Trekking in Nepal

It was the winter of 2000, two years after my original breast cancer diagnosis, and I was travelling to Nepal looking for adventure. What I didn't realize was that it would be a spiritual journey and that the people there would teach me something about happiness.

We had been climbing up, up, up for most of the first day of an 11 day trek. I had done a fair bit of hiking in the Gatineau Hills, so the uphill wasn’t new to me. However, I wasn’t prepared when the trail suddenly turned a corner and continued on the side of a mountain, with a sheer drop on one side. I was never fond of heights (what was I doing on a mountain in Nepal one might ask…), but I had never experienced severe vertigo before. But there I was, literally clinging to the side of the mountain, unable to move one foot in front of another. After what seemed like an eternity of coaxing by my companions and guides - when it became clear that there was no rescue helicopter coming for me - I decided that I had no choice but to move forward. It was 4 days before I could relax and finally appreciate the most spectacular view that I have ever seen.

Our group of 15 women was travelling with a huge entourage of sherpas, porters and cooks. Many of the porters wore only rubber flip-flops, while carrying our duffle bags, tents, food, dishes, and everything else we needed for the trip on their backs. Every night when we arrived at camp, our tents were set up and waiting for us, along with a dining tent with table and folding chairs. How they managed to prepare and serve such wonderful food in the middle of nowhere I’ll never know. Every morning they were up before us to serve breakfast, pack up the camp, and start the whole process over again.

These people worked incredibly hard for very little pay. You would think that when they were done for the day, they would fall asleep exhausted. But no, when the work was done, it was then time to party. They sang Nepali folk songs and danced and laughed like they were the happiest people on the planet. Some of my favorite memories of the trip are of dancing by firelight, on the side of a mountain, with a sky full of stars that sparkled brighter than any disco ball from the 80’s.
Because we took a trade route rather than a tourist route, we passed through small villages that seldom see western faces. The children ran up and down the steep slopes like mountain goats. They had nothing, yet they appeared to have not a care in the world.

While taking a break one afternoon, a Nepali woman came and sat beside me on a rock. She hesitantly reached out and touched my blonde hair, obviously fascinated by it. I took it out of the pony tail I was wearing so she could have a better look. She offered me some seeds that she was carrying in a shawl wrapped around her waist. I have no idea what I was eating but we sat together, munching on the seeds, communicating somehow, even though we didn't speak the same language.

The only time we camped more than 1 night was near a monastery run by Buddhist nuns. We awoke both mornings to the sound of a conk shell calling the nuns to prayer. They were gracious enough to invite us to join them, which we did, still sleepy eyed and wrapped in our sleeping bags. Two hours of chanting in a language that I didn’t understand went by amazingly fast. I remember feeling a sense of belonging and love, as if all was well with the universe.

Namaste