SEAT S4 Chapter 3

Friday 28 August
14 Days until departure.


We’re almost down to single digits now. 14 days to go. 
If I'm honest, I was getting a wee bit worried about James. I hadn't heard from him in almost three weeks. I knew he was heading into Taliban controlled Pakistan. 
Sporting a British passport, it spells nothing but trouble should we ever cross paths with Osama's buddies. Especially in their own back yard! But late last night I got that familiar sound of an instant chat message and sure enough there he was on my computer again. He had survived and was watching the sunset from his $4 a night hotel room, eating a $1.50 curry. Best he'd had as well, he says. Looking at the photo he sent me of the view, looked like Pakistan heaven to me. 

My so called 'training' for the Himalayan region has fallen by the wayside and in its place have been David Attenbrough, Jeff Corwin and Michael Palin DVDs. Bathing Asian elephants, escaping one horned Rhino's, flights over the mountain tops on crystal clear days, endless photo opportunities, trying to avoid being electrocuted while riding on the roof of an Indian Express Train - all the things I have to look forward to sinking my boots into, and if I'm honest for the second time, I'm growing rather impatient. 

I'm over Sydney traffic. I want to see cows on the road, not cattle trucks full of them. I don't want to be stuck in traffic jams unless I'm riding my elephant to work. I'm over Sydney's weather. It's just 'nice', it's not a monsooning thunderstorm. I'm over the grey hum of the city - I'd gladly trade the skyline of skyscrapers right now for the sky scraping mountains of Nepal. Even Megan Fox has given way to a photo of sunrise over Mt. Everest on my desktop. 

Two weeks. 

The old knee injury has been playing up recently. For those that don't know, I wrecked my knee playing soccer when I was about 16 and had to learn to walk again on my left leg. Not pleasant. Occasionally she flares up again but nothing too serious. All I'm hoping is that it will hold together in the wild terrain of the third world. Guess there's only one way to find out; nothing short of diving right in. 'Spose I could always take a breather and talk awhile with those cheeky Makak's. 

So I'm here in 'nice' old grey Sydney, getting impatient, feeling excited, not training, working hard at trying to keep my mind on work instead of the Himalayas it keeps wondering off to. 
Two weeks. Two long, restless weeks to go before I'm breathing in some fresh mountain air. Or the smell of yak. 
I've always said that the world is my playground and at the moment I'm feeling like a child locked inside the house on a beautiful day. Let me out, damn you, there's a whole other world waiting there for me!

Chris is now back from Africa, and although he won't admit it, I'm sure he's a little jealous he's not coming with us. Never mind, mate. We'll find an old Rhino to replace you. 
His words of advice? "Don't take more than 100 photos because I don't want to sit through a lengthy slide show when you get back." I'm sure what that means in South African is "Have an awesome trip my friend, I sure do wish I was coming with you guys. Can't wait to see the thousands of photos you'll take. Be safe."