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Sixteen men, each at a different stage of manhood, are waiting. I look around at the tents, tables, chairs, gas bottles, a gas cooker, cooking pots and of course our bags sprawled on the ground, near the open belly of the bus. The hunched men start down the trail, carrying loads that weigh as much as they do - if not more - on their backs. I watch my bags bump along the path & eventually disappear. I draw in my courage & breathe out my fear as I hand my travel pass to the park ranger to stamp. It’s official. I’m on the Annapurna path. The path is steep & unrelenting. Pain and discomfort slowly permeate my body. It’s me versus the nature. Although I’m not alone, I feel solitary, walking in a single line behind Jerome’s yellow jacket. Once at camp, I seek refuge in our tent, where my husband joins me. “How ya’ doin’, kiddo?” Tears begin to pool and I look away. “It’ll be fine. You’re a fighter! You can do this!” all of which he knows is true. I turn back to look at the man I love. He smiles, knowing he can’t say anything more. I have to do this. As we advance, the days melt into a timeless blur of events, punctuated by the mechanical assembling & dismantling of the camp. One morning, the clouds are low and full. The cold sprinkle swells into a full-blown downpour. I feel each drop pelleting down on me, eroding my will to continue. Slowly waves of tears roll off my cheeks and mingle with the pearled raindrops on my jacket. Once at camp, I collapse into the folding chair. “Allez, chérie! You can do this!” “I don’t wanna do it anymore. I wanna go home,” I blubber. “Come on, Sue, you can do it! Where’s that fighter I know and love?” A porter approaches with a metal plate of food. I hold up my hand before he comes too close. I don’t want curry again. I want comfort food. I want something that would have been introduced into my body during my formative years. A hamburger. Oreos and milk. Nachos… I see the crew huddling under the cooking tent. I’m sure they’re talking about me. “What’re we going to do with the big baby over there?” I imagine them saying. “Does she have any idea the only way out is the same way she got in?” Finally the guide leaves his counsellors & comes towards us. “Jerome, can I speak to you, please?” “Sure.” “Alone.” Jerome accompanies the guide to the tent, where he stands a good thirty centimetres above the group. I watch Jerome laugh, happy-go-lucky. He finally returns, kneels and takes my hand. “Chérie,” he starts. Smiling, almost trying to contain his laughter, he looks me solemnly in the eyes. “They want to carry you in a basket.” “What! Are you serious? A basket?!” I explode. I see myself folded in two with my legs & arms hanging out of the basket strapped to his forehead. “On his back? No way!” Jerome watches me, waiting for my anger to subside. Defeated, I turn to meet his blue eyes. “It’s your only option if you really can’t walk any more.” “A basket?” He nods. “Okay. I’ll walk.” “That’a girl!” “Is my lunch still available?” “Boss, she’ll walk! Can you bring her some food, please?” I stand up to pace, shaking my arms like a boxer going back into the ring, without the fancy footwork of course. Too tired for that. I’m up & fighting. That’s about all I can do… On the eighteenth day, the weary travelling circus is leaving the Annapurna. Our guide's holding the same white scarves I saw in the airport. He places a scarf around our neck and bows. “Namaste,” he says. The divine in me acknowledges the divine in you. “Namaste,” I say as I bring my hands to my heart and bow to honour the divine of this man, of his team, and to express my gratitude for having brought us back safely. “You are stronger than you think, Sue. Do not fight your surroundings. Mother nature is harmony. Find that harmony. That’s where your strength will grow.”