Why do we crave adventures that make us question our sanity?

Having recently completed the Everest Base Camp trek, I find myself haunted by a few burning questions: What is it about seeking risk, danger, and extreme conditions that makes us feel alive? Why do we voluntarily throw ourselves into situations where comfort is a distant memory, and sanity seems like an afterthought?

I mean, I just spent weeks trudging through some of the most unforgiving terrain on Earth, battling subzero temperatures and the smell of my own unwashed self (we’ll get to that), and yet… here I am, already planning my next misadventure. Because apparently, climbing a mountain that doesn’t even have a shower at the end isn’t enough for me.

Limits, Schlimits

There’s something about pushing yourself –physically, mentally, emotionally – to the absolute brink that makes you feel more alive than ever. It’s like life pulls back the curtain and says, “Oh, so you think you’re tough? Let’s see how you handle frostbite and a desperate need for deodorant.” And somehow, you thrive.

But it’s not just about the personal challenge. No, trekking to Everest Base Camp also brings some philosophical ah-ha moments. Like realising how hilariously insignificant you are.

Picture this: you’re a tiny speck on a spinning rock in an infinite universe, worrying about your patchy lawn or that pimple on your chin. Meanwhile, the Himalayas don’t care. They’ve been standing tall for millions of years, laughing at us mortals and our silly little problems. It’s humbling. It’s mind-boggling. It’s also slightly offensive when you realise that, yeah, your grass or your pimple really doesn’t matter.

The Cold, Hard Reality

Now let’s talk about what really pushed me to my limits: the conditions.

• Nightly temperatures: a brisk -25 to – 35°C.

• Daytime temperatures: still very much below zero.

• Showers: Oh wait, what showers?

• Toilets: Let’s just call them “character-building exercises.”

There was no warmth, no fireplaces, no heaters, no electric blankets. You’re cold? Tough luck. You layer up and pray that your thermal socks don’t betray you. I spent over a week in this freezing wilderness, realising just how little we actually need to survive. It’s the ultimate crash course in needs vs. wants.

And honestly, I survived. We all do. Humans are surprisingly resilient creatures when there’s no other option. But let me tell you, there’s nothing like coming back to civilisation and rediscovering the joy of a heated room, a proper shower, and – bless the universe – Japanese toilets. Warm, magical, high-tech wonders. I wept.

The Takeaway

Adventures are amazing. They push us, challenge us, and give us a high that can’t be replicated. But let’s not kid ourselves – coming home to modern comforts is chef’s kiss.

So, here’s my advice. Go seek adventure. Chase the treacherous paths, the lofty summits, and the questionable hygiene standards. But when it’s all said and done, embrace the soft towels, hot meals, and yes, that life-affirming button on a Japanese toilet. Because sometimes, adventure is about realising how great it feels to come home.