Adventures on Planet Earth

By Dr. Diana Prince

In this book, Dr. Diana Prince invites you along to experience adventures in the farthest corners of the world and some intriguing places closer to home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524605254

Dr. Diana Prince

Dr. Diana Prince has a Master’s Degree in English and a Master’s Degree in Philosophy from California State University at San Diego. She has a PhD in Psychology from United States International University.

Book preview

On the Way from Kathmandu to Lhasa (Nepal)

The roads were the worst I’d ever seen. Most of them were not paved, just hard dirt. We were in two weathered vans. Although the weather was moderately warm, we occasionally passed large packed snow hardened in some places. There was one place where the snow had previously been over fifteen feet high across the road and then had frozen solid. The large solid mass of ice that had blocked the road some time earlier had been neatly sliced away vertically. I have no idea how they did it. The result was that we drove for a short distance with two solid walls of slick ice, fifteen feet high on each side of the vehicle.

I had heard, sometime later, that this stretch of road was considered the worst in the world. More intimidating than the ice were the hairpin turns on roads that went for miles clinging to the sides of the high mountains. In some cases, it would have been impossible for two vehicles to pass. Fortunately, in the three-day driving period we saw fewer than five other vehicles on this same road.

On one particular stretch of road, the stone cliff rose on one side. On the other side of the road which was only one-lane wide, the road dropped vertically thousands of feet. There was no barrier of any kind. There was the road, and then it was gone. Because we were winding around the outcroppings, it was impossible to see if an oncoming vehicle might be coming.

These were English vehicles, so the driver was on our right. Suddenly, in the front seat, the left hand door swung open. A second later, the ten-year-old son of the driver was standing and leaning out over the precipice that dropped down thousands of feet. His right hand was clinging to the inside rim above the car window, while he leaned outside trying to see if there were any oncoming vehicles. The three of us in the back seat froze, expecting the young boy would fall at any second dislodged by the bumpy drive. The other vehicle behind us, with the rest of our group, had no idea what was happening.

Although no traffic was headed that way, I still, to this day wonder what would have happened had someone been approaching. There was literally no place for either vehicle to have backed up.

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Near Everest Base Camp (Tibet)

I was the only American on this particular trip. There were six others: four men from Australia, and two ladies from England. They were all about fifteen years younger than I was at the time––mostly in their early twenties.

Now this was not a climbing expedition. I love a little hiking, but I’m not out to break any altitude records. We did stop at Everest Base Camp at an elevation of about 6,000 feet, and saw the bright tents dotting the field, and small flags waving in the brisk air from many different countries. It is interesting how the intrepid quest for adventure is alive and well in the human heart, no matter what corner of the globe. And of course, sitting magnificently above us was the mountain of mountains––Everest itself.

We set up another camping site a few miles away, on a plateau with a stream flowing nearby. The tents were bolted into the hard ground, which had a thin layer of gravel-size rocks in a glaze across the terrain.

Before dinner, the leader solicited requests for people to come along for a hike. I declined knowing that we were still adjusting to this elevation, and I, for one, had only the year before had a serious bout of altitude sickness back in the States. I had gone to Denver for a conference, and literally jumped off the plane, went downtown and explored for hours before the meeting. I knew it was the mile high city, but then what could a little brisk walking do? I found out later, when I was literally staggering and holding on to the wall.

Back to Everest. I wasn’t sure how high we were at our little camp. Earlier we had gone through Pangla Pass, and I knew that was at 17,000 feet. So all of the others enthusiastically jumped up for the hike. I decided to sit it out, and check the area around the campsite, and had a bowl of Campbell’s tomato soup with the staff. How they happened to have that in the Himalayas, I have no idea. It was some of the most delicious soup I ever had. I remember it now, nice and hot in that high cold air.

A few hours later, the intrepid members of the group staggered back into camp. And I do mean staggered. Most complained of being tired, but then it got more serious. Eventually, the staff had to take out the emergency equipment for four of them. It consisted of an inflatable canvass-type tube contraption into which they were each zipped up in turn. Then the staff pumped air in with some kind of foot pump. The victim was lying on his back, with the area over his face having a clear 12-inch square visor covering his face. There was only one such setup, so each of the four people waited his turn.

This whole trip I remember thinking that I had never met such wonderfully funny traveling companions as these Australians. I had never known any before. Now, here was one of them leaning over his friend who was now inside the portable oxygen chamber. He peered in at him, through the clear visor, held up a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other, and called into him, Hey, mate, you’re looking a little stressed. How about I light you up a smoke? For a minute, the fellow in the oxygen chamber looked up terrified, and though I don’t have a grim sense of humor, I fell backwards laughing. It really broke the tension in that tent.

Another young English lady in that group, I remember well. First, you need to understand that there were no restrooms at our little encampment. At this altitude we only had sparse bushes, only a few of them, about 30 feet from our tents. I cannot tell you how cold it was to make that trip at night, especially that one night. The next day I found that the little bottle of shampoo I had left out on my duffel bag in my tent had frozen solid.

Well, back to that English girl. For the past three days, as we drove along, she had mentioned several times about how important it was not to leave any toilet paper anywhere behind in the bushes, because it would be there for the next century. Pick it up and carry it with you. There was just a marked arrogance about it that seemed to grate on the nerves.

Well, I’m as civic minded as the next fellow, but by the time she said it for the twentieth time, I was ready to leave her behind a bush. It was the morning after the oxygen attacks, and here was this girl out in the freezing air washing her hair in the icy stream. I was appalled. Who DOES that?! It was so cold, it hurt to breathe. I could only figure that she was trying to show us how rugged she was.

Then, as if by God’s grace, I felt vindicated. Upstream fifteen feet from where she was rinsing her hair, there was a yak standing firmly in the water having a bowel movement and a morning pee. Somewhere in it there seemed to be a poetic justice.

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The Bird Fishers of Dali (China)

We sat shivering in the small metal boats in the middle of Erhai Lake. We arrived before dawn in a light rain. Wrapped in rain gear and crouched under yellow umbrellas, we were there to see the ancient art of cormorant fishing. We had pushed off in the early morning from the boat launch at Dali in Yunnan Province. Southern China is a picturesque mix of villages and mountains shrouded in clouds.

It was not until the sun’s first rays spread across the lake, leaving a sheen like cellophane on the clear surface, that we began to peel off our raincoats and store the umbrellas under our seats.

Dali has none of the bustle of Beijing or other Chinese cities, but is a refreshing landscape that resembles exquisite art.

Erhai Lake, itself, is at an elevation of over 6,000 feet above sea level, and Tuanshan Mountain towers over the southern end of the lake. In the distance, other mountains rise so high that they are often shrouded in clouds, which this morning settled in layers at the base of the mountains, and gave the illusion that the mountains were floating above the ground.

Cormorant fishing is an ancient fishing method, mentioned in Chinese texts as early as the seventh century AD. The technique involves tying a small restricting rope around the base of the bird’s throat that prevents the bird from swallowing the larger fish. The cormorant is trained to return to the fisherman when he has swallowed a fish, and the fish is then pulled out of the bird’s throat, releasing it to the fisherman. Smaller fish are given to the bird as an incentive. Additionally, the birds are given a home and provided for by the fisherman. They work together as a team.

In one unusual catch that day, a fourteen-inch fish had completely disappeared down the throat of a cormorant, only to appear again intact as the fisherman slowly dislodged the catch.

The technique, once more widespread, is rarely practiced today. Only a handful of fishermen in the world still utilize this custom––primarily in Greece and in some parts of Japan.

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The Horsemen of Kalocsa (Hungary)

Just when you think you’ve seen everything, the stunning horses of Kalocsa and their brilliant riders put on a stunning show.

There is a reason why this spectacle emerges in this small town located about an hour from Budapest. Hungary was first settled in the ninth century by the Magyars who were warrior horsemen migrating here from Central Asia. Both the riding skills and the breeding of Arabian horses with the sturdy Hungarian horses has produced a magnificent animal.

The foremost arena for their performance is the Bakod Puszta Horse Farm in southern Hungary, drawing visitors from Danube River boat docks near Kalocsa.

The elite equestrians are known as the Magyar Cowboys of Kalocsa. These cowboys, in Hungarian called csikos, initially thrill the crowds by riding at breakneck speed, while standing up on the magnificent horses. Further demonstrating their rapport and control with the horses, the horses lie down, curl up and remain motionless as if dead, and sit comfortably on their back legs with their front legs poised in front of them following their master’s commands. Some of these maneuvers were found helpful in past war times, when the animals were called upon to conceal or camouflage their rider’s presence.

The most amazing spectacle, however, is the feat in which one rider simultaneously rides and controls nine horses, directing them from nine separate reins held in his hands. He, meanwhile rides bareback standing up on the last two horses. His left foot is on one horse’s back, and his right foot is on the other horse. It is clear that any deviation from the synchronization by any of the nine horses could spell disaster. And again this is done at top speed, with the manes of the animals flying in the bright sun. The precision and the synchronization are unequalled. The seamless interaction of horse and rider, the elegance and the sheer beauty, make the experience one of a kind and unforgettable. This is something not to be missed.

On the gentler side, the town also has a Paprika Museum dedicated to the common Hungarian spice, and a small cottage replicating a restored early Hungarian farmhouse with period furniture.

More horsemanship history can be found in a not too distant town. Near mountains and rolling green fields, the famed Lipizzaner stallions call the small town of Eger their home.

The Dinosaurs of the Gobi Desert (Mongolia)

Two years ago on a trip to Mongolia, I was traveling with a small group in the South Gobi desert. There were nine of us in the