**Scroll backwards to see trekking entries-starts Oct 13th**
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Thankfully, I couldn't foresee the events to transpire during our guideless and porterless journey through Nepal's central Annapurna region, because (as many of you know) I am not what you'd call calm in the face of adversity. Let's agree my pathetic trajectory through challenge or crisis consists of several hyperventilating freak-out sessions and crazed screeches before a loss of consciousness, time and tolerance (on the part of my companions). I can admit I'm probably the most annoying, exacerbating, complicating force to negotiate on top of adversity. I have no medical training and no mountaineering experience under my belt. Hell, I'm not even an "outdoor" girl.

I'm acrophobic, claustrophobic, prone to panic attacks, a hypochondriac, control freak and afflicted with a tad of OCD, where I obsess about the worst outcome of any given situation, like dropping my brand new laptop outside the 4th-storey window I sit against typing this.

Right.

So, how was it I was with Troy at the foot of the tallest mountain range in the world, preparing to circumnavigate several 25,000ft + peaks? (Many of you are probably wondering how I was accompanied at all? *innocent giggle*)

My new best practice: by the seat of my pants, on a wing and a prayer trying to remember: THIS IS LIFE! I have wasted too much energy on this trip (and in life for that matter) in the past and future, each breath being filled with both dread and longing, while the perfect, present moment ends in vain. Planning, regretting, worrying, in a never-ending cycle ceasing ( I am learning) only when I do.

Premonitions of the remoteness, inherent dangers, infections, physical pain /discomfort, environment and incessant exhaustion involved with trekking through the Himalaya for 25 days would have only hampered our adventurous experience, as we blissfully wandered Kathmandu, gathering final provisions.

Cleverly, for the sake of our experience, Troy coaxed me to "let go", as was necessary on the choppy flight of antique Airbus 155 from Bangkok to Kathmandu, which did, honestly, help a bit until I saw a feathering crack extending from the floorboard to the ceiling which, I could have sworn, was sucking out air. The news of an overheated-engine and emergency landing in Delhi due to missed maintenance the week prior vetoed any calming thoughts as I tried, casually, to blame my profuse sweating on green curry from the airport lounge. Tepid water chugged and last of my three stale peanuts chewed, I succeeded in grinding my molars to the gum as I mentally re-enacted the plane ripping in half over Myanmar.

More wasted prana (from Hindu, life energy), but I digress.

The TRC, Trekking Registry Certificate, a bill which was still pending implementation in Kathmandu on Oct. 14th (our set date of departure), requires the use of either porter or guide from a recognized agency on any trek in Nepal. Considering ourselves lucky, being the last of those who could freely wander the conservation area trails, we purchased two local maps, an Annapurna region guidebook and a compass, deciding, whatever the outcome, to seize the day.

Troy and I are forever changed.

In this sacred land, the second highest country in the world ( first being Tibet), ancient lifestyles withstand time, religions meld, evolve and resonate, idyllic landscapes tower and people subsist as they did over 300 years ago: tending to animals and living from the land in a beautiful simplicity which patronizes why many Westerners live the chaotic way we do.

Faced with something truly celestial, spiritual, and rare, I was awe-struck, dumbfounded, cleansed. Who is this person inside me climbing these vast, steep cliffs? Dirty, uncomfortable and exhausted treading treacherous, narrow footpaths of mud, rock, and snow from dawn until dusk, I ventured into a part of me I hadn't known before.

The separation from modernity, communication and media allowed me to concentrate on doing one thing at a time; sipping a cup of tea, climbing a challenging path, writing in a journal. All meditative and purifying in their garnering of my undivided attention, these simple acts cultivated a sublime joy, which was intensified by the surreal scenes I'd become a part of each day. Strangely, unexpectedly, the obsessive clinging to existence, perpetual phobias of danger and death, and inertia of worry and doubt dissolved as easily as the crusts of foreboding ice on our path each morning.

Anyone who has spent time in the remote regions of Nepal will tell you what we've just experienced: there is something magical, intangible, intensely spiritual about a journey through the Himalaya.

We were away for 25 days. I will organize the postings by days of the trek, starting Oct 13th: our bus ride from Kathmandu to Besi Sahar. Hang in there! Soon, I will have everything up to date.


XOXOXOXOXOXO