After feeding us in his home, this Tibetan man went over to his son who was our guide, and briefly touched his arm. They hadn’t seen each other for months and the gesture wasn’t at all dramatic but it buzzed the air with its intensity. Father simply put his palm on his son Tenzin’s forearm. They barely looked at one another but they were linked by a huge bond and that little moment was golden for it was an acknowledgement. When we left, the man (who wore the classic “jagar shamoo” – ‘Indian hat’ of eastern Tibet) took a deep breath when watching his son take his leave, with what seemed like pride and sadness all at once. Another mountain moment that remains fresh, though it was almost a year ago.
Hector the Brave. Little Hector who only wanted love from his fellow pack animals and to be with our group, looks straight into the lens. At times the depth of the snow would lodge little Hector and his goods. His little legs struggled to find traction until someone from the team would dig him out and help him along. My morning ritual involved wandering out of the tent to find him and give him some snacks and love. Then, one morning I discovered Karma doing the same. Little Hector was living well indeed and I miss his stubborn spunk, and his seesaw cries every evening. I could easily write a piece on this epic little character. Honoured to have travelled with you!