“It’s the best thing I have ever done.”
Coming away from this experience, I have found myself using this quote when people ask me how my trip was. The reality is, I just don’t have the words. Not just to tell the stories, but to express the feelings I experienced along the way. It’s not every day I’ve had to put a profound, life-changing experience into words.
Floating down the final gorge, after nine days of expedition madness, I experienced one of the deepest moments of reflection in my life. Embracing a teammate, we looked up from where we came, blown away by the magnitude of what we had just accomplished. It’s a moment cemented in my memories. That picture — steep-sided rock faces, a wire footbridge, a line of grazing goats, and a dugout canoe — felt surreal. I hadn’t even seen such a scene in movies, yet in that moment, it had become the new normal.
Adapting to a New Normal
Our team’s ability to adapt to the environment was incredible to witness. Coming from a world where convenience is king, we were thrust into an environment demanding complete self-sufficiency. It was a crash course in personal organisation. Beyond the kayaking, the trip’s success relied heavily on our ability to maintain equipment, manage kits, and support each other. Things that seem trivial in daily life — purifying water, or even wilderness loo logistics — suddenly became vital. Our basic needs and expectations were completely reset. Instead of worrying about traffic on the way home from work, we focused on our basic survival needs.
This level of personal admin doesn’t come naturally to me, I have to admit. Somewhere in this blog, I’ve already confessed my habit of not making my bed in the morning. But somehow, when the environment dictated it, I thrived. From dry bag management to camp jobs and keeping team morale high, I was in my element. Over the last 18 months, on my MDS journey, I’d already realised that I perform best when "s#*% hits the fan." It’s in times of struggle and stress that I excel, and this quality proved vital in Nepal.
Liberation in the Jungle
On an expedition, you become a complete rogue. Societal norms go out the window. Apart from strutting around in budgie smugglers, anything goes. Free from judgment and the need to act a certain way, you experience a rare form of liberation. It’s rare these days to truly be yourself. While I pride myself on being authentic at work, there’s always an underlying pressure to act as my “work self.” Similarly, in other areas of life, we play roles: spouse, parent, carer. In the middle of the jungle, none of that matters. Tigers certainly don’t care. I have a theory: you can only be your true self in two situations in daily life. First, in a life-or-death situation. Second, when you’re alone in your car. Perhaps that’s why we see so many road rage incidents. People are uninhibited.
A New Perspective
This experience really opened my eyes to the world we live in and how detached we’ve become from our basic needs. I’ve gained a much greater appreciation for what we call “normal” and am so grateful for the reset this journey provided.
I’ve realised that much of modern life is focused on convenience, speed, and endless productivity, often at the cost of true connection and fulfillment. In Nepal, I learned the beauty of slowing down and meeting the present moment as it is. Tasks that once seemed mundane, took on a new meaning. Our team became a community, with our days filled with acts of care.
Seeing a way of life I thought was subject to history books. Villages; a window to the past, served as a reminder that life’s richness often lies in simplicity — in noticing the beauty of your surroundings, cherishing the bonds you build, and appreciating the effort it takes to meet your basic needs. These moments of clarity are rare, and the expedition offered them in abundance.
Perhaps the most striking realisation was how adaptable we are as humans. When removed from the comforts of modern living, we didn’t just survive; we thrived. And in doing so, I’ve come to see that much of what we deem essential is anything but. Real essentials — water, food, shelter, and connection — are what matter most. Everything else is a bonus.
This newfound perspective has reshaped the way I view my day-to-day life. It’s not just about survival or pushing through challenges, but about finding meaning and joy in the simplest things. And for that, I will always be grateful to Nepal.
Conclusion
In the end, the lessons from Nepal weren’t just about survival or self-sufficiency — they were about reconnecting with the fundamentals of life and discovering the strength that emerges in the most unexpected circumstances. It’s easy to get caught up in the noise of modern living, but stepping into a world so far removed from my own gave me clarity. Perspective isn’t just about what you see; it’s about how you choose to see it.
Nepal taught me that life doesn’t have to be about the constant chase for convenience and perfection. Sometimes, the greatest growth comes from embracing discomfort, simplifying priorities, and fully immersing yourself in the present. These are lessons I’ll carry with me long after the river fades from view.
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