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.

Over an early-morning breakfast, I met my guide, Sandip, and the other members of our group, a couple of Danish girls who were traveling parts of Asia during their gap year. After breakfast, I climbed into a van with the others for the 90-minute drive to Nayapul, a small town by the Modi River that serves as the starting and finish line for this particular trekking loop.

After Sandip handled some registration paperwork at the local trekking office, we were on our way by 10:00 or so, heading up a gently sloping dirt road that ran alongside the river and through several villages, offering great views of the valley, terraces cut into the hills, and foot bridges spanning the river.

The dirt road gave way to a stone pathway/staircase which would become our “yellow brick road” for the next five days. This trekking style, sometimes referred to as “teahouse trekking”, is relatively easy and convenient, even if you don’t have a guide, as you’ll never walk more than an hour or so without coming across a cluster of lodges that offer hot meals, hot showers, and a safe place to stay for the night. The stone pathway is the only link between the villages in the mountains, so it’s shared by Western tourists, Nepalis carrying crops or rocks or wood in baskets on their backs, and trains of donkeys either carrying fresh supplies uphill or empty burlap sacks and propane tanks downhill.

The first day was relatively easy; we trekked for only three hours or so and made it to Hile, our final destination for the day, a bit after noon. Before doing anything else, we sat down in the restaurant and all had a lunch of dal bhat, a traditional Nepalese meal that is popular throughout the entire country (and even neighboring countries) with pretty much everyone, local and tourist alike. The dal baht I had along the entire trekking route was very reliable: a mountain of rice (how appropriate!), dal (lentil soup), curry potatoes, greens, spicy sauce or Nepalese kimchi (always referred to as “pickle”), and a piece of papadum. It makes for a perfect trekkers’ meal, and a great meal in general, since it’s tasty, nutritious, and very filling. And the best part? Unlimited seconds! Every time I finished about half of my meal, someone would come around with a pot of food and ask if I wanted more. Even though the portions in Nepal are massive to begin with, I found myself easily eating two full plates every day for lunch; somehow, Nepalese rice goes down much, much easier than rice from Southeast Asia. Each lodge along the route is family-run, so each dal bhat is a slightly different recipe, adding a little bit of excitement to my mid-day meal. After eating huge amounts of it for lunch for five straight days, I still wasn’t tired of it.

After lunch, I went through what would become my daily routine upon arriving at our lodge for the evening: I checked into my room, soaked myself in a hot shower, hung up my sweaty clothes on the clothesline, put Tiger Balm (still in my bag from one of last year’s trips to Thailand) on my shoulders, and changed into dry, warm clothes. The days were sunny and warm enough that I’d get sweaty during the trekking, especially with a backpack, but once I showered and emerged from my room into the cool mountain air, warm clothes were definitely necessary.

The rooms at the lodges on the trekking route tend to be pretty standard: four walls and a door, two twin beds with hard mattresses, a small bedside table, windows that don’t fit properly in their frames (leading to a great bicep/tricep workout when I wanted to open or close them), and a single light bulb. No sealing, no insulation, no heater, no outlets, and no attached bathroom. Basically, think of a shed, then add a shared squat toilet, a shared shower closet, and an outdoor faucet that offers only freezing cold mountain river water. The one thing that prevented hypothermia during the cold mountain nights was the multi-inch thick blankets that did a remarkable job of keeping me warm despite the fact that the temperature in my room was the same as the temperature outside.

After accepting what my lodging and “amenities” would be like for the next few days, I was able to take in the environment and really begin to enjoy the setting, which was amazing. Hile is lower in the hills (an elevation of about 1,500 meters), so we were surrounded on all sides by tall, lush valley walls dotted with houses and plumes of smoke among the trees and terraces. The sun danced through the clouds and the green canopy overhead and somewhere below, out of sight, the constant, calming white noise of a rushing mountain river could be heard.

The four of us knocked down cultural and language barriers by spending the entire afternoon playing Uno in the restaurant, then having dinner (momos and Nepalese beer for me) once the sun went down. I had the very gratifying revelation that food is so much more satisfying when I have to work hard for it; trekking for a few hours was much more physical exertion than I’m used to having these days.