We, as Western women, in a Muslim culture have had many unique experiences. The first day the Porters invited us to sit and share tea with them at camp. Alison and I happily accepted. We chatted with hand motions, and the few English and Balti words we each know. Basically we just laughed and enjoyed each other's company and tried to show our appreciation. Afterwards Alison commented that that was likely one of the few times, if not only, that they sat and drank tea and talked with women who weren't their family.

Today we stopped a few hours short of our camp. Bill has been hit with the belly bug and was suffering hiking in the hot sun. We decided to stop and rest and hope for better health for a big day tomorrow. Our Porters have graciously agreed to make up the missed distance tomorrow with a huge day. We have also entered the land of bouldering heaven. Grassy nooks speckled with boulders and stranded ponds, at the foothills of dramatic, beautiful peaks. I pulled out my shoes in excitement and played on a small boulder perched on the side of the river.

As for my injured ankle, the rest here will surely help, but I will stuff it in a hiking boot tomorrow and tough it out to base camp, doing my best to take care of it along the way, but it's not that bad. I guess being the middle child and only girl taught me to take a beating graciously. Also how can I look at the lives of these Porters and have any right to harbor self-pity. They are my inspiration.