The Marathon Snail

Sarah O’Regan volunteers with a UK charity in Dunkirk supporting refugees “You must help them!” The man, drained with cold and exhaustion, gestured at a father holding a baby as he spoke urgently to me. “Why aren’t you helping them?” The clothes of the refugee carrying the baby were wet. The air temperature was close to zero. The inflatable dinghy used in the previous night’s attempt to cross the English Channel had developed a leak and everyone, including the baby, had fallen into the freezing, dark water. This morning, the adults were still in wet clothes – the only ones they owned. The baby, at least, looked dry and warm in its father’s arms. Another man told us that when he removed his trousers to dry them, the salty fabric ripped a layer of skin off. Later, we learned that two lifeless bodies had been found in the sea. It is February, and I am on a patch of scrubland near Dunkirk in northern France, volunteering with a refugee charity, Calais ...

Sister Act: Hiking the Himalayas in an All-Women Group in Nepal

As published 7 August 2024 on JourneyWoman , the world’s largest and most trusted resource for female solo travel Sarah O’Regan braves the elements and the Himalayan heights and finds tranquillity in the company of women who are breaking the traditional mould Danu and Kumari, women hiking the Himalayas The Himalayan wind pushes me to the side of the footpath once again, and I tack, zigzagging like a sailboat in a headwind. A half-heard sound makes me turn, and on the steep mountainside below I see my companions frantically waving. While they are clearly shouting, I can’t hear them over the howling in my ears. I sit on a stone and rest, rocked by the gale. When they catch up, I learn that Kumari and her heavy pack have been blown over, and tumbled down the mountain some distance. A few metres to our right the ground disappears into a deadly ravine, but luckily no serious damage is done. Later, my guide Danu tells me she has never experienced winds like this in fifteen years of trek...

The endless quest for a birthday beverage

Yesterday was my 34th birthday, and I am currently visiting one of my research projects in Lahan at the eastern end of Nepal, on the terai - the hot plains - which slope down to India. I was slightly worried the day before that I would feel sad not to be 33 anymore, as it was a good year, and because I was exactly half Dad’s age, which seems important. But I think being 34 will be fun, too, particularly as I’ve never been this age before, and of all the places I’ve spent my birthday, Nepal has been the most interesting. In the evening I went out for a birthday dinner with my two colleagues. Even after dark it was still incredibly hot. We all squashed into an electric rickshaw and I hung my head out of the side in the warm darkness, looking for holy cows napping on the side of the road. When we arrived at the restaurant we asked our young waiter about the local wines. “Are the local wines sweet?” Jeremy, the researcher, asked. “Yes”, came the answer. We didn’t want a sweet win...