|
PART 1: |
Fifteen thousand feet up in a remote corner of the Nepali Himalayas, I stared into the worried face of my porter, Prem Bahadur, and shouted through the cold and persistent wind, "Do you have any idea where we are?" Prem shook his head and cast a desperate look up into the swirling snowstorm that had swept down upon us out of a lapis lazuli blue sky. We were traveling up a narrow valley surrounded by mountains that towered to 24,000 ft. It was difficult to predict the weather since large storms could build just out of sight and then engulf unsuspecting trekkers without warning. I had been on the trail for three weeks of what would turn out to be a forty-five day trek. Many challenges had made the expedition quite difficult but this seemed to be the worst so far. I assessed our situation: We're caught in a sudden blizzard, it will be dark in a couple of hours and we can hear avalanches cutting loose on the mountainsides above us -- but at least we're lost! I could feel panic closing in with the storm. "Tapaico bichaar, kun baato?" I asked. Which way do you think it might be best to go? This time the shake of Prem's head was accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders and much fresh snow tumbled off his small but sturdy frame. "I do not know. It is my first time in this area. Don't you have a map?" |
  |
 |
