Tales of the Incredible Hoke Robertson

As I listen to the chirps, clicks and wails of the monkeys in the upper canopy here in Sumatra, I’m reminded of an adventure in Southeast Asia. It all started about five months ago when I received a call from some of my old SAS (British Secret Air Service) buddies. They were about to undertake a clandestine operation in southern China that dealt with the recovery of some artifacts which had disappeared from the Dalai Lama's palace in Bhaktapur. Yes, the Dalai Lama no longer lives there due to political issues, but the preservation of the artifacts weighed heavily on his mind, and his influence with the British government was enough to get MI-6 and the SAS on the move. Of course it was all hush hush and most of the facts cannot be disclosed for another 50 years, but I doubt MI-6 monitors everything on the net.

Anyway, given my experience in China during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960's, MI-6 and the SAS thought I would be of assistance. Off we went making a few stops along the way to cloud our trail, eventually arriving in Vientiane, Laos. From there we made the 2000ish mile hike across a few borders until we were in southern China at the base of the Himalayas. The entry into Nepal was a bit of a sticky wicket as the Brit's would put it, but we finally crossed over near the town of Langtang after what seemed like an awfully long climb up a hidden valley reminiscent of Shangri-La. We next hiked it to Kathmandu and then picked up the trail of stolen artifacts just outside of Bhaktapur. In the high communities of the Himalaya there are no such things as secrets and my inquiries quickly revealed the names of the Buddhist sect that had tried to get the artifacts out of the country. It was then that I fully appreciated all those long hours online learning the various dialects of Nepalese which was the inspiration for me writing The Idiot’s Guide to the 17 Root Languages of Southeast Asia. Anyway, once on the trail, we pursued the pilferers until we finally came upon them in a high mountain pass, the wind howling and the snow blowing in a near white-out. Although we could hardly see, we set upon the camp, me taking the largest form we could see to ensure no one got hurt. I must have misjudged my opponent and instead of a simply choke hold rendering him unconscious, I found myself in a life and death struggle with what must have been the strongest human I’d ever met. As he and I separated for a moment in our titanic battle a gunshot caused him to flee, as if some white ghost blown by the gale. All I could see was a satchel gripped tightly in one of his hands as he disappeared. We soon subdued the remainder of the camp, but the thieves were shrieking in absolute fear yelling "Yeh-tee-gur;” an easy but unbelievable translation. After the melee was over, the camp was in ruins. We promptly corralled the thieves and I interrogated them. They would not say much of anything and were obviously scared beyond belief, and worse still, the artifacts were gone. It turned out the artifacts were a supposed pelt and hand of an Abominable Snowman! As the storm subsided, we were able to make out some of the tracks in the snow which indicated my fight had been with something not wearing shoes. That and the coarse white hairs still in my grasp suggested I had struggled a Himalayan Yeti! Let me tell you, the SAS men had a difficult time filling out an after action report. On our way out I had the opportunity to join an expedition to climb Mt. Everest, but that is a different story for a different time. HOKE ROBERTSON