The People You Meet Along The Way: Biscuits and Tea in Thame

The magic of Nepal isn’t just about the Himalayas. There’s also magic to be found in the hillsides of the soaring mountain peaks. I was reminded of this today as I started down a rabbit warren of photographs looking for ‘epic climbing pictures’ from my adventures in the mountains for an upcoming presentation. 

The more I looked for ‘epic pictures’ the less I felt connected. And I began to wonder why. Why was it that an exercise that should have fed an appetite for adventure and love for storytelling actually bored me? 

I went for a walk outside to clear my head. I made myself a coffee. I surfed the internet for inspiration. Nothing helped. It all felt flat. Very flat.

I sat back down behind my laptop and found myself flicking through a ‘painful’ reel of expedition photographs. I stumbled upon the 2015 earthquake. I still struggle to look at these images because of the feelings that resurface. Feelings that are incredibly intense and difficult to put into words – anxiety, helplessness, sadness, guilt – but also hope, happiness, humility, strength and resilience. I look back at the person I was in those photographs. Strong, connected and driven by an alignment of purpose and passion. What was so different about that person from 2015 and the person I was striving to be in my ‘epic pictures’ persona which litter my Instagram today?

Then my eyes landed on a photograph that I connected to more strongly than any photo on my ‘epic mountain reel’. The weathered, kind faces of an elderly couple that I visited in the aftermath of the earthquake on a visit into the Khumbu region. My mind went back to the day of the photograph….

The Lessons of Thame... 

Between continued aftershocks and a constant threat of landslides, my journey into the Khumbu had been a daunting one, but one I undertook with a strong sense of mission and purpose. I traveled with friend Dorje Sherpa into the region to conduct an assessment of the damage and to deliver much-needed relief from our “Help Sherpa Help Nepal” fundraising efforts to the people of Thame village, just off the well-worn trail past the Sherpa capital of Namche Bazaar. 

The valley of Thame and its neighboring Thameteng had been devastated by the earthquake including complete destruction of the Thame monastery, one of the oldest in the Khumbu. Any buildings that ‘survived’ the first earthquake were subsequently destroyed in the aftershocks. A total of 423 houses were damaged affecting the population of 1876 people.

On the dusty path into Thame we came across an elderly grey-haired woman standing motionless on the side of the road wearing traditional local dress accessorized by a filthy faded pink North Face jacket. Flowing between her fingers were dirt-encrusted and well-worn Buddhist prayer beads, also known as a mala. She looked blankly down the path, her face deep-set with wrinkles, a stream of tears rolling down her cheeks as she murmured mantras under her breath. I was drawn to her tired, tear filled eyes. 

Dorje approached her quietly whilst I stood back and looked on trying to be respectful of their exchange. They spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes and then Dorje motioned for me to join them as we started down the dirt path in the direction of a large pile of rubble. 

Sadly and alarmingly, the large pile of rubble turned out to be the remains of her home. An old man appeared. He was limping and his tattered clothes were also covered in dirt. He greeted Dorje and I with sad, tired eyes and clearly needed medical attention. My Nepali doesn’t extend much beyond “Namaste’, and I couldn’t understand a word of the conversation however the gist was clear. 

Dorje translated the subtleties of the scene.  The elderly couple’s home had been completely destroyed by the earthquake. The woman had been making lunch over an open fire at the time. In the chaotic aftermath of the quake, all remaining and salvageable possessions that the couple owned had been engulfed and completely destroyed by the fire. Everything they owned had been lost. 

My heart churned. I didn’t know how to react. They were too old and fragile to rebuild their home.  The heavy rains of the monsoon season were fast approaching. As Dorje explained the story I looked at the ground whilst my feet shifted awkwardly in the dust. 

The couple and Dorje exchanged a few more words and we were invited to crawl on our hands and knees in the dirt under a warren of bright blue and orange tarps which served as a temporary shelter. It was damp, cold and smoky. Despite her age and fragility, the woman was surprisingly agile and her eyes seemed to brighten at the prospect of having us as guests in her home. I sat silently on the ground as she and Dorje continued to speak whilst her husband looked quietly on. An emanciated cat roamed in and sat down at my feet, meowed and looking up at me quizzically. I'd never felt so foreign in my life yet so much like I was exactly where I was meant to be. 

Water boiled in a rusty old pot.

The woman poured me a cup of steaming black tea, topping it up with a generous spoonful of sugar. She humbly offered me the scalding tin mug with both hands, a kind, warm and strong smile on her weathered face. I accepted the tea and drank it quietly. She then turned, dug into an old plastic crate and pulled out an unopened pack of biscuits. The pack looked shiny and strange and almost cheerful with its bright yellow packaging juxtapositioned against the somber scene under the tarp. 

Despite my protests she opened the packaging, looked me directly in the eye, reached out her hand and in perfect English offered, “Biscuit?”

I was certain that was one of the very few English words that she knew. I also knew that declining the ration of biscuit would have caused offense. Her eyes lit up with pride as I accepted her offering.

Dorje and the elderly couple continued to speak whilst I sat and drank bottomless cups of tea. They say that being ‘fully present’ allows you to connect with an experience and ‘feel’ it on many levels. I was overwhelmed by the energy in that small enclosed space under the bright orange tarp. It’s a feeling so intense that I can still feel it today, nearly 4 years on and I’ve gone back to that moment time and time again in the years since. I was filled with an incredible sense of purpose. I knew that the lesson of humility and kindness displayed by that couple in selflessly offering me everything they had would be a lesson that would stay with me for life.

Later that morning, the couple joined us as we continued the short walk up to Thame village where we met with the local people for the carefully organized distribution of relief.  As the elderly man marked his thumb to ‘sign’ for the receipt of funds (a total of $66 per person) he looked up at me and smiled. I knew that in a very tiny way I’d made his life a little bit better and maybe even a little bit easier. 

But I know in my heart that the impression that he and so many others I met that day left so much more on me. 

In 2017 I returned to Thame to visit the couple, bringing my own biscuits and see how they were doing. I knocked on the door to a small two story ‘home’ built of stones and old plywood. I saw a face appear from the second floor window and the familiar smile. As the door opened we were greeted warmly and with pride, and invited into the home for tea. we made a small offering of butter and juniper on the family alter in the corner of the room.

Smiles and gestures have the power to communicate so much more than words and actions can transcend language barriers. Seeing that the elderly man was ok and that he and his wife had resiliently rebuilt their lives filled me with a tremendous sense of calm. 

Before I left, I asked for a ‘selfie’. When I shared the end-result he looked at the photo in awe and wonder. His eyes filling with tears.... 

He looked at me, smiled and said, ‘So old!’.

I’ll never forget that day and I look forward to returning to Thame in a few weeks time.

In travel, so much inspiration is found through the stories of the people we meet along the way. A great reminder to breathe, truly live in the moment and take the time to enjoy the journey - because sometimes it is journey that IS the destination.... 

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The People You Meet: "Where are you 'at'?

A friend recently reached out and asked where I was ‘at’. His use of quotation marks meant he wasn’t looking to hear that I was at Starbucks ordering a double-shot latte. The question made me pause, self-check and think - the reaction which met the questions intended purpose. Where was I ‘at’, really?

The question was timely and insightful. I’d slowly fallen into a cycle of chasing opportunities and experiences without much thought. "Fear of missing out" (aka FOMO) driven by an egoistic desire to ‘live life to its fullest because life is short’. Cliché. 

A potentially toxic alchemy of ambiguity stoked by social media, mid-life ‘crisis’, rejection, redirection and an incessant fear of not achieving my ‘so-called potential’. Somewhat ironically, in worrying about ‘not achieving my potential’, I was straying further from my potential - and further from my sense of “purpose” as a result.

What mountain are you climbing?

There are literally thousands of quotes about ‘purpose’ – I know this because I’ve spent more hours than I care to admit reading Instagram "inspirational quote" posts looking for answers that I already have. My favourite comes courtesy of Friedrich Nietzsche:

“He who has a ‘why’ to live for can bear almost any,‘how’”. 

Essentially, be brave enough to live the life you want to live, according to your vision and your purpose instead of the expectations and opinions of others.  A simple quote yet hard to execute in practice… Hence why the, “I’m at Starbucks,” response to the well-intentioned question would’ve been an easier answer.

When I was in my late 20s and 30s I invested a lot of time ‘chasing summits’, both real and proverbial. I cringe when I write that.  Don’t get me wrong – it was a LOT of fun. I saw incredible parts of the world, experienced unique moments, developed deep friendships, and achieved some pretty big goals both in my career and in climbing mountains across the Himalayas, Andes and Alps. During this time I spent my time managing a fine line between a supportive corporate employer and cold hypoxic basecamps. Plus a lot of hard work and grit in between. And it was 100% worth it – all the conscious choices, decisions and investments. 

At the time, mountain summits were my purpose.  And I did well in working incredibly hard to maintain a steady focus in pursuing them, even knocking off a few big ones along the way… 

But did this truly fulfil me and feed a deeper desire to do ‘something more’…?  Well, honestly, no, not really.

I first discovered climbing in 2008 as the result of a break-up. Let’s be brutally honest – I got dumped. I escaped to the Himalayas to ‘heal’ and I joined a small expedition to climb Mera Peak, a 6300m “trekking peak” in the Everest region. I knew very little about mountaineering, had little experience, and was woefully unprepared. 

Three challenging weeks later our team reached the summit and I looked over a panorama of Himalayan giants framed against a cloudless blue sky. It was absolutely breathtaking. I knew that despite everything that I’d gone through to get there (it definitely hadn’t been easy), that there was no place on Earth I’d rather be. The boyfriend was forgotten and a new ‘passion’ for seeing the world from a different perspective had taken hold.  And off I went… 

This passion fed my ‘ego’ for a while - something I really needed at the time.  I aligned with an inspiring tribe of people that ‘understood’ my drive and helped me achieve my career and summit-goals. This included a number of kind and patient guides who became life-mentors and coaches as much as they were mountain guides. The insights and lessons that I learned from them and from my experiences helped build self-awareness, courage, confidence, and develop discipline and inner strength to see through barriers and overcome challenge. Mountains were the vehicle and the people I met along the way were the enablers to help unlock who I was, what ‘drove’ me, and most importantly what ‘fuelled’ my soul. 

Over twenty-five expeditions later climbing, trekking, biking and skiing in countries around the world I began to realise that what actually sparked me, what made my eyes light up and put ‘fire in my soul’ was so much more than mountain summits. The spark was so much more than ‘conquering’ trails, setting records, and looking for the ‘rah-rah-rah’ from a ‘like’ or a ‘retweet’… 

What truly sparked me and activated my energy was people. More specifically, sharing the journey in getting to some of these far-flung places (mentally and physically), the lessons learned along the way and, in some small way, prompting others to say ‘yes’ to stepping outside of their own metaphorical comfort zones. 

I came to this realisation very early in the pursuit of my climbing journey, but found myself downplaying it due to a strange inner drive to continue on my ‘summit-bagging path’ because it was the obvious, easier and more social-media friendly one. 

I began to deprioritise my authentic self and treated my true passion as a secondary by-product. I'm not sure I knew quite where I was 'at', at the time.

The day the earth moved…

After a while, I unsurprisingly found that feeding my ego through summits was no longer fulfilling or fuelling me. This was underlined during the 2015 Nepal earthquake, an event that shook me to my core.  

At the time of the earthquake, I was in Tibet, fully acclimatised and mid-way through an expedition to climb Shishapangma and Cho Oyu, two of the highest mountains in the world. My goal was to climb both mountains back-to-back in one season – this had only ever been done by one other woman. It was a big meaty challenge and one I’d worked and trained hard for. Lots of discipline, commitment, courage and creativity. 

I was passionate about the projects success. My journey was even being filmed as part of a short documentary and the small handful of social-media followers I had were being appropriately ‘spammed’ with updates on my progress. I’d been raising money for several incredible charities. I felt like I was doing the expedition for all the right reasons – checking all the boxes, so to speak. And on the surface I was – and it was all going to plan.  

The earthquake very quickly changed all that. Not only did it put an abrupt end to the expedition, it also prompted an immediate refocus mentally as well as physically. It challenged my purpose at its very core. 

In a way, it was karma’s way of saying, ‘where are you ‘at’?, and forcing an almost obvious answer.

Staying in Nepal following the earthquake was the easiest decision I’ve ever made. The calling was so intense that I can still feel it today, nearly 4 years on and haven’t felt anything like it since. 

I remember crying in my tent, still very much in shock from our experiences on the mountain. The tears weren’t because of what had physically happened on the mountain during the quake.  Rather, the tears flowed because I knew in my heart that I was absolutely terrified to stay in Nepal with all of the devastation, discomfort, unknowns and uncertainty. In the same breath, I knew without a shadow of doubt that I had to stay and that I was going to stay. Reconciling this fear with an overwhelming sense of purpose drew upon every bit of strength that I’d developed in my ‘mountaineering journey’, and using that strength to give back. To fulfill a calling that I simply could never have denied. So I stayed.

I became physically and emotionally involved in on-the-ground relief work both in Kathmandu and in the Khumbu region. I helped mobilise fundraising activities, working closely with several local and international charities. I learned firsthand about resilience, compassion, empathy, generosity, and kindness from some of the best teachers. I found incredible mentors who kindly took me under their wing and became like family.  

I felt I had a true purpose and that in embracing uncertainty, following my heart, and moving beyond a ‘fear of failure’ or following what I’d created as an artificial ‘pre-determined path’ had helped me to connect with what had truly fuelled me all along. And I don’t think that I’ve ever felt more secure or self-aware as a result – in an environment that could not have been more chaotic. During this time, mountains summits were never far from my thoughts but they no longer defined me or what I was truly capable of. 

When passion and purpose collide...

The earthquake never stopped me from climbing. It did however prompt a refocus and recalibration. Since 2015 I’ve continued to follow my passion for the mountains, climbing in Nepal and more recently in Canada and Alaska. But my focus and sense of ‘purpose’ has definitely become more defined and I no longer get the same ‘buzz’ off of a summit goal. The summit is for the ego. 

What I’ve learned is deeper and purpose-driven, from the ‘soul’ and from the heart. I now know that I climb for the people and the journey – sharing the experiences with others, and subsequently prodding, instigating and enabling others to ‘unlock’ their own stories and fulfil their own dreams - whether in a mountaineering environment or in life more broadly. 

Sometimes this is tactical – e.g. “How do you use a jumar? What’s the best down jacket? What’s the best training for an 8000’er.”  And sometimes, it’s about motivating people to realise their own journeys by prompting them to ‘check in,’ and understand what is truly stopping them from achieving their dreams. “What’s stopping you from going to Base Camp? Why don’t you ask for the time off? The worst your boss can say is, ‘no’, and removing self-doubt “Of course you can do it!” 

I’m grateful to organisations like Arc’teryx who have provided regular platforms to do this and supported me in sharing this narrative.  And I’m incredibly proud of those who use these forums as inspiration and prompts to, ‘say yes’. You know who you are!

So where am I ‘at’?

Like clockwork for the past 10 years, I find myself “at” the same place. That is, looking ahead to the pre-monsoon Himalayan climbing season asking myself “What am I going to climb this year… and why?” Whilst the more tactical aspects of Spring climbing plans are at the forefront of my mind, I continue to hold tight to aligning purpose and passion. 

In a world so heavily influenced by social media it’s easy to become distracted and portray an image that isn’t me or present a diluted version of what drives me or what my values are. Hence why my friends’ check-in was so well timed and gratefully received. 

I have a few exciting projects underway (my fingers tingle with energy as I type!).  Projects that have been developing in my mind for a while and that have engaged the imaginations and support of an incredible community of friends. 

So much of life is about leaning into the unknown. It’s about growth - moving toward people and moments you can’t predict the outcome of... A delicate balancing act of finding comfort in discomfort in a world that’s dynamic and constantly changing. It’s about adapting and making choices - some clear, some a bit foggier - that encourage us to move closer to the truth of who we are. This is something that I’m learning as I get older - and arguably wiser! 

I’m learning to trust in this truth. Owning it. Living it and breathing it. I’m not going to lie, it still feels like struggle to understand who I am and what I want but I have to remind myself that I’m forging a new path. Regularly asking myself, “what s ‘serving’ me and the world? What puts fire in my soul?” I’m learning that if something doesn’t feel right, to move on. I’m learning to follow my heart and my instincts. More often than not, they’re right…   

Thanks to prompts like, ‘Where are you “at”’, I’m learning to “check in.”  My inner compass is a measure. I have so much gratitude for an amazing tribe of people who help me to do this – because sometimes that inner compass needs a tiny bit of tweaking and recalibration.

When was the last time you checked in with yourself or with a friend and asked where you’re ‘at’? 

A small but simple gesture.

There are many days when I wonder what I’m doing and why - but then I stop, take a deep breath and pause. And I feel the growth and I'm excited where the adventure will lead….


Thanks for reading... xx 

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