ON THE RIGHT TRACK
ON THE SINUOUS HIGHWAY west of Kathmandu, a throng of Indian trucks were making liberal use of their air horns, blasting strident musical tunes at oncoming traffic and any goats or humans who strayed too close to the road side. “Lovely scenery, very curvy,” my driver had told me of our route when we set off earlier that morning. Curvy, yes; but as for the views, I could only guess: a phalanx of billboards and a fog of dust and diesel fumes obscured our surrounds. It was not exactly an auspicious start to a week of tramping in the Himalayan hinterland.
Every few months, I feel the need to stretch my legs and defog my brain with a walking holiday, seeking out destinations far enough from the frenzy of city life but not too rough or remote that I don’t have good food and a comfortable bed when I need them. In recent years I’ve shaken out my bones in the countryside of Italy, France, and New England. This time, I was looking for somewhere closer to my home in Bangkok. A place with a mild climate and compelling landscapes where I could walk 10 to 15 kilometers a day.
An old friend of mine
