RFC (Robin’s Fried Chicken) - Nepal

Coming back into civilisation after being in alpine territory (above 5000m in altitude) is the best lesson in life appreciation you can get. At base camp everything was dead and grey and the only life we saw consisted of hawks and the odd ferret. The cold ice infected everything. There were no fresh vegetables; no meat, and mostly rice and potatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But after we crossed the pass on our way back from Baruntse, life returned. It came back in tiny green spurts of leafy shrubs, in tiny purple alpine flowers, and then little bursts of energy and song as finches began to flutter across our path. The world became a magical garden full of treasures that no evil could penetrate.

And just when we were revelling in life and its beauty, glorious food began to grace our plates. Fresh vegetables appeared for dinner; mushrooms, tomato and spinach… and fresh fruits for dessert; sweet sweet bananas... and then, wonderful Robin, our cook popped The Question:

“ Would you guys like to have some Chicken!?”

Chicken!!?? The only meat we had eaten, or tried to eat for the previous 2 weeks was canned spam! Chicken sounded heavenly. Chicken sounded divine. So he bought some local chickens - animals we had just walked passed on the trek, and curried and fried them for our lunch. While it might have been oily and dry, and somewhat reminiscent of KFC, it was still the best chicken I have ever tasted; Robin’s Fried Chicken, and it became known fondly as RFC.

That night, the sweet water of the shower helped cleanse away weeks of dirt. Then the warmth of the night felt like a long awaited snuggle. Ahhh, to sit inside a house warming hands by a toasty fire; to sleep without my feet feeling numb, frozen and belonging to someone else; to sleep naked, without thermal layers upon layers; to go out to a real toilet at night without putting on mountaineering boots and a down jacket. Life was gooooood.