Stirring Point

“Pinch me” moments do exist. Even after 20 years of serious traveling, select destinations still send a tidal wave of electricity pulsing through me. This week, I’ll fly to Dubai, then onwards to Nepal. And while returning to Nepal after a 13-year gap excites me, it’s the next stop on my trip that steals my breath. A destination filled with mystique and enigma awaits me—one closed to the world until 1974. It measures the well-being of its citizens through its Gross National Happiness Index, and it takes the results seriously. Fast food restaurants (besides a single Baskin Robbins) are non-existent. Development fees levied on tourists keep most backpackers away. Mountaineering is banned out of respect for the spiritual beliefs of the locals. Bhutan, in all its glory, is a traveler’s dream—and I’m finally going.

For the last decade, I’ve worked for Natural Habitat Adventures, a leading conservation travel company focused on small-group wildlife and natural history tours. Occasionally, space opens on a scheduled trip and as part of our compensation, we’re able to join a journey and audit the experience. Our November 2023 departure to Nepal and Bhutan recently saw a last-minute opening, and like an addict with a habit, I leapt at the chance to be back in the field. I’ve been home for only six weeks, yet a clear hunger for more worldly experiences has been gnawing at my stomach lining. I’m a traveler; it’s who I am. And no amount of domestic normalcy will shake that from my guts.

In 2010, I spent 23 days teahouse trekking through the hidden valleys and terraced rice fields of the Annapurna region of Nepal’s Himalayas. The experience was part of a solo “around the world trip” I’d taken, and the countless steps logged in the high mountain range delivered my first taste of lung-splitting altitude. Day after day, I craned my neck toward the tips of the 8000-meter peaks, smiling at the sky in fits of pure lunacy. Cresting Thorong La Pass at 17,769 feet left me stupefied and fiending for more. Local sherpas climbed hours on end in flip-flopped feet, hauling woven baskets filled with propane cans, sacks of rice, and cooking oil. I fell in love with the Himalayas and the gumption of its people, and I felt desperate to return. John Muir, the famous naturalist, once wrote, “You should never go to Alaska as a young man because you’ll never be satisfied with any other place as long as you live.” The mountains of Nepal left a similar residue on my clothing—a residue I’m unable to brush off to this day.

Since my time in Nepal—when Bhutan first appeared within arm’s reach—a dream of visiting the remote kingdom has taken root. It wasn’t a matter of “if” I’d see Bhutan, but rather a matter of “when” it’ll finally happen. And as I pack my bag today, I’ll be there within a week. My eyes will finally see the lush green lands of its Sub-Himalayan south, and I’ll soon gaze upon its gold-roofed Buddhist pagodas, backlit by the mountainous alpenglow of the north. I’ll trade smiles with local faces while I continually pinch myself to test my fortunes. Am I really here?

For serious travelers, Bhutan is a sacred fruit. And while some men measure their success by the quantity of physical fortune they’ve amassed, others look back at a catalog of experiences they’ve enjoyed in their lives, and the excitement and clarity those experiences have offered. For a guy who has just come home and begrudgingly kicked off his dusty boots, the chance to lace them back up, for Bhutan no less, feels like a dream.