The Yeti Paw At Pangboche Source: San Francisco Chronicle April 14, 2000
PANGBOCHE IS A village on the trekking route to Everest. If you've read ``Into Thin Air,'' you may remember Jon Krakauer's description of Labouche, which is the town across the glacier from Everest Base Camp. Pangboche is 2,500 feet lower and two days' walk southish of Labouche.
We were there a few years ago. We stayed at a teahouse and visited the gompa, or monastery, which doubles as the local Buddhist temple, the functional equivalent of a parish church.
We'd been seeing gompas right along; the art on the walls was just astonishing. The whole theme of the trip was: Come for the mountains, stay for the culture. I suspect it is different now; I suspect admission is charged everywhere. I am able to regret the touristification of the Kumbu region while acknowledging that I was myself an unrepentant tourist.
At least I did not feel the need to conquer any summits. I did not bring my own designer coffee with me. I did bring a jar of peanut butter, but I took one of those everywhere, because there are times on every extended trip when
there is no food to be had at a time when food is needed. Peanut butter is the perfect answer.
Want to disgust a German person? Eat peanut butter. He or she will look at you as though you were sticking stilettos in your ears.
At the monastery in Pangboche was an alleged yeti paw. A yeti, as you probably know, is related to Bigfoot; it is an often-seen but never actually captured beast of the wild places. Yetis were called ``Abominable Snowmen'' until that name gave everyone the giggles.
The paw was kept in a upstairs room, and admission was charged to view it. The whole Yeti thing in Nepal is mysterious -- sometimes it seemed like authentic folklore; other times it seemed like a tourist event, the Nepalese equivalent of jackalopes.
OUR FRIEND HUGH said, ``It's a monkey's paw.'' That's what he had heard, he'd lived in the village of Junbesi for a year. He was a Yeti atheist; we were Yeti agnostics. Pangboche was not exactly crawling with diversions. It sorta went:
(a) yeti paw, So we paid our money and climbed the stairs. There was a monk standing by the paw at the far end of the room. It was covered. One could not just stand in front of the paw and gaze endlessly; one had to wait for a showing. The length of the showing depended on the mood of the monk.
We signed the guest book. About nine names above mine was Marlin Perkins, the ``Wild Kingdom'' guy. (Remember that? ``Jim will subdue the leopard now. That's great, Jim.'' Jim would bleed a lot.) About two pages back was Donald
Sutherland. Oh, it was a trendy gompa.
SO AFTER A while, the monk waved us over. He lifted the veil. There was the yeti paw. Its hair was reddish and shaggy. If it was a monkey's paw, it was a big monkey. It looked more like a bear than a monkey, but not like a bear
either -- somewhat longer and narrower.
Not that I am expert in bear-paw variations. This is not a scientific report. I am telling you about my encounter with an alleged artifact of a perhaps-mythical creature.
We stared at the paw. We had paid to view it, and we were going to view it for as long as it was there to be viewed. On the other hand, the yeti paw did not exactly yield new treasures from close inspection; it was not ``Les
Demoiselles d'Avignon.'' It was a paw. I became self-conscious about looking at the paw. My feet began itching. I was encountering a mystery, and I was getting bored.
Finally it was over. We left and walked into the thin, cool air. ``Monkey,'' said Hugh. ``If so,'' said Tracy, ``darned big monkey.'' And then we looked at the mountains and ate lentils. ------- In a village far, far away there is
a strange and boring body part.
I performed acts of devotion as if you were Ganesh, but now I'm jrc@sfgate.com.
2000 San Francisco Chronicle
by Jon Carroll
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2000/04/14/DD68608.DTL
(b) looking at mountains,
(c) lentils.