If you can imagine a place so beautiful that merely
remembering it produces visions of such intensity that you feel as if you can
reach out and touch the flowers that grow in a place of natures most elaborate
grandeur. Meadows teaming with life, tumbling blue lupines and delphiniums, powder
blue and purple butterflies dancing, while sapphire blue jays hop on laden
branches of great Redwoods too old for their rings to be counted. Shinning,
silvery granite, smooth and round from glacial erosions, deserts so hot and dry
the sun burns fiercely soon after dawn and canyons deeper and wider than those
of any dreams. This was to be my next adventure and sweeter still it was to be
shared with my husband, Martin. Neither
of us had backpacked a long trail overseas before and for him it would be his
first time above 3000m.
I had somehow convinced my doctor to give me a month’s
supply of Diamox, I think he was resigned to the fact that I was going to go
anyway and at least I was equipped for the trip. The trek was a double one
as I would return home and fly out to Geneva two days later to complete the
Mont Blanc Circuit with the guiding company Exodus.
