Run to the Temple of Doom
By Joanne Lane Not everyone can be an Indiana Jones when running in Australia. But in the Indian Himalayas it is possible every day. Here the intrepid athlete must overcome the short breath effect of high altitude, be constantly alert for local buses that swing rapidly around blind hairpin bends and watch their footing as they cross landslides brought down by earthquakes. They must also avoid forest fires and be sure not to lose their concentration as they gaze at the beautiful snow capped Himalayas, as one false step can mean certain death on the steep mountain trails. Not only are there these natural elements to deal with but everywhere there is a hint of religious forces at work. Yes running in the Himalayas is exhilerating, exciting and dangerous. Australian marathoner Peter Lane took on the challenge of the highest mountain range in the world while living in the hill station Mussoorie in North India for six months. His daughter, Joanne Lane, reports on his experiences. She has been teaching in an international school in the same town for the last 12 months. Personal fact file
Name: Peter Lane
Age: 53 years
Club: InTraining, Brisbane
Born: North Hampton, England
Lives: Toowong, Brisbane and Mussoorie, India
Best ultra marathon time (68km): 8hrs30mins (May 28th, 1999, Mussoorie, India)
Best marathon time: 3:07 Brisbane, 1997
Best half marathon time: 1:28 Noosa, 1998
Best 10km time: 44mins
Number of marathons: Five "Allah-ho-Akbar... "Allah-ho-Akbar..."
The mullah (priest) at the muslim mosque faces west towards Mecca as the dawn breaks. With fingers in his ears he cries out in wailing, sonorous notes to call the faithful to prayer. "God is Great... God is Great..." The prayer call also awakens 53 year-old Brisbane marathoner Peter Lane. As he runs off in the early morning from his home in Mussoorie, north India, he wonders if the mournful cry is prophetic. He certainly receives no encouragement from the first person he sees - an Indian man sitting outside the house laughing and muttering to himself. "I felt doomed from the start," says Peter, "with the prayer call, the crazy man and then ten minutes later when two very fierce looking buffalo with huge horns blocked my running track. I carefully jogged around them. Then the next minute the bag carrrying my water and food broke! So I did some hurried repairs." Not a good start to an ultra marathon - a round trip of 68km to Surkanda Devi, a Hindu Temple on the Tehri Road in the Himalayan foothills, the highest mountain range in the world. According to Hindu mythology Surkanda Devi is the mythological site where the head of Shiva`s consort fell when it was cut off to to stop his tantric, cosmic dance which was rocking the universe. Thousands of Hindu pilgrims visit the temple each year which is the highest point around Mussoorie (2,000 metres). The temple reaches up to the gods at a height of 3,048 metres (10,000 feet), far higher than Australia`s biggest mountain Mt Kosciusko at 6-7,000 feet (... metres). From the hilltop the temple is supposed to offer peace of mind and a fantastic view of 200 miles of snow capped Himalayas. Peter had contemplated the challenges of this 68km run: "I had never run an ultra marathon before, there would be no back up for me and I had to carry all my water. I couldn`t help but call this the "Temple of Doom Run". He also had to climb over 2,000 feet in altitude to reach the temple and the thin mountain air would not be conducive to running. The first few kilometres did nothing to relieve his feelings of doom as he passed through the charred, smouldering, blackened remains of fir trees from recent fires that had littered the hillside. Their smoke, combined with the fires from villages and mountain stream mist, filled the valley blocking out the early morning sun. "Out of this haze at 8km emerged my first water stop - a chai (tea) stall perched perilously on the mountain range where I bought two litres of water for AUS$1. The problem was that what I didn`t drink I would have to carry. The next minute I narrowly avoided running into the local milk van - a herd of buffalo who with bells tingling and huge hips swaying, gracefully ambled past." Even a short distance out on the Tehri Road civilisation grows sparse. The mountain ranges soar above while valleys plunge below into unknown depths with the holy Ganges River winding into the plains thousands of feet down. Until now shops selling chai (tea), water and goods appear every few kilometres. But from here the road plunges around a corner and ascends 7km to the top of the range (18km). There is little promise of human or plant life. Suddenly a tourist bus appeares from nowhere with horn blaring, belching black diesel and covering Peter in dust. Choking and coughing he looks up to see some tourists hanging out of the overcrowded vehicle laughing at him. Others looked astounded to see anyone running - especially on a mountain road. For even in India, the land of bewildering contrast, some things are unusual. Even the monkeys had stopped chattering in the trees to look in wide eyed wonder as Peter wound his way up here. Now a local dog, neither intimidated or impressed by his presence, came snarling at him. But a well aimed stone sent it scurrying away. After 1.5hours and 18km a relieved Peter reached the top of the range: "I was relieved that I got there on time - about 7am. Next was a gradual downhill 6km stretch into Dhanaulti, in which I found the ONLY mountain stream in the entire 64km. As I splashed off and looked up I saw in the distant hills, Surkanda Devi. "Below me in the valley I saw a vulture ominously soaring around looking for food. I didn`t spend too much time looking at it as I had to jog cautiously over a landslide brought down in a recent earthquake, which blocked the narrow road. One slip, and I would have fallen hundreds of feet to be on the vultures menu. Hundreds of feet above me the pine covered foothills of the Himalayas rose up and on the horizon were the spectacular snow covered mountains." Peter reached Dhanaulti (22km) around 7.30am. Surkanda Devi was now only a tiring 12 km uphill stretch. He spent twenty minutes atop the windswept area that housed the temple. The views of the peaks were spectacular but he was too tired to enjoy them. "It was not so much the temple was so great but that the run was great and I was tired. The temple was 1000ft above the road on a steep 3km path that took me 30 minutes to walk. It was only 8.30am when I reached the top so there were few pilgrims or tourists. I had a quick breakfast of beans and rice outside. "There was evidence of worshippers there with dead flowers, incense packets and of course rubbish. It was a typical Hindu temple with white sterile tiles yet it was open to the elements which was unusual." At 9.30am he left for Dhanaulti which he reached by 10.30am, the 44km mark. Now it was time to see if he really could do an ultra marathon. "In five marathons my best time was 3hrs7mins in Brisbane in 1997," he said."Yet I was confident that I was ready for an ultra. Arriving in Mussoorie in March I quickly realized how challenging running and even walking in the hills at 7000ft was." Peter had prepared well for the ultra with numerous runs and hikes where he had coped well physically carrying only a minimum of food and water. A 40-year-old American teacher at a local school had completed the run in 7hrs30mins and to beat his time Peter had to run 10km an hour, which allowed time for breaks. But coming out of Dhanaulti was a 6km uphill stretch and he was desperately drained: "I felt as if I`d done two marathons. At the stream I splashed my face and started to walk. I realised that every hour to relieve the sheer mental and physical tiredness and pounding on the road that I would walk for 10 minutes and also eat and drink." At the top of the range (50km) he again stopped for water and tea. A young boy kindly gave him water to splash his face. By 12 noon he was ready for the 7km descent of the range. But the struggle was not over. "At 12.30pm (60 km) I was very tired. I stopped to eat and also drink the last of my Gatorade. People refused to give me water to splash my face as there was a drought in the hills and no water to spare for anything let alone a crazy sahib (man) on a run. Drinking water is brought in by lorries for those who can afford it or by local village women who walk hours to get water. Only a hungry dog, with whom I shared some of my food, was friendly. When he started running again young truck drivers drove past waving and smiling and Peter was motivated for the final 8km stretch. "As I came down the hill into a village at 1.20pm (67km) there was hope of water when I saw a 200 litre water tank outside a chai (tea) shop. But it was empty - I only got two s of water and I almost burst into tears out of frustration and tiredness. Yet I was only 1km away from as much water as I needed. Tired but elated I finished at 1.30pm. The time of the last man was 7hrs30mins so I was pretty pleased at age 53 with my time of 8hrs30mins." But the hills are merciless and after 68km Peter still had to walk 3km uphill to reach home 500 feet above the road. That night, tired but fulfilled, Peter looked down 7000ft to the mighty Ganges River flowing through the Dun valley below. The lights from the holy religious cities built along the Ganges were flashing, beckoning and challenging him to run down to the Dun Valley and along to those cities. Perhaps another day... |
