The day we climbed higher than we ever thought we could.

We woke at dawn, bleary-eyed and aching from the day before, to one of the most glorious sights imaginable. As we unzipped our tents, the Himalayas greeted us in silence — peaks bathed first in a soft rose-gold light, then blazing gold as the sun rose over the ridges.

No photo could ever do it justice, but we all tried anyway.

Aches, Blisters, and Determination

Day four of trekking was always going to be a test. Our legs were heavy, our blisters growing, and we had a few aches and pains we’ll politely leave unmentioned. Thankfully, Julia, our trek doctor, was there with her magic tape, calm energy, and endless patience. What a woman — part medic, part mountain angel.

After breakfast, Atif, our guide, pointed upwards — way upwards. In the distance, high among the peaks, we could just make out a tiny temple.

“That’s where we’re going,” he said cheerfully.

You could almost hear the collective gulp.

The Climb

We began the long, steep ascent. Step after step, stone after stone — through pine forests, across boulder fields, up natural staircases carved by water and time. The higher we went, the thinner the air became, the quieter the chatter grew, and the more determined we felt.

Every now and then, we stopped to catch our breath and take in the view — the valleys dropping away beneath us, the snow peaks shimmering above.

And then, in the middle of this great uphill push, something extraordinary happened.

A Himalayan Birth

We came across a large herd of goats grazing on the slope, their bells clinking softly. As we watched, one goat was bleating particular loudly, and — right there in front of us — gave birth to a tiny kid.

It was incredible. The world seemed to stop for a few minutes as we witnessed this new life arrive, surrounded by mountain air and sunshine. Jackie and Tim, our resident farmers, stepped in to check everything was okay (of course it was).

It felt like nature reminding us why we were here — to witness, to respect, to simply be present.

The Summit

After four long hours of relentless climbing, we finally reached the temple — perched high above the clouds at over 3,000 metres.

We’d made it.

The view stretched for miles — ridges folding into one another, peaks piercing the sky. The sense of achievement was enormous. There were hugs all around, a few tears (happy ones), and a quiet, shared moment of awe.

The Himalayas quite literally — and emotionally — took our breath away.

Lunch, Laughter, and a Nap in the Sun

From there, the path wound down toward our lunch stop — a sunny clearing beside a little blue tent , aptly named Snow Line Café.

The sun was warm, we devoured our packed lunches and even tried an ambitiously named KitKat called Lemony Lime, and the view… well, you can probably guess. We sprawled across the grass, boots off, soaking up the peace. One by one, we drifted off into short naps, the kind only earned after hours of effort.

Theo’s fifteen minute alarm broke the spell. Back on our feet, packs on, legs groaning, we began the long walk back to camp — tired, proud, and already laughing about the day’s adventures.

Reflections

Sometimes the hardest climbs lead to the most beautiful views — not just the ones you see, but the ones you feel. Today, every single one of us discovered a little more strength than we realised we had.

Just one more step — that’s how you climb a mountain.

____

Please donate at Macmillan Cancer Support and/or The British Heart Foundation.