Himalayan Footprints in Nepal

 

Himalayan Footprints in Nepal

It’s not often you find yourself voluntarily blinking to assure yourself that what you’re looking at is undoubtedly real. I can hear my eyes whisper, “I’m going to need some further substantial evidence to prove that this vista is genuine”. Nervously, I continued to survey the horizon, almost scared of the perfection. I had seen the Himalayas before, but never from the Everest Base Camp trail. As I stood there, atop of a grueling hill and hunched over from the heftiness of my pack, I noticed every occasion where the mixture of dirt and wind scraped my face. It’s almost as if the wind was bluntly stating to me, “Hey! This is life! It’s beautiful. Don’t ever forget that.”

Earlier that day one of my best friends and I left a quaint tea house after eyeing our imaginary watch and guessed that it was half past seven in the morning. We were heading northwest of Dingboche, which was a wonderful little town that should be the setting of a dusty Asian Western film. Graham (as in the cracker) and I grabbed our beloved hiking poles, stuffed one last can of half-eaten sour cream and onion Pringles in the mesh pocket of a backpack, and eagerly started our sixth day of hiking to the next village of Lobuche. As we settled into the routine of walking, I found myself noticing everything. I sink my gaze into the blackness of the crows as they fly in place in the wind. I observe the formation of rocks and I listen to Graham’s comment about the flies being from the prehistoric era and I make it my mission to take note of the biggest fly I can discover. The onset of a hike is always very peaceful for me; it’s my therapy. That is, until I get to the base of a hill and look up.

Our running joke was that we had to retrain our eyes on how far to look up. So as I stood, straining my neck to look up the rocky barrier that stood between me and the neighboring village, I could almost hear my crooked smile form as I loudly thought, “Game on”. I quickly forced myself to get in the zone. I began to notice every move and every breath I took. Patience becomes your best friend and mortal enemy in every step. I had an untied shoelace. I stared at it as I climbed, never stopping to tie it as it gave me something to look forward to doing once we stopped to rest. I have always loved the mountains because they have a way of stripping all your pride away. To me, summiting a mountain mimics the same feelings of love. The hike is hard, as is love, but you have to make yourself believe that it’s worth it. Your body is exhausted but you keep propelling upward in order to achieve that moment of elatedness. You can’t mimic the reward of standing on a peak or smiling at someone you love. You can’t fake happiness like that. So you put one foot after the other into a pile of dust, forget about the smell of the yak poop, push past the weight of the nearing sun, and keep pushing until your footprints exist at the top.

So there I was, slouching on a boulder at the crowning point of that bluff, sharing a comfortable silence and cherry flavored water with my best friend. Graham jokes, “Well….we have visually summited Everest so let’s go home now.” As I laughed, I settled into the moment, authorizing my brain to take it all in. I peered past the dust coated prayer flags and strained my eyes to look as far as I possibly could while I pondered perspectives that I usually wouldn’t approach. I thought, “There is so much pressure to want more; more money, better phones, cars with seat warmers. The older I become the less material things I desire. Enjoying the simple things in life, like perching myself on this cliff, allows me to be free! It’s these moments of freedom that change my perspective. It’s this brief encounter with the mountains of Nepal that push me to pursue my goals and dreams. This experience encourages me to be a better mother, a loving girlfriend, and a loyal friend. This freedom scatters its ashes on every aspect of my life and encourages me to find peace with myself even when I’m not breathing in the fumes of 17,000 feet.”

I’ve never envied people that leave this life with no scars….. so create your own opportunity. Strap on dirty hiking boots, get your palate prepared for milk tea, prepare yourself to walk to the left of prayer wheels, under pack, and just go. Go find your freedom.

About the Author: I am currently an overpaid bartender and a mother to a wonderful nine year old girl. I recently went back to school to “learn more stuff” and I spend my spare time thinking about what hill I want to climb next and deciding which passport stamp I find the most enjoyable to admire. Life is good.

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One response to “Himalayan Footprints in Nepal

  1. Wow what an amazing story!! You are quite the writer 🙂 I’m so proud of you for not giving up and making it to the summit! I recently set out to climb 13,068 to summit a mountain at Great Basin national park. Unfortunately I didn’t make it to the top ! I pushed my self beyond my means, encouraged myself the whole way up there but for safety reasons for my health I had to stop at 12,500. So thank you for this wonderful story! It will truly push me to go further on my next hike! Keep traveling girl!! There’s so much to see in this world! I just hope we can see everything we want to see in this life time 🙂 never give up star!

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