Manaslu Circuit
Nepal
April 2026
In 2026 I used a six week gap between jobs to head out to Nepal. This is likely to be my last really long holiday for a long time, so I wanted to push the limits and set myself a fairly epic challenge. Much time spent browsing Himalayan treks and contacting a few companies for suggestions lead me to this pairing. The Manaslu Circuit, followed after a brief rest in Kathmandu, by an attempt at Mera Peak (6400m) and crossing the Ambulapcha pass to join the Everest Three Passes trek. Before this trek the highest I'd ever been was 3500m so the Manaslu circuit, while being a beautiful trail in its own right, was also essential preparation for the trek to follow. Manaslu is a restricted area and trekkers must be accompanied by a guide. I organised my whole trip through a Nepali company Pathfinder Treks who also operate as Nepal Mountain Adventure. This meant I paid a single fee for pretty much everything - all accommodation on the trek and in Kathmandu before/after, 3 meals a day while treking and a guide and porter. Booking the whole thing with one company also meant I got the same guide for both treks. For the Manaslu Circuit I was part of a group so was joined by Timo, Deni and Luis, plus our guide Som and our porters Bibek and Chiran.
Day 1
Kathmandu to Machhakhola (869m) (Bus powered)
The alarm goes off at 05:00, and this being only my second day in Nepal that still feels a lot like the 00:15 that is at home. Yuck. I fumble my way into some clothes, down a couple of travel sick pills and get myself to the front of the hotel. Som is here to meet us with a cheery smile and two taxis and off we go dodging through the endless stream of motorbikes, pedestrians and buses to reach the main bus station. We transfer us and all our things into a waiting bus and after a compulsory amount of faff we're on our way. I'm expecting to fall straight asleep but the city is interesting enough that I'm surprisingly awake. I watch the chaos of streets and houses gradually subside, and trees and terraced farm land appear. We stop for breakfast - some very spicy potatoes, and back in the bus the hot sun and food have my eyelids finally drooping and when I wake up its lunchtime. More food! The bus roles and rattles its way into the hills on narrower and narrower roads until we reach the end of the tarmac. We exit, stretching cramped limbs, and make our way to a slightly smaller bus which is already overflowing with people. There's a fair amount of standing about as various combinations of people get on and off again and bags are removed from inside and strapped to the roof. Eventually I score a seat right in the back corner. It’s so small that my legs can't fit in front of me and must instead twist off into Luis' leg space and his in turn are in the aisle. At least we're in. As are maybe 20 people in the aisle and at least one chicken. This process takes approximately an hour during which the small metal bus in the sun becomes a sauna and sweat drips gently down my nose. At last we're off and little hot air starts to circulate through the windows. I can get one arm halfway out of mine to catch the breeze. We've left the tarmac behind and progress is a rattle, a lurching role and occasionally a violent jolt that brings my shoulder into the top of the window frame. Deni in front of me is valiantly attempting to read a book but her hands are shaking so much it’s hard enough to fix on one word let alone follow the line to the next. We proceed in this manner for a long time and not very much distance, following the river deeper into the hills. On my side cliffs rise vertically, sometimes so steep they appear to overhang the road. On Timo's side they drop just as precipitously away. Eventually it ends. After 11 hours of vibration noise and dust we are in Machhakhola, the end of the road. From here we will walk. First though, we settle into the teahouse. There's a not-quite-completely-cold shower to wash away the sweat and dust of the road, dal bhat for dinner and a bed for some much needed sleep.
Day 2
Machhakohla to Jagat (1340m) 15km
We get a (relative) lie in and meet for breakfast at 6:30. It’s a big steaming bowl of porridge with apple and bananas and if you're brave you can add honey but that might also fill it with bees. Extra protein? Chiran and Bibek disappear with our overnight bags and we're off not long after. It feels so good to walk. The morning is cool with the sun not yet high enough to penetrate into the valley. In fact, the walls are so shear I can't help but wonder if direct light ever hits even half of it. It’s beautiful. Up ahead through a narrow V are higher forested tops, and above them still just visible through the haze is a suggestion of white. Cloud? Snowy summit? I can pick out a few details that I convince myself is the line of a ridge. The trail starts easily - the bus ends here but the road doesn't quite. If road is the best word for it. It's certainly a step above being a track but you'd want some good ground clearance if you were to drive it. We wander gently along, gaining height so gradually you can't really feel it. There are a few other familiar faces from the teahouse and we fall into step alongside Stuart who is British but living in Laos. He is carrying all his own kit which naturally leads us onto the topic of porter or no porter. This trek is the first time that I've ever had someone else carry my things and it’s an odd concept that I feel slightly uncomfortable with. Certainly today I'd be fine with both my bags, but higher up I don't know. It’s going to be my first experience at significant altitude and for the sake of my own enjoyment (and I suppose contributing to local employment etc) I'm doing without that particular challenge. We reach the village of Tatopani which adds two new Nepali words to my vocabulary: tato - hot, and pani - water. There is a little bathing house built around the hot spring which falls from a spout at perfect hot bath temperature, though the day is warming rapidly which does somewhat reduce the appeal. We turn off the road here and cross the river on our first wire bridge. The other side is a good path which continues through a succession of small villages. There are chickens, goats, lines of heavily laden donkeys, and people going about their daily lives. The donkeys wear bright jangling bells. The sun has risen high over the valley walls and the air is hot. We lunch at Syauli Bhatti. I can't face a huge meal in this heat so opt for momos (veg filled dumplings dipped in a sweet hot sauce) which are spot on. We continue up river, the deep narrow valley incredibly managing to become even steeper, and sheer cliffs rise either side of us. Despite this the road is advancing and a rock pecker is hammering away at the cliff face on the other side, gradually widening out an already improbable traverse. Jagat, where we stop for the night is now reachable by motorbike or 4x4, and maybe in a few more years the buses will rattle, role and jolt their way here too. I ask Som about the changes he has seen here over his 10-15 years as a guide and he tells me the road we took yesterday is only 6-7years old. Today’s progress has taken us 8 hours of walking in some pretty intense heat. For Luis, Deni and Timo this is their first ever trek, and Luis is carrying all his own kit. So it’s with a grateful sigh of relief that the bags can be set down for the last time. I take some time to sit and write, then with 2 hours still until dinner and my stomach rumbling head off for a wander up some steps opposite the teahouse marked "church". It’s not very far and locked so I carry on, finding a narrow path down through banana trees and crops to rejoin the village. I find a rock to perch on and spend an hour sitting, listening to the river below, the village behind and the birds in the trees overhead. The clouds are thickening, and the sky starting to darken. Dinner is dahl bat (again) with seconds all round and a few rounds of Uno Flex - a fancy version of Uno with extra rules which is initially overly complex but after a few plays I'm coming round to it.
Day 3
Jagat to Deng (1860m) 16km
I wake up feeling not quite right and wonder if yesterday I drank a bit too much plain water, certainly the thought of drinking more water is very unappealing. Breakfast goes down OK and everything else feels good so I decide I'm fine. The trail continues to follow the river line, crossing occasionally back and forth on slightly swaying wire bridges. The valley remains improbably steep sided; its walls squeezing in closer and closer on each side, losing nothing in height. We enjoy a few hours in the shade before the sun peaks back over the tops, and when it does it’s another hot day. The air is still and heavy. There are lizards basking on the rocks and large orange butterflies. We pass a check point and find a shaded place to sit while Som sorts out permits. The heat is definitely getting to me. I buy an orange which is excellent and juicy but the thought of yet more water remains unpalatable. I make a mental note to add lots of salt to my lunch. Onwards, the path crosses open hillside, terraced fields and small villages. Lunch time comes. I opt for noodle soup but then can't seem to make myself eat more than a few mouthfuls. It’s not particularly nice and the added salt isn't helping. I feel a bit sick and briefly lightheaded. I sit inside in the shade for a while, then manage some rehydration solution. Thankfully that goes in OK. Onwards, at least the pace is slow and my legs work fine. We turn a corner in the valley. I'm halfway across the wire bridge, high in the air, when a big bird of prey glides just under my feet. Brown and a bright yellow head. It soars off down the valley effortlessly covering in a minute a distance that has taken us an hour. (On doing some internet research long after the event the best fit I can find is the lammergeier/bearded vulture, though I’m not convinced it was quite big enough) Round the corner the road is long gone. Now there is only a narrow path, crossing sandy scree and at times tunnelled into the cliff face. The vegetation is changing too; we have reached a landscape dominated by pine and the occasional rhododendron. The path continues, crossing and recrossing the river. We are all tired. I've managed a litre of rehydration solution but still can't face a snack. So it is with great relief that Deng comes into view. I flop onto a bed in the teahouse and take a nap. Then after a bit of a battle manage about half of dinner. Straight to sleep.
Day 4
Deng to Namrung (2630m) 15km
I spend most of the night half awake and sitting up in bed this morning I feel sick at the thought of breakfast. The fact that the porridge is burnt really doesn't help. Onwards? I'm really grateful today that our group pace is slow. As usual we manage an easy few hours in the shade before the sun climbs over the hills, and I think today is a little cooler. There is a swift breeze and more tree cover. I manage to snack and get through more rehydration solution and I think I'm starting to feel better. We cross more wire bridges and pass through more forest. There are monkeys on the other side of the river, browsing noisily for food in the branches of a tree. The trail continues on following the river up its steep sided gorge. Donkeys are plentiful, the jangling of their neck bells giving good warning to get your feet out of the way. They travel in troops of 10-15, a human at the rear to give an occasional whistle or "tche", but they know the way and traverse the cliff faces and wire bridges with barely a flick of the ears. One troop carry cement bags proudly stamped "60kg when filled" two apiece. We gain height, pass a tea house advertising “Yak Milk”. Som laughs and informs us “yak” actually just refers to the male, the females are nek. Onwards, the villages are filling with prayer stones which we must pass to the left. Some are fragmented pieces of what must have been huge slabs, propped up on small mounds or sometimes long walls. Many are ancient and weather worn (Som thinks maybe 1000 years) others clearer. They are carved in an old script that he can't read and there are many Buddas also among them. Reaching Namrung after another long day we drop our bags. I head out into the village and find a spot to sit with a view up the valley to write. Occasionally I must shift my feet aside to let a line of donkeys come past. I'm scrolling back through my camera to refresh my memories of what was today and what was yesterday when an old woman comes up and, in gestures, asks to see. I show her the photos of the trail. I have no way of knowing if it’s a route she recognises well or if she has never left her home village and it occurs to me that there may be people living here who have never seen a car. Back at the teahouse I manage all of dinner and some seconds. I chat briefly to a woman from Germany, her B3 boots inspiring me to ask if she is doing something more than just the circuit (for which most people, me included, are in summer boots or in some cases even trainers) No, she says, Larkya La will be her fifth high pass this season and the others have been thigh deep snow.
Day 5
Namrung to Shyala (3500m) 11km
The sun comes early to Namrung, the tail of the valley swinging round towards the East behind us. I've slept well and am feeling good. Onwards, there is a steep climb out of the village and the sun is hot but the air cold. I'm still in my lightest clothes but think tomorrow might be time for long sleeves, last night was the first night I've managed to sleep with the liner sleeping bag (I have two) fully over me rather than just a token corner. There are other changes too. The prayer stones grow more abundant and today we meet the first prayer wheels. We pass them all to the left, right hand turning the wheels to send Om Mani Padme Hum out onto the wind. One in a stream spins with the flow of the water. I walk at the front for most of the day, Som bringing up the rear. It feels good to let a gap open and walk alone. The forest has shifted again, now fir trees dominate with a scattering of pine. The path traverses a high edge, gaining height above the river. Occasionally this means clinging to said edge as a line of laden donkeys or people carrying huge mounds of grasses must squeeze past. The mountains rise around us and we are getting closer to the snows. Halfway through the day we round a corner to be greeted by our first glimpse of Manaslu, the 8th highest mountain in the world. It rises majestically behind an electric pole, which somewhat detracts from photographs but I suppose reflects the reality of these trails where the path we are walking is often the only one and services must follow. At lunch we are at 2950m. I devour a plate of momos and pronounce myself cured of whatever degree of heat illness I've been suffering from these last few days. We climb higher, perhaps the first real climbs of the trail. I can definitely start to feel the altitude and am breathing slightly faster than I would expect for the gradient. But a slow plod works well and I'm keeping up with Bibek and Chiran (if you ignore the fact that they are probably carrying three times the weight I am attached only by a rope over the top of their heads), and well ahead of the others. At the top of the hill is Shyala, touching the clouds. We settle in to our teahouse and I grit my teeth and manage to wash my hair in very cold water, then decide the rest of me can do without. On the rooftop there is a little balcony with a view over the village and, briefly, a full mountain vista, the glaciers reaching down towards us. Then there is only cloud.
Day 6
Shyala to Samagaon (3520m) via Pung Gyen Gompa (4040m) 12km
I wake feeling ill again and only manage half of breakfast. Onwards, it is only 1.5hrs to samagaun so we're off on a side trip to Pung Gyen Gompa (4040m) to help acclimatise to the altitude. We set out at our usual gentle pace, definitely breathing harder. We get a very beautiful rest stop at the top of Shyala where an impressive monastery is still under construction - though the outside is pretty much finished. It has been two years in the making so far and the single digger which is the only visible piece of machinery had to be flown in in multiple pieces by helicopter. The path climbs steeply up to a lip where we find ourselves in the slightly desolate U of a retreated glacier. There is a small pool in which two possibly insane Swedes are taking a (very brief) swim. The sun is hot above us but the wind is cold and long sleeves and a softshell strikes a good balance. We meander along, the path crossing small streams, boulders and scree. All around rise snowy giants, their tops weaving wisps of cloud. Yak/Nek graze on short grasses. We reach Pung Gyen Gompa, a small monastery in a lonely plane. Nobody lives here, but visitors may stay a few days in prayer, and the gentle tide of acclimatising trekkers comes daily. Prayer flags flutter in the wind. Down again. I'm feeling tired and what started this morning as a stiff neck from an uncomfortable bed has developed into a nagging headache. It hurts to move my eyes. Eager to get down I let the others fall behind. It is 3pm when we reach Samagaon, well overdue for lunch. But again I can’t face much food. Half a plate of noodles goes in and all I want to do is sleep. A couple of hours rest settles the headache, or at least it does until I have to walk up one flight of stairs for dinner then it’s back with a vengeance. I can't manage even a single mouthful, and it takes 10 minutes to work my way through two paracetamol. I'm sitting in a room full of happy, fresh looking people, devouring piles I food that I can't even look at. Timo is still having at least 5 refills of dal bhat daily. I feel awful. Som gets out the oxygen saturation monitor and I'm sitting at 93%. (Actually perfectly normal for the altitude but certainly a long way from my usual 100%). The others are closer to 96%. Apparently step one of treating altitude sickness (before more official things like descent and medications) is garlic soup and this is dually produced. I manage about 3/4 of a bowl which is a win in itself as the stuff is eye watering. Bed.
Day 7
Samagaon (3520m) acclimatisation trip to 4300m 8km
Another acclimatisation day. The others are off early to Manaslu Base Camp and I'm on bedrest. I sleep well, and the headache is gone but I'm feeling somewhat miserable and sorry for myself. Yes I know everyone acclimatises differently and yesterday was my first time above 4000m (albeit only just and very briefly) but I've done so much more trekking than the others and I've got used to thinking of myself as having a pretty high level of hill fitness and somehow it seems unfair that I'm the one that can't cope. Plus the small matter of Mera peak which I’m suddenly starting to doubt I can do. Well, I always knew that was a possibility, but now I'm questioning the whole circuit. How can I spend 3 weeks continuously over 4000m if I can't eat? My internal toddler is stamping its foot and crying "it’s not fair". I make it up stairs to breakfast. Stuart is here, having a late start for a short day. He made it up to base camp yesterday but found it really tough. He has half a bowl of breakfast in front of him and admits he's not managed to eat more than half of anything for the last few days. But he's still smiling. My porridge appears and I make it to the bottom of the bowl. We’re joined by another man who spent a rest day here yesterday and didn't attempt base camp at all but today feels well and is heading on too. So maybe it's not just me. Bibek spots that I'm looking better, asks if I want to get out on a walk. Yes. I do a quick clothes wash so I can hang things in the sun and we head out. We follow the base camp trail as apparently there is a view over the lake that is worth seeing and then we can see how I feel. Well I feel OK so we keep going. Slow and steady. And slower and steadier. The headache starts to nag again very slightly at the back of my skull but only when I start walking after a break and I don't actually need very many of those. Just a gentle plod. It’s good to be able to walk at my own pace. And so far today it’s only the headache. I don't feel ill. The view opens around us; we leave the trees behind and continue up a seemingly endless staircase. The sun is hot and bright but the air cold. The mountains blaze white all around, the gaps filling in as we climb higher to create a perfect ring of breathtaking peaks. A pair of golden eagles ride the thermals in great sweeping circles. Plod plod plod. Breathe deeply, step slowly, there is a rhythm that works. We reach a small teahouse (closed), which could be a natural stopping point but sit at watch the view and the headache dissipates and I feel good. So carry on? The way ahead is blocked by a little strand of glacial ice but it’s not too difficult to kick a few steps and find ourselves at the other side. More steps. Snow starts to fill in around us. We didn't expect to come this high so don't have microspikes and agree to get as high as the snowline then turn back. We manage another 200m ish of height, following the edges of steps protruding from snowfields until there is a slight decrease in the steepness and Naike peak standing proud ahead. This will do. There is no official measurement of altitude but Som recons later that we reached approximately 4300m. Turning, we descend back the way we have come. Much easier. The headache nags its way in but less so than yesterday. There is definitely a time delay, I would say of a couple of hours, and it’s at its worst (which isn't actually that bad) as we get back to the bottom. I'm hungry (which is excellent news) and I think Bibek is starving but just too polite to say. We stop briefly to see the lake up close then back for another 3pm lunch. I decide to change the eating plan and just get small plates of things that I can finish so another garlic soup it is and this time it all goes down, followed by a full plate of noodles at 6pm. I'm avoiding thinking about Mera peak, but Larkya pass might still be doable.
Day 8
Samagaun to Samdo (3875m) 7km
We get a lie in as we're limited now by the altitude we can gain rather than the distance we can walk. I'm having another good day and manage a full breakfast for the second day in a row. Off just after 8 it’s yet another stunning day, but a short one and we're done in time for lunch. Samdo is at 3860m and there is a large heap of well consolidated ice in the courtyard outside our rooms where it’s shaded from the sun. We eat lunch, then there is discussion about another acclimatisation hike but the clouds are coming in so it gets called off. I set off alone instead and wander through the village, out to a little stupa then up the hill to a viewpoint. On the way I pass a great many burrows and then all of a sudden a great many marmots. They are clearly used to people and happy to ignore me if I stand still and not too close. I do so for a while, watching them meander about, and one pair rear up on their hind legs for a play fight. Carrying on to the viewpoint there is a steep climb. I find a pace that is so slow/a breathing rate that is so fast that it is comfortable to inhale and exhale with every step. I sit at the top; at least I can catch my breath quickly when I stop. I can see round the corner towards the pass that awaits us, though its full height is still hidden. The sun comes back out and I sit a few hours listening to my audiobook and watching wisps of cloud shift around the mountains. I still can't get my head around the scale of this place and how some of these snowy giants sit 2000m higher than others. Back in the teahouse we pass the time until dinner with more Uno Flex, joined now by Dan and Zino. Timo wins the highest sats at 94% and the rest of us, Som included, are down to 92%. At least I've caught up (?!), it will be interesting to compare tomorrow... But celebrating small wins I think my sitting spot this afternoon was around 4100m and I'm headache free and have eaten three full meals which is an impressive improvement on two days ago. Let's hope it continues.
Day 9
Samdo to Daramasala (4460m) 5km
Not far to go today as again it’s all about the altitude. And yes you can really feel it. I get out of breath this morning packing away my sleeping bag; and then again while applying sunscreen. We set off on a good path curving left round the corner of the valley and up towards the high point I could see yesterday from my walk. The sun still shines strongly but the air is cold enough that I risk my thermal fleece lined trousers with the vents open and actually it works well. Likewise out come the long sleeve base layers. I was imagining before the trip that I'd spend pretty much the whole time in these and actually only through in the warm weather T-shirt on a whim just before leaving. Might have actually succumbed to heat stroke without it. We cross a bridge; then the trail starts to climb, gradual and unrelenting. More slow steps and steady breathing. We've got this. At a rest stop there are more marmots out enjoying the sun and, as always, the views are incredible. We come to Daramasala in time for lunch and I decide to add to my limited diet (a risky manoeuvre at altitude) by branching out into some “veg fried potatoes with egg”. They are incredible - a huge steaming mound of carbs fried in copious amounts of salty garlicy onions. Best meal of the trek so far. We do some resting and digesting in the sun then head out again on a short acclimatisation hike. The path is super steep and I'm glad of yesterdays excursion which has helped to ingrain the slow steady steps needed to keep pace with my lungs. The others are really struggling. We stop at a little cairn and like yesterday I decide to stay a while, spend a bit more time at this altitude (4700ish?) before descending. I've not brought the audio books but manage to happily pass a couple of hours just watching the clouds play over the mountains. I can see the way ahead to the pass. I'm joined briefly by Chen who I met on the basecamp excursion who has carried on all the way up to the snow line at about 5000m, but for me this feels like enough for today. Back in Darmasala we settle into our box. I've managed a private twin room every night of the trek so far but tonight we are 4 to a box - a little plastic and metal cabin with a stone platform overlaid with some wooden boards and 4 mattresses. There is one foot of dirt floor at the end in which to pile the bags. Cosy. I role out both sleeping bags which feels a bit excessively luxurious compared to the others. Dinner time. I'm back on noodles (for variety) but inspired by my lunch success Timo and Luis have both gone for the potatoes. Except that they missed the veg part and just went for “fried potatoes with egg”. The veg turns out to be absolutely critical because what they are actually served most closely resembles potatoes fried in ketchup (with an egg on top). Oups. I easily manage all of dinner and am feeling good. Ready for the pass.
Day 10
Daramasala to Sangure Kharka (3020m) via Larkya La (5106m) 23km
The alarms go off at 02:45. Pack up, stumble outside. It’s a crisp clear night with no moon, and the Milky Way is bright above us. Breathtaking (if I had any breath left to take). We eat breakfast then join a line of gently bobbing head torches making our way up towards the pass. The air is thin and upwards progress hard won. Deni takes the lead setting a steady pace and I fall again into that rhythm; slow steps, breathe. There are no margins here - if breathing is interrupted for a second, say to swallow saliva, then I find myself gasping and fighting to catch up. The slow steps continue throughout. Gradually the sky lightens behind us and the peaks above us shift through grey to soft blue, the palest of pinks then blazing gold. Slow steps. We reach the snow, a crisp crunch of hoar frost sticky beneath our boots. Slow steps. Breathe. The gradient is gentle but unrelenting. Breathe. We have climbed to the height of giants and yet the peaks still stand tall and jagged around us, their ridges splintered and sharp, their summits inaccessible. Slow steps. Breathe. To stop and drink you must first wait a minute, until a space appears between the breaths for the water to go. Slow steps. At last we reach the pass. Larkya La, 5106m. Prayer flags stream in the wind, and there is a queue for your photo with the sign. I plonk myself gratefully onto a rock. Chiran has been here a while and Bibek, bless him, has deposited his own load and gone back to help Deni with her bag. I am immeasurably grateful for their efforts and the weights that they have taken off our backs. We sit a while, soak it in. Sat still, or walking a flat surface I'm actually doing fine. We eat celebratory snickers and pose for photos. After a while it’s time to go down. The sun is hot and bright above us and the snow is gently thawing to a give surface mush. We add the microspikes and set off downwards, following a trail carved by many hundreds of feet. We drop down and down, trading height for aching knees, Timo kneeling to cool his in the snow. This side, the pass is much steeper and more snow covered. While it is ultimately fine with just micro spikes there are definitely sections where a slip could have consequences and that, if I had an ice axe, it would be in my hand. It's an interesting thought process - that I'm crossing ground that at home I would have brought more kit for, and if I was to slip, slide and injure myself I would say it was because of being poorly prepared. Yet here we all are, a few hundred people, all in micro spikes and not an axe to be seen, because this is how this trek is done, and we have been told it’s fine. I'm glad that for the second trek I have my own axe and can change that, but the guide and porter who will be there because of me won’t carrying them, and I'm not expecting to see them in the hands of anyone else. Eventually the snowy slope becomes a screeish slope and then, further down still, we reach Bimthang where we can fill up on hot food. Its only midday, but we have been walking since 3:30 and I'm happy to report that I'm ready to eat a lot. I have the slightest ache of a headache that's only really there is I think about it and otherwise I'm feeling good. After lunch only a few hours remain to Sangure Kharka our overnight stop. I allow myself to escape ahead, to walk alone. The clouds gather over the peaks around us, merging into the snows. We've done it. On arrival I pay for a hot shower which turns out to have two settings: 25 degrees and 50 degrees. Neither of these is desirable but by flicking the knob between them every few seconds something in the middle can be achieved. I emerge feeling clean and refreshed just in time to watch a storm pass through. Lightning and thunder reverberate through the mountains, the sky grows dark and the wind howls through the cracks around my window, pushing the curtain away from the wall. I hope there is no-one still up on the pass.
Day 11
Sangure Kharka to Beshishar 7km then a bus
Our last walking day. The storm has passed and it is again a sunny morning, with the heat rising rapidly and showing just how much altitude we have already lost. And we have more to lose. Down down down it is a reverse of a whole week of climbing as we pass from stony ground through forests of pine and rhododendron into fertile farmland. I walk with Bibek and Chiran for most of the day which means a fast pace but frequent rests. The trail rejoins the river as it swells with the waters of many tributaries. And then all of a sudden we reach a construction site - a disintegrating sandy riverbank maybe 50m high with a line of people toiling away at the bottom to pour the concrete foundations of a road. Chiran rests his load on the tracks of a huge digger and we sit in its shade for a rest. It’s slightly jarring, this return to a world of machines and engines after a week without. Carrying on, we follow the line of the road, though with a few cuts through its zig zags on small paths. A possible lunch stop is reached and we wait for the others. They all look pretty done but are convinced to carry on 30 more minutes to make the post-lunch walk shorter. On again. We pass more villages and terraced fields filling with crops. A stiff climb, another descent. Food, at last. There is wifi for the first time in 3 days which I use to rapidly send a "safely over the pass" message home then turn it off quick before the rest of the modern world can find me. Onwards it’s not far to go to Tilije where there is a final wire bridge festooned with prayer flags that connects us to a waiting line of Jeeps. The end of the trail. Our particular Jeep has a leak in a brake pipe so we get to sweat in it while that is fixed; 10 people in a rather small metal box with seats for 9. Then we're off. We lurch rattle and roll our way down the mountain side, a precipitous drop below that makes you very aware how dependent your life is on that freshly taped brake pipe, but it holds. And then after a few too many hours for such a small and lurching space we are in the bright lights of Beshishar. We have a final dinner together and say our goodbyes as the others are off to Pokhara tomorrow and only Tsum, Chiran and I are returning to Kathmandu.
Day 12
Beshishar to Kathmandu (Bus powered)
A driving day. This time we have an air conditioned electric minibus with the same number of people as seats (if you turn a blind eye to one of those seats being an upturned bucket with a cushion on top). We spend the first hour driving in small circles finding extra people to fill said seats, but after this progress is actually fairly rapid and we reach Kathmandu mid afternoon. I have a day to wash clothes, re-pack and get ready to set out again. I'm excited and nervous but first it's time for some sleep.