We were trekking at an altitude of 11,000 feet. I was struggling to keep up with the Nepali mountaineer who was practically running on the trail, with my 6 year old on a makeshift sling on his back . This 38 kilometre walk over two days would lead us from the town of Gangotri to Gaumukh, the mouth of the Gangorti glacier, the origin of one of the main tributaries of the river Ganges. It was very early in the season, and the trail was mostly empty. The early morning mountain air was crisp, and a stream gurgled beneath the trail. As we walked out of a wooded area onto an open valley, I spotted the shimmering peak of Mount Shivling (21,467 ft) at a distance. At that memorable moment, I felt disappointed by the first thought that arose in my mind: “I should post this on Facebook”.
[Bhojbasa - stitched panorama, Canon G10]
I had joined Facebook a few months before the trip, after holding out for a long time, citing various dubious reasons of principle. I finally succumbed to peer pressure at the Incheon Airport, where, as a sleep-deprived transit passenger who discovered free WiFi after a 13 hour flight across the pacific, I downloaded and installed the Facebook app on my phone. I thus joined the rest of the civilisation in sharing useless, redundant and narcissistic information with the public on a regular basis. My intent of joining Facebook was to share photos with family and friends, but over time, I found myself increasingly behaving in a way that seemed at odds with my real nature. I took readily to the arms-race of “look at my vacation/kid/dog/breakfast” type of posts. Everyone seemed to inhabit a separate universe built specially for them, in which they occupied the most central position - like Zaphod Beeblebrox in the Total Perspective Vortex .
The Gaumukh trip made me think about sharing, especially in the context of photography. Here are some notes I wrote to myself on the subject:
[Trekking from Gangotri to Gaumukh - Canon G10]
I think Goethe said it best:
“Talents are best nurtured in solitude: character is best formed in the stormy billows of the world.”
September 2013, Bangalore.
 As a family of three, we were travelling with a trekking company based in Uttarakhand, who promised us a “harness” for my 6 year old. However, on arrival, the guy looked at my son and said “6 years?! I thought you said 6 months!”. There was of course, never a harness, and he was finally carried on the Nepali’s back, much like how our simian cousins carry their young. I hope my son will forgive me in time.
 From The Hitchhikers’s Guide To The Galaxy, by Douglas Adams. (The answer to your question is 42.)