It's caterpillar cocktail time

India’s Himalayan states, better known for their spectacular scenic beauty and disputed borders with China, could play an important role in next month’s Summer Olympic Games in Beijing. A caterpillar fungus, Yarchagumba, which grows in the Indian states of Himachal Pradesh, Uttarakhand, Sikkim and Arunachal Pradesh is being smuggled into China where it is believed to bestow athletes with remarkable boosts of strength and speed.

The fungus, Yarchagumba or Cordyceps sinesis grows on caterpillars of the Hepilus frabricius moth. The caterpillar is found on the Tibetan plateau and the Himalayas at an altitude of 3,000-5,000 meters. Besides the Indian Himalayas, it is also found in Bhutan, Tibet and China’s Qinghai province.

Yarchagumba’s reputed revitalizing qualities have made it a key ingredient in Tibetan and Chinese medicine for over 1,500 years. Tibetan villagers add it to their soups and teas to boost stamina and endurance and improve lung capacity, kidney function and sexual performance.

Less than 20 years ago the fungus captured the world’s attention. In August 1993, at the Stuttgart World Championships, a team of unknown peasant women from China’s northeastern Liaoning province stunned the world with their spectacular feats in track and field events. They swept all three medals in the 3,000 meters and took gold and silver in the 10,000 meters.

A month later, at the Chinese national championships, they shattered several world records. Wang Junxia, who won the gold in the 10,000 meters at Stuttgart, took the gold in the 3,000 and 10,000 meters and set three world records in three races. Wang’s time of 29:31:78 in the 10,000 meters was the first sub-30 minute performance ever by a woman, beating the former record by a staggering 42 seconds.

Ma Junren, the runners’ controversial coach, denied allegations that their eye-popping achievements were fueled by banned drugs. Ma attributed their speed and stamina to grueling training over tough terrain at high altitude. He also mentioned a certain cocktail made of turtle’s blood and caterpillar fungus.

But Ma’s methods soon came under a cocoon of controversy. Sixteen of the 19 runners, led by Wang, walked out on him over differences over prize money and excessive discipline, protesting against his training techniques and alleged abuse of athletes.

His athletes were also testing positive for performance-enhancing drugs. The most damning evidence came before the 2000 Sydney Olympic Games, when Chinese authorities pulled 27 athletes from their respective teams after they failed doping tests. Six were runners coached by Ma, implying that his runners’ speed had more to do with steroids than ingesting insect fungus.

Ma was swarmed with controversy, but the fungus he made famous continues to have a fan following.

Demand for Yarchagumba has leapt over the past 15 years, especially since 2003 when the SARS epidemic swept Asia. The fungus was in demand at the time for its reported ability to improve immunity. Its street value soared; in 2005 it was selling for US$7,000 per kilogram.

The escalating price tag triggered something of a “fungus rush” in the Himalayas. Schools closed and villages emptied as hundreds trooped out in search of the lucrative fungus. Yarchagumba brought sudden and immense prosperity to those in the trade. Then came the poachers: Bhutanese and Nepalese villagers claimed that Tibetan interlopers were nibbling away at their profits. Over the past year, the demand for the fungus reached new highs. In 2007, it cost around $9,000 per kg. Now it sells for between $16,500 and $23,000 per kg.

There is no hard evidence that the spurt in demand and prices is connected to the onset of the Beijing Olympics, but smuggling has notably increased. The Olympics have revived memories of the spectacular performances of Chinese athletes in the 1990s and with nostalgia has come a renewed interest in the now legendary Yarchagumba.

Indian newsmagazine Outlook reported that in July alone two attempts at smuggling the fungus were foiled. In the first, a soldier of Assam Rifles, a paramilitary unit, was caught with 500 grams of caterpillar fungus and several hundreds of thousands of rupees in Bageshwar in the northern Himalayan state of Uttarakhand. The other incident was in Sikkim, where three smugglers were caught with 17 kg of the fungus.

Profits from the fungus have financed insurgencies, incited murders and prompted neighboring villages to go to war. Nepal’s Maoists controlled the caterpillar fungus trade in the Dolpa district, which accounts for over half of Nepal’s fungus supply. At least two recent murders in Uttarakhand have been attributed to quarrels over the fungus trade.

And in July last year, a dispute over caterpillar-picking rights triggered an armed clash in China’s Tibetan-dominated Dabba county in Sichuan province. Six people were killed and over a hundred injured.

Will the 2008 Olympics see athletes reaching out for Ma’s famous caterpillar fungus cocktail? Will victorious Chinese athletes thank the humble highland fungus for their achievements?

Asian athletes recovering from injuries sometimes digest deer’s penis, or turn to turtle blood to improve blood circulation. Others devour animal feet to strengthen their legs. But Chinese sports authorities, anxious to avoid embarrassing doping scandals, are warning Olympians off traditional remedies because some contain banned substances like as herbal ephedrine.

But some athletes are still likely to seek the purported properties of traditional medicine. And as long as they seek the elusive elixirs of athleticism, neither the turtles nor the fungus will be able to breathe easily.