A couple of weekends ago, I went on a weekend trip aboard the Gran Azul (Big Blue), a fair-sized sailing yacht, to do my prácticas for the PER (Patron de Embarcaciones de Recreo — aka “Spanish boating licence”). I “passed”, if one can call it that — I don’t know if it was my school or just the general approach to certification here, but it was quite…what’s the word: easy? We were “rubber-stamped” on a lot of the required elements for certification. I suspect/hope there are more exigent schools and sailing clubs out there.

A similar sail-cruising course I took in Canada a few years ago was much more demanding — not to mention safety-conscious. That being said, this was an interesting social experiment: living on a boat with seven other men and our Captain/instructor; full Catalan immersion; practical jokes; ribbing (calling me yanquí, for instance); swimming while far out at sea; seasickness for all but me; excessive drinking (albeit not while on duty) and other shenanigans one might (or might not) expect.

Since then, I’ve been focusing my attention on a completely different topic: Nepal. It’s somewhere both Dulcinea and I have wanted to go for years. I’ve spent all my time exploring flight options (routings, pricing), trekking companies (how many are there to choose from? TOO MANY! and how to choose?), possible hikes to do, visa inquiries. This all culminated with me booking a trip for us in late September/early October. We’ll be trekking through remote areas of Nepal near the Annapurna Circuit, including multiple >5,000m passes (that’s 16,500 feet for you — ahem — yanquís ;-). Higher than any point in Canada outside the Yukon. And considering the highest point in Quebec is well under 2,000m, it’ll be quite something for me (Dulcinea has been just over 4,000m in the Atlas Mountains).

So there’s plenty to do in the coming month: immunizations (for me, of course she’s had ‘em all); visas from Nepal and India (hope this goes faster than my Spanish visa-obtaining experience); buying and breaking in new boots for both of us; gearing up; continuing our exercise routines for serious high-altitude hiking; making sure we have proper insurance coverage; you get the idea. There’s a lot.

Certainly, on one level, we’ll be roughing it. A bit more than three weeks tenting in remote regions (no Annapurna tea-houses for us this time, though we may regret that decision) will probably push beyond our comfort levels now and then (ha — yes, I’m known for the occasional understatement). But I do feel weird about the fact that we’ll have an entourage of something like ten people supporting just us! Ten people for two? Cook, cook’s boy, porters, guide, the list seems to go on forever.

It seems wrong, on one level, yet it’s the basis of much of the economy of the region. It’s a poor area, but one which does not rely on handouts. I know we’ll be shamed by how hard they work, and all that on our behalf. Well, we’ll have to see — I’m curious to see how it feels once we get there. In my fantasies we’ll have a very “authentic” experience, establish relationships and get a feel for the real people who live there. At the same time, I doubt this will happen: dropping in for a fully-supported trek strikes me as quite artificial. We don’t belong. Or do we? Hopefully, more come on that topic, in a couple of months!