While I am amazingly grateful and still kind of surprised that everything went perfectly while I hiked to the foot of Everest, my very first day of the trip was a tad bumpy. Craig and I decided to spend two days in New Delhi before heading to Nepal to get our bearings and see a little of India before trekking into mountain country.

After 17 hours of travel, we landed in New Delhi at 12:30 in the morning bleary eyed. I patted myself on the back for being such a responsible traveller and booked a cab at the legitimate taxi service inside the airport. I had almost had my luggage stolen in China by a rogue taxi driver and had learned to trust no one. With a little number in hand, Craig and I headed into the humidity to grab our cab. We found our guy, paid the porter who insisted on carrying our bags three feet and headed into the chaotic city.

Five minutes into our drive and our cabdriver pulled off the road and onto a shady strip of sidewalk. “Tourism Bureau!” he barked. “Go see!” he looked at Craig and nodded, “you too.” Really? The official tourism office of New Delhi is on a shady street and open at 1 am for consultations? Even hallucinating from exhaustion I had my doubts.

Craig, who is blessed with more common sense than I am, inferred that they were trying to get us to leave our bags so they could steal them. Now I know sweaty polar fleece in an array of pastels isn’t exactly life changing, but I wasn’t about to let some scoundrel run off with my Patagonia. So Craig stayed with the luggage as I went in and chatted with some con men who lied about the location of our hotel and tried to force us to stay in the fleabag next door. Luckily, we remembered that we had seen a Radisson Hotel right next to the airport and begged our shady cab driver to take us there.

“Too expensive!” the driver declared and sat behind the wheel. But finally we convinced him with some hard earned rupees to head back towards the airport and to drop us at the Radisson.

Yes, it was $400 a night. And I would have paid $800. It was luxurious, clean, sporting enormous beds and free of swindlers trying to steal my ergonomic backpack. So after Nepal, we went back to the Radisson and they even provided me with my 30th birthday dinner, ordered off the kids menu and eaten in bed.

My favorite picture from New Delhi. This girl was just looking out at a garden and I happened to snap her as she stood in a doorway.

My favorite thing about India was the colors. Head to toe pink and yellow - in India it looks fantastic.

A doorway redefined.

The Radisson! Oh the luxury was soooo nice before and after the mountains of Nepal.

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I’m home! God bless drinkable waters and the plentiful air at sea level! Life at 18,500 feet sure aint easy, but wow is it beautiful. I’ve been home for 24-hours now and I still can’t believe that I stood at the base of Mount Everest and looked up to see the highest point in the world. What a way to turn 30.

I didn’t get sick, my brain did not swell from the altitude and I was not robbed by armed bandits. But man, was it harder than I thought it was going to be. 12 days of straight hiking, sometimes for 10 hours a day, is a real kick in the pants. It feels like you are slowly running a marathon uphill with a backpack on. In reality, you are walking really slow because you’re gasping for breath, but it feels like you’re sprinting while your quads are crying and your knees remind you that you’re not 15 anymore.

But then you look up and you see the most beautiful mountains on planet earth and the pain slowly fades away. And we had much more than mountains to see. We met incredible people who invited us into their homes, let us pray in their monasteries, and fed us for next to nothing.

The sherpa families who live in the hills near Everest exist in a region with no roads, no cars, very little electricity and a lot of beauty. Many make their living as porters or guides for treks, as our guide Kansi did. Kansi has climbed to 27,230 feet and lost his older brother in an avalanche on Mount Everest. He promised his mother he would never climb it from the Nepal side, as that is how his brother died, but told us that  if he had another chance to go up, he would as it pays well and he has to support his family.

Without Kansi, I don’t know if I would have made it to 18,500 feet. It certainly would have taken me a week longer and I probably would have cried every five minutes. But Kansi told us all about the region when we hiked and taught us that when you’re up there, marching from sun up to sundown is just a way of life. Porters do the same routes with 220 pounds on their backs.

Would I do it again? I don’t know. But I’m thrilled I did it once. It tested and pushed my every limit, and I hope I came out better for it in the end.

Roscoe, our amazing porter, with a little girl in Tengboche.

Lakes right off the foot of Everest.

I love this picture because it looks like I took it from an airplane, but really we just hiked above the clouds.

Prayer flags blowing in the wind, which are all over the Everest region.

Here I am with our wonderful guide Kansi!

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I now own a kangaroo scrotum. That’s right. Kangaroo balls in layman’s term. Now why do I own this mighty item? Because my friend Lauren is an original. And rather awesome.

She is a tad worried about me going to Nepal and up part of that great mountain. So instead of nagging me not to go, she bought me a lucky talisman. While some might wrap up a rabbit’s foot or a few lucky pennies, Lauren went rogue. She read that the youngest person to ever climb Everest, Jordan Romero, carried kangaroo testicles with him all the way to the top. They were given to him by a young friend who has cancer, and Jordan carried them with him during his whole journey.

Lauren was originally going to buy me kangaroo testicles, but the only ones she could find on the market were attached to a wine opener and she was afraid they would be confiscated by a very confused TSA. So scrotum it is! And being the benevolent soul that she is, she also bought Craig a scrotum. So together we have a set and they are going up that mountain with us. Thank you Lauren, you are my partner in silliness always and forever.

Lauren, the kind kind scrotum giver.

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The first outdoor adventure I really remember is when my girl scout troop (Maryland 1001, woot woot!) went camping around Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Most of the girls abandoned the tents to sleep in Volvo station wagons and I remember that the things I cared most about packing were several shades of lipstick (to play dress up with after hours of course). I probably had a pink Barbie sleeping bag or something, but I remember that I was required to have a mesh bag to string up my dishes in and that my parents bought that bag from Hudson Trail.

Fast forward a few years and I found myself at Hudson Trail a lot. Mostly because I was kind of a hippie and wanted to look like I could live in the wilderness at any moment. Yes, it might be third period geometry class, but I wasn’t happy unless it looked like at any time during the lesson, I could run out and live like a young wolf on the Appalachian Trail. I also frequented the store for actual products I could use while trekking, like my trusty Vasque boots (still going strong on my feet since 1995).

This weekend, I threw down several hundred dollars at Hudson Trail buying things like $50 Gore-tex hats that I hope keep the leeches from feasting on my head. That’s right, I’m heading to Nepal during the height of leech season. I also bought a lot of pink fleece, waterproofer, 100% Deet, a travel pillow that folds into the size of a tissue, and those ever so fetching zip off pants. I know, sounds like a Miss America check list.

What I love about Hudson Trail is that it feels like a store for real outdoors people. The ones who eat bark and summit Everest backwards. None of this soccer mom who likes to do yoga in the backyard nonsense. No, they cater to the real deal. And I’m definitely not saying that’s me, but I like to pretend it is when I’m buying leech blocker.

I'm the one in the raft with the bug net on my face, thus it looks like I am the girl without features. And yes, even in 1995, I was buying my bug nets at Hudson Trail.

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Besides President of the United States, Wade Davis might have the most coveted job in America. I mean, Explorer-in-Residence for National Geographic? Who knew that even existed?

I went to Wade’s house this afternoon for a photo shoot I’m doing about people’s favorite spaces. Wade has an incredible office designed by architect Travis Price that looks like it would be suitable for a cross between Indiana Jones and Denys Finch Hatton. It’s beyond fantastic. First of all, if you’re short a spear, ceremonial headdress or book on Haitian zombies, it’s the place to come. My office has a picture of Tim Riggins from Friday Night Lights in a questionable pose, but that’s because I’m short a few archeological relics.

After Wade told me about working on his 15th book, and showed me where he keeps his works on psychoactive plants, I mentioned that I was headed to Everest this summer. “Nepal or Tibet?” he asked as I explained that I haven’t started planning at all. Wade suggested I skip all the tourist hoopla and go the road less traveled by. Really? Is there an overwhelming amount of foot traffic on Everest? Is it like Mount Fuji where grandmothers are kicking at your heels? Perhaps for an official explorer it is. Naked Thanks to Wade for inspiring me with his career and personal space. I think I’ve found my next career to covet.

Wade Davis' office designed by the supremely talented architect Travis Price. In actuality, the room is overflowing with books and spears and relics from all over the globe, which makes it even coooooooler.

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