanish p. 615
Spanish Arts | Spanish-art.org
Spain's official tourism portal | Spain.info
University of Texas at Austin | Perry-Castañeda Library Map Collection – Spain

Mount Everest Photo Tibet 西藏

The trip began inauspiciously. As mandated by the Chinese visa restrictions in Beijing, I had booked through the China International Travel Service, CITS, for the hire of a Toyota Land Cruiser and local driver for two weeks, as well as a national guide and an international guide – not a cheap excursion by any means. I had paid in advance for what I hoped would be a relatively new model vehicle to get us over the mountains and difficult terrain ahead. What actually appeared outside the CITS office in Lhasa that morning was an ancient, battered truck with bald tires, stinking of fuel from what was clearly a leaking tank. The less said about the social skills of the Chinese driver, the better.

Within ten minutes of sitting in the fume-filled truck, I was physically sick. I made the decision that there was no way I was going to spend two weeks like this, and insisted that the driver turn around and head back to the CITS.

Smiling, but unyielding, I explained quietly and politely to a series of CITS officials that the truck was unsafe, and unlikely to get us to Everest.

After several hours of this, I was very relieved to see the arrival of Mr Quan, a distinguished-looking driver in a beautiful late-model Toyota Land Cruiser. We were back on the road.

With Mr. Quan at the wheel, we crossed though expansive valleys with fields of yellow rapeseed flowers and visited small traditional Tibetan villages. We cautiously drove up steep, dangerous switchback roads to high-mountain passes, some at 16,000 feet or more.

At each pass, we stopped to check the vehicle, especially the brakes, before descending to the next valley. I followed local tradition by tying prayer flags to shrines to thank the spirits for our safe passage, and send peaceful mantras in the wind.

South from the Rongbuck Monastery, across a glacial valley of naturally-crushed grey rock, I hiked to nearly 18,000 feet and stood at the foot of Everest. The north face of the mountain towered nearly 10,000 feet above.

The air was thin and the wind reddened my skin. I set up the camera and took pictures, in color slides and black and white prints, but Everest had a mind of its own.

As quickly as the summit appeared through the rapidly moving clouds, it was gone from sight. I had seen just enough to know it was there; but for several hours, until nearly dark, I saw only grey clouds breaking across the summit.

It was getting dark and dangerously late to return to camp, and I scrabbled down the glacier feeling somewhat defeated, reflecting on the stories I'd read of climbers who spent years planning and training, only to fail in their bid for the summit.

The truck started, and we drove away in the darkness with the mountain at our back. As I was reaching for something behind me, I caught from the corner of my eye the sight of a sudden change of wind. In seconds, the east wind whipped away the covering clouds from the mountain, revealing the full magnificence of Everest in crystal clarity.

Qomolangma, the legendary goddess of the mountain, was miraculously lifting her veil.

"Stop!" I told Mr. Quan. "Wait!"

I gathered my gear and launched out of the truck, fumbling to get a shot before the surreal moment was gone.

I knew it was the perfect photo of the top of the world.

Egypt and Israel

The only time that I ever really thought I was going to die was in Egypt.

Not from militants, drowning in the Nile, or heat stroke – It was the food!

Sailing south on the Nile from the Aswan Dam, I ate something that I shouldn't have. In a half coma for 3 days, my eyes transfixed on banks of the Nile as the boat drifted downstream with the current, I watched men watering their herds and women washing their clothes.

I thought about the great explorers of yesteryear who had perished on this very stretch of river, and never before did my life seem so insignificant.

After crossing the Sinai Desert by bus, my camera and film were held hostage at the Israeli border.

I was somewhat annoyed while the Israeli police X-ray scanned my film with heavy-duty equipment more than a dozen times. Once they were finished, the film was damaged, and I never bothered to share the remaining pictures with anyone.

The good news was that I eventually passed through the border near Palestine and was on my way to Jerusalem in time to find a hostel for the night.

The photos shown here are from the original 1998 prints dug out of a shoebox.

Click on photos to enlarge.