After spending a little more than an hour at the top, we descended in the early morning light and warmth back to Ghorepani for breakfast at the lodge. After checking out, we started our journey to the east, first by climbing a ridge with more spectacular mountain and valley views, then by descending through a cold and quiet forest. The trail in the forest was initially covered with snow and ice, which led to some slow trekking, lots of slipping and sliding, and a few close calls (i.e. almost completely biting it). Eventually we descended far enough that the snow and ice gave way to mud and water, which made for slightly safer trekking conditions. As the sun rose and the day warmed up more, even the mud and water disappeared from the trail and we easily made our way down the stone stairs through the forest. The trail followed a river for much of the way and the forest canopy kept us cool from the blinding sun.

Though the snow, ice, mud, and water had disappeared from the trail, the large and frequent quantities of donkey poop still remained, posing a humorous, but legitimate, slippage threat while we climbed down thousands of steps. I couldn’t help but notice all the varieties, ranging from deposits of two dozen chocolate donut holes to massive piles of fudge. (Photos intentionally omitted.)

For lunch, we stopped at a lodge in a small village dwarfed by towering mountain walls on either side of the river. As we ate our lunch on the stone patio by the water, I enjoyed watching the chickens and donkeys wandering around town, carrying out their daily errands just like anyone else. They were by far the most popular (domesticated) animals on the trail, with the occasional lazy dog or maybe even a cat thrown in for good measure.

After eating, we trekked up and down through the forest and then around the valley until we reached Tadapani, where we were spending the night. We even caught a glimpse of a few languar monkeys in the rhododendron trees having their own lunches shortly after we finished ours.

After my usual hot shower and change of wardrobe, we hung out in the lodge with a new Canadian friend, chatting and playing cards – Presidents and Assholes, a game I hadn’t played since high school! – until dinner time. Before even reaching Nepal, I had read in my Nepal guidebook that apple pie has become a trekkers’ favorite on the trail, so I decided to try it for dinner. I had heard from the girls that the portions were pretty big, so I ordered only a bowl of soup and apple pie for dinner. (Ah, the joys of being an adult.) After I finished my soup, the slice of pie came out. Oh wait, did I say “slice of pie”? I actually meant “entire pie”. Yes, my dinner that night was an entire apple pie. The pie was cut into four slices – can you call something with a right angle a “slice”? – so that I felt somewhat like a human being and not like a barbarian that eats baked goods for sustenance. All that said, the crust was very savory and the gooey innards weren’t overwhelmingly sweet, so it didn’t feel like I was eating a massive dessert in lieu of a proper meal. I devoured the entire thing.

Sandip joined us for dinner too, something he didn’t normally do since he usually ate with the other guides or the family running the lodge. His mealtime manners were overly polite and adorable; I’m still not sure if they reflect his personal beliefs or Nepalese culture in general. He wouldn’t start eating his food until he asked us for permission first; likewise, he wouldn’t talk shop (i.e. the next day’s itinerary) unless we assured him that it was quite acceptable dinner conversation.

We left Hile at our usual starting time of 8:00 and began the hardest day of the trek: ascending 3,500 steps (1,360 meters) to Ghorepani. Climbing stairs for hours actually had a quasi-meditative effect on me; once my body got used to the elevated heart rate and the muscle memory of constantly lifting my legs, I was able to get into a groove and let me mind wander. Occasionally, the stairs would get much steeper and we’d have to stop for a rest. Sandip had provided us with walking sticks that morning – which I had intentionally not purchased when I was provisioning in Kathmandu a few days prior – and I was surprised to experience firsthand how much of a difference they make. When climbing stairs or just an incline, the stick allowed me to use some of my upper body strength so that my legs didn’t have to exert as much; when descending, especially on stairs, the stick helped me maintain my balance and slowed my body to save my knees from lots of extra strain.

We passed lots of trains of donkeys on this day, traveling in both directions, including one particularly murderous one. As we were walking along a narrow trail on the edge of a cliff, several donkeys came around the corner at us and we were caught awkwardly with nowhere to go. One of the donkeys forced one of the Danish girls slightly over the edge of the cliff and she had to fall to her hands and knees and hold on so that she wouldn’t go tumbling down into the valley. One of the other donkeys did the same to me, though I had about a foot of space from the edge to stand in. Though it was extremely dangerous and almost disastrous it that moment, it quickly became a running joke with the girls that the pleasant jingling of the donkeys’ bells was the ominous, terrifying sound of impending death.

Trekking up the side of the huge hill offered us beautiful valley and gorge views the entire day. The trail was initially packed with a lot of trekkers, but as the day wore on and differences in everyone’s pace became more significant, the crowds thinned out, which was great since we had passed some very large groups (a dozen people or more) who were also very loud.

We trekked for about four or five hours, taking rests (and an obligatory masala tea break) as necessary, until we stopped at a lodge with a glorious sun-drenched patio, perfect for drying our sweaty clothes. The weather changed quickly though; after lunch and a relatively short trek, we reached Ghorepani, already grey and somber in the gloom created by the predictable mid-afternoon clouds. In fact, the clouds opened up and showered the area about ten minutes after we checked in. Thankfully, our rooms had attached bathrooms, so I could have my hot shower without venturing out into the rain, though the biting cold and glass-less window in my bathroom made getting undressed a real test of determination.

Ghorepani was easily the coldest location of the entire trek (there was snow on the ground), so after my shower I put on almost all of the clothes I had brought with me. The electricity was out (classic Nepal), so without much else to do, I ventured out with my camera and tried to capture some photos of daily life in the mountain villages. I was quite amused by the local basketball court and the group of boys using it appropriately. I found out later from Sandip that basketball and volleyball are popular in Nepal because they take up the least amount of space, an important consideration in a country that is dominated by hills and mountains and generally uneven terrain.

With no electricity and no heat in our huts, most everyone staying at the lodge – Westerners and Nepali alike – huddled around the fireplace in the main building, swapping stories, warming their hands, sipping masala tea, and listening to Nepali music. The most humorous and eventful part of the evening was the moment when the electricity came back on, at which point no less than ten people – again, Westerners and Nepali alike – made a mad dash across the room to charge their phones in the power strips on the desk. After bringing my phone back from the dead and charging it for about an hour, I turned in, fully clothed to combat the cold, and set my alarm for 4:45 in preparation for our early start to Poon Hill the next morning.