We set off from the ruins of a 17th century monastery at 9,000 ft and begin to follow the Paro river up into the Bhutanese Himalaya for a 10-day trek. Six clients, a Bhutanese guide, a cook, four assistants, two horsemen, fifteen horses, and me.
Past farmhouses and fields, the forest becomes a mystical realm where Buddhist stories of demons and deities begin to feel perfectly possible. Old man’s beard drapes in long slender trails from every branch, and ferns cluster on trunks. A carpet of moss and lichen spreads over stone and earth. The air is damp with mist. We cross back and forth over the river on wooden bridges, clear water in a gentle tumult beneath us.
Two days in, I learn that our exit route is blocked. A bridge is out, and we won’t be able to walk to the capital of Thimphu as we planned. I consult the master book on Bhutanese trails and adapt: we’ll take an old route out through royal hunting grounds and our horseman’s village.
Life is often about perspective. Instead of being frustrated, I’m excited by the new route…enjoying the challenge and the unknown. In the developing world, nothing ever goes as planned. Why fight it? Why not revel in it?