DISPATCHES

Keller

There is a four-wheel-drive vehicle at Cheltamak—usually—but on this day, it was absent ferrying a sick person to Kashgar for treatment. Instead, an arrangement was made to use donkeys to get our gear to the road and meet the donkey owner's brother for automotive transport to Karakuri Lake. Ann, Lakpa, and Yang were reported to be at Karakuri Lake worrying about us.

Walking through the evening across the barren and remote Subashi Plateau, we arrived in the small town of Subashi at 1am to find that the automobile was in Tashkergan. An enterprising local with a motorcycle appeared and offered to continue the transport on his motorcycle.

Somehow, a consensus was reached that I would make the first trip to Karakuri Lake on the rear of the small motorcycle. The driver made some field repairs to the bike in the moonlight, and I was loaded on the rear with my rather large backpack strapped on my back. As we departed down the dirt trail to the main road, it was clear the small motorcycle was extremely unstable with two passengers and a heavy backpack. I just prayed we would make it to the main road before a mishap occurred as my feet hit the ground while the suspension on the bike bottomed out.

Reaching the road, it became clear my dimming headlamp, which was being used in lieu of a broken headlight, was insufficient on the dark road. The driver accelerated as the bike whined and my large backpack tugged on my frame like a large sail. Shifting my weight, the motorcycle fishtailed, so I tried to remain still as the night air cooled my body and my mind relaxed.

Out of nowhere came a line of rocks positioned across the road and a small construction sign. The driver swerved avoiding the sign but hit a pile of gravel. He managed to stay upright momentarily before laying the bike down to the left. Landing face down on the pavement, this smaller man took the brunt of the impact with the pavement as the heavy backpack and I landed on top of him. Sliding, I bounced off of him, my leg twisting under the bike. Finally, we came to rest in the middle of the dark highway.

Standing, I asked if he was okay as I moved my own parts trying to assure myself I was intact. My leg hurt, but otherwise I seemed to be okay. The driver's three layers of pants were torn from his knee, both shoes were torn, both hands were bloody, and he was bleeding from his face. I looked at his cheek where the skin was now absent. He took off his shirt and I helped him wrap his head. There, on the side of the road, he sat bleeding. Miraculously, he stood and made some minor make-shift repairs to the motorcycle as I watched. Soon it was started and after a few timid miles on the motorcycle we were at the hotel and yurts in Karakuri Lake.

I immediately asked the hotel staff to assist the man, but the Han Chinese owners were uninterested and basically said he'd be okay. Everyone was more interested in my presence as our driver was concerned we had gone to the grave on the mountain. Eventually, I managed to get the injured man into the yurt occupied by Ann, Lakpa and Yang. Scurrying through bags, we located our first-aid kit and spent the next hour under a headlamp applying bandages to the man's injuries.

Returning to Subashi with our driver, Lama, who was anxious to retrieve Jon and Dan, we found my two companions sprawled in sleeping bags on the grass. Packing Jon and Dan's gear into the four-wheel-drive vehicle, I noticed the motorcycle driver laying on the ground beginning to feel his injuries. Jon and I gave him some money for his services and I walked him the half mile or so to his home. He walked excruciatingly slow as we crossed the dark barren land. Arriving at his home I gave him more of my personal money to buy new clothing and help with repairs to his motorcycle.

He was very thankful, but I still felt I had not done enough for this man who's late-night assistance was offered to reunite us with the rest of our expedition. Leaving the wounded man with his family, I departed feeling I should have done more to help him. We had been on the motorcycle together and somehow I had only minor scratches and a few large bruises on my legs.

— Walter Keller, MountainZone.com Correspondents

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