Annapurna Circuit - Nepal

 ‘I can’t breathe.’  

‘When will this end?’

‘How can it be possible for a human being to climb this many hills?’

These are just a selection of the thoughts I had while walking the Annapurna circuit, an eleven-day trek in the mountainous regions of Nepal. It is hard, gruelling, exhausting, challenging, and so ridiculously beautiful I was struck dumb by the scenery on multiple occasions.

Before this, I had only done a handful of hikes, the longest being just a couple of days. I worried incessantly about my ability to walk for that length of time and to keep up with the rest of the group. As a teenager and young adult, I was the type of person who would do anything to avoid walking up a hill. I often caught the lift instead of taking the stairs. I would walk the longer route to avoid an incline. Though I’ve changed in recent years, I had never done anything like this before. Throughout the circuit, I came face to face with an abundance of absurdly steep hills and in a weird way, grew to like them. 

Me on day 4

I’d previously met Lukas and Tomke, my two travelling companions, on my backpacking trip. We were joined by our guide Suman, a lovely Nepalese man who soon became our friend. Though we all got along well, we spent much of the time walking in silence. This was partly due to being monstrously out of breath and because, after eight hours of walking each day, you run out of stuff to say. 

 You also run out of things to think about. I actually became bored of my own brain. I spent a lot of time reminiscing and dreaming of the future, meticulously envisioning every possible scenario for my soon-to-be homecoming. I imagined what I would eat, who I would see first, where I might move to, and what job I might do… The list goes on. Strangely, I also took to doing maths in my head when a hill was particularly steep. I say strange because I have always had a strong aversion to maths, I recited the eight times table so many times that doing it in my sleep is probably plausible. 

 Some days were easier than others. Many people, regardless of fitness level, suffer from altitude sickness. It can cut their trip short, sending them back down the mountain or leaving them stranded at a tea house as they await improvement. Suman was reluctant to push us to our limit and divvied the days accordingly. The first two were a short four hours where we steadily gained altitude. On the third day, I knew it was time to succumb and buy some walking sticks from a local shop. Those sticks made everything so much easier, and by the end, I formed an odd sort of bond with them. I felt slightly too amateur to own a pair of walking sticks, but they helped enormously. 

The Group

The hardest day for me fell on the 19th of May - the fifth day of the trek. Those who walk the circuit typically visit Lake Tilicho, which is estimated to be the highest lake in the world, with an altitude of 4,919 metres. This was the highest we had been so far, and we were all nervously anticipating our reaction to the sudden gain in altitude. 

 We went to bed at 8 pm the night before to get as much rest as possible before our 4 am start. This was the first place we’d stayed in with no electricity in the rooms, and in addition to this, it was very cold. I wore everything I owned to bed that night, wrapped up tightly in my sleeping bag and beneath a thick duvet, still shivering slightly despite all the layers.

 We awoke at 4 am and reluctantly rolled out of bed and into the crisp cold air, using our phone torches to see our surroundings. I brushed my teeth lazily in the bathroom, leaning against the wall and staring down at our luxury toilet (a squatter) as I contemplated how I would tackle the ten hours of walking we had to go. I had that weird feeling, like the one you get when you wake up in the middle of the night to go to the airport. Discombobulated might be the word.

 We sat in the little tea house, cradling our hot teas and slowly munching on our porridge. Eating at that time felt bizarre, but I knew I needed every ounce of energy I could get, so I forced it down regardless. By the time we left, the sun had appeared, and a soft, pinky glow draped the mountains. I started to feel quite excited for the day ahead. The air was biting. 

Early morning sun hitting the mountains behind the teahouse.

We started our ascent at 5 am and arrived at the lake at 8. Even with the aid of my sticks, I struggled quite a lot. My breathing was skewed, the depth at which I could inhale feeling far shallower than normal. I fought the urge to stop every two minutes and continued upward at snail-like speed. I noticed Suman slowing considerably to not leave me behind.

 A kind distraction lay in the landscape, which was more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen before. Huge mountains encircled us, with little streams and valleys twisting and intertwining around them. The cloudless sky was a deep shade of blue, the early morning sun beaming down. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I would paint that view, what colours I would use, and how big the canvas would be.

The walk up to the lake - we were half an hour away from reaching it at this point.

 The route flattened out considerably as we reached snow level, and I started to walk faster, eagerly awaiting the lake. Lukas and I got there first. Aside from our heavy breathing, there was absolute silence as we took in the scenery before us. The lake was huge and so cold that it was completely frozen over. It was breathtaking, and I felt oddly emotional at having reached it. Everyone else got there a couple of minutes late, and we all sat down to gorge on a celebratory chocolate bar.

Suman, Lukas and Tomke take in the scenery.

It would’ve been rude not to do a headstand in front of it…

We spent about an hour at the lake, taking photos and having a laugh before starting our descent. Many people dislike walking downwards as it’s hard work on the knees and legs, but I would choose it any day over walking up. The route to and from the lake was tricky terrain, with extremely steep edges and only tiny paths to walk along. I thank my lucky stars for our weather as I can only imagine the added difficulty that would come alongside rain and wind. Huge signs were among the paths, reading ‘Landslide Risk Area’, which only added to my discomfort and desire to get past the scary bit as quickly as possible. As we passed and got onto more steady paths, we could hear huge rocks crashing down the cliff edges.

 We stopped somewhere for lunch at around noon and then continued the walk to our accommodation where we arrived four hours later. Any remaining scrap of energy I had was spent by the time we arrived.

Descending from the lake.

At the teahouse that night, I decided to treat myself to my first and only hot shower of the trek. I say treat myself because the tea houses charge extra on top of the room for luxuries such as hot showers, wifi, and charging points. My phone was dead for the majority of the eleven days, but I refused to spend money on charging it and so entertained myself by drawing and writing in my notebook. I had been sacrificing many comforts to stretch my money as far as I could. But I was cold, and it had been a long day, and all I wanted was a steamy hot shower, so I did. It cost 200 rupees, which is the equivalent of £1.19. Not particularly expensive AT ALL by Western standards, but with no cash points up in the Himalayas, I had to make the money last for the remainder.

 I cannot speak for Lukas and Tomke, but I know that for me some of my favourite parts of the experience were how we spent the evenings. Most of the teahouses don’t have wifi, especially the higher up you get, so we couldn’t resort to our usual sources of entertainment. Instead of endlessly scrolling through various social media sites, we played cards, ate food, and exchanged general chit-chat. Sitting down with a cup of tea before a wood burner and discussing the day's events felt homey and comforting. 

Playing cards and sketching.

I took what I ate on the trek relatively seriously. My funds were desperately insufficient by this point, so every penny spent counted. I needed food that was going to both fuel me and satisfy me. The obvious solution was to eat Dal Baht all the time. Dal Baht is a traditional Nepalese dish that typically comes with a little bowl of dal, potato curry, spinach, and a portion of rice. It’s healthy and brilliant for those with a small wallet as it’s bottomless. You can eat as much of it as you like. I often over-ate dal baht, shovelling three portions of it into my greedy gob to gain as much from it economically as possible. You cannot go hungry if Dal Baht is on the menu (which it always is).

 Much to my amusement, Suman confessed that he had eaten two Dal Baht daily for the last seventeen years. By my calculations, that equates to 347,480 dal bahts overall. Kudos to him.

The beauty of a dal baht…

 Despite my previous doubts and misgivings about how I would do on the trek and the odd feeling of wanting to quit during the eleven days, I really enjoyed it for many reasons. I felt inspired throughout it all and also just very bloody lucky to be doing it at all. It only dawned on me afterwards how many people would love the opportunity. 

 I look forward to my next trek, wherever it may be. I’m thinking Peru. Let’s see ;)

Right after walking up a really bloody big hill :)

c