In a few days I’ll be back in Sri Lanka, heading towards the final stages of the Pekoe Trail. I’ve seven stages left of the 22-stage route having covered 15 stages over two main trips. This time I’ve factored in two rest days. Each trek day I’ll average around 17km, much of it involving the sort of hills that look considerably more innocent on a map.
There’s just one small complication: my hip. This isn’t quite how I imagined the final countdown. I’ve spent months trying to get myself into good shape by walking, strength training and yoga. I’ve been quite determined to arrive in Sri Lanka fitter and stronger than I was when I started this journey at the beginning of last year.
Looking back, I may have been a little too optimistic. My body’s been dropping increasingly obvious hints that it wants me to calm down, and the sensible response now is not to squeeze in one final burst of training to prove to myself that I’m ready, but to ease off, listen and arrive in Sri Lanka with something left in the tank.
There’s another reason these final Pekoe Trail stages have taken longer to complete than I originally expected. Last autumn, as I was half way through a two-week trek in Sri Lanka, whilst stopping for the night at a beautiful monastery in Haputale, I got the hospital call informing me of a breast cancer diagnosis following a routine mammogram I’d had a few weeks previously. So, after returning home, the following months were taken up with invasive surgery, treatment and recovery. The Pekoe Trail, which I’d planned to complete in February 2026, had to wait.
Now, having got myself back to good health, I’m quite aware that getting to this point is something well worth appreciating in itself.
The problem with a goal
I’ve always liked having a challenge to work towards. There’s something satisfying about taking an idea, putting a date against it and then figuring out how to make it happen. The Pekoe Trail has provided plenty of that. It’s been a wonderful combination of challenge, adventure, beautiful landscapes, tea estates, communities and wildlife.
From the beginning, my goal has been straightforward: trek all 22 stages; and I still want to. But, perhaps the interesting question now isn’t whether I still want to finish but what happens if reality gets in the way of the plan?
A different way of looking at it
I keep hearing about the concept of Radical Acceptance. It sounded scary until I realised the idea is quite simple. Rather than spending enormous amounts of energy wishing reality were different, you accept the situation you’re in and then decide what you can actually do about it. That feels pretty relevant right now.
I can’t know exactly how my hip will respond to seven days of hill trekking until I’m actually there but I can prepare for it, rest when I need to and make good choices about how much I do in the days before I leave. What I sadly can’t do is negotiate with it, threaten it or persuade it that because I’ve paid for my flights, booked my guide and planned the itinerary, it really ought to cooperate.
If it behaves, I’ll be delighted. If it doesn’t, I’ll have to adapt which may mean changing a day, shortening a stage or simply accepting that some kilometres may have to wait for another time.
There’s a part of me that would be very disappointed if I can’t complete the final stages so I’m not going to pretend otherwise, but I’m beginning to realise that disappointment doesn’t necessarily mean failure. Sometimes a goal remains exactly that, while the route towards it changes.
There’s more to Sri Lanka than a walking trail
This is probably the bit I most need to remember.
The Pekoe Trail has become a strong thread running through my more recent Sri Lankan adventures, but it would be easy to forget that the trail isn’t the reason I keep returning.
I’ll have my camera with me, for a start, and I’m increasingly excited about spending time being more aware of the wildlife rather than simply walking past it. I’ve enjoyed photographing birds and deer recently, so there’s every possibility that a planned trek day could turn into me photographing something with wings, antlers and, who knows, maybe both!
There will be the familiar things too: the early starts, the heat, the smell of tea, roadside breakfasts, tuk-tuks, probably plenty of rain, people appearing from nowhere with a smile, and those moments when a perfectly ordinary journey somehow becomes a story.
I’ll have the opportunity to revisit the elder home I visited last year, where I met retired tea estate workers living there. There is a tea project I’m also planning to visit which supports Tamil women to develop vocational skills and create opportunities for themselves, and of course I’ll be spending time at the Women’s Development Centre in Kandy, which has been part of my connection with Sri Lanka since 2013.
These are not things I’ve added to the itinerary to make up for any trekking I might miss. They are part of why this trip matters to me in the first place. There are people to see, places to explore, stories to hear, wildlife to photograph and, naturally, a lot of Sri Lankan tea to drink.
Perhaps success isn’t quite what I thought it was
If I manage the final stages over the next couple of weeks, while listening to my body, then I’ll have achieved something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I’ll be able to look back at the whole route, from Stage 1 in the Hanthana mountains just outside Kandy all the way to Nuwara Eliya and say ‘I walked it.’
I don’t think I need to decide now what happens if I don’t. The Pekoe Trail isn’t going anywhere. There’s something quite cool about that. An unfinished trail isn’t a failed trail, just a trail with a few more kilometres waiting for another day.
Letting the trip unfold
So, with a few days to go, my preparation is taking a slightly different form. I’m still walking, but I’m not going to cram in extra kilometres simply because I’m anxious about whether I’ve done enough. I’m giving my body a chance to recover from the training and trusting that the work I’ve already put in is enough.
I’m going to Sri Lanka determined to walk those final stages of the Pekoe Trail. That hasn’t changed. What has changed, perhaps, is my need to control exactly how the next few weeks unfold.
If I reach the end, I’ll celebrate. If I don’t, I’ll still have had the journey, the people, the wildlife, the landscapes and everything else that comes with being back in Sri Lanka.
Have you ever had to change the way you pursue a goal without changing the goal itself? What happened?