He answered cautiously. "I think maybe your Nepali is not as good as you think. What I said is that 'I've always wanted to trek.' This is actually my first time, and it is much harder than I thought."

I had hastily hired Binod back in Kathmandu because he was a Gurung and was originally from this area and might know some of the local dialects. "If you have never trekked, why did you agree to be my porter?" I asked. He shrugged his shoulders and turned to look at me. "Normally I work as a waiter in Kathmandu, but it is the slow season, and I needed the money."

I persuaded Binod to stay with me for another five days until we reached the town of Burbik. In a small village along the way I found another porter by the name of Osman. Osman was certainly likable enough but at the same time he seemed a bit reserved. Possibly Binod had told him of the mad glint the crazy American would get in his eye while speaking of difficult journeys and staring up into the mountains with dreams of hidden monasteries.

I said goodbye to Binod with a small ceremony in my tent of cold beer and the sharing of small gifts. To Binod I gave the wool socks that I had loaned him for the trek. Binod presented me with a small mani stone that he had bought somewhere along the trail in the last week. The stone was hand carved with prayers of prosperity and good fortune. Obviously he felt that I needed all the help I could get. He was probably right, and I very much appreciated his gift.