Affective science suggests that there are four basic human emotions: happiness, sadness, fear and anger. Some studies also include surprise and disgust. I hereby make the case for a new addition to the list(s) - "hot shower sour." It's one of those universal first world experiences. That sinking feeling you get when you realize, standing naked and cold at the edge of a shower with your hand under the cold water, that it is NOT going to heat up. You will NOT be having a hot shower today. The longer you hold out hope, the worse it gets. Hot shower sour is a terrible emotion and one worthy of serious consideration by the psychological community. I will not be signing up for the clinical trials but am happy to offer anecdotal evidence.

We are half way through a nine day trek on the Annapurna circuit in the Himalayan mountains of Nepal. After two full days of quad and calf searing ascent and a 5 a.m. sunrise summit of Poon Hill, our guide said the words we'd longed to hear. "This is as high as we'll go." At 3,210 metres, Poon Hill soars above the village of Ghorepani in the heart of Annapurna. It took us an hour to arrive at the summit in the darkness and chill of the predawn morning. As soft light slowly replaced darkness, the outline of the giants we'd come to see began to reveal themselves. Annapurna I, Annapurna South, Machapuchare (Fish Tail), Hiunchuli, Nilgiri and the highest of them all at 8,172 m, Mt. Dhaulagiri (the highest in the world outside the Everest massif), towered over us in panoramic splendor. To put this in perspective, the highest mountain in the Canadian Rockies, Mount Robson, is just shy of 4,000 metres - more than 4 kilometers lower than Annapurna. No sooner had we caught our breath and poured a cup of hot tea did the morning star peek out from the side of Nilgiri to bathe us in instant warmth and brilliant light. The hundred or so brave souls who'd begrudgingly climbed out of their warm sleeping bags 90 minutes earlier all oooo'd and awwwwe'd at the same moment. It was a primitive moment of celebration that we all agreed to savour for the rest of the morning, and the rest of our lives. We weren't exactly at the top of the world, but we were damn close!

Until Poon Hill, we'd only caught occasional glimpses of the snow-capped Himalayan peaks staring out sternly between the various hills we were trekking through. Each time we saw one it stopped us in our tracks, more powerful and ominous than beautiful. Everest may be the highest mountain in the world, but these marginally lower first cousins are far more treacherous. Annapurna, the 10th highest in the world, is statistically the most dangerous mountain in the 8,000 metre club. Machapuchare, or Fish Tail Mountain, has never been conquered, and likely never will. After a member of the original Everest summit team came within 150 m in the 1950s, the Nepalese government declared it a holy hindu site (Shiva hangs out there apparently) and outlawed further attempts at the summit. This makes it arguably one of the last places on earth untouched by humans (although there is a rumor that some crazy Kiwi did it illegally in the 1980s before dying on some other mountain a few years later). It is fearsome to behold, even from our safe vantage point deep in its shadow.

Our trek plan has us hiking from tea house to tea house along well marked but rugged tracks. At the start we were occasionally disturbed by the odd passing jeep or motorbike, but as we climbed higher, and the track narrowed, all motorized transport was replaced by mule train - the 18 wheeler of these high places. Every hour or so you hear the approaching "clang clang" of the bells these ubiquitous beasts of burden wear around their necks. Our guides are quick to usher us over to the uphill side of the track as, believe it or not, they can be, well, stubborn. I actually got pinned pretty hard against a rock wall by one who decided to rough me up a bit as he passed by. I wasn't hurt, but did feel guilty about the whipping the poor creature endured from its handler as it continued ahead of us up the track with its ponderous load. This is how every scrap of food, building material and other goods get to these high country stations and villages. It's a site to behold.

Despite our preference for independent travel, we decided to hire a guide and two porters from a company recommended to us in Kathmandu. The owner met us at the airport and got us settled in a lovely hotel in the heart of the City. We'd been warned that Kathmandu was a polluted, dirty city not worth dedicating more than a day or so to. After India, however, we found it utterly charming. Narrow and ancient streets lined with friendly shops and clean, inviting restaurants. We took a day tour to some of the impressive UNESCO World Heritage sites, most of which we'd never heard of, but won't soon forget. I was surprised to learn that Nepal has never been colonized. Somehow, likely with the help of its natural barriers, it has managed to protect itself from the various marauders that have passed by from all points of the compass. In fact, after failing to annex Nepal by force in the early 1800s, the British Army was so impressed with the Nepali soldier that they established a series of Nepalese units within in its own ranks that remain active to this day. The Gurkhas, as they are famously known, are reputed to be the fiercest and bravest soldiers ever to take the field of battle.

After two days in Kathmandu we flew to Pokhara in the northwest. Even more charming, this little city is the jumping off point for multi day treks into the Annapurna range. Until very recently, a three week trek around Annapurna was the preferred way to experience this incredible part of the world. Since a road was pushed through, however, trekkers now target Annapurna Base Camp, or a shorter loop from the base of one towering peak to another. Traveling as we are with two young children, our guide recommended the shorter, "easier" route.

Young children and "easy" be damned. After three straight days of climbing and descending, those little b*****s could worry about themselves. I was struggling. They were fine! I'm not usually one to heap praise on or about my kids, but as the sun came up on Poon Hill I was pretty impressed, not only by the fact that they'd gotten out of bed at 5 a.m. on a freezing, dark morning and climbed straight uphill for an hour, but that they were genuinely having fun doing it. On the way down we talked about what we would order for breakfast as wide-eyed late risers gasping their way uphill looked at them in disbelief. "Shouldn't there be an age limit on something like this?" I heard one exhausted hiker whisper to his guide. "Ahh, get stuffed," I said to myself - kinda.

After a great breakfast and a few games of cards we headed out on the trail again ready for a leisurely downhill run back to Pokhara. Within minutes I was trying my best to gasp out "WTF?" to Kumar, our trusted guide, as renewed fires blazed in my lungs and legs. We were heading up again! Way up. When we finally reached the top and rested, Kumar pointed across the massive valley to another, slightly familiar peak. "Poon Hill," he explained. "We were there this morning." Was that only this morning, I thought. "You told us that Poon Hill was as high as we would go on this trek," I protested. "Yes," he replied, "this hill is 20 meters lower than Poon Hill." At that point I wished I knew some Nepali profanity.

Our guide, Kumar, and the two porters, Min and Radu have become part of our family in the last few days. In addition to carrying our heavy bags and pointing us in the right direction, they take extra care to make sure the kids are safe and engaged and make route adjustments as required. At camp, they play endless games of cards with the kids and share laughs with us about the day's journey. On day three they really earned their stripes in a situation that began, in my view, as a guiding failure. Most of the day's climbing had been done in the cool of the morning. The snow was still crispy offering solid footing the whole way up. As we descended the mountain after lunch, the heat of the spring sun was turning the trail into a sheet of ice. We passed older trekkers paralyzed with fear of falling and met climbers coming the other way shaking their heads at the state of the trail ahead and below. Soon we were gingerly stepping our way from rock outcrop to tiny piece of dirt, praying each time that our feet would stick. All this on a very steep descent with sheer drops on one side. I was positive that someone would fall, crack a leg or a skull, or tumble over the edge. I was positive that person would be me. We heard reports later that there were, indeed, some injuries. It was a profoundly unsafe situation for us to be in, let alone with two small children who were oblivious to the danger. Down and down we went, slipping and sliding from one near miss to the next, lending a hand to other terrified tourists when we could. Despite putting us in this situation, the guide and porters were outstanding through it all. Although they were carrying heavy loads, they never let go of the kids, making absolutely sure they were safe. They tested safe routes for us before letting us proceed, and caught us by the arm or scruff of the neck when we slipped. We were relieved to make it to our tea house that night, despite having to do one more hour long climb on the opposite side of the gorge we'd just barely made it down.

The tea houses we are staying at are very basic. Some offer a luke warm shower and western toilet, others not. Others advertise hot showers and central heating, and fail miserably on both counts. For the most part we can rely upon a hot, nutritious meal and a soft mattress to lay our aching, exhausted bodies on when the day ends. Some places have a wood stove to dry clothes over and generate a bit of warmth, but as soon as the sun goes down, it is impossible to stay warm. As such, our evenings normally consist of a meal, a game or two of cards around the wood stove, a good tooth brushing and straight into the sleeping bag where, after 20 minutes of shivering, we start to warm up. The mornings are nearly as cold and climbing out of the sleeping bag to don cold clothes is nothing short of torture. Good times!

Soon though, the sun warms everything and we are walking along happily in short sleeve shirts and sun glasses remarking about how wonderful everything smells and how incredible the scenery is. It really does and it really is. As the sun starts to dry and even cook the leaves on the forest floor left over from last fall, I am reminded of walks in the woods on hot summer days in Newfoundland. The scenery is, at times, very much like Canada's boreal forrest - except for the towering white, jagged monoliths that stare silently down at us as we pass under them. And the deep valleys below, etched neatly with luscious green rice terraces and distant villages perched impossibly on the top or side of a mountain. Sometimes the scenery wants to make us break out into yodel. Other times we feel like stopping to meditate at the outrageous serenity of what lays above and below. It is all spectacular. It's no secret why this is the most popular place on earth to walk in the mountains.

Today we are enjoying a late-scheduled rest day at a lovey tea house in Ghandruk. Kumar knew, as did we, that our legs needed a break. The beds here are comfortable and the view simply incredible. We are enjoying catching up on our reading, homework and, thanks to some friendly Alaskans, playing endless rounds of a new card game that the kids haven't yet realized is helping them with their math facts. Last night we enjoyed a dance with the local people at an impromptu concert outside our guesthouse. We knew it was a real party when it kept going long after the last tourist went to bed. The Nepali people are genuinely kind and friendly. They look us in the eye, smile and cheerily say "Namaste" as we pass them on roads and tracks. What a difference from India where the stone faced staring seriously creeped us out.

All feels right with the world today. No one has spilled the beans yet on the outcome of the Superbowl. The pain in my legs is receding. I can breath normally. I now have clean socks and underwear and I'm making some headway on the ambitious biography of Alexander the Great that I picked up on the cheap in Delhi. Tomorrow we begin our three day walk back to Pokhara where I can almost smell the real coffee perking. Now, if I could only get some hot water to come out of this damn shower!

Namaste from high in the Himalaya.