Meeting HH The Dalai Lama and the unexpected gift he gave me

On October 10, 2022, I had the privilege of meeting with His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama at his residence in Dharamshala, India. The meeting was 17 years in the making. This is the story of how it happened and the message he shared with me.

With HH. October 10, 2022

During my early 20s I was a student of Buddhism at Tibet House in Mexico City. I spent years learning about this ancient spiritual tradition, about the history of Tibet and its spiritual and political leader, the Dalai Lama.

My first opportunity to visit Tibet was during August of 2004 when I climbed Cho Oyu, the 6th highest mountain in the world. Its summit marks a section of the border between China and Nepal. When that successful expedition wrapped up I travelled home. Back in Mexico, I was delighted to hear that His Holiness would be offering a series of teachings in Mexico City in October. The teachings would stretch over three consecutive days inside a large theater. I was lucky (or perhaps it was my karma) to get one of the last available tickets. My memories of the Dalai Lama during those days are of an exceptionally bright and charismatic person, with an uncommon mix of wisdom and sense of humor. I found that combination to be especially effective when it came to teaching complex spiritual and philosophical themes. I was part of a crowd of about 3,000 people and I was sitting near the back row of that huge theater. Still, I had the feeling that His Holiness was speaking directly to me. The Dalai Lama never gave the impression of being unapproachable. He never struck me as one of those "holier-than-thou" religious leaders.

Visiting Lhasa in 2004 during the Cho Oyu expedition

On the last day of teachings I took part of a ceremony lead by His Holiness to take refuge in the Triple Jewel. During the ceremony, I remember thinking: "one day, I would like to really meet the Dalai Lama and have a conversation with this great man". I wrote that in my bucket list.

2005, at the summit of Everest with the Tibetan flag.

In previous blog posts I've shared how, for my first ascent of Mount Everest in 2005, I took the spur-of-the-moment decision to carry a photo of the Dalai Lama and a flag of Tibet all the way to the summit. There are photos of me at the top displaying that flag and holding a photo of His Holiness. Before climbing down to our camp, I grabbed a fistful of rocks from a pile right next to the summit.

After the Everest expedition I flew back home and I printed a copy of those summit photographs. I put the photos in an envelope along with a rock from the summit. Finally, I included a very heartfelt and candid letter that I wrote to His Holiness. I sent the package to his office in India without any expectations. The Dalai Lama's office and home are in the Indian Himalaya, on the town of McLeod Ganj (sometimes referred to as Dharamshala, a bigger town right next to it). But I held on to the Tibetan flag. It was a reminder of that unplanned but special moment at the summit of Everest. A few weeks after sending the envelope I received this is the email from Mr. Tenzin Thakla, His Holiness' secretary:

I continued climbing all over the world reaching the summit of the highest peaks. I always climbed with the photo of the Dalai Lama. That special photo parted ways with me at the summit of K2 in 2018. But I kept the Tibetan flag at home. I didn't reach out again to the Dalai Lama's office. I was happy with the reply I got from his secretary.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, I realized that two things troubled me. First, I didn't feel like the Tibetan flag belonged to me. I felt like I was only holding it for someone else. Second, I felt it was finally time to try to meet His Holiness before it was too late. That's why in the summer of 2022 I wrote once again to the office of HH the Dalai Lama. I made an official request to meet him and present to him the Tibetan flag that made it to the summit of Everest. To my surprise, I received a very warm reply from Mr. Tenzin Thakla. After 17 years he continued to be the Dalai Lama's secretary. Since I was planning to be in India in October of 2022, he invited me to visit McLeod Ganj and meet with His Holiness. The meeting would be on the morning of October 10th, 2022.

McLeod Ganj

The day before the meeting, I took a flight from New Delhi to Dharamshala. During the afternoon, I wandered around the narrow streets of McLeod Ganj. They were full of Buddhist monks and nuns dressed in maroon and ochre robes. As I walked, I reminded myself of the personal significance of next day's meeting and of how fortunate I was for that opportunity. That night, I stayed at a very pleasant hotel overlooking the Tsuglakhang Temple, home of the Dalai Lama. My room had two small beds. I slept on one and I unfolded the Tibetan flag over the other.

Monks at Tsuglakhang Temple

At 7am on October 10th, I checked-in at the reception of His Holiness' office and I took the required COVID-19 test. Next, I went through a very thorough security check. When my few personal belongings were examined, the security guard saw the Tibetan flag and he said that I was not allowed to bring it in. He took it away. I pleaded with the head of security, insisting that the flag was the whole point of my visit. He also told me that Tibetan flags were not allowed inside the complex. Seeing no point in insisting, I gave up on the flag and I focused on feeling gratitude that I still had the opportunity to meet the Dalai Lama. The head of security escorted me to a small building in the forest, near the residence, that serves as a waiting area. I had only been waiting for a few minutes when a well dressed man walked in. He introduced himself as Tenzin Thakla, His Holiness' personal secretary, and he handed me back the Tibetan flag! I was ready to meet the Dalai Lama.

His Holiness' residence is in the middle of a forest. From the waiting area I walked uphill about 100 meters on a paved road to reach the entrance. Even before I saw the Dalai Lama, I heard his very recognizable voice from a distance. As I got closer, I saw a group of monks dressed in traditional robes, standing under a veranda. And right in the middle of the group the Dalai Lama was sitting on an ordinary office chair. When I saw him right in front of me, I felt grateful for the opportunity and humbled by the personal significance of this meeting. My mind went back 17 years when I thought "one day, I would like to really meet the Dalai Lama and have a conversation with this great man". The day had come.

Presenting the Tibetan flag to HH

I bowed in front of the Dalai Lama. Mr. Thakla approached His Holiness and, speaking in Tibetan, introduced me. He told him who I am, what I have achieved, and my reason for being there: to present the Tibetan flag from Everest to him. From the corner of my eye, I could see one photographer and one videographer capturing the moment. I was asked to approach His Holiness and offer the flag to him. The monks behind His Holiness spread the flag over his lap and I was asked to stand to his left for a photograph. Then came the moment I had wished for.

The Dalai Lama held my right hand as I told him of my experiences in Tibet, what he means to the Tibetan people and why I had climbed Everest with the flag. He kept my hand close to his cheek and listened to me in a kind and patient way. He finally replied and we talked a little longer. Mr. Thakla handed His Holiness the photographs I had sent him 17 years ago and a monk gave him a permanent marker. The Dalai Lama took one of the photos, wrote on it, and handed it to me. The photo was his parting gift to me. I was surprised as I didn’t expect to receive anything that day. With that, the meeting was over. I bowed and slowly made my way back down to the office area.

While I walked down, I tried to process the magical moment I had just experienced. My head was full of thoughts and my mind was enveloped by a warm feeling. I was so absorbed by my thoughts that I realized I hadn't even looked at the photo and the inscription! The Dalai Lama had written in an unfamiliar language. Back at the office I saw a monk and I asked him if he could translate it for me. He said no but he took the photo and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with the translation in English written on a small card. The Dalai Lama had written to me:

Happiness forever. (his signature)

Best wishes,

"Happiness forever". I understood it as His Holiness' wish for me but also as the most condensed life advice he could give me. In just two words the Dalai Lama had summarized the essence of all Buddhist teachings. What I consider the essence of the meaning of life. "Happiness forever". Seeking genuine, long-lasting happiness not only for ourselves but for all sentient beings. Two simple words. "Happiness forever".

It may take a lifetime (or even many lifetimes) to understand what real happiness is (and what it's not) and to achieve a state of continuous happiness. But the message is clear and simple. It's my new mantra. "Happiness forever".

Ultreia Et Suseia

Back to Marathon des Sables 2023, and how you can send me messages during the race

2017 was the first time I ventured into the Sahara Desert for this incredible adventure. Marathon des Sables (Marathon of the Sands) involves running 250km in 6 stages (the longest one over 80km) under some of the toughest conditions on the planet. The race is self-supported and I carried a 10kg backpack with my gear and provisions. And we were only given a limited amount of water for each stage. From that experience 6 years ago I remember the extreme heat, lots of sand dunes, and spending the nights under the stars. I also remember the feeling of accomplishing something great when I received my finisher medal at the end of the race.

MDS 2017

Wanting to live that experience again, I signed up to run one more time in 2020 but the organizers cancelled the race due to COVID-19. I deferred my entry until the spring of 2022 when I hoped that everything would be closer to “normal”. When I committed myself to traveling to Morocco, I had no idea that Prarthana, my wife, would then be almost 9 months pregnant. Her due date would be just 3 weeks from the day I was scheduled to return from Marathon des Sables. For her peace of mind, and my own, my parents kindly offered us to travel and stay with her during that time. In case she went into labor while I was in the desert, there would be someone to help her out during those initial hours and to drive her to the hospital. During the race, I would be checking my satellite messages often, and I could be back home within 24 hours to be there for the birth of my son. It all looked great. In theory....

The Bivouac, 2022

I travelled from Seattle to Paris on March 23rd, 2022. I landed at Charles de Gaulle airport the next day, and, on the morning of March 25th, I got on the charter flight to Errachidia, Morocco. After touching down, I checked my satellite messages. Everything was still okay back home. The organizer's busses picked us up and we travelled about three hours to the first bivouac (camp). I spent the afternoon getting to know the people that I would be sharing the jaima (tent) with. That afternoon, I enjoyed the Moroccan dinner provided by the organizers. Before sleeping, I checked my messages. Nothing but good news.

When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I did was to check my satellite messages. I had one and this is exactly what it said: "Emergency. Your dad needs surgery. Needs urgent surgery tomorrow. Broke his femur. Complicated surgery. Can you call by phone? Don't know what to do."

““Emergency. Your dad needs surgery. Needs urgent surgery tomorrow. Broke his femur. Complicated surgery. Can you call by phone? Don’t know what to do.””

I was able to call my wife, who was surprisingly calm and she explained the situation. My father, 72 years old at the time, had gone out on a bicycle ride. He had tried jumping over some railroad tracks and he had fallen hard. So hard that he broke his femur and he needed surgery. With nobody else around, my mother would have to be his caregiver. Nobody would be left to help my wife in case she went into labor. To make a very long story short, I decided right then to leave the bivouac and return home immediately. Not because there was anything for me to do for my father's surgery but because someone had to be there in case my wife went into labor. It was a decision that I don't regret.

I explained my situation to the race organizers and we worked out a strategy. They would get me on a Land Cruiser to get to the first small town out of the desert but after that, I was on my own. I barely had enough time to get my suitcase from the jaima before the journey back began.

Espresso machine on the back of a van, on the way to Casablanca.

My only chance to make it before the surgery was by flying to Europe via Casablanca that same afternoon. But it was an 8-hour drive. It would be very tight. With my limited French, was able to convince a taxi driver to take me to the Moroccan capital. He loaded up with a thermos of super strong coffee and we went off. We reached Casablanca in the afternoon, a few minutes before the flight to Paris departed. I was too late. Check-in was closed. The last international flight of the day was to Nantes, France. I took it. I arrived at Nantes at midnight and I was able to sleep for a few hours before catching a 5am flight to Paris. I had to rush to to take a COVID19 test at Charles de Gaulle airport. When it showed negative and I got my certificate, I ran to the counter to check-in for my flight to Seattle. I reached home in time, but just barely. It was the afternoon of Sunday, March 27th. The first thing the following day was to sign up for Marathon des Sables 2023.

Two surgeries later (one of them was a total hip replacement), my father is moving around very well. My son was born just a few days after my return from Morocco, well before the due date. For this year's race I trained hundreds of kilometers with him, pushing him on a stroller while I ran, wearing a 9kg (20lb) weight vest. My wife is still as supportive as ever, and I'm on my way to run Marathon des Sables once again! Most importantly, my father has promised not to get on the bike while I’m gone.

During Marathon des Sables 2017, one of the things that kept me going after every tough day was receiving messages from friends, family, and even strangers during the race. Every afternoon, the organizer’s staff would walk around the bivouac handing us printouts of messages that had been sent to us over the internet. Hearing from you during the race would make a big difference to me.

From 23rd to 29th April, you can send us messages through this link (the option for sending messages will only go live on the 23rd. It’s not active right now but it will be there during the running days):

https://live.marathondessables.com/en/

During those days you’ll be able to type my name and see my live position and ranking. Although I’ll not be able to write back during the race, I will carry all the messages with me until the end. I promise to reply to each of them once I'm back home, back from the Sahara Desert.

 Ultreia Et Suseia

2021. Another great year

Hello cyber-friends. I know it's been a while but here I am, writing again. Thank you for your patience. It took me some time but I promise I'll be writing consistently from now on. For this first post, I want to share with you some of the most interesting things I got to do in 2021.

• Reading 106 books

  That's not a typo. During 2021 I read 106 books. I love to read and I never leave home without a book (or my Kindle). Reading is one of the first things I do in the morning (I usually wake up around 5am) and one of the last ones I do at night. Sometimes I listen to audio books, especially when I'm walking or driving. But, for the most part, I read e-books. Some of my favorites this year:

The Moth and the Mountain: A true Story of Love, War and Everest, by Ed Caesar.

I really connected with this book. It's a biography of Maurice Wilson and his attempt to climb Mount Everest alone in 1934, after he flew a biplane (again, alone) from England to India.

When Breath Becomes Air, by Paul Kalanithi

This is the second time I've read this book. It’s "a profoundly moving, exquisitely observed memoir by a young neurosurgeon faced with a terminal cancer diagnosis who attempts to answer the question "What makes a life worth living?"".

A Promised Land, by Barack Obama

A book about the first half of his presidency. More than 700 pages long but I finished it in 2 days. Fascinating. Inspiring

Running with the Kenyans, by Adharanand Finn

"Adharanand Finn's incredible journey to the elite training camps of Kenya". It made me dream of visiting Iten, in Kenya.

Travels with Charley: in Search of America, by John Steinbeck

A memoirs from Steinbeck's journey across the US. I love books about road trips. "Along the way he reflects on the American character, racial hostility, the particular form of American loneliness he finds almost everywhere, and the unexpected kindness of strangers".

Steve Jobs, by Walter Isaacson

A very raw and honest biography of a brilliant and, at the same time, complicated visionary. I took many years to pick up this book. I’m glad I did.

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse, by Charlie Mackesy

This one was a complete surprise. The illustrations are delightful. But what makes this little book special is that it condenses in its 100 pages a lot more wisdom than most philosophy books I've read.

Northwest Vipassana Center

• Vipassana meditation retreat

This one had been on my bucket list for a long time. Although I've been meditating for about 20 years, since I began studying at Casa Tibet in Mexico City, I had never been to a retreat before. And what a retreat it was! 10 days of living a monastic life, completely focused on meditation. No phones, internet or contact with the outside, a vow of complete silence, 10 hours of meditation per day and discourses every night. For me, it was not just about learning this particular technique. It was about living like a monk and finding that I truly enjoyed this transformative experience. My next blog post will be about this.

• Making walking a daily habit

At the beginning of this year, I set myself the goal of walking an average of 10,000 steps every day. Well, I did it! During 2021 I averaged 13,361. And that's a total of nearly 4.9 million steps in one year. It's obvious that living an active lifestyle brings significant health benefits. But, for me, the biggest benefit is that taking daily walks, no matter where in the world I am, has become a habit. And it's a habit I plan to continue for as long as my legs can hold me. My daily walks have become one of the most enjoyable moments of my day.

Daily steps in 2021

• Starting to study a BA in Archaeology

During the summer of 2021 I officially became a university student again. I started studying Archaeology through the University of Leicester (UK) distance learning program. It will take me 6 years to get my bachelor's degree. But in the 6 months that I have been immersed in Archaeology, my whole notion of the human race and our planet, has been completely transformed. 

• Leaving social media

I closed all my social media accounts on February of 2021 and I haven't regretted it for a moment. It's not that I used to spend hours a day scrolling through endless feeds. My use of social media was for sharing my experiences and connecting with people interested in what I do. But the reality is that, by using social media, social media is also using me, whether I'm aware of it or not. So, no thanks. I continued uploading photos of my adventures and experiences on my website. And I've continued to communicate with the people that want to stay in touch with me. That's good enough. I'm glad I took the leap.

• Scuba diving in Maldives

This year I got to go back to Maldives. And, for the first time, I got to spend a few days scuba diving in this tropical paradise. Maldives is one of those places that you must be there to believe that such beauty really exists on our planet. And even when you are there, it feels like a dream. But underwater the world is just as stunning. I have never dived surrounded by so many green turtles and so many sharks (mostly black tip and white tip reef sharks). Spending time with the local diving boat crew was almost as fun as the dives themselves.

• Recovering from a 4-year-old leg injury

Somewhere around the 80th kilometer of Comrades Marathon 2017 I started having intense pain on the lower part of my right shin. I finished running the last 7km. But I was limping for a few days afterwards. The pain was so intense that I had to cancer my planned run on the 250km Gobi March, in the Gobi Desert. I thought I had recovered a month later for Red Bull X-Alps, but the injury kept me from having a decent competition. The doctor at X-Alps told me I needed surgery. Since then, the pain became chronic. Even after spending two months off running while climbing K2 or Kanchenjunga, when I started running again, the pain came back. For nearly 4 years, the pain became my reliable and unfortunate companion. After doctor's appointments in 3 different countries, several MRIs and X-rays, running form tests, changing running shoes, changing running surfaces and terrains, ultrasound therapy, laser, TENS, massage, rest, nothing worked. That is until I started working with Dr. Siddhartha García Tamez in Mexico City this spring. The solution: not just treating the pain but focusing on strengthening everything around the painful area. After 3 weeks, I was pain free, running strong, and I have remained healthy since then. I'm ready for a lot more running in 2022.

• Visiting the Hidden Beach in the Marietas Islands, Mexico

During April of 2021 I finally visited the famous Hidden Beach, on the Marietas Islands. This small group of islands on the Pacific coast of Mexico has one of the most unique beaches in the world. It is a sandy beach, completely surrounded by cliffs. Rock walls 360º around. The water, and visitors, enter in through a cave in which the ceiling is only a meter or so above. In fact, we were required to wear a helmet while swimming through the cave. Once inside, this place is like no other in the world. Like something out of a sci-fi movie. We were lucky to have this very special place to ourselves. 

• Completing the World Marathon Majors

I have been running marathons for decades. I love running. In 2021 I was finally able to complete the Abbott World Marathon Majors. This involves running all these marathons: New York, Boston, Chicago, London, Berlin and Tokyo. I had run the New York City marathon 4 times, Boston, Chicago and Tokyo 2 times each, and Berlin once. And perhaps 30 other marathons and ultra-marathons around the world. But for many years I wasn't been able to get an entry to London. On the summer of 2019, I got a number to run on April, 2020. Unfortunately, because of the pandemic, the marathon was first postponed to October. Later it was cancelled. It wasn't until October 3rd, 2021 that I was able to run London, complete the challenge, and get my massive 6 star medal. The reason the medal is meaningful to me is because it’s a symbol of perseverance.

• Climbing Mera Peak in Nepal

On November of 2021 I travelled to Nepal to climb once again. It had been three and a half years since I last stepped on that Himalayan country, after summiting Everest for the 7th time. This time I had a very short amount of time to climb Mera Peak. Actually, only one week. I will be writing a full blog post about this unique climb. Mera Peak is 6,476m (21,247 ft) high. It's a non-technical climb over heavily glaciated terrain. It took me 7 days to make a round trip from Kathmandu and up to the summit. I did this mini expedition with Tshering Dorjee Sherpa. He is someone I respect and one of the handful of people I chose to be with me at my wedding. Even if the peak was not technically challenging, I loved being back in the Himalayas. After the climb, I returned to Kathmandu full of ideas for new and exciting climbs.

Bonus: Starting to train for Marathon des Sables, again.

How do you train for running 250km across the Sahara Desert on a multi-stage, self-supported running race where midday temperatures can reach 120°F / 50°C? Definitely not the way I'm doing it, by running in the snow at 23°F / -5°C with strong winds. But races like Marathon des Sables are not just about being prepared to run all day. They are about being resilient. Running in harsh conditions is certainly helping with that. The reward is spending some time in the sauna, after the run, at 185°F / 85°C. That’s more like it!

Ultreia Et Suseia

Why I’m quitting social media and what’s next

Click here to subscribe

Subscribe right here to receive new blog posts on your email inbox

On February 10th, 2021 I’ll be deleting all my social media accounts and I'll continue sharing my adventures and experiences through my website: davidliano.com. I understand that canceling my accounts is irreversible and, once I close them, they can’t be recovered. This is not an impulsive decision, so I would like to share with you the reasons behind this choice.

View fullsize

An upgraded version of my original PDA-Satellite phone setup. This PDA had a built-in keyboard

When I started going on interesting mountaineering expeditions that lasted multiple weeks, I would come back home and share my stories and experiences with many friends and family members. I would repeat to each of them the same anecdotes over and over again. For my 2008 Lhotse and Everest expedition, I decided to do something different and bring with me a Hewlett Packard PDA (personal digital assistant) and a satellite phone. With them, I would spend hours in the cold mountains using a tiny stylus to type on the PDA’s digital keyboard, wait several minutes for a satellite signal, and hopefully post daily expedition reports on a blog. That is the origin of the blog you are reading today. When I went back home after that expedition, instead of having to tell the stories to friends and family, I had very interesting talks with them about specific moments of the expedition. In a way, they had been living the climb through my words as if they had been part of the experience. We had lived the adventure together.

View fullsize

That’s me during that 2008 expedition.

I've always thought that mountaineering, paragliding and single-handed sailing can be very self-centered endeavors if they are not shared and if they don't serve a higher purpose. My purpose for sharing was to inspire others to live an exciting and meaningful life through my experiences. It was never to showcase myself through my achievements. So I kept sharing on my blog as much as I could.

In just a few years, with the expansion of social media, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram became the tools to reach a broader international audience. Tens of thousands of people would see everything I posted. I always tried to reply (or at least acknowledge) every comment on a post. And I've always made an effort to respond to the vast number of direct messages I receive. They are messages from people that want to do the things I do but don’t know where to start, or people asking for specific technical advice. After my association with The Live Love Laugh Foundation, I continuously received messages from people going through depression or asking for help for a loved one.

View fullsize

At the summit of Everest in 2016, supporting The Live Love Laugh Foundation

For me, the word "follower" has a negative undertone. It implies there is a leader and someone, not equal, trailing behind. Instead of thinking of them as "followers", I’ve always seen the people that read my posts as supporters who are interested in doing something unique and exciting with their lives. The benefit I get from using social media is staying in touch with, and encouraging my supporters. Whenever I plan a new adventure, during a paragliding competition, or with my work in finance, I'm constantly making a risk/reward or cost/benefit analysis. So, if that is the benefit to me of using social media, what is the cost?

During the last week of December I take time to meditate about the year that's coming to an end. I think about what I could have done differently and what areas of my life I should focus on during the next year. 2020 was an unusual year in so many ways and there was so much to think about. But there is one particular issue I had been pondering for months, if not years: the serious privacy concerns that arise from using social media.

Along with everyone else, I don't like that what I share on social networks is controlled by algorythms that display to followers what they must be shown to keep them engaged for longer. But I'm even okay with that. And I'm not concerned about the images, videos and stories I voluntarily post on my public accounts on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter. I am responsible for what I willingly post. My concern is the indiscriminate and voracious amount of information that social media platforms collect while I use them. But, most importantly how they track and collect information when I use the rest of the internet, outside their platforms. They continue their frantic tracking. They collect information about me, my networks, the places I visit, the companies and people I interact with, the things I search for, the ads I click on, what I buy, how I book my travels, the devices I use, when and how I use my phone, the news articles I read, the food I order. Even if I use tracker blockers and ad blockers as I do, and I have good habits when it comes to cookies, the amount of information that is collected by social media platforms is ridiculous and it makes me very uncomfortable.

I'm not comfortable with social media companies exploiting my information and selling it to third parties and advertisers. I'm not comfortable not having control or ownership of that information. As Tim Cook, Apple's CEO recently said: when it comes to privacy, social media seems to give you "choices that are not choices at all". I don't have any hope that there will be serious regulation regarding user’s privacy and how that information us collected and used. So, to address those concerns, I've decided to close my social media accounts.

View fullsize

An upside to social media was using it to raise awareness about the problem with garbage high up on Everest. This was Camp 4 in 2018.

I’ve had multiple conversations with close friends and family members about this topic. They tell me they don’t mind having social media tracking them all over the internet and collecting information indiscriminately if the result is that they are shown “more relevant” ads. They believe it’s harmless. They tell me they have “nothing to hide” so they don’t mind being tracked. But their answer is very different when I ask them how they would feel if they had someone physically inside their home, following them around their bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, dining room, taking notes of what they do, what they eat, what they wear, the time they do every single thing in their lives, recording what they watch, who they talk to, who they are in contact with, what their personal habits are, following them to the office, social gatherings, etc. keeping track of everything.

When I make this comparison, not a single person says they would feel comfortable with that. They say it would be extremely creepy. They say their privacy would be violated. And that’s exactly what we are voluntarily giving up by allowing social media to track us. Whether it's a public or a private account, we are being continuously tracked. We are giving up our privacy and it's just as creepy. But most people are not aware of this happening. Thankfully, I am. To me, the costs of using social media now outweight the perceived benefit. That’s the reason I'll be deleting all my social media accounts on February 10th, 2021.

Perhaps my decision would be different if I didn't have an alternate method of reaching the people that support me. But I have my personal webpage. I have this blog (which I call my Adventure Journal) and a newly expanded gallery with every image I’ve ever shared on Instagram. I will continue to expand it to include videos of past and current adventures. To remain in touch with whoever wants to reach out to me I've set up a new contact page . I've decided to post more regularly (mainly short form posts with lots of images) on the Adventure Journal and to keep inspiring others through my own experiences. I want my adventures to continue being useful to others and I don’t want my personal achievements to be completely self-centered. So I will keep sharing through my website, just as I did at the beginning. At a time before social media.

I don't expect most people will understand or agree with my decision. Nobody in my immediate circle approves of this. But I haven’t lived this extraordinary life by doing what most other people do" I’ve typically been an outlier. I know that it's very likely that I’ll lose touch with most of the tens of thousands of supporters I have on social media. But I'm sure that those who subscribe to receive updates by email and those who come to the blog regularly to read new posts are the true supporters. I hope they are the ones on whose life I've made a positive impact.

If this is the last you hear from me, you have my sincere gratitude for the amazing support. Your likes, comments and messages make you an important part of any success I've had. If you decide to stick around for the rest of the journey, outside of social media, then lets get ready. 2021 will be an amazing year. The adventure continues.

Click here to subscribe

Subscribe right here to receive new blog posts on your email inbox

View fullsize

Kangchenjunga Base Camp 2018

My father, Maratón del Río Balsas and his adventures in whitewater speedboat racing

This blog post is not about mountains or flying. It is about one of the wildest whitewater speedboat races on the planet during the 1970s. This competition became an international phenomenon where even Paul Newman, the Hollywood actor became involved. My father, Ricardo Liaño, participated in many editions, and he had absolutely no previous experience when he went into this adventure. 

Sometimes, we look at a someone’s achievements and we wonder who influenced them at a young age. We wonder what events helped shape their goals and personality. In my case, my parents are my biggest influence. So today I want to talk about my father, and particularly about one of his least-known adventures. I hope that after reading his story you may have a better understanding of one of the many people that have supported me every step of the way to achieve what I have achieved and who shaped my life into what it is. 

My father grew up in Mexico City, in a very poor family with 3 brothers and 3 sisters. They grew up with an amount of freedom that would be unthinkable today. They would hitchhike for a full day across three states to get to the beach in Acapulco, sleep on a hammock and hitchhike back the next day. As a teenager, he lost his father to lung cancer and from a very young age he had to work to support his family.

After graduating as an accountant and while holding a full time job, he and his brothers heard about river rafting from from a friend who was also an ex-Boy Scout. As they had no money to take the proper courses and buy rafts or kayaks, they went to truck tyre repair garages to buy discarded inner tubes. I remember my dad telling me that at first they considered looking for inner tubes from airplane tyres, not realizing that airplane tires are really tiny as compared with truck tyres! They thought that airplanes were big so their tyres must also be big.

My father and his siblings went around garages looking for punctured truck tyre inner-tubes and they also got hold of some second-hand paddles. Then off they went, with no experience, to Amacuzac river where their friend had told them to go. They would go in the water, sitting on the inflated inner tubes and try to avoid the worst of the rapids by paddling around. It was a thrilling experience that left them wanting more. For the roughest sections of the river, they would tie several inner tubes together for more stability. And they still couldn’t afford life jackets or even helmets. They would get the inflatable life jackets that airlines discarded. Their level of ingenuity and resourcefulness always amazes me. 

After some time they graduated to second-hand inflatable kayaks that they patched up. They were dirt poor but living amazing experiences whith what they could put together. It was during this time that they first heard on the radio and read on newspapers about “Maratón Náutico del Río Balsas”.

View fullsize

Río Balsas is a river in Mexico that runs across Sierra Madre del Sur and flows into the Pacific Ocean. It stretches over 770km through 4 states (Puebla, Morelos, Guerrero and Michoacán). It’s also know by its regional names: Río Mezcala and Río Atoyac. In march of 1970, 13 speedboat teams started an 8 stage race along white water rapids and finishing with an open-water sea section. The race involved a descent through the famous Santa Helena rapids and the finish changed over the years from Lázaro Cárdenas, to Zihuatanejo and finally to Acapulco. The race became an international event during it’s second edition at the end of 1971 with 30 teams. There would eventually be participants from Canada, United States, Brazil, New Zealand and Australia, among others. A 1975 documentary would call this race “Mexican Madness”.

At the beginning of 1972, my father heard on the news that the second edition of Maratón del Río Balsas had just finished. That´s when the brothers decided they would be a part of the next race. They still had zero experience on whitewater speedboat racing and no money to buy any gear. On the summer of 1973, they heard on the radio that there would be an open meeting to brief interested teams two months before the third edition. They went to the meeting. The next day they paid their entry fee and they were officially registered. Those were very different times. When they signed up, they just received a 20 page rule book and they were told to show up in the town of Mezcala the day before the competition. That’s it. No proof of previous experience, or insurance, or anything else was required. More than a race, it was a very tough adventure.

Team “Los Pollos”

The teams participating in Maratón del Río Balsas were divided into three categories: Class A.-for inflatable boats with outboard engines. Class B.- for rigid-hull boats with powerful outboard engines. Class C.- for “experimental” boats which included the fastest and newest jet engines. My father says that on that last category someone even tried racing with a hovercraft, but failed epically. Because it would be the cheapest option, they decided to race with an inflatable boat under Class A. At the time, they had full time jobs that were just enough to support a big family. And there was a minimum requirement of 3 participants per boat. Being 4 brothers, they were not about to leave someone behind. So they decided that all four of them would be participating on the same boat. For their team name, they chose “Los Pollos” (The Chics), which was my grandmother’s pet name for them.

With just two months to prepare for the race, they still had no boat and no engine. They went around knocking on doors, looking for sponsorship. Nothing. Just a few weeks before the start, they got in touch with a friend’s father who worked for PEMEX, the state owned oil company. Though him, they were able to get an old, discarded Zodiac inflatable raft that had been used and abused in oil rigs. It had multiple punctures and the wooden floorboards were detached from the rubber. To them it was a relief to finally have a boat. They spent 3 days patching up the raft and fixing the floor as best as they could. They got lucky as Yamaha was trying to get into the Mexican market with their marine engines and they were able to get a tiny 25 horsepower engine. As comparison, the bigger boats would have 800 hp engines. And they were also able to get four second-hand water skiing life jackets. As they couldn’t afford to get team uniforms, they got used matching, mechanic coveralls.  

When I ask my father what their friends and family were saying to them while they were preparing, he tells me that all they got were words of encouragement and support. Perhaps he learned at the time how essential this is for one’s self confidence during tough projects and he has always been the most supportive with my own adventures.

On November 24th, 1973, the day before the start of the competition, my father and his brothers reached the riverside town of Mezcala, where the race would start. They decided to camp by the river. As all the teams were making their final preparations, they could see how out of place they were. Most teams had support crews that included mechanics who would deal with any repairs the boat and engine would need. They carried trailers with seemingly infinite spare parts. My father’s team could only rely on themselves and on what little they had with them. They inflated their raft with a foot pump and did a trial run on the river. Disaster! The whole floor became unglued from the rubber raft and they had to go back to repair it. They had also damaged the propeller on the rapids and they had to fix it urgently. For the rest of the competition, they would spend most of every night re-gluing the floorboards and repairing the engine, while the other teams slept. 

The first stage of the race had the infamous Santa Helena rapids. They were so intense that many of the teams would just give up on the first day. It was a staggered start by categories. One boat at a time would make it’s way down the  intense whitewater rapids. On every edition of Maratón del Río Balsas there would be severe accidents and occasionally deaths. But, considering that my father was used to go down similar rapids on inner tubes and inflatable kayaks, doing the descent on a boat with a motor felt like going on a cruise ship! 

Every stage of the race would bring particular challenges, whether it was rapids, navigating in open sea, or finding their way through a labyrinth of islands and inlets on Infiernillo dam. When their engine broke down (it happened frequently) and they were in slow-moving water, they were attacked by swarms of mosquitos. They had no insect repellent. 

With my uncles, my father would take turns to pilot the boat and the others would be lookouts and call out rocks and obstacles in the rapids. The fastest jet boats would cover each stage in about 45 minutes and they would get to rest for the remainder of the day. My father’s team would take about 4 hours for each stage if they didn’t have engine problems, which they usually did. Many times they spent up to 8 hours in the river, completely soaked, cold and with no food as the few snacks they had would get soggy and wet, and they would have to go through their emergency rations. When the engine broke down, they would have to paddle for hours to get out of the rapids and to try to fix it. If they couldn’t, they would just keep paddling for hours as there was no time limit for each stage.

View fullsize

My mom and aunts supporting on later editions of Maratón del Río Balsas

Every afternoon they would arrive at the end of the stage late, hungry and wet. They had to begin repairing the floor and engine in the dark, with just their scuba diving flashlights for illumination. Then they would sleep for a few hours in cots under palapas (traditional Mexican open shelters roofed with palm trees). A couple of years later, when the race became even more famous internationally, Paul Newman made his way south to participate. When he came, he had an RV driven all the way from the US, with support vehicles, trailers, mechanics and a whole crew. Even though he was on the same race as my father, their experiences couldn’t have been more different.

Continuous repairs gave them very little time to rest before the next stage

The final stage of Maratón del Río Balsas was an open sea challenge and my father remembers it as the toughest stage for the inflatable boats as they would be continuously knocked around and slamming into the boat. Their skin became severely chafed from rubbing against the raft for hours. But they knew they were just a few hours away from finishing the adventure. After seven stages, on December 1st 1973, they crossed the finish line marked by two large ships. The adventure was over, but not for long. As soon as they finished, they had already decided to come back the next year. 

My father returned to Maratón del Río Balsas 4 more times. Because of his amazing tenacity, he was later sponsored by Old Spice and Beaufort boats. They finally got proper team uniforms! He later met my mother and she and her family became part of their support crew. Unfortunately, in the 1980s a large section of the river was turned into a new dam. The most interesting sections were lost forever and became dull boat rides. Maratón del Río Balsas lost its appeal and faded to obscurity.

For my father, it was never about winning. It was about the adventure, about the experience. It was about starting from nothing and getting somewhere. It was about fun and having an amazing time with his brothers. And that, he did. A lot.

This is only one of my father’s many adventures. But you can see how growing up with his influence made all the difference to me. I have nothing but gratitude for my amazing family.

Keeping a positive mindset in the times of COVID-19

Without a doubt, the pandemic has disrupted the life of almost every person on the planet to a certain degree. Millions have been infected with COVID-19. Many more have lost their jobs. Hundreds of thousands have died. Countless personal plans and project have been cancelled or put on hold.

One of the most important words in my life is gratitude and I cannot begin to count the ways that I'm blessed. I practice feeling gratitude when I meditate. I always try to tell the important people in my life how grateful I am to have them close to me. But the COVID-19 pandemic is a powerful reminder of how fragile we are as humans and how life changes in an instant. Today more than ever I'm grateful for my health and for being alive.

2020 began in a very exciting way, with back-to-back paragliding competitions in Valle de Bravo, Mexico. At the end of February I went back to Kilimanjaro with my wife and father-in-law. Although wind conditions were not safe for paragliding off the summit, I was able to stand on the highest point of Africa one more time. The rest of the plans I had for the first half of 2020 were some of the most hectic I've had for a long time:

April

• Marathon des Sables.- I was going back to the Sahara Desert in Morocco to run this 250km multi-stage, self-supported race. I ran it in 2017.

• Exploring Morocco with my wife after MDS.

• London Marathon.- This is the only one of the Abbott World Major Marathons I'm missing. I've run Tokyo (2x), Berlin (2x), New York (4x), Chicago (2x) and Boston (2x). I'd been trying for many years to get an entry for the London Marathon but usually I was climbing in the Himalayas during April.

May

• Paragliding in the Pyrenees.- As part of training and scouting the route for X-Pyr (see below).

• Bornes to Fly.- I signed up to take part in this challenging 3-day hike & fly competition in France.

June

• Comrades Marathon.- I was going back for the third time to this 90km ultra-marathon in South Africa. This time I was hoping to get a special medal for finishing back-to-back, up and down years.

• X-Pyr.- I had been waiting for this opportunity for many years. I took part in the 2016 edition of this incredible race hiking and flying across the Pyrenees. Since I was selected last year, most of my plans and training were pieces of the X-Pyr puzzle.

Those were just my sports and adventure goals for the first half of the year. I had many other personal and professional goals that were as exciting.

The consequences of the pandemic became evident at the beginning of March and one by one the events were cancelled or postponed. I dreaded checking my email because I would keep getting discouraging updates from race organizers announcing cancellations. Every plan on my list, except for Marathon des Sables and London Marathon, was cancelled. Those two were postponed to September and October respectively, but I don't think they will continue as rescheduled.

By definition, adventure has an uncertain outcome. I'm good at adapting to change, especially when the circumstances are out of my control. Still, I would have never imagined that all the adventure and personal plans I had for this semester would be wiped out in such an unexpected way . We live our lives under the illusion of permanence and continuity. A microscopic coronavirus has shown us how insubstantial those illusions are.

For some moments, as is typical of human nature, I internalized the situation. I only thought of how COVID-19 was ruining my plans. I thought of the terrible ways in which the pandemic was afecting me. The "wasted" months of planning and training. Thankfully that moment didn't last long and I put the situation in its right context. Hundreds of thousands dead. Millions of people sick and quarantined. Whole countries in lockdown. Medical professionals all over the world placing themselves at risk, and selflessly taking care of others. With the Tokyo 2020 games cancelled, more than 10,000 Olympic athletes lost four years of dreams and sacrifices. My "problems" were insignificant when put in perspective.

The Pyrenees

I didn't think of it anymore as wasted time training for competitions that were cancelled. I thought of the great pleasure I got from those training runs, hikes and flights. I thought of how fitter they made me, and of the lessons I learned and could apply for later. The pandemic and cancellations were not under my control. What was under my control was how I adapted my plans and life to the new situation. It was up to me to decide if I would waste months of my life or if I would use this time for personal growth. For resetting my goals. I transformed my way of thinking and I found the positive side of my situation. These are some of the things I've done during the pandemic:

• As I plan to get a degree in Archeology in the future, I thought it would be useful to enroll in online classes to study the major world religions throught their scriptures. I took HarvardX courses on Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, Christianity and Buddhism. I spent about 120 hours studying these courses.

• I restarted my meditation practice. I'd been neglecting it for a few months. I also started doing breathing exercises that help me feel energized or relaxed, depending on what I need at the time.

• During the lockdown I've read 10 books, fiction and non-fiction. They have subjects as diverse as the independence of Arabia, Shamanism, Buddhism, philosophy, Scandinavian noire and the history of the FBI's elite serial crime unit.

• I studied cryptocurrencies and blockchain, which is something I'd wanted to do for a long time.

• Respecting social distancing and mostly in the forest, I've run nearly 350km during the pandemic. That has helped me to stay fit and healthy, both physically and mentally.

• To boost my immune system, I started eating healthier than ever and I felt the possitive effects immediately. I'm vegetarian and the only animal products I eat are dairy and eggs. I became very strict with the nutritional quality of the food that I eat.

• I've read a lot about the benefits of fasting but for a long time I'd put off trying it myself. During lockdown I began fasting for periods of 48 hours every two weeks. I more focused and my mind is sharp.

• I spent long hours updating my bucket list and adding amazing places and adventures. I'm committed to make them a reality and to stop finding excuses to procrastinate.

• I took self-scored IQ tests, and I started doing daily mental exercises to keep my mind active. I committed to take the Mensa test as soon as it was safe to do so.

• I started researching options for self-publishing a book. I learned as much as I could about Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing.

• I've watched the sunrise and sunset every day since lockdown began.

I did all this while still working remotely.

My personal plans and adventures for the first half of 2020 were cancelled or postponed. That doesn't mean my life is also on hold and I'm happy with the way I've spent this time. I'm grateful for my life and I'm grateful for my health. Now I'm also thankful for this unusual opportunity to get so many things done. I've been careful but I don't live with fear.

It will take a long time for the world to go back to what we used to consider "normal". When it does, I'll be ready to continue living my life to the fullest.

Kilimanjaro, Tanzania

Why having BIG goals is important.

Crossroads are used in someone's life to describe a moment where new challenges or opportunities arise. Last month I found myself in one of those crossroads.

2019 had been an extraordinary year. I got married to an extraordinary woman, I travelled a distance equal to 8 times the circumference of the earth. I got to walk Camino de Santiago again and I attended some of the biggest religious gatherings on earth. I saw places on this planet that seem like belong to another world. I piloted airplanes, paragliders and rode in all kinds of crazy vehicles. Through my training, I swam hundreds of kilometers and ran for a few thousand. So yes, 2019 was a phenomenal year.

This is Ireland, but it’s a scene from another planet.

I ran my first New York City marathon at 19 years old. Since then, my life has been a streaming progression of setting goals and achieving them. And if I wasn't successful the first time, to rethink, improve and triumph. Climbing, running, flying, sailing, learning. Because of my nature, I never settled for little goals. They were BIG, challenging goals.

It was usual for me to reach one of the highest summits in the world and start planning the next big adventure. To set set new and exciting goals for myself. In that way, I always felt motivated, always looking forward to testing my limits and pushing out of my comfort zone. It's essential for me to always have BIG goals in all stages of my life.

I've never been impressed by what people consider "celebrities" even when I've been in a position to meet many of them. So I've only collected two autographs, from people I truly admire and respect. The first one is from Wernher Von Braun, the German rocket scientist that ended up working with NASA. He made it possible for men to reach and explore the moon.

The famous Visor Shot

The other one is a signed photo of Buzz Aldrin, the Apolo XI astronaut and the second person who walked on the moon. The photo is the famous "visor shot" of him standing on the surface of the moon. After his return from the successful mission on July of 1969, Aldrin was an instant celebrity and one of the most recognizable people on the planet. But in his book "Magnificent Desolation" he explains what happened to him just a few months after he came back to Earth:

"How could I have gone almost overnight from being on top of the world to feeling useless, worthless and washed up? I wanted to resume my duties, but there were no duties to resume. There was no goal, no sense of calling, no project worth pouring myself into. Although I didn`t realize it at the time, I had started drinking more. Life seemed to have lost its luster. On some days I couldn`t even find a reason to get out of bed. So I didn't. Something was wrong; something within me was beginning to crack. I only hoped that I could figure it out before I broke down completely."

It's clear that a life without goals is an empty life. It took him years to battle depression and alcoholism. But he got his life back on track and setting new, personal goals is helped him through. Now he's one of the most ardent promoters of space travel and space exploration, inspiring a whole new generation. Robert Byrne wrote: "The purpose of life is a life with purpose". Buzz Aldrin gave a whole new purpose to his life after his return to earth.

So, back to my own goals. The goals and challenges I've set myself in the past have always been ambitious and exhilarating. But the nature of the goals has been evolving in the last few years. I believe this is natural in one's life.

For 2020 my goals include more ultra running and hike & fly, paragliding races, taking tests and getting certifications. They include a little less climbing of the highest peaks. But they are still BIG goals. They are exciting. They are challenging and ambitious. They make me feel motivated and want to do my greatest effort to achieve them. And it's because they are BIG. It takes the same effort to dream of BIG things than to dream of little things. So I choose to dream BIG.

I've always said that, with everything I do, I'm not trying to be the most technical climber, the fastest runner, or the best paragliding pilot. I'm simply trying to be the happiest. And that is my ultimate BIG goal.

The story of how a very special photo of the Dalai Lama came into my life and left in the most extraordinary way.

I clearly remember standing in front of one of those circular racks that typically hold postcards. Instead of holding photos of idyllic beaches or stunning monuments, this unique rack was full of postcard-sized photographs of the Dalai Lama. One of the photographs stood out because it was the only black and white portrait of His Holiness. His face had the same peaceful and untroubled expression that's known around the world. I picked up the photo, held it in my hands for a moment and decided to get it. I could have never imagined the extraordinary journey I was about to begin with that photograph. Our travels would take us around the world several times and up to the summits of magnificent peaks all over the planet.

I got the photograph around September of 2004 and I'd been studying of Buddhism for four years at Tibet House in Mexico City. I heard that the Dalai Lama, the spiritual leader of the Tibetan people, would be visiting our country. It was an incredible opportunity to attend 3 days of teachings and learn from an extraordinary spiritual teacher. But I had just returned from an expedition in Tibet where I had summited Cho-Oyu, the 6th highest mountain in the world. I got to see the land that the Dalai Lama was forced to abandon in 1959 after the Chinese occupation. Attending these teachings was an even more meaningful experience. On the last day the Dalai Lama spoke, I decided that I would bring the photo with me on my next climbs.

The portrait of the Dalai Lama was not the only photo I carried. Around the same time, I bought a disposable camera and I took a photograph of my family at the time. (father, mother, brother and two dogs. The family has grown now!). I wanted to have an image of them that I could bring during my expeditions to show my gratitude for their support.

View fullsize

During puja on Everest Base Camp, 2005

I kept that photograph and the picture of the Dalai Lama together and I made a little protective pouch out of a cardboard box. I cut out two rectangles slightly bigger than the 4x6 photographs and taped them together with duct tape. The photos would be "sandwiched" inside the pouch and I would put that inside a Ziploc bag. With that simple protection from bending and moisture, I took my photographs on their first expedition to climb the highest peak in Antarctica on January 2005.

Two months later, I travelled to Nepal for my first expedition to Mount Everest and the photos came with me. In Kathmandu I got a flag of Tibet to keep them company. The photos were with me every step of the way, inside my backpack. It was a very tough season, but I was able to reach the summit of the highest point on Earth! Up there Cheewang Nima Sherpa took photos of me holding the photograph of the Dalai Lama and another one holding the Tibetan flag. Before I started my descent, I called my family on the satellite phone and I picked up a few rocks from the summit.

View fullsize

With the Tibetan flag

View fullsize

First Everest summit with the postcard

Back in Mexico, I got in touch with the office of His Holiness the Dalai Lama in Dharamshala, India. I sent a package with my photographs at the summit as well as a summit rock. I included a letter explaining my solidarity with the Tibetan people and their struggle to preserve their culture. To my surprise, I received an incredibly warm reply from the Honorable Tenzin Taklha, Joint Secretary of the Tibetan Government in Exile. The reply said: "The rock and photos have been presented to His Holiness. I am pleased to convey to you his prayers and good wishes”. With that, I was determined to bring the photo of the Dalai Lama to every one of my climbs and adventures. And there were so many of them!

The photo reached the highest point of all the remaining Seven Summits. It reached the summit of Everest a total of 7 times and to the top of other 8,000 peaks. It survived, as I did, the earthquake in Nepal in 2015 while I was on the glacier at Camp II on Everest. It was with me during my singlehanded sailing adventures. It was also my companion during many of my paragliding trips. I even had it when I crashed during a paragliding take off and I was unconscious for some time in the remote Rolwaling Valley of Nepal. It also came with me when I rode a bicycle across Nepal to the Maya Devi Temple in Lumbini, where tradition says that Shakyamuni Buddha was born.

View fullsize

At the summit of Lhotse

View fullsize

I also lent the photo to some friends for their summit photos.

2018 was a year of significant change in my life. Among other things, I tried to climb the four highest mountains in the world (Everest, K2, Kangchenjunga and Lhotse) in the same year. In the middle of May, I climbed Everest and missed my chances on Kangchenjunga and Lhotse. But in July I travelled with my photo of the Dalai Lama to Pakistan to try to summit K2, the second highest mountain on Earth.

K2 can be a deathly mountain. Its climbing history is full of tragic accounts. There is a memorial near base camp where climbers and trekkers are reminded of the dozens of people that have lost their lives trying to reach its top. Before starting our climb we had a Buddhist puja, in spite of being in a traditionally Muslim country. During the puja, the photo of the Dalai Lama came out again to share its blessings.

View fullsize

The summit of K2

Two people died that year on the mountain, but we pushed on. K2 marks the border between Pakistan and China. The summit is actually divided between the two countries. In the early hours of July 22nd, 2018, I took the last few steps on the gentle snowy slope that leads to the summit of K2. It was a windy morning. The odds had been against us, but we reached the summit!

What do I do when I reach the summit of a big peak? The short time I spend on top of these massive peaks usually goes the same way. I congratulate my team members with hugs and slaps on the back. I stop for a moment to take in the view and I drink some water. I take out my satellite phone to call my family, to let them know I made it and to thank them for their unconditional support. I enjoy the view some more. Finally, have a few photographs taken while I hold the photo of my family and the photo of the Dalai Lama. I then repack my gear for the descent, enjoy the view one last time and start heading down.

At the windy summit of K2, I began my routine. It was so cold that I kept on one of my heavy gloves while I took out the photographs from the Ziploc bag. A teammate took a photo of me holding the photo of my family. Done. I switched photos to keep the one of the Dalai Lama in front. My teammate took the second photo. An instant later, a strong wind gust wrenched the photo of the Dalai Lama off my fingers. The iconic black and white photograph, my companion for 14 years, flew away over the cliffs surrounding the north side of the summit. It was blown away, into China.

View fullsize

The last photo I took with the postcard before it was blown away, seconds later.

Tibetan Buddhism has many ways of spreading blessings. For example, they have prayer wheels that share the blessings as they go around. They also have multi-colored prayer flags that are spread over the highest mountain passes and summits.

As I saw the photo of the Dalai Lama flying off into China, I thought of the blessings I had received from His Holiness after my first Everest expedition. I knew this was the way those blessings were reaching the Tibetan people at last.

After a long search, I recently found a digital version of the original photo. I plan to print it and take it with me to continue the adventure. The wheel of karma keeps turning…

View fullsize

The things I love

In spite of all that I share on this blog and on social media, I believe I'm a very private person. I share to try to inspire others to go out and see the world, set personal goals and live unique adventures. Here are some of the things I love and that I don't usually talk about:

-Jazz.- particularly jazz standards. I look for jazz clubs everywhere I travel. I appreciate the level of the artist's skill and perfection where most people would hear chaos and a cacophony of sounds. 

-Reading.- this one comes from my father. He taught me to read at a very young age and would constantly leave adventure books for children on top of my pillow for me to read before bedtime. On a good year I read about 100 books but my average is closer to 50.

-Vinyl records.- because, no matter what they say, analog sounds better than digital!

-American football.- I played this sport long enough to appreciate how a player has to be, at the same time, be brutally tough, incredibly agile and brilliantly cunning.

-Sunsets and sunrises.- nature's light shows. I make an effort not to miss one. I like watching them in silence.

I also love long motorcycle trips. This one was in Iceland in 2016.

-Bourbon or Rye.- on the rocks or in an Old Fashioned.

-The sea.- I can watch the sea for hours and hours. I can hear it calling me.

-Running.- to me, this is the purest form of exercise. It's meditation in motion.

-Opera.- it's not for everyone, but I try to see at least a couple of performances every year. True story: Plácido Domingo once complimented my mother for her beautiful soprano voice. 

-Airplanes.- flying them and as a passenger. I'm writing this during a transatlantic flight. There's really something magical about boarding in one place and getting off in a different country or continent. I put on my nose cancelling headphones and read or write. No interruptions. 

-Waking up early.- I have a hard time staying up late at night but I love waking up early. I feel I make the most out of my day.

-Playing musical instruments.- piano, guitar, violin, saxophone, drums, ukulele. Put an instrument in my hands and I'll play it (or at least try).

-Coffee.- no better way to start the day than with a strong, rich cup of coffee (no cream or sugar). I don't drink a lot of it but I like good coffee. One of the best purchases I've made in the last year is an Ember cup to keep my coffee at an even 62.5ºC.

-Classical music.- my mother played classical music records every afternoon while my brother and I did our homework. I don't think my homework turned out better because of it but I grew up loving it.

-Red wine.- a glass of Rioja or Ribera del Duero.

-Gray colored clothes.- I have a very limited wardrobe by choice and most of it is gray. I should ask a psychologist about this. 

-Rain.- I love the mood of a cloudy, rainy day. I love walking and running in the rain.

-Chewing ice.- when I order a cold drink, I usually ask for a glass full of ice on the side so I can chew it after I finish my drink. I'm sorry if this is annoying to others.

-Cold weather.- this one may not be surprising, but I have a hard time in hot weather. At the office, in hotel rooms and cars, I always set the AC as low as it goes. I usually have people complaining about how cold it is or, whoever knows me well, simply brings a jacket along.

-Simple food.- I like meals that are easily prepared. I'm perfectly fine with eating the same thing every single day if it's nutritious and simple. I completely avoid fancy and "chic" restaurants.

-Journaling.- I always have Moleskine notebooks with me and I love writing about my experiences, thoughts and plans. I particularly love writing on a new, blank journal. It gives me the feeling that the possibilities are endless. 

-Meditation.- or, more specifically, how calm my mind is after I spend time in silent meditation.

-Family.- I could write a whole book about my love for my wife and my immediate family. They are the ones that make it all possible.

Return to the English Channel

After two years I’m back in Dover, England, to wait for my chance to swim across the English Channel. My first attempt was on September of 2017. I had a one-week window to attempt the crossing but we had sustained strong winds every single day. With time running out I decided to at least try and give it my best, even under very windy conditions and during a spring tide. A few hours into the swim, I was drifting too much to the East and the swim had to be stopped. I returned home from that trip with understandable disappointment but extremely motivated. I immediately started making plans to try again on September of 2019. I knew that 2018 would be dedicated to climbing but in 2019 I could focus on swimming. 

The white cliffs of Dover

This year I’ve been in constant motion. I swam in virtually every place I visited, from public swimming pools in India, the Arabian Sea, the North and South Pacific Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, the Indian Ocean, and the Puget Sound, as well as many lakes around the world. The water temperature on my training swims ranged from 32ºC to just 13ºC (89ºF to 55ºF). I even trained in dozens of hotel swimming pools with a gadget for swimming in place made out of a neoprene harness belt and elastic bands. 

But now, waiting at the northern tip of the Channel, I’m looking at the weather forecast and my situation is not promising. The North Atlantic Ocean is crammed with the remains of the hurricanes and tropical storms that hit the East coast of the United States in the last few weeks. It seems like this will bring gale-force winds and some precipitation in the next few days. The wind-speed reading this morning at the Sandettie Lightship buoy is 18 knots (33kmh or 21mph).

The weather is always a factor in climbing, paragliding and sailing and that has made me become exceptionally patient. I understand which elements are under my control and which ones I simply have to accept. 

I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to swim this year. And, if I do get a chance, it may be under rough sea conditions. If that is the case, I may decide to postpone the swim to another year instead of making and attempt that’s doomed to fail. One thing is for sure: my story with the English Channel crossing is not over yet. I’m wholly committed to it and I will not stop, no matter how long it takes, until I reach my personal goal of swimming from England to France.

Sunrise at Dover Harbour