Written the day before we took our flight to Srinagar to embark on our first ever high-altitude, multi-day trek in the mighty Himalayas, seven days ago.
If I think about it too much, I’m terrified enough to drop my bags, sit in a corner and refuse to take my flight tomorrow. I’ll hate the cold, of course I will, it’s freaking -4 deg C. I might freeze when I’m sleeping outdoors without knowing it. My muscles will have lactic acid for breakfast, lunch and dinner and then the next day I won’t be able to walk another step. My asthma will balk at 1/3 less oxygen than its used to and my lungs will join my legs in a symphony of WTH and hey-I-don’t-want-to-do-this. Morning rituals amidst 20 strangers with a tent loo, are you kidding me?! And what if they are all super fast, fit and happy, and I get left behind everytime? Militants? Army check-posts? LOC?
And then I stop thinking. It’s just way too overwhelming. It’s one of those things where I have to aim big, sign-up, train, show-up and then try hard to survive. B had a big part to play to push me to do this, and I do have a genuine spark of gratefulness amidst all these crazy fears. Let’s hope we live to tell the tale.
We are now back in Srinagar, and as clichéd as it sounds, there’s something that’s changed inside us. Stay tuned for more after we’re back to home base.
Nomadic Wanderlust 