I'm back in Pokhara after finishing a 16-day trek through the Annapurna Range of the Himalayas. Simply put, it was the most physically and spiritually challenging and rewarding experience of my life so far.

The trek began on a centuries-old trading route that we shared with decorated mule trains and men transporting everything imaginable (live chickens, food, building supplies) to the roadless mountain villages, sometimes a month's trek away. We would wake early most days, walking between 3-9 hours per day, ascending or descending as much as 2000 meters at once. We stayed in teahouses, charming family-owned guesthouses that dot the trail in clusters and provide a cozy respite at the end of a long day's walking. They all serve the same committee-approved menu of dal baat (lentils, vegetables and rice) and other traditional Nepali fare as well as some western options of inconsistent quality (pizza, enchiladas, fried Snickers bars (!) ). In the higher altitudes, the menus became simpler (no butter or bananas, boo!) and we went without luxuries such as electricity and hot shower but the omni-present kerosene heater under the dining table and hot lemon ginger tea with honey soothed away the day's exertion.

We spent two days in Ghorepani, a village just below Poon Hill where, in clear conditions you can see an uninterrupted panorama of the Annapurna Range from afar. We watched at dawn as peaks played hide and seek behind the clouds. Here we cut over to a trekking-only path en route to our destination, Annapurna Base Camp (ABC), a natural amphitheater of staggering proportions where you're surrounded 360 degrees by 7000-8000 meter snow-covered peaks.

As we gained altitude, the trail rose through a multitude of climate zones that made me feel like we were emerging through layers of the earth's outer core. From the warm, humid rocky river gorge valley we ascended stone staircases between gorgeous green terraced farms, through thick bamboo, oak and Rhodedendron forests, slowly up through the temperate regions, rarely losing sight of the looming Annapurnas above us. Clothing layers came on and off as we made our way up, down, up, down, in rain, thunder, hail, and elusive sunshine. I spent more time in my 200-rupee rain poncho than in the $200 North Face Gore-tex jacket I've been schlepping around for the past nine months.

Finally we emerged above the trees into the cold barren alpine landscape to arrive in ABC in a snowstorm and I felt like I'd been plopped onto the surface of the moon. Visibility was almost non-existent when we arrived but we knew the mountains were there and waited patiently for them to make their presence known. At 9 o'clock, the sky cleared. Lauren and I went outside and gasped at the sight of the ghostly mountains looking almost blue illuminated by the full moon. The next morning we got up at 5 and climbed above a Tibetan-prayer flag decorated monument to Anatoli Boukreev, a famous Russian mountaineer who died in an avalanche in this very valley on Christmas day 1997. I sat there for hours, full of emotion and thought, gazing up from the depths of the Sanctuary at the imposing masses above me. Such power and energy these mountains hold. Later in the morning when the heat of the sun began to melt the snow, I could hear the rush of waterfalls and streams, the rumble of small avalanches and the deep crackle of a glacier moving beneath me.

We descended slowly by a different route than the one we took up, taking five days to do what most people cover in two. We took our time meandering through a lush sub-tropical zone we hadn't seen before. Thick with corn farms, thatch-roofed huts, waterfalls and dozens of species of birds and bright butterflies, the valley back out to Pokhara felt and smelled oddly like Thailand.

And now, a teeny geography and political primer for anyone interested. Nepal is a little country sandwiched between India and China. The Himalayas stretch from Pakistan in the west all the way to the far side of India in the west. 8 of the 10 highest peaks in the world are right here (including Everest, which I have not yet seen) and 80% of the population lives off the land in small villages scattered around the mountainsides.

The in-power political party is quite corrupt, as seems to be the trend in this part of the globe. Since 1996, the Maoists (the Communist Party of Nepal) have been waging a "people's war" against the incumbent government and ever since, much blood has been shed as the Maoists have fought to assert power in the country's most defenseless areas; the mountain villages. They kidnap and sometimes harm public servants, hold strikes (bandhs) that slow the country to a grinding halt and sometimes place bombs in strategic areas. The American Embassy, having issued continual warnings for years now about avoiding "non-essential travel" to Nepal is probably not psyched with my being here. This said, the Maoists have a strict "no harm to tourists" policy and I have not once felt threatened or scared for my safety.

Lauren and I saw Maoists during the trek. Two nights in a row they entered our guesthouse, wielding nothing but their photocopied manifesto to share with their captive audience. They resent the government's profit from trekking permit fees and now collect their own fee from trekkers to support their efforts. Low on funds and not desiring to support their tactics, we hid upstairs in our room both times and came down after they'd left. Makes a lousy story, I know. Don't worry, next time I have a story about our brush with real danger...