You packed your trekking poles. You packed your blister plasters. You downloaded offline maps. And then someone asked what you would eat up there and you went quiet.
Here is the honest answer: mainly rice and lentils. Also cake. And one tea that will become the best thing that happens to you every afternoon.

My first trek to Annapurna Base Camp, I kept wondering why people kept climbing and staying up there in the condition they were in.
Coughing. Sneezing. All night long. Every teahouse, every night. I'll be honest - my first reaction was judgment. I thought: these people are sick, why aren't they turning back? Why are they being so irresponsible, dragging a flu up a mountain?

Every morning on the Camino I watched the zombie ritual.

5am. White fluorescent lights. Pilgrims sitting on the edges of their bunks, unwrapping bandages from blisters so bad I'd never seen anything like it in my life. Wincing. Taping. Hoping today would be better than yesterday.

I got lost in the Himalayas at 4,100 meters. Alone. With two phones and two SIM cards - and zero signal on either.
​It was late afternoon. The group had stopped for coffee, and I told them to go ahead while I tied my shoelace. One wrong path later, I was walking downhill into the most beautiful, completely empty valley I'd ever seen. Monkeys. Waterfalls. Not a single other person.

​When I decided to walk the Camino Primitivo, it wasn’t for a big spiritual awakening or a midlife “find yourself” quest. Honestly, it was logistics.
A full route - Oviedo to Santiago.
Two weeks - just enough time off before getting back to teaching yoga and VA work.
And it ticked my usual boxes: short, steep, beautiful, challenging. Perfect.

The shift from summer to autumn is like watching a tree turn gold—there’s beauty, change, and an invitation to let go. Summer was about expansion and radiance. Autumn, though? It’s about slowing down, gathering the lessons of the year so far, and preparing for the most productive months in the corporate world ahead—September to November.

​I can hardly believe I’m actually about to do this. In just a few days, I’ll strap on my backpack, pick up my trekking poles, and walk 320 kilometers across northern Spain. Two weeks, one foot in front of the other, through mountains, villages, and all the weather the Camino gods decide to throw at me.