"Meetings On The Edge" is a travel memoir by a once-frustrated journalist for the BBC, who took the plunge and abandoned a ten year career to follow her dream to become a mountaineer. This book explores the impact of a solitary journey as well as unexpected encounters with fascinating people along the way. The different natural environments mirror the demands of an evolving quest. The many lessons of nature's classroom are against a background of adventure, discovery and considerable personal risk. Like all quests, the incidental insights and surprising events challenge the romantic idea of adventure. Stories from Alaska, the Pacific North West, the Himalaya and New Zealand's Southern Alps are interwoven into the central adventure of traversing the French and Spanish Pyrenees alone.Tales to highlight include encountering a naked and all too aroused flasher far off the beaten track, a colourful relationship with Nepal's most famous civilian, a film star, two weeks after the royal massacre, and summiting Denali, North America's highest peak, while the expedition dwindled from 9 to just 4 due to life-threatening illness and mishap. But it was after a chance meeting with a wise Maori man and a solitary encounter with a 2000 year old Kauri tree in an ancient forest, that the author experiences an epiphany: that a restless, goal-driven life is not the most fulfilling. This book ends in the foothills of the Pyrenees, where the freedom she has experienced is in marked contrast to the security-conscious existence of those living there. The electric gates, fencing and hedgerows project a community in fear of those very open spaces which had broadened her horizons.

Table of Contents

Prologue: Flashback to Kilimanjaro expedition and personal euphoria at breaking away from team members to climb at my own speed with a guide. We have summit moment and towering view to ourselves as dawn streaks across the sky. This is a taste of freedom which makes me want more. 2003Chapter 1: Solitary shift as Overnight Editor in BBC Scotland newsroom. The treadmill of processing the decadeA 's biggest news story A A- Iraq A A- is mirroring the drudgery of my own life. Weekend mountaineering is no longer quelling my restlessness. I decide to quit and pursue my dream to climb mountains.Chapter 2: The first day of my solo traverse of the Pyrenees. This is the first time I face camping out alone and the challenge of navigating and making independent decisions. The route will cross from France into Spain, from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean and take at least ten weeks. Already my gross inexperience is paling against unforeseen mishaps: including being flashed at by a man in an evident state of arousal, who appeared randomly out of a bush, twenty minutes into my first lone foray in the French Basque countryside. Eventually lA 'homme bizarre runs off and an encounter with an eccentric male walker further along does nothing to reassure me. I am seriously dehydrated too and all water sources identifiable on the map are dried out, in what later proves to be one of the hottest French summers on record. Just as IA 'm about to turn around, I meet Philippe, an experienced long distance hiker, who decides to A 'initiateA ' me into the rigours of life off the beaten track. Chapter 3-6: Adapting to life on the trail during the first week. Friendship with Philippe develops as well as a growing certainty that I need to press on alone on the more challenging high level ridge route, leaving the waymarked paths. Philippe crosses a line by invading my privacy as I bathe in a natural pool. A surprise stay at Esteben Farm with its disarray of animals and wild children are a charming insight into rural life unchanged by the modernising forces in the lower valleys. Bivvy tested during a storm. Tensions mount with Philippe and my resolve hardens to find my way along the ridge line through the range. We share a final night at the famous pilgrim centre of St-Jean-Pied-de-Port. The next day we coincide on the trail at the Iraty Forest and Philippe points out where he expects to pitch his tent, leaving me to finish a snack before a last farewell. I follow his directions faithfully but canA 't find him anywhere. I have no choice but to resume my plan to follow the higher route, without having exchanged contact details or thanks for everything he taught me. The mystery of his disappearance makes me reflect how the impact someone makes is often felt in their absence. I start to think back to my extraordinary time climbing in the Nepali Himalaya one monsoon and the host of people I encountered which made it so memorable. 2001Chapter 7: The massacre of the Nepali Royal Family coincides with my imminent departure to spend six weeks there. The Himalayan Kingdom is swept by profound political unrest, as conspiracy theories about what happened that tragic night in the palace become a national fixation. Nepal is one of the worldA 's flashpoints to avoid as the Maoist insurgents exploit the power vacuum. Kathmandu has changed dramatically since my previous visit eleven years ago. Most westerners have been driven away by monsoon and the instability, which makes me stand out. I meet Kris and Dipesh and have lunch with them. Kris boasts about his famous cousin, a movie star and box office magnet of A A"Kollywood.A A" He is also a second cousin to the Royal Family. Kris points at a billboard promoting Rajesh HamalA 's latest role. He takes this for a A 'signA ' we must meet and arranges a supper for us all that night, which is also the eve of my departure for Pisang Peak. Meanwhile I meet my Bhutanese guide Sonam and we organise expedition gear. Chapter 8: Kris is waiting for me in the hotel lobby, furious that IA 'm a few minutes late for our rendezvous. He is clearly in awe of his cousin and has been drinking to steady his nerves. We set off to the restaurant and wait with Dipesh for Rajesh, who is held up shooting a dance sequence. Finally, he makes a charismatic entrance. The waiters fuss around as their most celebrated customer orders for his table. Rajesh, the son of a diplomat, is well travelled and has been educated internationally. Highly intelligent and well connected, he has fascinating insights into the massacre and NepalA 's prospects for a democratic future. Rajesh doesnA 't offer to contribute to the bill and Kris and I share it. We decide to spend the early hours of the morning drinking at his favourite hotel. Kris picks up the tab. After more stimulating conversation and having acquired RajeshA 's mobile phone number, I head back to the hotel to catch two hours of sleep before meeting with Sonam for our dawn departure. Chapter 9: Observations about Himalayan life, as we walk towards the base of the mountain, taking nearly two weeks. Buddhism and its role in the lives of the communities has a constant presence. Sonam is an impressive and modest leader. As a child he trained to be monk in Darjeiling and grew increasingly curious about the mountains surrounding his monastery. At fourteen, he ran away to Kathmandu to find his uncle, a rich industrialist, who then refused to help him. Sonam had to live on the streets and work as a chef, before becoming a guide. He is a passionate climber who learnt his craft on the climbing walls in Kathmandu. He has been on two Everest expeditions. I find out that Rajesh Hamal is just as famous in the remotes. The Government distributes VHS recordings of mainstream films to be watched every Friday by the vast population who live, in some cases, several days walk from the nearest A 'cinema.A ' We have a puja ceremony to ask the spirits for a safe ascent on the last evening before beginning the long climb of Pisang.Chapter 10: We set up Base camp and practise various ice skills and rope technique. We also explore the route to take us to the summit and then retire for some sleep before our midnight start. It is a cloudless, bitterly cold night. None of us have slept at all (two porters, Sonam and I) and I have a bad feeling about the mountain. The ascent is relentless and our momentum is constantly interrupted with waiting to fix lines. Our lack of energy and coldness makes me decide to turn back within thirty feet of the summit. The weather is already turning and the way down seems even longer and hard-going than the route up. Once back at Base Camp, I learn that we are perhaps the first expedition on the mountain since nearly all of a sixteen-strong German party got killed in an avalanche two years before. Back on the trail we coincide with a Friday night viewing of one of RajeshA 's films. Sonam tells the audience that I know the star and so every time the movieA 's hero cracks a joke or flirts with the heroine, rows of heads would turn in front to check IA 'm suitably entertained. Chapter 11: I meet up with Rajesh to share my penultimate evening in Kathmandu A A- an interesting insight into celebrity. He strikes me as rather lonely and self-absorbed. He treats me to a sumptuous meal at one of the capitalA 's 5* hotels. We visit the famous Monkey Temple on its elevated site and watch the city life unfold in the night below. Rajesh suggests we go back to his house to continue talking. The next five hours are mainly filled with watching footage of him on a tour of St Petersburg, to promote A 'KollywoodA 'sA ' profile. At 6am I head off to my hotel. It is bund, a strike day called by the Maoists, who threaten to shoot anyone who defies their ban on work or motorised transport. In the alley outside RajeshA 's house they have planted a bomb and the army are ordering bystanders to sprint past the undetonated device. It is my turn and I decide to walk past the innocuous looking contraption, finding the situation rather absurd. Safely the other side, I glance back, expecting to see Rajesh watching or waving. His electric gate is shut and no one there. 2003Chapter 12: Back in the Pyrenees, bad weather forces me to accept an invitation to spend a day with a volunteer bird watcher. It is fascinating to learn about the migratory path of the griffon vulture, which in late august heads south to Africa. After sharing a fun day, Chris surprises me with his offer to share a shower with him, which I hastily decline.Chapter 13: My first foray on the trackless ridge route is exciting but low cloud makes me turn around, opting for a lower route until the weather clears. I meet a shepherd who becomes angry and excitable when I refuse his offer to accept a ride in his tractor. His hand makes a sudden movement towards his fly. After my encounter with lA 'homme bizarre, the aroused man on my first day still fresh in my memory, I take no chances and run off. The limestone landscape is beautiful and desiccated. Back on the higher route, storms are a constant threat, yet leave no trace of their deluge. My raging thirst is cured by the rainwater collected in a scooped out granite boulder, the only such rock in an environment of limestone. I buy some cheese from a shepherd living out the season in a basic hut, who has an extraordinary aptitude for commerce, demonstrated by his reluctance to round off the bill and his assiduous counting of every cent coin in change. I spend the night in an exquisite setting, next to a river by woodland, with the milky white hills framing the scene.Chapter 14: While waiting for a gite to open in the charming cobbled village of Lescun, I talk to a local woman, curious about my journey. I recount the details of my previous night by the woods and the animal noises which interrupted my sleep. Hours later, while looking at the exhibits of a photographic history of the Lescun pioneers who first climbed the nearby mountains, I become distracted by a conversation. A woman is holding centre stage as her cluster of listeners watch on enthralled. Key words make me realise that the subject of this history is in fact me and the narrator the same woman IA 'd been speaking to earlier. I manage to leave the room unnoticed, as my newly washed appearance bears little resemblance to the heroine of her tale. Chapter 15: A serious navigational error in my haste to escape a ridge in a lightening storm leads me to make a dangerous and foolhardy descent down a dried out waterfall. I duck for cover just in time to avoid being knocked out by a large rock hurtling down the rocky chute past me. I reach a shepherdA 's hut and reorientate myself but my confidence is knocked and morale low.2005Chapter 16: Overcoming doubts and fears I decide to mountaineer full time, leaving the BBC once and for all. I plan an eight-month odyssey which will take me to Alaska, the Pacific North West, New Zealand and the Himalaya in north India. A transit headache in Chicago Airport and the extraordinary inefficiency of an airline assistant, Mary transports me into a very different sort of mindset. The time it takes to reach Alaska heightens its A 'last frontierA ' status. A road trip exploring its southern coast introduces me to a cast of colourful Alaskans. I am now ready for three weeks of being in the icy, landlocked interior to climb Denali, North AmericaA 's highest mountain.Chapter 17-19: My expedition colleagues and I access the peak by red Otter planes. The terrain is so wild and isolated, the conditions so extreme, that this is likely to prove my most challenging mountain experience to date. Gradually the party dwindles due to lack of fitness, a groin strain, a slipped disc, a lack of will and a life threatening pulmonary and cerebral oedema (the combination is so rare there have only been a handful of recorded cases in America.) Two Americans fall to their death two days further up the route. WeA 're running out of time and bad weather hits the mountain. Unless it clears, we will have to descend to make the final date to fly off the mountain. A narrow weather window enables the remaining four of us to summit.Chapter 20: After a monthA 's training at mountaineering school, a new friend and I organise our own expedition. Bad weather turns us back before reaching the summit. Yet this trip is made remarkable because of an unexplainable encounter in an ancient Native American forest. A silver pen knife mysteriously disappears and a crystal surfaces in my energy bar, while the light shifts and all sense of time grinds to a halt. 2002Chapter 21: Celebration of my 30th birthday, coinciding with a move to Scotland post-Nepal and a mounting correspondence with Rajesh Hamal. He flies over for a three-week visit to coincide with the big party. As the fireworks go off, I imagine a future with a Nepali film star husband and envisage a rather happier one without.2003Chapter 22: The legacy of Count Henry Russell, a French/Irish eccentric who roamed about the Pyrenees in the late 19th century lives on in this particularly wild stretch of the higher mountains. The grottos he had blasted into the fourth highest mountain, which he leased from the local canton, were the venues for parties heA 'd throw for the glamorous high society set. Chapter 23: The little-known Ordessa Canyon in the Spanish Pyrenees is wild and my lone foray into it feels like the greatest solitary exposure yet. I go off track and soon realise the dangers inherent in my lonely descent: if I got injured, it might take weeks or even months to be found. Just as IA 'm forced to sleep out for the night and retrace my steps the next morning, two runners appear from nowhere. They manage to lower my backpack down a vertical cliff and I reach safety in the fading dusk.Chapter 24: The wildness of the canyon and poor weather shakes my confidence. A lucky meeting with a Spanish hiker at a hut, the only person heading my way, agrees to partner up for a few days. The Spanish Pyrenees are a far wilder, remoter prospect altogether. I have a face to face confrontation with hundreds of goats who surround my bivvy, unused to human visitors. 2005Chapter 25: New Zealand scene set - a primeval land which enriches my perspective of the outdoors. A lucky stay at Milford Sound and exposure to the community there which depends on the land and water to live, opens my eyes to an ageless relationship with the environment. Chapter 26: A helicopter ride to access the heart of Mount Cook National Park heightens the exposure of the adventure ahead. A new acquaintance and I base ourselves at a hut to spend several days climbing the nearby glaciated mountains. A qualified guide, whoA 's also staying there with his father, cross examines my experience and eligibility to climb the notoriously demanding Hooker Face of Mount Cook, which I had planned to do in the next month. My friend and I decide to A 'walk outA ' of the National Park, rather than fly out. What seemed like a good idea turns into a twenty hour challenge involving extreme exposure and exhaustion. Forced to make an unexpected ice climb in the dark onto the world famous Franz Joseph Glacier with its creaking, haunting quality, further leads me to question the nature of my commitment to the sport.Chapter 27: A Maori taxi driver offers advice about the relentless A 'doingA ' nature of my quest. Alone, I have an ancient forest to myself and sit marvelling at a 2000 year old kauri tree. Its solidity and presence has a profound authority, and I sense its living wisdom. 2003Chapter 28: The traverse of the Pyrenees is in its final days. An unplanned descent to a ghostly village after three days without seeing another soul makes me rap on the window of a strangerA 's house, seeking shelter for the night. She immediately calls on her friend, the regionA 's Mayor, who takes me under his wing. He not only finds me somewhere to sleep, also offering food and a lift but comes to my rescue as I have an encounter with a giant spider.2005Chapter 29: Adapting to the cultural contrasts between New Zealand and New Delhi is not without mishap. The rigorous initiation into the ways of the Indian capital involves being persuaded to buy a flight to Kashmir, a terrorist trouble spot. A spontaneous visit to the Tibetan enclave and Himalayan home of the exiled Dalai Lama is a perfect way to wind down my eight month long mountain odyssey. Chapter 30: A Vipassana meditation retreat in a monastery in the Garwhal Himalaya demands a 12-day vow of silence. It also leads me to meet the Obroys who play host to a very different cultural experience of India. When itA 's time to fly home, I am no longer the exploited, naive stranger. 2003Chapter 31: My last day walking towards the Mediterranean. Already the landscape has changed and become lower and more populated. The affluence of the area is also reflected in the security gates, intercoms and neatly mown strips of lawn, bordered with bushes for privacy. Asking for directions, a man warns me of the A A"dangersA A" of the final 4km hike. The freedom of my lone adventure makes me see the everyday fears most people project and live with. At last I reach the A 'finishing lineA ' A A- and realise a journey never really ends.

About the Author

Mags MacKean was born and raised at sea level, the youngest of four daughters. A love of mountains struck some years later. Her spartan schooling near the wild Scottish Highlands exposed her to the freedom of the outdoors, not so much to scale its heights, but for the cover it provided for illicit smoking and swilling a heady mix of rum and irn-bru. A chance trip to Kilimanjaro changed everything. As a radio and TV news reporter, Mags uprooted from London and moved to Glasgow for the mountains. After three generously sanctioned career breaks, she finally obeyed her restless calling and quit her job in 2005. She has since roamed in some of the worldA 's remotest mountain areas, often alone and needing all her resources during some surprise adventures. Mags spent much of last year working with Tibetan refugees in north India while researching for her next book, a novel about their life in exile. She has attended the prestigious Banff Mountain Writing Programme.