We have returned from the heights of the Himalayas.
I loved our trip. We have many stories… I got quite sick (common cold) in a rather inconvenient place (camping 4,200 metres up and sleeping in -6 degrees C.) and our group changed its plans (I was not the only one who got sick).
Our guide was wonderful, as were our Sherpas and porters. Our change of itinerary only meant that we spent more time in rainforest and hotsprings, and a little less time freezing our butts off in the altitude. Having said that, we made it to our highest camping spot, and walked a little higher than that. We ate so much delicious food, including a celebration chicken curry for one of the festivals in the mountains (apart from that the trekking menu was all vegetarian as it is forbidden to kill animals in the mountians, apparently. Except for on festival days.)
We met many people. We saw amazing mountians and forests and landscapes. We gazed upon the deepest gorge in the world (allegedly) and the highest peaks. We walked paths known only to locals (and our tour group). We danced – even Gary. I gathered bruises as a television set gathers dust. We learnt the wisdom of merry taxi drivers. We rode ancient yaks through the mystical breath of the cloud, high above the realms of ordinary men… ok that part was a tad fanciful. And completely made up. We didn’t ride any Yaks. We did, however, watch them come home out of the fog, seeking shelter from the frosty night.
A (much more accurate) detailed account is in order, however I am much too tired for that now. I also need to go through my ridiculous amount of photos.
For the moment, here’s one of my favorites: