On the 20^th May 2001 I kissed my husband John goodbye at the Leeds Central Bus Station. The roads were very quiet, because it was 7.50am on a Sunday morning. It seemed the world had not yet woken up. The weather was surprisingly mild, just a few scattered clouds in an almost clear blue sky. I had a hangover and was dreadfully depressed at leaving Felicity, my little girl of 10 years behind. We had to leave her in bed because I couldn’t stand to see the tears in her eyes as I left. She slept soundly, as I kissed her goodbye. The guilt nearly tore my heart out.

I arrived at the bus station with only moments to spare. John wanted to take a picture of me to mark to occasion, but he had forgotten his camera. I was so flustered; I just didn’t have the time. The bus crept silently out of the bus station and I cried until I reached Chesterfield, its crooked spire smiled down as if to mock me in the pale morning sun.

My mood suddenly changed. I ordered a cup of coffee and thought of my adventure ahead. I would be joining 104 other people; complete strangers of whom I knew nothing, other than like me they too wanted to do the 12-day trek in Tibet. A country I have loved since reading Heinrich Harrer’s "Seven Years in Tibet" in the late 60’s. The journey to Heathrow was uneventful, it took approximately 5 hours and I slept most of it. At the airport I rang Felicity to say that I was sorry and to tell her how much I love her. Feeling much better now, I decided to eat some food. I had a Mozzarella and Basil sandwich at a highly inflated price and then I dragged myself to the bar where lots of trekkers had already accumulated. You could easily distinguish them by their Trek Tibet t- shirts. As I approached, one of the chaps, who would eventually be a part of my team, said, "This one really looks like trouble!" I felt like saying "You ain’t seen nothing yet!" I waited an eternity to get served and then I downed a very refreshing pint of "amber nectar". I sat down and felt strangely, completely at home, with a bunch of people I had never met before.

Our flight was to be with Pakistan International Airways and our "take off" was delayed by about 50 minutes or so. I have never flown with them before and so I was rather surprised that after the normal "safety blurb", we were subjected to a rather beautiful prayer to Allah asking for a safe journey through the heavens. We arrived in Dubai about seven long hours later. This airport makes Bahrain airport look scruffy. It is huge, a giant atrium with lost of stainless steel balconies. It looked like something from a science fiction film.

We arrived in the middle of the night and I sat alone in this wonderful oasis of quiet and calm, almost in a dream like state. Listening once again to the beautiful prayers of an alien culture and religion.

We are back on the plane now. I share my journey with Thelma, a lovely lady, with a big personality; she raised over £5000 for MENCAP. Peter, on my right, introduced himself and we chatted for some time before he admitted that he was our trek doctor. He is probably about my age and he comes from Windsor. We share the next leg of the journey from Karachi to Kathmandu and he gets the window seat. We talk a lot about our travels and life experiences and we get on well together. Finally we arrive in Kathmandu, it looks to me as though we are landing in Wales somewhere. I have always wanted to go to Kathmandu and now that I am here I wonder what the fuss is about. We are all very tired, it is now teatime on Monday and our hotel is the Gangjong in Lazimpat. It is Tibetan in character and it is near the Thamel area of Kathmandu. We all go to our rooms. I share with Thelma. The room is very comfortable and spacious. It must be a 5 star. We shower quickly, dress for dinner, then we’re off on a coach ride to a Tibetan Monastery, where we are lucky enough to meet the chief Lama. He sounds just like the Dalai Lama, even down to his little giggle and we are all very moved by this man’s "God like" serenity. Trekkers pose questions to this wise and courteous man and listen attentively to each word. We are all beguiled by the beauty of this place, each detail is taken in. We are photographed as a group. Lots of monks come to greet us with their huge "Cheshire cat" like grins. We are taken on a journey passed prayer wheels, turned by saffron robed monks with shaven heads. The Gompas are gleaming pure white, even in the soft light of the evening, and they contrast heavily with the gold and red of the Thankas, that hang like giant carpets from heaven. Yes! We are all in awe. We are taken to a far corner of the monastery, where Nepali and Tibetan women serve a meal to us. Beer is also served up. Not what one expects from a place of worship but nevertheless much appreciated by this bunch of foreigners far away from home. Some ageing hippies, who have probably forgotten to go home after the 60’s, serenade us with great "gusto".

They are American and are obviously making a good living here in Kathmandu. After our meal we are taken down dark alleyways to the famous Bodhnath Stupa, with its third eye. We hear chanting and prayers, bells ring out through the darkness. We join the motley parade of Tibetans, Sherpas, Bhutanese, Ladakhis and even the occasional Thai or Japanese monks as they circle the huge stupa in a clockwise direction, twirling hand-held prayer wheels. The air is warm with a smell of incense hanging sweet and heavy. I remind myself this is why I travel. Back to more earthly matters now, we are in the bar at our rather fine hotel. Everyone is chatting as though they have known each other for decades. I remind myself that I don’t really know these people but it takes some convincing.

Tuesday I awoke to a thunderous headache and the news that the Chinese wouldn’t let us into Tibet. I couldn’t believe it. It’s the second time I have been stopped from going there. Some things are obviously not to be. We are given an appropriate challenge in Nepal trekking around the Giants of the Himalayas. The trek will be slightly longer, climbing up to 15,000 feet with dramatic scenery. So we are told. MENCAP paid for a group visa. So why have the Chinese now decided that they will not allow large groups into Tibet? Surely, they should have refused the visa in the first place.

We leave Kathmandu by bus and spend the morning travelling through mountainous terrain to our first camp. Already we are noticing the thin air. Walking with a backpack will not be easy. We decide to go for a stroll to get acclimatised. I am by now bored and decide to go for a further walk. This time I walk with Barbara, she is Polish and a keen photographer. We photo the prayer flags and on the way back we meet with a schoolteacher, who begs us for pens and paper for his tiny classroom above a barn. It is food time and we start with the first of many vegetarian meals.

The good doctor tells me about his family who come from Halifax. He goes back there to reflect occasionally. I think he likes my accent because he is always asking me questions. We retire to the bar where our Sherpas are entertaining us with their music and songs. What a jolly lot! Pity they only know one tune, which we will hear each day of our trek. These are very happy, smiling little people, who have nothing but the intense joy and enthusiasm for life that they exude. I have my two pints and join in the dancing before I go to my tent for sleep, or so I thought. Sleep. What’s that? The tents were so close together you could hear people snoring, bodily functions and the world’s loudest cuckoo that I would have gladly nailed to the tree if I could. Since we were nearly all wide-awake someone decided to tell Yak jokes as the rain battered down through the long, long night.

Wednesday, daylight at last. We strike camp very early, our pattern will be the same each day. Up with the dawn and bedtime after dusk. Today we have a gruelling 3 hour bus journey to Betrawati. After a few hours on the sweaty bus it was our toilet stop. Boys on the left, girls on the right. I decide to climb up a little way while others squat in the deep grass. Not a good idea dear friends! Most of the girls and boys got leeched. I was very lucky indeed choosing the rock instead of the grass. Our medics decided that leeches are not too bad. They do not infect you with anything, and they leave a tidy hole on your skin, and when they have had enough they just drop off on their own. Not much consolation for those covered in blood, I thought. Shorts and skirts were ruined. Not much chance of washing the blood out either. Next our journey was halted by a landslide. The lorries looked like a circus on the move, with their brightly painted, colourful intricate details. The road had a huge boulder on it. The traffic was edging its way around and trying not to fall into the deep ravine to one side. I think the monsoon will be upon us soon. We have come too late! If will not be the last landslide we will see. We reach Betrawati by lunch-time. It’s a very hot and steamy day. Not the best time to start walking. Our trek begins, at first it was like walking around the waterfalls at Ingleton, then it got steeper and steeper and steeper. My little legs were burning. Our trek was 14k to Kalikasthan and my guide was Paul, who looked just like John Leslie an ex Blue Peter presenter. We walk through many villages, up and up. The path now consists of deep, steep, and difficult steps, especially for people with short legs. How long can this go on? My sense of humour is deserting me! It’s too hard! Up and up we go everyone is desperate. My legs hurt so much! Why didn’t I train harder? The foot and mouth epidemic didn’t help much! What am I doing here? I switch my brain off.

Finally, we reach Kalikasthan at 1800m. It was a very hard and relentless climb continually upwards. I have been told that my nickname is "Duracell" because I never stopped walking. Reflecting on that day most people got sunburnt as well as leeched some even had blisters even though boots were supposed to be worn in properly. Altitude does funny things to people, we are all very emotional, including the boys. When I arrived in the village I heard a local man praying out loud. He seemed so involved he didn’t even notice me. His words I didn’t understand but his obvious devotion was so moving that it made me burst into tears.

I got to my tent and had a well earned rest. Later Barbara, her diminutive was Basha, arrived. She was shouting her head off and saying that her gear had gone missing. I sympathised with her but told her that I was sure her things would turn up eventually and they did. Thank God! Otherwise life would not be worth living.

Later, after the vegetarian food, we were treated to a concert by the local schoolchildren. Small and innocent with lovely smiling faces they sang us songs so that we would donate pens and paper to their tiny school. We were all fighting back the tears then. Well! Its dark now lets have a couple of beers and so to bed to sleep. Wrong! The same unmistakable cuckoo now called the MENCAP CUCKOO (we pictured it wearing a mencap jumper) was happily singing its merry little song throughout the night. The rain came down, thunder roared and lightening flashed, the tents leaked and no jokes tonight. I wonder why?

Thursday morning early, might as well get up haven’t slept a wink, let’s pack up a very wet tent. What a wonderful life! We have our vegetarian breakfast, strike camp and the lovely Nepalese children bring me flowers, about six in all. What a lovely gesture! I will need more than flowers for my next 24k to Dhunche. I start my walk with Anna, she is 56, and from New England and very, very fit. She speaks a few of the local languages and about 5 years ago, she gave up everything in Canada, to come and live in Nepal, and she loves it. Our walk goes up and up. Village after village it’s almost surreal. The villagers all stand in silent vigil until we finally disappear. I move from group to group. The people here are Tibetan, they have come across the passes to live in the mountains of Nepal. They are beautifully colourful. They have wonderful faces with great bone structure. The children are heavenly they smile and ask for nothing. The road contours out now, it goes on forever, round and round we go, village after village it is very verdant here. Lots of children are playing and women with voluminous dresses are busily working in the fields, carrying huge haystacks. I am on my own again. I am walking on something that resembles an uphill motorway construction site, which "zig-zags" up the mountain for hours. I bump into my group again. We talk and suddenly a little face looks at us from a ditch. It must be a Nepalese version of a playpen. Daddy is helping to construct the road while babysitting. We walk on and on and it’s getting steeper and steeper. The air is thin and I am beginning to feel tired. I decide to stop and eat lunch. Ah! Peanut butter sandwiches. What’s this-an egg? Wow! Anna comes from nowhere, we have a little chat and she disappears again. I am alone. I round a corner and bingo there is a chai shop with lots of fellow trekkers. Chickens everywhere, snotty nosed little urchins with ragged clothes abound. I have a tea and off we go again. I walk for a while with Lucy, she is our other trek doctor. She is tiny like me and much fun. Her sister lives in Ilkley, but she lives down south somewhere. I move on between groups I have no idea how many groups I have walked with today. Eventually I am on my own again. I walk for miles and miles. It’s mainly on the flat now. I see fabulous waterfalls and lovely scenery. There are lots of not too nice kids around here. I nearly start an international incident when some cheeky kids start pulling at my rucksack for sweets, pens and chocolate. Finally I get rid of them. Its quiet now, just me and my thoughts and this relentless walking. My boots are playing up a bit. I hear a dog whimpering. I look to the left to see a black dog chained up. My eyes go back to the road in front to see a leopard about 50 yards ahead run across the road. I thought, very matter of fact. "I hope it doesn’t come back". It never occurred to me to be afraid. I was so exhausted I just kept going. How much longer? I round the corner to see toddlers playing in the road unsupervised. Is this place sane or what? I later spoke to my guide about this and I got "told off" for walking on my own. "People have been killed by leopards, you know". Very comforting I don’t think! I finally reach the Langtang National Park and the soldiers invite me in to search my bags. Have I got a video? If so then it’s 1000rupees or they will confiscate it. I have only about 1 mile to go to my tent. I am so utterly exhausted I could die on the spot. Why am I doing this?

Ram, an old porter with many treks behind him says, "I will put your tent up Madam, no money just friend". I know that he knows that I am bound to give him money to put my tent up, because I cannot stay awake for another minute.

Well a couple of hours' rest makes all the difference. I feel great! Barbara arrives "Where is Carol?" she asks. Everyone knows I am asleep in the tent, they say nothing. Later I meet the good doctor who says "How are you?" I say, "After finishing the walk I had to get someone to put my tent up for me, so that I could sleep immediately". He says "Thank God for that I was beginning to think that you were superhuman or something". Today we start an alcohol ban for four days due to the altitude. I have a beer to help me sleep then like a good girl I go to bed. Others stay up until 2am drinking whisky. Too silly!

Friday early, much too early, my guide is Harry. He is a cheeky Nepali who is probably about 20 years old and he is married with kids. I remember I walked with him a little on the previous day. He gives us all a name, mine is Budgee, it means Mother. Thanks Pal! We follow a valley and cross a river on a rope bridge, which is well constructed. I’ve always fancied traversing a rope bridge so I was delighted to finally have a go on one. The sun is shining and all is well with the world. My group, who invited me because of my walking ability walked very fast. Young Duncan only managed one hour then I watched him puke twice before I got Lucy to send him back to a lower altitude. Duncan’s dad who is a little overweight also went back. I was left with the very young and the very fit. Up and up we went for 16k with hardly a break. Actually we had a 20 minute break for lunch. Harry took my rucksack. I was beginning to wish that I were somewhere else, anywhere else. My group were fast. I heard comments like "My mum is younger than you and she couldn’t even walk to the shops". They adopted me and said I was marvellous. I don’t know what I would have done without their encouragement. We arrived to a tumultuous welcome. The group pushed me to the front. We had our photos taken. I was desperately suppressing the tears. What a welcome! No wonder it was hard we were the second team to reach Chandanbari at 3250m. We did it in 6 hours. No wonder my lungs were bursting. This place has another name, it is Sing Gompa. It is Tibetan, but it is almost like a little skiing mountain village with chalets. I decide to book a room because it is absolutely freezing outside. It costs me £1. As each group appears over the ridge they are shouted and clapped in and made very welcome. We have a lovely pot-bellied stove to sit around. We are all elated. The altitude sends you crazy. The sherpas told me they had a song at school. How does it go? Wo,wo,yea,yea. Does anyone know it? "Yes" I say "it is by Bobby Vee" "Please write down verses Budgee" and so that was my task to teach the sherpas "Love you more than I can say". I had to sing a verse or two myself, but the mountain air makes you feel giddy. So tonight I would be sleeping in a hotel. No! not a chance because our friendly neighbourhood cuckoo decided to move into the tree adjacent to my room.

Saturday up not so early. It’s our day off. What shall we do? I know let’s go for a walk! I have a wash it’s the first one in 5 days. The water is so cold it’s not true.

People are milling around. Chris, one of our youngest trekkers, is giving a Yoga session and a talk on Buddhism in the small village temple. He is wise passed his years. Our blonde, brassy and very pleasant hairdresser, has a chair facing the stunning mountain view and all the village children are having a free haircut. It is wonderful how each person is adding their own personal skills making a better world for all concerned. We have many masseurs and one psychologist.

It’s sunny and warm now. We’re off to the Gompa, it is only a mile up the hill. Up and up we climb. Nepali miles seem to stretch. Finally we reach our destination. Have I really made all this effort to see something that resembles a dales barn. Anyway at least we were able to see Rhododendron forests. Someone tried to tell me that leeches didn’t live at this altitude. Obviously no-one had told the leeches about this. We made it back as the mist came down and it was there that I decided to write my story in the Hotel Sherpa at Chandanbari.

Some say that there was a greater reason why we were not allowed into Tibet and that our fate should lie in this mountain village. A few days before we arrived in Sing Gompa the proprietor’s wife had an abortion in the hospital in Kathmandu. For what reason we do not know. This desperate Tibetan man begged our doctors to see to his wife. She had been haemorrhaging for days and was close to death. Unfortunately our doctors could do nothing. The sherpas could carry her down but the doctors said it would almost definitely kill her. A couple of kindly Irish girls on the trek shouted to the group, asking everyone to donate £10 for a helicopter to save this lady’s life. This we did and within 20 minutes the helicopter took off with the lady, and her family,and a very, very, grateful Tibetan man, who will probably love the British for life.

There was not a dry eye in sight and that included the locals.

Sunday morning guess what? No sleep! It is very cold and I buy a hat with earflaps to cheer me up. It cost £1.50 hand knit with lovely bright colours. Our group are very close now. We talk about our families, our hopes, our dreams, our likes, our dislikes. The walking is hard, the air is so thin and my lungs ache. We reach Chautara, at 3960m and my friend has a panic attack. We hold each other and weep. It hurts to breathe in. We are now situated on a small plateau. A couple of huge chalets are hanging over a big drop. Rooms are £1.00. Hoorah! We push our way in and out of the bitter cold. A lovely pot-bellied stove beckons us and we spend the day telling leech and yak jokes. The air is thick with wood smoke and we are all huddled together and beaming. We are glad to be alive at the top of the world. I order some chips to mark the occasion and a very milky sweet Tibetan tea. Tomorrow will be the big test. I suppose I am slightly worried and I go to bed early and have no alcohol. Barbara, my Polish bunk mate, stays up for hours fiddling with her cameras.

Monday I have had no sleep again. Where is that vociferous cuckoo? I want to strangle it. Someone decided to be sick under my window last night. Someone else, probably a sherpa, needs urgent hospital treatment-he’s probably got TB or something. A toddler was crying half the night. I am so tired I could scream. I am bad tempered I cannot wait for 105 people to have breakfast and anyway I detest porridge. I set off with my water bottle, looking like Neil Armstrong with an oxygen tube, and a small power bar that John gave me in England. I must get today over with as soon as possible. Every step is difficult. My lungs are not big enough. Trudge, trudge at least the scenery is worth looking at. White snow-capped Himalayan Peaks. There is no mistaking where I am today. I reach a ragged old-fashioned tent on a ridge. A Tibetan face beams out at me. Do I want pop, crisps, chapatti with honey, tea it costs 20 rupees. I want to continue my journey while I still have the energy. One of the first group shouts "No Carol. You are not going to be the first to the top". I reply," I couldn’t care less if I’m the first or the last I just want to get it over with". I am still not allowed to continue. Eventually, as more people arrive I am released. It is a very dangerous track now consisting of a narrow ledge with a couple of thousand feet to fall on one side. The path undulates and unfortunately it leans out towards the drop. A Nepali family rush passed. Women in saris and flip-flops, and men in similar garb. Are they sane I ask myself? I try not to look at the drop but occasionally the cloud clears to unravel breathtaking views of deep valleys, enormous torrents of tall waterfalls, some hundreds of feet high and beautiful snow-capped peaks. The path takes about 1 hour although it seems like 10 hours and eventually we arrive at Gosain Kund at 4380m. I have a bottle of coke at the cabin. The boy asks for 100 rupees. I say I only have 50 just to embarrass him. I tell him to take it back after I have a good swig. He looks completely flustered and rushes off. I later relent and give him a 100 rupees. These Tibetans are far from being poor. They wanted another 100 rupees for water. That’s more than most people earn in a day. Anyway we were told to leave our rucksacks in the cabin because we had to climb another 230m quite quickly. Even without the sacks it's very difficult walking in this rarefied atmosphere. We pass some sacred lakes, where Nepalis are bathing, and the water is freezing cold. Prayer flags are all around. We hear people chanting and gongs sounding. We are almost there. On and on we walk, up and up. It’s been two hours and we are still walking uphill. "Who said we were nearly there?" Lots more snow now. Just look at those peaks. Ahead are cairns and many, many prayer flags. My group are throwing prayer slips into the wind. The slips are of many colours. They contrast against the deep blue sky and the crisp white virginal snow. I collect some for Felicity’s scrap- book. I look at all the smiling faces. We are all delirious.

We have finally done it!

Hearty congratulations abound. We take photos and then sit in silence awaiting the next group to appear.

Roughly 30-35 people make it to the very top. For the rest of the trekkers it is too dangerous to have inexperienced people doing a ledge like that. These good people have endured so much, they are not experienced walkers they have had to come to terms with leeches, fleas, latrine toilets, endless uphill walking, they have trekked up to 4000m. What a marvellous achievement! Our team of 105 people have made over one quarter of a million pounds for MENCAP. They have helped so many people and they have given themselves a lifetime memory of perhaps one of the most amazing 12 days of their lives. I cannot thank my sponsors enough. I would do it all again tomorrow if I could.