Shi Ka Xue Shan: Foothills of the Himalayas

When I was just a boy and my brothers and sisters were only just boys and girls, our family often traveled across Nebraska, through northwest Kansas, into Colorado to Colorado Springs where my Aunt Katie and Uncle Conrad live. For seven people in a Ford Country Squire station wagon, that time often proved to be about four hours of joy, followed by four hours of sleep, followed by four hours of bickering with one another. However, as our car crept along the interstate and two-lane highways approaching the Springs, the horizon would grow from a thin, dark line into verifiable mountains, and while I cannot fully know what my siblings were feeling, I could feel my eyes widening with wonder and my mind searching out what adventures we might have in these jutting masses of rock and dirt.

During these long road trips, we busied minds with a simple game we called "Slap Dash." We all starred out the windshield of the vehicle seeking the first glimpse of the green mile markers that lined the highway. The first person to catch a glimpse of these reminders of how slow the trip was going slapped the dashboard or the back of the seat in front of him. However, once we crossed the border into Colorado, my mind and eyes strained further into the distance, trying to gain that first glimpse of the mountains. And even after someone of us claimed to see the mountains, they never seemed real until we pulled into my aunt and uncles driveway.

However, for some reason, one of my older siblings (honestly, I cannot remember who it was, but something tells me it was Daryl or Cheri) took delight in reminding us that "those are just the foothills, not the real mountains." I hated hearing this. Even though it filled my mind with hope for what "real" mountains looked like, I still could not help but feel a little disappointed and cheated by my older sibling. I thought to myself, "Of course these are mountains; just look how tall they are." By the time our station wagon crept into our relatives yard, the sun had set and these "foothills" looked like a dark cloud on the immediate horizon, and my disappointment at my family member's statement had dissipated, returning to wonder at what adventures those "mountains" held.
Shi Ka Xue Shan, the snow mountain towering over Zhong Dian rises to the towering height of 4500 meters and can be seen from just about anywhere inside and outside of town. I believe I used the above shot in my entry about the Bhuddist Llamissary, however, it is one of best long-distance shots of this beautiful "snow mountain" (xue shan). So here it is again.
A cable car lift carries its passengers from the valley floor up the craggy face of Shi Ka, and drops them off at an observatory deck, from which one can climb even higher. A trail also winds through the surrounding canyons, eventually making its way to the same observatory. I would have loved to spend the day plodding up this dirt track, however, time and company would not allow this option. So seven of us piled into to cable cars and snapped photos of our surroundings and yawned periodically as the pressure in our ears built up.
The Chinese proprietors of the cable car would not let us go up the lift without buying at least one canister of air, certain we would need it because of the thin air. However, because 4500 meters is only somewhat over 14000 feet, we found ourselves using the air canister as a prop for photos that had each of us pretending we were gasping for air. I admit that climbing the stairs to the secondary and tertiary observation decks above the terminus of the lift caused me to breathe hard and feel my heart thumping behind my chest. Even so, I still had little trouble catching my breath.
Our group consisted of Camille, Jenny, Zou Ma, Robbie (back row), myself, Suli and Jeff. Zou Ma is a local woman of the Tibetan minority. She showed us around and pointed out surrounding mountains, like Meili Xue Shan sticking up on the left horizon of the above photo. Camille teaches first grade; Jenny teaches Secondary ELD; Robbie is the schools librarian. Suli and me you know; and Jeff, Jenny's husband, is an arborist who travels around China consulting businesses on the planting of trees. Some of us had more mountain experience than others, but even so, as we marvelled in the valley at Shi Ka's majestic beauty, as we crested its summit, we were faced with a humbling realization: these are "just the foothills, not the real mountains."
Stretching north and west of Shi Ka lay the heart of the Himalayas. I think my Uncle Conrad, a post-Vietnam rock-climber and mountaineer, settled in Colorado Springs to be near the life he loved so much. I think he may be the only person in my family who can appreciate the height and breadth of these stunning, jutting rocks. As I looked from Shi Ka into Tibet and Burma, I faced what could be viewed by some as my insignificance. However, as I gazed toward the horizon wondering what taller mountains lay beyond, I realized that every mountain begins with foothills, and before them are the valleys and plains. Then I turned back to look at Zhong Dian from 4500 meters. I dawned on me, for a person living in the mountains the valley stretched out like a sunny, welcome respite from the harsh vertical environment towering above it just as much as the mountains rose mysteriously full of adventure to the person living in the valley.

I truly have gotten over that "foothills" comment that used to hurt so badly--I have even heard myself say it to other, forgetting how much it had dashed my own spirits. Now I enjoy finding His beauty in all my surroundings, from the river valleys, to the great plains, to the soaring mountains, and yes, even to the foothills.