I was new to group travel. I have always been a solo traveller, or at most with no more than a couple of buddies.
The whole group dynamics thing hardly rated a mention in my thoughts. I simply thought, if I don't like the other people in my group I can just walk away. This walking away theory may well work in other places, but when outside is below zero, you are days away from civilisation and the only quiet place as an alternative, is an icy long drop toilet, you ain't walking away from nobody.
So who is in your group, how they act, and how you react make an awfully big difference to the enjoyment of your holiday.
After getting this rather rude surprise I asked a few of my friends upon my return about their encounters with group travel. Surprisingly their stories matched mine in some places. It seemed there are certain categories inherent in travelling groups and they seem to evolve and mutate like dank, green fungus the longer you go on.
Here's a few of the standard roles that exist in travelling groups, and do be mindful that you too could fall victim…
The Scaredy Cat
The whole group dynamics thing hardly rated a mention in my thoughts. I simply thought, if I don't like the other people in my group I can just walk away. This walking away theory may well work in other places, but when outside is below zero, you are days away from civilisation and the only quiet place as an alternative, is an icy long drop toilet, you ain't walking away from nobody.
So who is in your group, how they act, and how you react make an awfully big difference to the enjoyment of your holiday.
After getting this rather rude surprise I asked a few of my friends upon my return about their encounters with group travel. Surprisingly their stories matched mine in some places. It seemed there are certain categories inherent in travelling groups and they seem to evolve and mutate like dank, green fungus the longer you go on.
Here's a few of the standard roles that exist in travelling groups, and do be mindful that you too could fall victim…
The Scaredy Cat
I must confess to being part of this group occasionally, in particular around steep descents and ice. Scaredy Cats, at best, are great canaries in the coalmine, as they can warn the group at an early stage of impending danger. At worst, they are that whingeing, squealing girl who is screams to her husband that she is too afraid to walk in the mud just in case they get a leech. (Right…a leech at 14,000 metres).
There was however one time when I couldn't quite bring myself to make it to the outside toilet one night. This was because of the killer cows.
I woke up sometime in the wee hours…they are called wee hours as you do this regularly at altitude as you are drinking so much…and started to make my way to the little wooden long drop. I got to the lodge doorway and looked outside. Well firstly it was snowing. I had never seen that before. I looked up at the beautiful light flakes floating down. They were almost glowing as the moon lit each and every one. I then shined my torch down to check how deep the snow was and was met with a set of glowing orange eyes. I almost didn't need to reach the outhouse after that.
In fact, on closer inspection, there were two sets of demon eyes, and I could hear a few bells mysteriously clanging quite close to me. This was yeti territory.
As my eyes got better used to the dark I could make out it was a few cold dyokyos (half cow, half yak) huddling together in the snow. Still they were too close and they had horns and there were some just moseying on around the toilet that could gore me if they wanted. But god, what was with the eye thing?
So I did what any Scaredy Cat would do. I went and woke up someone for help. My husband wasn't amused.
Well not until I told him about the Killer Cows and since he was originally a country boy, I suggested he would know whether it was normal that their eyes glowed in the dark.
He was intrigued. He ended up laughing his head off as he made shushing noises leading me to the toilet. He even waited outside just in case the killer cows tried to get me whilst I was over the toilet. (Notice I said over the toilet, not on the toilet.)
The Photographic FanaticLook, I've probably got more cameras than most people--count' em, five--but what makes a photographic fanatic is that is that they talk about it ALL the time. And they always presume that you know nothing at all. We had this one guy on the trip who was carrying a huge backpack chocful of every bit and piece you could ever imagine and all of the stuff he could attach by various gadgets to his rather ordinary Pentax. And he did nothing else than talk about it all.
Let me give you an example. You: "Oh look it's Mount Everest!" Him: "Well you will need a red filter and a polariser to capture the highlights." You: " Wow, this would look great in black and white." Him: "Really, I'm using colour. Black and white here may be a little difficult to shoot due to the strong contrast. I could show you how…" You: " This chanting by the monks is so peaceful isn't it?" Him: "Huh? It's too low in light to take photos in here, I'm going back outside." He even had his own photographic assistant with him…oh, I mean his wife.
The Jock
There was however one time when I couldn't quite bring myself to make it to the outside toilet one night. This was because of the killer cows.
I woke up sometime in the wee hours…they are called wee hours as you do this regularly at altitude as you are drinking so much…and started to make my way to the little wooden long drop. I got to the lodge doorway and looked outside. Well firstly it was snowing. I had never seen that before. I looked up at the beautiful light flakes floating down. They were almost glowing as the moon lit each and every one. I then shined my torch down to check how deep the snow was and was met with a set of glowing orange eyes. I almost didn't need to reach the outhouse after that.
In fact, on closer inspection, there were two sets of demon eyes, and I could hear a few bells mysteriously clanging quite close to me. This was yeti territory.
As my eyes got better used to the dark I could make out it was a few cold dyokyos (half cow, half yak) huddling together in the snow. Still they were too close and they had horns and there were some just moseying on around the toilet that could gore me if they wanted. But god, what was with the eye thing?
So I did what any Scaredy Cat would do. I went and woke up someone for help. My husband wasn't amused.
Well not until I told him about the Killer Cows and since he was originally a country boy, I suggested he would know whether it was normal that their eyes glowed in the dark.
He was intrigued. He ended up laughing his head off as he made shushing noises leading me to the toilet. He even waited outside just in case the killer cows tried to get me whilst I was over the toilet. (Notice I said over the toilet, not on the toilet.)
The Photographic FanaticLook, I've probably got more cameras than most people--count' em, five--but what makes a photographic fanatic is that is that they talk about it ALL the time. And they always presume that you know nothing at all. We had this one guy on the trip who was carrying a huge backpack chocful of every bit and piece you could ever imagine and all of the stuff he could attach by various gadgets to his rather ordinary Pentax. And he did nothing else than talk about it all.
Let me give you an example. You: "Oh look it's Mount Everest!" Him: "Well you will need a red filter and a polariser to capture the highlights." You: " Wow, this would look great in black and white." Him: "Really, I'm using colour. Black and white here may be a little difficult to shoot due to the strong contrast. I could show you how…" You: " This chanting by the monks is so peaceful isn't it?" Him: "Huh? It's too low in light to take photos in here, I'm going back outside." He even had his own photographic assistant with him…oh, I mean his wife.
The Jock
Jocks come in both sexes and can be any shape or size. The main defining characteristic is the super-concentrated dose of ego gratification they bring with them everywhere and the total disregard to the journey. We had a number of jock types but two in particular were outstanding in their category.
One, a girl, took 30 herb and vitamin tablets per day and did not bother bringing a camera as, "Well, all the mountains look alike really." The other, a guy, would take great pleasure in rushing ahead and disdainfully looking down from the day's high point on those of us who were taking it a little slower. He usually would be sitting on a rock laughing at us poor puffing souls as we staggered into camp.
Happily, he was duly rewarded for his haste and bad manners by a few days of high-pressure vomiting due to altitude sickness at our high point.
The Clown
One, a girl, took 30 herb and vitamin tablets per day and did not bother bringing a camera as, "Well, all the mountains look alike really." The other, a guy, would take great pleasure in rushing ahead and disdainfully looking down from the day's high point on those of us who were taking it a little slower. He usually would be sitting on a rock laughing at us poor puffing souls as we staggered into camp.
Happily, he was duly rewarded for his haste and bad manners by a few days of high-pressure vomiting due to altitude sickness at our high point.
The Clown
We had a brilliant clown on this trip. This guy was from far north Queensland and really played on that. This means he spoke slow, acted slow, and had a funny hat. His hat actually was his entree into many a village and conversation. It was knitted from hemp fibre so it looked like a floppy knitted hat made from brown string, and it actually grew. As the lethal cocktail of sweat, snow, and dust seeped into it, the hat transformed itself into an organic living thing. By the end of the trip it had distended down over his eyes, it had changed colour, it had seeds germinating on it, and it had even been spat in by a Sherpa lady. We aren't sure why she spat in it, but I suspect it must have been a kind of warding off evil type thing…either that or she was trying to kill it. It was a very furious spit, let me tell you.
This guy would also serenade us every morning with a song. There would be a new one every day and because the lodges are so simple and very open, sound carries extremely well, so no matter where you were you could hear him. You could even sing along if you were so inclined, as I often did.
Imagine it is 6 a.m., you are just waking up, and you look out your window and see a veritable panorama of pristine mountains tinted pink from the dawn. The air is clean and cold. You hear very little but the crunch of a few pairs of boots outside in the snow UNTIL : the theme of "Neighbours" comes cracking into your head. The singer is vastly flat.
The day before it was John Williamson's "True Blue," and day before that an incredibly enthusiastic rendition of Whitney Houston's " I Will Always Love You."
Man, I loved the mornings!
The Virgin Traveller
This guy would also serenade us every morning with a song. There would be a new one every day and because the lodges are so simple and very open, sound carries extremely well, so no matter where you were you could hear him. You could even sing along if you were so inclined, as I often did.
Imagine it is 6 a.m., you are just waking up, and you look out your window and see a veritable panorama of pristine mountains tinted pink from the dawn. The air is clean and cold. You hear very little but the crunch of a few pairs of boots outside in the snow UNTIL : the theme of "Neighbours" comes cracking into your head. The singer is vastly flat.
The day before it was John Williamson's "True Blue," and day before that an incredibly enthusiastic rendition of Whitney Houston's " I Will Always Love You."
Man, I loved the mornings!
The Virgin Traveller
Yes, there are people who reach their mid-20s and have never travelled. I love watching these people because everything, yes everything, is fascinating. They get bugs in their mouths for keeping them open in amazement so long. Our one lone Kiwi was a travel virgin and for someone on his first time, he was not taking it easily.
Directly after a 25-day Nepalese trek, he was going on a 21-day back roads of Vietnam trip, and then within days a two-week trek in the jungles of Borneo. To think you can happily survive all of that in a row is definite naive traveller territory. Last time I saw him he had a big sore on his nose from a combination of windburn and sunburn ("I didn't know I would need that strong a sunblock"), none of his clothes fit ("Oh, I didn't know I may lose weight"), and I gave him my supply of travel medicine ("You would be OK to eat most cooked things in Vietnam, wouldn't you?").
The Me Too
Directly after a 25-day Nepalese trek, he was going on a 21-day back roads of Vietnam trip, and then within days a two-week trek in the jungles of Borneo. To think you can happily survive all of that in a row is definite naive traveller territory. Last time I saw him he had a big sore on his nose from a combination of windburn and sunburn ("I didn't know I would need that strong a sunblock"), none of his clothes fit ("Oh, I didn't know I may lose weight"), and I gave him my supply of travel medicine ("You would be OK to eat most cooked things in Vietnam, wouldn't you?").
The Me Too
I don't suffer fools gladly. It's not one of my better more humane points, but stupidity gives me the creeps. And the worst kind of stupid is the kind that lets others make all their decisions for them. In a group it can be tempting not to think and just go along for the ride, but The Me Too really pushes that to ridiculous limits. "Oh, you are having two eggs? I should too." "Oh, you are wearing your waterproof, I better go back and put mine on too." " I don't know what to do once we get back to Kathmandu…should I shower or shave first?" My answer to the last question, was "I do hope you have a really sharp razor."
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