Marjan Slaats & Roger Henke

FAQ about the 2008 Annapurna Mandala Trail and us

Italics indicate that the links page contains additional info on the subject

You tell me. Don’t ask. Do it yourself and find out. Anything I say about it hides as much as it reveals. Why bother and risk being convinced by mirages?

I try to escape from myself, by all means that work for me, even if only temporarily. Until now, I always return, usually feeling much refreshed, even if only temporarily. It’s a funny urge, and if you lack it, don’t worry, you are certainly not worse off without it. If you do recognize it, you’re invited to try this one for yourself. But I must warn you: there is no point to it, you’ll end up where you started, what you get is a journey, not a destination.

Really, others are much better at giving reasons. Read Bruno’s book about the Chevaliers du Vent. It contains many testimonies about ‘why’ and they are all over the place. Maybe some of them appeal to you. Language and culture may be pretty steep barriers in the appeal business. Buddhism-inspired French may not do it for you. If that is the case, the only other option that I know of (if you can get your hands on a copy) is the Crane brothers’ book of their 1983 run from Darjeeling to Rawalpindi.

Alternatively, skip the explanations and look at the photo’s. Both books have them. What do you think? Nice calendar pictures? OK, forget about it. You can’t get enough of them? OK, this kind of journey seems to appeal to you. Stop looking for answers to ‘why’ and act on it.

Other options for pictures are the sites of other participants:

Yes, indeed I’m being facetious. But I warned you, don’t take me on my word!

We both have a history with South Asia and the Nepalese Himalaya. I made my way overland to Kathmandu first time in 1978. That I headed East was intentional, in line with an interest in Eastern philosophies and disciplines, in all their incarnations from the very serious to the hippie trail versions. Where that came from? I could give you some psychobabble explanation but what good would that do to you, or me for that matter? I tend to accept what comes across my way in life and go with it, so the answer is: ‘beats me’. Anyway, in June of that year I walked the Khumbu from Lamosangu to Gokyo peak, was exhausted and enchanted and the place became part of me. In 1981 I returned to South Asia with my friend Han van den Boogaard (wanna know about him? Have a look at the site of inzicht). In February we walked the Marsyangdi valley from Dumre but didn’t make it across the Thorung La because of snow. On my own I went towards Ganesh Himal and visited Gosainkunda. In August of 1985 Marjan and I hitchhiked, bussed and trained our way to Varanasi, the pilgrimage centre on the Ganges. During our two years in India we didn’t visit Nepal but trekked in Gharwal and Zanskar instead. We learned Hindi. When we left for the Netherlands again, we took sounds, smells, chaos and lights with us, and a baby girl. In September 1989 we moved to Nepal because I got a job as operations manager of Summit trekking. This time the enchantment was very down to earth, daily life and work, people who remain friends to this day, more children, born in Patan hospital, the excitement and anxiety of a people’s power regime change, the seasons and the festivals marking them, but the spell grew ever deeper. Actual time spent in the mountains was very limited, I wasn’t employed as a tour leader (had a company to manage) but we did learn the magic of monsoon family trekking visiting Rolwaling via de Yalung La in 1993. We’ve been back twice since, following a seven year cycle. In the monsoon of 2000 our family of, by now six, walked from Pokhara, across the Namun Banjang, into Nar-Phu, across the Kang La and the Thorung La to Jomosom. During the monsoon of 2007 we spent over three weeks in the Khumbu. In between, summer of 2005, we went back to the Indian Himalaya, the Milam glacier, east of Nada Devi, with our former neighbors from Nijmegen.

Unless you’re particularly thick, the message will have hit home by now: we both feel very much at home in this part of the world. Nevertheless, however fascinating, beautiful and mesmerizing the subcontinent may be to us, its attraction ultimately tells you more about us than about the subcontinent itself. We were young, in love and with our doors of perception open at their widest when we immersed ourselves. Others in similarly receptive states went different places and were hooked by those places as irreversibly as we fell for this part of the world. I guess we were just lucky to end up in this stunningly beautiful part of the world.

If you ask this question you’re not a runner. I might dish up some reasons that make sense to some – but are bound to remain meaningless to others – but a more honest treatment of the question is to give you some dry facts about the when and how and leave it at that. Age and its fears are certainly a factor. I also need an antidote against the sadness that comes with looking the madness of our species in the eye, everyday. Once I started running I discovered that I enjoy running and talking with friends better than just talking. Beyond these ingredients? Don’t know. Many other activities would probably do equally well.

Anyway, I enjoyed sports, soccer, basketball, tennis, etc. when I was young, but lost interest in my late teens and student days. Only started running after returning to the Netherlands from India in 1987 – cannot remember what kicked it off, it must have been friends like Han. When we lived in Kathmandu valley I was an irregular Hash House Harrier. This hash was a runners’ hash, more than most others, and the valley outside the Kathmandu ring road was still largely untouched by urban sprawl, a dream for any trail runner. Back in Nijmegen, I started running every weekend with a couple of friends (Han, Paul, sometimes Emanuel) exploring the unusual, for the Netherlands that is, variety of attractive landscapes that our backyard had to offer, and exploring in ever longer outings. We also participated in local races, 10 k’s, 15 k’s, half marathons, and in 1996 I did my first marathon (Amsterdam). My friends were happy to stay with distances up to the marathon but I was attracted to further and beyond. Like many Dutch of my kind I was fascinated by a book by ultra-running legend Jan van Knippenberg and in 1999 I participated in a couple of events beyond marathon distance (two 50 k’s, a 60 k, a 70 k, and a 6 hour run). Must have overdone it because I lost the urge to continue and although I didn’t quit running I decreased frequency and distance. A couple of runs a week, and for the rest climbing plastic (The Netherlands, remember...) and playing squash, kept me busy enough. In 2002 we moved to Phnom Penh in Cambodia and although I quickly found a couple of running mates it took me a while to get used to the temperatures and to city running. In 2005 I ran my first marathon in this part of the world and have since completed several more. Like in Nijmegen my running mates were an important part of the experience. Over the years, the company of Bill, Mike, Colin, Rob, Ignas, Joe, Laura and Tracy was indispensable to keep me going. And, like in Nijmegen, running never monopolized my sports activities. In Cambodia I have either played squash or badminton along the side, and couldn’t really do without the very different kick that these fast and technical games provide.

The previous two questions remain without a real answer, but if you accept that I like Nepal and trekking and I like running, you might see some logic in running in the Nepal Himalaya. I actually have a history of running mountains, but Nepal and trekking preceded that so the two are linked – or at least that makes for a smoother story line.

Nijmegen is one of those places in the Netherlands with ‘hills’. They may not amount to much but it meant that my weekend outings with friends regularly had an up and down profile and that running and running slopes was a natural combi from the start. And I get much less tired from running hill trails than from running tarmac flats. After my first Dutch marathons I did the Jungfrau marathon twice (in 1998 and 1999) and loved the combination. Moving from Nijmegen to Phnom Penh in 2002 got me into proper low lands territory and it took me until 2005 before I entertained the thought of mountain running again. Options are limited in Southeast Asia but Sabah has the Kinabalu climbathon and after Marjan and three of my kids had trekked that mountain during a school trip, coming back with enthusiastic stories and beautiful pictures, the possibility wouldn’t leave me alone. The summer trek to the Milam glacier offered plenty of opportunities for mountain running and I loved it so much that the climbathon possibility became reality in September 2006. After that I made use of any opportunity that came along, doing 45 k in September 2007 on the Hong Kong trail when in Hong Kong (where else...), and using rest days during our family trek in the Everest region in July for runs.

Running in the Nepal Himalaya is as good as it gets for me. It activates all the strings attaching me to that part of the world. You asked for reasons, I can provide you with more Glassperlenspiel connections (doesn’t ring a bell? check it out). The very first strings were about the way I imagined the ‘East’ to deal with the big questions. I recently hit upon a running technique that returns to those strings. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been long since aware of the ‘zen of running’, and other new-agy approaches but what makes chirunning special is that it is actually a technique. That suits me well. I run to escape, remember. If a change of approach would do it for me I probably wouldn’t be such an obsessive runner. Running works for me precisely because it deals with the mind indirectly. The technique is being developed in the US. If you’re like me, you’ll have trouble with the cultural wrapping that comes with that background. In case you’re Dutch I have an alternative site for you. Anyway, chirunning in Nepal is even better than just running, don’t you think?

For the swimmers amongst you (this is Marjan talking) what chirunning is to running, Total Immersion is to swimming, same underlying principles.

The reasons for choosing this particular race are mostly prosaic and due to chance. But so is most of life. There aren’t many races like this. If one includes both single and multi-day events: just a couple. Even single-day events require quite some time away from home, the ones at really high altitude (the two Everest marathons) as much as the AMT. In other words, the multi-day ones offer a whole lot more running than the single day ones. Three weeks for a one day run? Doesn’t feel good, too selfish. But if it’s more than a week of running, three weeks comes with the territory isn’t it? Much less selfish, isn’t it? No, it isn’t but you wanted reasons. If we’re down to the multi-day ones, the offer is limited (you know of more? contact me!) to the Himalayan stage race, and the various events organized by Bruno Poirier and Base Camp Trek & Expeditions. The Chevalier du Vent events are a lot less commercial than the others. As I’ve been in the business of organizing treks and expeditions myself, I can judge that, trust me. That makes them cheaper, which is a bonus if you’re Dutch and stingy, but it also makes for a different atmosphere. The AMT was organized for the first time in 2000. I don’t remember when exactly, but I’m sure I was aware of its existence early on. Thus the possibility of participating had quite a few years to cook to feasibility in the reptilian parts of my brain. When researching the options for our 2007 monsoon family trek I came across the AMT again and the possibility moved to the frontal lobes. Back in Phnom Penh I contacted Bruno and he sent me a course description, a dossier, and a link to the site of Cyril Quetier who had posted an elaborate photo report of the AMT2005. That did it for me. But I still would not have participated if the timing had conflicted with work or if Marjan had not wanted to join as a walker.

Finally a question that has one answer, and one answer only. The course of the AMT is doable for walkers. Some of the days are extremely long but it is doable (see course description). Sure, runners need to carry their own luggage, walkers can hand over 10 kg to a porter of Base Camp Trek, but a distance that I can walk with a day pack I can also walk with 10 kg on my back. In other words, the only thing between me and the finish each day is ego (see below: What are you most scared of?). In an odd way this is a repeat of the thought that had normalized running a marathon a good decade earlier. 42 k looked like a formidable distance until I realized that a good day of trekking in the mountains, eight, nine hours of walking ups and downs, had never impressed me as particularly formidable. Sure, running is different from walking but effort-wise running slowly and walking fast are pretty close isn’t it?

Mmmm, various scary thoughts roam the canyons of my mind. The one that is foremost for many who consider the AMT and similar courses is altitude. Even those with extensive multi-day trail running experience, under pretty extreme circumstances, are worried about it. For various reasons: susceptibility to altitude sickness is pretty much fitness independent; some individuals adapt much quicker than others and the only way to find out is go high; but even if one is lucky and has been born with a body that usually adapts well, past experience is no guarantee for future success, you never know for sure. I have some experience going up higher and have not had much trouble up to now. So I’m not overly worried but certainly apprehensive.

Another one worrying me is ambition. Of all participants I’m pretty sure to be among the least if not the least prepared. I mean how well can one prepare oneself for a high altitude mountain run in the tropical flats? Even to that simple question the answer can only be ‘certainly better than I did’. But I’m still confident I can do it, as long as I act sensibly. However, if running races has taught me anything it is that mentally I am a toddler. Whatever strategy I might have designed for a particular race goes out of the window the minute I join the crowd at the start. Something primordially competitive takes over, I attach myself to a group that I can (just) keep up with, and soon grind my teeth. Obviously in a 10 k race that is stupid but hardly lethal, in a marathon it is even more stupid (grinding your teeth for 5 k is painful but doesn’t last very long, doing it for 15 is a different matter) and the risks are higher, but what if ego gets the better of me in the AMT? Probably total exhaustion. I also know from experience that my body has more brains than me and might shut down, using something like a day of high fever to recuperate what the three year old foolishly wasted. Can’t have that during a multi-day run, can I? But even worse would be the kind of injury that comes with inattentiveness or lack of form when exhaustion hits. Twisted ankles, broken collarbones, or worse.

Running with a backpack is another worry. Must make the run much, much harder, all that extra weight. Won’t help my balance either. Still, these seem (we’ll see....) surmountable problems. The advantage of multi-day is that one can get used to things. At least that’s how it works with trekking. But what really worries me is chafing. Henk Sipers, an experienced multi-day adventure runner who graciously answered many of my naive and silly questions, warned me of their inevitability when running with a backpack. An ultra-running mate of his, Gijs Honing, told me that chafing and infections are the biggest enemy of multi-day running. I have no idea how I am going to react to painful trouble like that. After nearly 50 years of life experience I have no illusions, I’m a wimp at core. I’ll probably give in at the earliest sign of real discomfort....

On other sites like this you might find spreadsheets with training schedules for a period of many months, maybe even longer. I cannot offer you something like that.

My running fitness allows me to run a marathon without too much difficulty. Takes me 50 to 60 k a week, with 3 to 5 runs and a regular longer run included. I like doing intervals at least once a week and living in a city that means running on a track, often in the so-called ‘Olympic’ stadium, designed by well-know Cambodian architect Van Mollyvann, which is fun because I can run with a small but very dedicated group of Cambodian athletes (until they tire of the conversation and leave me watching their backs disappear into the distance). The stadium is also great for running stairs, my way of hill training. For the rest I try to participate in as many races as I can, which is not very often, to use an understatement. Since my contact with Bruno in August 2007 I have run:

The MIZUNO River Kwai half marathon in Kanchanaburi, Thailand

The 10 k UN Run in Bangkok, Thailand

The 10 k Pursat Oknha Khleang Moeung, Cambodia

The Bangkok Standard Chartered marathon

The 55 k SM-Loop in the Netherlands

Sure, I move my body in other ways besides running, playing badminton maybe twice a week, cycling to and from work five days a week, a daily total of 45-60 minutes, a week of skiing in January. If you’re impressed, I don’t think you’ve got a realistic sense of what the Himalaya looks like.

For me equipment is a bummer. You might not believe it but I’m not much into high tech stuff, I’m a late adopter if I adopt at all, even technophobe (how many buttons does that thing have? five??). If you are natured or nurtured into the opposite inclination, you might thoroughly enjoy this part of preparing for an event like the AMT. But go and look for inspiration at sites of other AMT runners.

(The organizers have a list of mandatory things, but that is very limited.

I am a non-sponsored runner. Everything I had to buy for this race was expensive. It hurt my stingy nature deeply.

Who cares? Why put my purposes at the centre? That you’re visiting shows that it serves some purpose of yours. Isn’t it more interesting to focus on what you are looking for on this site? Send me an e-mail and tell me about it.....(contact)

Feel free to add. I enjoy hearing your crappy theories about my motives.

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