Mar 28 / Day 1- I didn't get much sleep. I spent most of last night packing, unpacking, and repacking my backpack. Why is it still so heavy? I only have two tshirts, two long sleeves, a couple pairs of underwear, one pair of pants, and all my winter layers... Oh I forgot, I have a -35c sleeping bag that weights 6 lbs, crampons, my SLR, and snacks to last me a month in there too. Three hours of sleep and then the sound of my alarm.. I tried to shower but the water was brown, so I just packed things up and went outside with my 45 lbs backpack to the jeep that was waiting for me. Seven hours of bumpy and winding roads with six of us holding on for dear life as our driver took turns whipping us left and right. My tailbone is bruised from the second half off-roading we did but we've finally arrived at a village in the foothills called Soti Khola.
This is where we start our journey. We have a team of five people. Three young guides breaking away to start their own trekking agency along with my partner, a girl from Slovenia, and me. The dynamics are still being developed, but we seem to be a solid group. We're situated in tents along the river bank. That's how I will spend the night, with the sound of rushing water at my feet. It's beautiful out here. We can't see the mountains yet, but the hills overshadow one another in a layered gradation like I've never seen. And the people are so kind. The kids came and played with us today as I brought out all the instruments I dragged with me on this journey. I guess I haven't mentioned them yet, but I've been picking up small trinkets from various countries. I don't know how to play them really, but recognized their potential in helping to connect with strangers; so I picked up a shaker in Argentina, and a harmonica and drum in India. I'm not sure why I decided to bring the drum along on this trek, but this sight made it all worth it:
No feeling like having the village children come over to sing and dance with you while one of your guides plays the flute. Music and play is such a beautiful language. I'm glad I was able to share and create a connection.
Until tomorrow...
Mar 29 / Day 2 - It's 11am and we've done about 8-9kms so far. It's tough. Hot and steep with very thin ridges. My body feels okay so far, but it's still very early. I've sweat completely through my shirt and am now laying here on the side of trail waiting for my dahl baht (lentils and rice) which seems to be the staple. Uphill for 3.5 hours taking breaks only when a line of donkeys force you to the side of the trail. Every now and then while you're breathing your heaviest and sweating your worst, you pass through a beautiful village. The Nepali people are so friendly. All the curious faces looking up at you and the children running out to say hello. We are surrounded by hills and hazy skies with the sound of the river now a distant buzz a hundred meters below us. Every time I want to complain about my pack, I just look over at one of the passing porters with four backpacks strapped to their forehead.
This is my first hike in asia, and so far I love it.
Mar 29 (continued) - we arrived at our lodge in Machhakholagaon at about 4:30pm. We only climbed 200 meters today, and at this point I'm wondering if I'm going to make it. I got my first blister and my body is already aching from all the weight I am carrying. I picked up a new pack in Kathmandu before this trip. One with a much better carrying system than the one I used in patagonia. The waist belt hasn't been broken in yet though and that has caused bruising on my hip bones. It's difficult to carry all this weight with a bad shoulder and bruised hips, but I am trying to figure something out. I've gone so far as to try and eat all my snack bars in one sitting. My guide said not to and to wait. 'The time will come when you need those...'
The rest of today's trail was just as beautiful as the first half. Walking through villages has already turned into my favorite part of this experience. I haven't been taking many pictures though. The terrain is so uneven, we've had to use hiking sticks the whole time making it difficult to grab my camera from my pack or to leave it out. The village we're staying in is quite large. It seems that each village has at least one guest house where Trekkers can stay. Here we have our own rooms with a shower and eastern toilet for a few dollars a night. The menus all seem to be the same - fried noodles, spaghetti, dal-baht w/curry, soup, pizza, momos (steamed or fried potstickers), chipatti or breakfast items.
Mar 30 / Day 3 - It's 5pm and has been quite the long second day of hiking. We started at 7am and within the hour it was already raining. We climbed close to 1600 feet over 10 miles and settled in a village called Jagat. The sound of the rain is soothing as it picks up speed, clanking on our tin roof. Every piece of clothing I wore today is now hanging from the rope I strung up in my room. I can hear my trekking partner in the next room singing as she unwinds from the strenuous day. The planks of wood that make up our walls have little gaps between them allowing the cold breeze to pass through. I'm bundled up in my sleeping bag and down jacket. If it's this cold at 4,700 feet, I can't even imagine what it's going to feel like at 15k. Now I'm glad I brought them with me and it will make carrying them around much more meaningful.
The rain today was a nice change. Mostly a soft sprinkle up until now. It brought with it low clouds and a diffused light that created a dream like effect while walking along the river side surrounded by huge marbled boulders. The terrain also changed. Mostly rocks and puddles that smelled of sweet grass.. The kind of smell you'd get from mixing a cocktail of water and donkey shit. Bridges.. I think we crossed over the river four times today. But spent most of our time climbing rock staircases up and down along the hillside. While I've appreciated the rain, we're hoping it lets up soon. We've seen trekkers walking in the opposite direction, and rumor has it that the pass is currently closed due to snow. If that's the case, we'd have to turn around at the top of our route, taking the connection to the Annapurna circuit off the table. But we're hopeful and we're going to try. Our timing is good because there are several other groups around, giving us a better chance of making a path through the snow if the time comes for that. But we're hopeful we make it. My trekking partner told me her story today. She has been planning this trip for 20 years. Her favorite writer died while attempting to summit Manaslu and his grave is setup close to the trail. It's been her dream to visit it and here she is. She is a kind person. Motherly almost and keeps our team of guys in check - making us take our vitamins, helping me with my shoulder, and checking in with everyone constantly.
Nepal feels more "asian" than India did. You can feel the influence that India and China had on the blood line and local cuisine. But in a way, Nepal reminds me of the Philippines. The people have similar features and tendencies. From their enunciation while speaking, to the way they eat with their hands, to the Nepalese dark caramel skin, almond eyes and jet black hair. Even the villages here have unlocked childhood memories of the provinces. Yesterday a baby goat came and started licking moisture off my backpack while a chicken crowed underneath the table and a duck waddled down the dirt and rock filled street in front of us. Two women huddled around a running spout of water as they washed out a metal bowl the size of a hula hoop. A line of mules trotted by, bells jingling as a boy ran out whistling and grunting in order to keep them in a single file line. Poor donkeys... Getting whipped with sticks left and right as they carry loads of cargo between villages.
As I mentioned, we are not the only group on the trail. There are a couple of other larger outfits with mostly German and English tourists. They are mostly older and have porters that rush ahead from camp to camp carrying all their big bags. The groups seem to keep to themselves and not mingle much. Yesterday I was sitting at a table when one by one, a group sat down around me. After 15 minutes not one of them said a word to me. They began talking around me, so I left. All they do is stare at us across the various lunch spots... Never saying a word. There also seems to be competition or slight animosity between the guides. You can say hello all you want to the passing porters or guides, but they'll just stare at you in the eye and also not say a word. Maybe I had a booger on my face all day yesterday. Let's hope so for the sake of camaraderie and team spirit. We're all heading the same direction and have the same challenge in front of us. Perhaps it's because we're a small group carrying all our own gear and not using bigger local services. It's hard to support the thought of people slaving away carrying stuff for you that you probably don't need.. But I understand. It's a way of life.
Apr 1 / Day 4 - today was tougher than yesterday. The blister count is up to two and my quads were exceptionally tight and sore this morning. Andreja, my trekking partner gave me some pads for my hips that helped with my bruises, but after our first hour of hiking, the hip belt on my bag broke. As I took my pack apart in the middle of a village, a few children gathered around and watched as the rest of the group waited for their tea. The hip belt couldn't be adjusted. The load is too heavy. I guess more pressure will be on my shoulders going forward which I'm a bit worried about.
Breakfast was the norm, two hard boiled eggs, porridge/oatmeal, and ginger tea. The only different part about today was the absurd number of flies that surrounded us. They were everywhere, on us, in our food on the table and condiments. It was quite disturbing and not a pleasant start to the very sunny day. We gained almost 3000 feet of elevation today over the course of 13 kms. We have settled in another village called Pewa Khola. The pattern has been out the door by 7:30am, have breakfast in the next town for an hour, a three hour hike w/ a couple of 10-15 minute breaks in between so everyone can smoke. I'm not sure how they all do it, but cigarettes seem to be the calming force in between legs of exertion. Marijuana is also part of the culture. You can see plants growing along the trail. Small sessions during the trek, around the kitchen fire in the evenings, or in a bedroom is not uncommon.
For lunch, we make an hour and thirty minute stop in a village around noon. It takes that long for the food to be prepared and for us to eat. It's also a welcomed opportunity to take the shoes off for a bit and relax before our next 3-4 hours of hiking. By 5:30ish we're settled at a lodge for the night and putting in our orders for a 6:30-7pm dinner. By 9pm, we're all off to bed and ready for the next morning's 6am alarm. We have yet to come across another shower..
The landscape again changed, with the exception of the ever present river, the hills have turned to rock face and we're getting into mountain territory. I've seen pine trees starting to appear, bamboo stalks, and tree flowers in white, pink, red, and purple. These include rhododendrons, the national flower of Nepal which are now in bloom. There are also butterflies everywhere. Whenever I see one I think of my mom. She brings caterpillars in from their home garden so that the birds don't eat them. She waits for them to become butterflies and then releases them. Whenever I see one while hiking, I know she's thinking of me, so I hold out my hands and welcome them closer. There are so many different kinds flying around here. Just as many color combinations as the tree flowers I mentioned earlier. The beauty is mesmerizing.
Apr 2 / Day 5 - we were told this would be one of our toughest days.. An attempt at a 10 hour hiking day, of which we only completed 6. The scenery was much of the same with trails cruising along the hillside with direct exposure to the elements. It was as if the landscape and atmosphere couldn't make up their minds. A staircase of stacked rocks leading straight into the sky. Every step I hoped that my knees wouldn't buckle or my calves cramp. Finally we reached the top. A feeling of relief passes over your body. You've climbed that much higher... And then you stare down a pathway leading you right back down to where you were. A sigh is let out as the realization hits that you will eventually have to make that climb again. And so it continued. Up and down we went, slowly gaining in elevation. Every time a shady pass would appear, the cold breeze made you aware of every sweat spot on your clothing.. And then the direct sun exposure, so dry you could taste the kicked up dust in the air.
It was 2:30pm and we hadn't stopped for lunch yet, everyone was cranky and Andreja and I were pushing past our limits. The group had a meeting and decided to stop for the night and make up the time another day. I was relieved. I could've kept going, but it probably would have led somewhere bad. I was walking sloppily and everything hurt. A cramp or a rolled ankle was just around the corner.. So we stopped in a town called Ghap sitting a few hundred meters below our last stop. After another serving of dal bhat I was off to my room with the afternoon sun still shining through the windows. My body ached. I could feel every muscle throbbing, so I curled up in my sleeping bag and fell asleep with a chocolate bar sitting on my chest. I woke up 4 hours later, noticed said chocolate bar, ate it, then fell back asleep. I didn't wake up until 5:30 the next morning.
I found out I missed a Tibetan butter tea tasting in a stone hut, but my muscles felt great and so I wasn't bothered.
Apr 3 / Day 6 - the landscape has again changed. Today we trekked through forests and across a few ice patches. We have yet to cross 3000 meters, but am already beginning to feel the shortness of breath from the increase in altitude. We are in a village called Limi. We didn't hike much today, probably only 4-5 hours. It was a team decision as we huddled up mid hike to talk through our game plan for acclimatizing and approaching the pass.
Andreja has been struggling a bit with the hikes. I doubt it's her fitness level. She's like a little ball of muscle! But she hasn't been sleeping well and her pack is too heavy. We are all monitoring the situation. And by situation, I mean the team's status. Our group has gotten closer over the course of our journey. It's like hiking with buddies. Everyone is just so chill, all smiles, and all support. We're very similar to the mules. Head down and following whoever is in front, trusting that they're choosing the best path across uneven terrain. At this point, it's less about individualism or my own desire to get through the trek. It's about us. If one member doesn't make it, we all won't. Same way I know they'll continue to monitor my blisters and help with my shoulder when the pain becomes evident... It's nice to be with such a small supportive team.
But the highlight has been the opportunities that we get with such a small intimate group. Tonight for example, we spent a majority of our time sitting in the kitchen around a Tibetan stove with who I think was a Tamang priest and his family. They take care of a 500 year old Buddhist prayer wheel and temple. At least that's how I understood it. Earlier we lit butter candles and got to experience a ceremony and ritual. Afterwards, we went back to the kitchen for some ginger tea while we crisped potato slivers on the stove top and roasted potatoes by throwing them in the fire. We didn't use plates. Everyone had open access to what was happening around the fire, including me. A couple of children stood outside on their tippy toes trying to get a peek into the festivities. Our guides called them in and asked them to get some dried yak meat. I've never had yak, so agreed to try some that was bbq'd on the open fire. I gave one of the girl's my drum as a thank you for the countless potatoes she sent my direction with the special chili paste she whipped up.
Yes, my stomach hurts right now.. Probably from the dried yak meat. I've only eaten red meat on a handful of occasions over the past three months. But I've also been drinking the local water throughout the hike with a few drops of 'piyush' - their local sterilization mixture. It's all part of the experience! As I left the kitchen and gazed up at the moonlit sky, I saw the clouds hovering around the mountain tops. I smiled. I couldn't help it. This is what it's all about and it is magic.
Apr 4 / Day 7 - Clank. Clank. Clank. Scraaaaape..... So goes the sound of my hiking stick dragging along beside me. We've crossed above 10k feet and my body knows it. Each breath searching tirelessly for extra scraps of air in the corners of my lungs. My heart is racing. I can feel the pulsating in my frontal lobe. Clouds of my own stale breath linger around me as I stare out into the snow filled surroundings leaning on my hiking stick for support. There is moisture everywhere. My clothes are damp, but the rain drops stay hidden to the non-squinted eye.
Donkeys no more. We've been graced with the presence of a different type of steaming feces. Nothing like walking a narrow beaten path along an ice patch staring at a line of yaks headed your direction. Ice/Yaks haven't been the only obstacle. We've experienced several exposed areas of the trail. Portions where the drop off seemed deadly or at least certain to cause serious injury. We heard from another group that a few days ago, a guy fell a hundred feet and broke his leg. He had to be choppered back to Kathmandu for treatment. I stare at these exposed areas and wonder what sliding down along a cliff towards the river would feel like.. Could I do it gracefully, stopping my momentum with a few plants before lodging my hiking stick into a crevice and hanging there while help came? Or was I more likely to hit every bump and tree on my way down to a motionless mental scan of my body searching for the pain of a broken limb? I tend to lean towards the latter, but remind myself of the mantra. Then don't fall...
It seems so simple, but when faced with anxious thoughts, sometimes simple rules help regain focus. What if I twist my ankle? Then watch your step. What if I cramp? There's water right there, drink it! What if my muscles give out? They're still working now, just move one more step forward. That's the line that repeats itself in my head more than any other. One more step forward... They're not always pretty. Kicking rocks, dragging toes a few inches forward up a steep incline. But those few inches of progress are what get you to your dreams.
We made it to Shala, sitting at 11k feet. We cannot see more than a few feet in front of us. Supposedly we are surrounded by mountain peaks that tower over this tiny village, but for tonight we live in the clouds of mist that surround us in their stead. We are the only hikers here. Gathered once again in a small kitchen, huddled around the fireplace making food. Tonight it's alu parata. An Indian dish of flattened flour stuffed with onions and garlic, and then pan fried with an egg.. Our Nepali rasta guide is playing Pink Floyd as our Nepali host pours yet another batch of ginger tea. We're mentally preparing for tomorrow's challenge. A day hike to Manaslu base camp, situated close to 15k feet. It's freezing and all our warm clothes are damp from today's rain. But we're hoping the morning brings us clear skies and sunshine so we can at least set eyes on Manaslu for the first time..
Apr 5 / Day 8 - 5am, crisp clean post storm air. Andreja was the first one to leave her room. I heard a gasp, then the pitter patter of feet, another gasp, and then a click. I knew what was happening and jumped out of bed to join in on the excitement. As soon as I opened the door, I understood. Directly in front of us stood Manaslu. A single cloud dangling off its peak. We ran down the wooden staircase and stood in the courtyard to take in the view. It was as if we were on center stage and the mountains were there to observe us. Each so grand and magnificent it was no wonder they were all granted their own names. This was the first time I felt the true power of the Nepali himalayas and knew that everything about our journey would change at this very moment.
Andreja was distant today. Emotional. For this was the day she had been dreaming about for 20 years. Today, on our way to Manaslu base camp, we would visit the grave of the Slovenian writer she admired so dearly. But sometimes dreams don't come true the way we envision them to. We got caught in a serious dump of snow mid-hike. We couldn't see but a few feet in front of us. I watched as she stood at the foot of a frozen lake with the realization that she wouldn't be able to follow through on her vision. Head hung, wiping tears away, I could feel her disappointment. But there was no time to linger. Snow and wind was whipping us left and right. It was a mad dash back to camp where we sat and watched it dump well through the night.
Groups started changing plans. It's too dangerous. We won't make the pass... The worry was real. There's a good chance there will be too much snow.
Down or up? The now infamous question for strangers along the trail. Our answer remained unchanged.
Up. We will make the pass.
Apr 6 / Day 9 - None of us have showered in 8 days. I know it sounds gross, but it's too cold. We all feel surprising clean and no one smells, so all is well. We cut weight one last time today and I shaved one more kilo getting rid of vitamins, shampoo, coconut oil, an extra pair of socks and sunscreen. I've dumped all that, a drum, portable speaker, eaten half my snack bars and my pack still weighs 40lbs. I give up and will lug this thing across the finish line one way or another.
On a brighter note, there's nothing quite like waking up to sunshine after a fresh dump of snow. We didn't hike very fast because we were so busy taking pictures. But as beautiful as it was, trekking for four hours through 2-4 feet of fresh unpacked snow proved challenging. Every step was a question mark. Will this hold my weight? Or will my entire leg get slushed yet again? Our hiking sticks weren't much help either. Trying to plant one for support was like using a stick to find the bottom of a lagoon. I quickly discovered that my boots have a waterproof threshold. And I passed mine. This is a major problem. Today was okay because it was sunny up until the afternoon dump. But if I get caught out in the cold of the pass with wet boots and cold feet, things can get messy.
My boots are sitting in the corner right now with notebook paper stuffed into them. Tomorrow I will try to put plastic bags around my socks and see what happens. But one thing's for sure - if this snow doesn't let up, we won't make it.
Tonight we sleep in Samdo (12,500) and tomorrow make the move to Dharmasala at close to 15k feet. We'll stay there and attempt the pass at 4am when hopefully conditions are calm and snow is firm.
We will make the pass... Hopefully.
Apr 7 / Day 10 - It's quarter to 5pm and I'm already curled up in my sleeping bag trying to stay warm and fall asleep. It's freezing. Every night I wake up if any part of my body is outside my bag. Last night my right hand fell victim to the pins and needles. Tonight we're staying in a stone hut at 4500 meters. I've never slept this high before and it's cold. Our guides are staying in a tent literally buried in snow. This is the equivalent to the summit of Mount Whitney and the highest portion of the Salkantay trek in Peru. I struggled through both those treks, and the path getting here to Dharmasala was no different.
Six hours hiking uphill in snow and mud at altitude. I hit my limit. Gasping for air, delirious. Walking sloppily. And exposure... I mentioned it before, but today I almost fell victim to a nasty spill. There was a ridge about a foot wide. It was iced over and slushy. I had my hiking stick driven into the snow next to me as deep as possible. But my shoes.. Not only do they take in water, but they also don't hold traction well on snowy surfaces. My feet slipped out from under me. One ass cheek was on the trail, the other dangling over a 60-70 foot snowy drop off. The porters in the distance let out a yell. I felt my weight shift. Rocks went tumbling down. I was going down with them. I grasped onto my hiking stick with both hands and pulled myself in toward the mountain. I was stable but couldn't stand up. It was too slippery, my pack too heavy, and I was still in shock. My guides were behind and my partner ahead. No one was there to help. Eventually I slid down a few feet and regained my composure. But to this minute, I'm still shaken up.
Altitude has the craziest effects on coordination and physical abilities. It's like entering a cloudy minded dream state where all you're focused on is breathing deeply and moving forward until things feel normal again. But that dream state can also lead to injury. I saw it during Whitney and knew I was close to it here when I fell flat on my ass after slipping in non-threatening mud. My guide Sudan was there with me that time and had me take off my pack and chill out before finishing the hike slowly.
I've never hiked in these conditions before and I'm pushing well past anything I've ever done previously. I'm not what you'd call an outdoorsman. I don't live for "extremes" and didn't grow up knowing many people who did these types of things. I was 20 when I saw my first ski slope. And 31 when I attempted my first hike or climb. But I was called here and I've been drawn in by nature. Today, for example, we heard nothing. I've never experienced silence so beautiful. Walking in the presence of giant mountain tops with only the sound of the snow crunching beneath our feet. Blue sheep grazing in the distance. Not another person in sight. I can be finished right now and be happy, but tomorrow is the day. I don't know if I'm ready. We're starting our climb at 4am and will hit 5186 meters / just over 17,000 feet. I don't know how my body will react to that pressure.. Today was hard enough and we only went for six hours. Tomorrow we're aiming for ten.
Apr 8 / Day 11 - I did not sleep well. I took diamox yesterday to help with the altitude only to find out later that it was a diarrhetic. I woke up five times to pee and had stomach pains throughout the very short night. I only got two hours of quality sleep before our 3am alarm jingled unforgivingly. I made a quick visit to the toilet to find that someone missed the hole in the ground and there was shit everywhere. Not the best start to one of the toughest days of my life.
After a quick breakfast, I didn't feel ready. And setting off into snow with headlamps at 4am didn't help with the anxiety. Breathing was tough from the start. Making any sudden moves or having a shoe slip in the snow made your heart race and panic set in as you gasped heavily for the air you so desperately needed to get back on track. I couldn't even look up. I was so fixated on the boots in front of me, studying carefully if the snow held or looked unstable. I couldn't feel my fingers. Especially on the hand that gripped my hiking stick. I stopped for a few minutes to double up my gloves and could no longer feel my toes. Perhaps the plastic bags wrapped around my feet were not letting heat circulate properly. I undid my hip belt and chest straps 20 minutes into the hike. The stomach pain proved too much and it restricted my ability to breathe. I hadn't hiked with the full weight of my pack on my shoulders yet and it was too much for comfort. I popped three ibuprofens hoping they would take the edge off long enough to reach the top of the pass. All this fumbling around for gear sent one very distinct message. It was too cold to stop for breaks. And so we pushed forward for four straight hours on a slow but steady 2200 foot ascent.
Within that first hour, there was a portion of exposed trail similar to what I experienced yesterday. The path so narrow I couldn't place both feet next to each other to catch my breath. There was a line of porters behind me carrying gear for the German group back at camp. They were growing restless of my slow and steady pace but I couldn't let them pass. I was scared and walking timidly. The fall down to the valley floor did not bother me. The snow looked like untouched silk. But the thought of trying to climb my way back up to the trail made me go even slower to make sure I didn't lose my footing.
After climbing over a thousand feet, I found myself separated from the group. Andreja was having a hard time breathing so two of our guides stayed with her. I ventured ahead with the flute player who was more like a group member than a guide. If he was in front of you, he was way ahead. If he was behind you, he was uncomfortably close. Given the conditions, I opted for him to be way out in front so I could struggle silently on my own.
Most of the day was spent in my head and my thought process was all over the place. I had to pep-talk myself the entire morning.
"You can do this! This is what you wanted! One step at a time.. Move forward. The pain and struggle will pass. You're not the type to fail. So don't start now!"
A few hours later this turned into
"What are you doing here? It's so freaking cold. Never trekked in the snow, eh? Well now you know what it's like, and you hate it! Have you seen the gorgeous sunrise behind you? No? What about pictures? You can't even take your hand out of your glove.. And you want to do this twice? What are you thinking? This is nuts. What are you trying to prove?"
What are you doing here? The first question and the one I couldn't answer anymore. I was called here but still didn't know for what. I found my footing in Panama. I found community and companionship in Ecuador. I found loneliness and self discovery in Antarctica. I found the power of vulnerability in Argentina. And the confidence to face fears in India. But the himalayas were on my mind well before visiting those other countries. If this is about testing physical limits, then I am here! Goal attained! What else could there be?
I was an hour away from the pass and gasping for breath after crossing over the 16,500 foot mark. My body was starting to fail. My knees were buckling. My mind delusional. My steps forward were getting shorter and shorter. I felt my weight tipping forward. I looked around. There wasn't another person in sight. I didn't think I could do it. Seven more hours without a water source. I only had half a liter left and I couldn't breathe. That's too much. I can't...
That's when it happened. The music I was listening to went silent and my mind shut down. I heard a voice in my head that wasn't my own. But it was clear, authoritative and calm...
"I am here."
I shook my head in disbelief and looked around at the mountains that surrounded. My panting breath echoing in my otherwise silent mind.
"I have always been here."
My eyes began to water as the memories of all my toughest life moments flashed before my eyes. Every transition I faced, the sight of hands I had never seen before nudging me down the right path. Every moment of pain, someone sitting in the dark behind me offering support. In the Amazon, the face of the wolf, now the same face as this being..
"I am here." I heard it again.
My lip began to quiver as I realized what was happening. Tears began rolling down my face as time slowed momentarily.
"Do not be afraid."
"Your body will not fail you. But if it does, know that I will carry you."
"I am here."
I had experienced the divine.... It's difficult to grasp or truly believe, but things became easier after these moments. My breathing normalized and my strength returned.
We made it to the top 45 minutes before the others and I just sat there basking in the sunlight, thinking about what just happened. I had experienced a shift. Everything looked different. Once the struggle had disappeared, I was able to see the beauty that surrounded. I climbed to where the prayer flags had been planted and kneeled. I now understood the journey and had found the first piece in defining my own spirituality.
When we arrive at the actual Larkya la pass, we were surrounded by many of the prolific peaks that many come to the himalayas to see. It was clear and skies were blue, a perfect day. We were only four hours into the hike and still had to face a very steep downhill section leading back down into the valley. Many struggled with this section, but all I could see was soft snow! Something we don't get a lot of back in California. So while others timidly side stepped down the staircase of packed snow, I ran for the untouched good stuff and jumped and splashed fresh powder everywhere. I basically boot skied with crampons. Until I lost my breath at which point I sat on my ass and slid the rest of the way down through the valley using my pack as a rudder and my boots as breaks. It was the best part and so much fun. One of the benefits of having so much fresh snow for sure.
We arrived at camp close to 2:30pm putting an end to our 10 hour day. We felt accomplished. Everyone did. The groups were nodding to each other in recognition of our collective accomplishment. I saw one of the porters I had said hello to every day along the trail, but had never acknowledged me. I looked at him with tired eyes. He put his hands together, smiled, and said Namaste. Sure, it could have been an informal hello, but I like to think that he said it with its literal meaning, 'I recognize the divine in you'.
Back in my room, I had the opportunity to reflect. I was at peace and had experienced events that can never be forgotten. I followed the signs to the himalayas and found a part of my spirituality. A journey that I believe is only just beginning. I hesitated to even write this at first due to the sensitivity of religion. But I believe I experienced the divine. The type that you cannot ignore or shake off as a figment of the imagination. I have always believed in the power of faith and spirituality. I inherited mine, but also believe in the need to find your own way and respect the choices of others. I am no longer religious, which may come as a shock to family and friends, but is part of the reason for never discussing the topic. But I am very spiritual, and there is a difference. I refuse to believe in a single truth where people are judged as right or wrong. I think it is entirely possible to have a relationship with God and still find the validity and truths in another person's beliefs or life choices. We are all the same... That's part of the reason I'm here, to stay in a monastery for 10 days following my trek. This is all part of my own spiritual journey. One that I have chosen and one that I didn't expect to begin now. I understand this post and some of the things I have said may cause conflict, and that's okay. Send me a note privately if you want to discuss. But please respect my path. We are the same in our boldness to believe.
There are still a few days left on the Manaslu circuit, but after today's victory and life changing events, I am moving forward. Next stop Annapurna.
