The bus trip to Syrabru Besi gave us a taste of what was ahead in the highlands. The road was more worse than the hike might have been. I had to cover my eyes as I teetered on razor-sharp turns, but other passengers appeared to enjoy the glimpses of imminent death in the event that something went wrong. After that, we embarked on the path and hiked the Langtang valley for seven days.
We packed into a shared vehicle in Jaigaon early one morning and headed to Darjeeling. It was scheduled to depart at seven in the morning, but none of the other passengers showed up. They didn’t seem to feel like walking to the jeep stand because it was cold. We drove carefully about town, picking up each passenger one by one since the driver appeared to know where they were. Once the jeep was fully loaded, we embarked down a route that grew steeper and steeper, surrounded by ominously dark clouds.
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The driver, full of energy, began to sing loudly for a considerable amount of time before declaring that it was time for breakfast and pulling over at a little brick cafe that perched on the edge of the hill. We entered and had some roti and daal. I waved hello to a sopping wet puppy that was resting in the mud as I made my way back from the miserable restrooms located behind the cafe. “That’s a dog, madam,” said a kind man who was standing close.
The clouds parted and sheets of rain fell as we arrived at the former British hill outpost. It didn’t seem to be ending after two days. We had intended to spend some time in Darjeeling, taking the toy train and enjoying afternoon tea in hotels with colonial architecture, but we had arrived completely saturated and were now perpetually wet.
Going back down the hill in a jeep, we boarded a night bus to Siliguri and eventually arrived in Patna. We were left standing by the side of the road when it broke down early in the morning. We stumbled into a different bus that was passing by, dozing out for the whole of the ride into the city.
While we were in Patna, the sun came out. The night bus had stopped at a busy, unclean rest stop before breaking down. Despite my error, I had consumed some daal tadka and had to make up for it by spending a day in bed at a run-down guesthouse.
We travelled to Varanasi by rail the following morning. We spent five days basking in the sun and going for early-morning walks on the ghats after checking into a sprawling, historic, family-run guesthouse with views across the Ganges.
That’s all, people.
Then Holi, the well-known festival of colour, love, and spring, arrived.
Unfortunately, there is a lot of discussion about this festival—where, when, and whether it’s safe for women to attend—because in India, a celebration like Holi frequently attracts sizable crowds of inebriated males.
We stepped out onto the busy streets and were quickly drenched in colour. But things rapidly got out of hand, and we had to head inside. But not until Oyv showed me a hitherto undiscovered aspect of himself. My crotch was grabbed by a guy, who Oyv pursued down the street and choked. Not long thereafter, another man pushed his arm down the front of my shirt, reached inside my bra, and refused to come out. I attempted to take his arm out, stunned, but Oyv moved more quickly. After he grabbed the intruder off of me, I turned over to see Oyv throttling him against a wall and yelling in his face.
It was quite an unlucky way to finish our stay in India. Our visas were about to expire, so we had to move quickly to avoid adding an overstay visa fiasco to the already long list of unfortunate events that had just occurred.
So, with just one day remaining on our visas, we made our way to the nearest border crossing between India and Nepal. We were done with India for the time being when the passport check officer firmly slammed the departure stamp down on our visas.
Buddha also had a hometown.
We spent the night in a small village named Lumbini over the border. Even though we were exhausted and starving, Lumbini is more than simply a cosy place to sleep for tourists rushing out of India but still wishing to dine at an Indian dhaba.
In accordance with Buddhist legend, this is the birthplace of Siddhartha Gautama, a prince who lived in the sixth or fifth century BC. The prince gave up his affluent lifestyle and embarked on a quest for enlightenment after witnessing the depth of human misery just outside the royal gates. Following a life of austerity, he preached and meditated his way to nirvana, finally earning the title of Buddha, meaning “awakened” or “enlightened.”
While he was doing it, the Buddha named one of his hometown’s four holiest locations after his disciples. Today, pilgrims swarm Lumbini to see the birthplace of the Buddha as well as contemporary temples constructed by global Buddhist organisations.
This also clarified the quantity of meditation institutes we had observed throughout the bus ride.
Recurring in Kathmandu
Even with this fortunate connection to Buddhism, Hinduism is the predominant religion in Nepal. The main city of Nepal, Kathmandu, is teeming with Hindu and Buddhist temples.
The oldest Hindu temple in Kathmandu, Pashupatinath, is a great place to visit if you’re missing India even a little. Largely dedicated to Shiva, this complex has been on the banks of the Bagmati River for over a millennium, however the current structure was constructed in the 1600s. We were not allowed to enter the main shrine to see the Shiva linga since we are not Hindus.
On the river ghats, however, a public cremation is a holy ceremony that is open to the public. Those who are travelling from Varanasi would recognise this scene. The final arrangements for the deceased person’s cremation are made here by their family, and the cremation usually occurs the day after death.
Perched on the steps of a smaller shrine across from us, we observed a few individuals moving a body off a stretcher and onto a slab that sloped down to the ocean. A few of them carefully lifted the deceased woman and used the river water to wash her hands and feet. A few more relatives nervously lingered at the edges, occasionally coming up to offer a hand or lift a limb. The body was then re-wrapped in lustrous orange fabric, and marigold garlands were placed over the shroud.
The body was hoisted back onto a wooden pallet by the mourners, who then took it to a bonfire. It takes around four hours to burn. Sitting families see the black ashes being carried away by the river. It’s the happiest conclusion a Hindu from Nepal could wish for.
There there was an empire in the Himalayas.
There there existed a kingdom called Nepal. However, in 2006, a revolution brought in democracy, and two years later, the monarchy was overthrown.
The royal family of Nepal was unknown to me. I didn’t even recognize the narrative of their demise since they were so unknown to me. Nine members of the family, including the King and Queen, were slaughtered at a royal home in June 2001, sharing a destiny similar to that of the last Russian Tsar. According to the findings of the inquiry that followed, Crown Prince Dipendra shot himself in the head after firing shots at his family at supper. In spite of everything, including the fact that he was unconscious, Dipendra succeeded his father as king; but, three days later, he passed away in a hospital. Following that, Gyanendra, the brother of his father, was crowned king—the final one, it turned out, to be overthrown seven years later.
There are several possible reasons for the shooting, such as bitterness over a failed marriage to an Indian heiress, but many believe Uncle Gyanendra engineered a palace coup and that the Crown Prince wasn’t the gunman at all. We’ll never know: the royal family was finally consigned to history and the deceased king’s ghost was banished from Nepal through a Hindu rite. The palaces of the former monarch are now public museums, and he is simply another commoner.
You can handle anything after spending a day in Thamel.
It was becoming clear that the capital was a fascinating location. Aside from all the street cuisine and breakfast cafés, what most interests us is that Kathmandu, at a height of 1400 meters, is the entry point to the Himalayas. Of course, we had already decided to go hiking a little. Nepal is a country filled with mountains; its boundaries are home to eight of the highest peaks in the world.
Permit me to add: we will be traveling for a full year. We are toting two enormous backpacks filled to the brim with various items, such an aeropress coffee machine and a minimum of 500 grams of coffee on hand. I have a straightening iron for my hair. What I lack is anything other than a wool long underwear suit that would be appropriate for hiking at high altitudes.
We weren’t thrilled about the notion of trekking for days on end with a guide, but we also weren’t excited about the idea of getting lost in the mountains with an aeropress and a straightener. As a former guide himself, we asked the proprietor of our guesthouse in Kathmandu if he believed we should hire a guide. Our host didn’t appear to mind. Like an impatient horse pawing the ground, he tried on one of my shoes and scratched it over the pavement. He was happy with the treads and thought we would be well. We made the decision to explore Langtang Valley alone, putting aside the idea of waiting for a helicopter rescue while sporting perfectly styled hair and freshly prepared coffee atop a mountain.
Not prepared for an impulsive high-altitude trek? Not an issue. You’re covered by Thamel. The most well-known backpacker district in Kathmandu is a disorganized market filled with many trinkets, ranging from soft cashmere ponchos to ropes of glittering prayer beads (not to mention incessant offers of marijuana). Real brands and knockoffs of everything you could possibly need for anything from an afternoon stroll to climbing Everest are sold in outdoor equipment stores. I purchased a somewhat expensive North Face muffler, a perhaps Maamut coat, and so on. After vigorously haggling for a rental set of sleeping bags, trekking poles, and a medium-sized backpack to hold everything, we set out.
Trekking in the Himalayas
The bus trip to Syrabru Besi, the little settlement on the fringe of Langtang National Park, gave us a taste of what was ahead in the highlands. I was certain that the road was more difficult than the actual hike could be. I had to cover my eyes as I teetered on razor-sharp turns, but other passengers appeared to enjoy the glimpses of imminent death in the event that something went wrong.
We had spent the night in a quite unclean guesthouse, but we were rested and prepared. We hiked the Langtang valley for seven days, stopping every day for meals and a bed at the teahouses that were dotted along the way. The next morning, we headed for the trailhead.
The majority of the teahouses along the way have a small, cozy living area with benches arranged around a central woodstove.
The majority of the teahouses along the way have a small, cozy living area with benches arranged around a central woodstove.
We arrived at Langtang village on day two. Altitude sickness can occur at a height of 3000 meters, which is above this point. Our teahouse was full of people talking about symptoms that evening. A New Zealand trekker was concerned about the strength of her headache. A group of Germans gathered around the wood stove lamented their lack of air and questioned the speed at which their hearts should beat. I couldn’t help but question if I was simply imagining it or if my chest was indeed restricted. An Israeli physician—or actually, simply a knowledgeable hiker carrying a medical device—ran about taking everyone’s blood oxygen and heart rates. But honestly, none of it matters.
A terrible earthquake that devastated Nepal on April 25, 2015, wrecked history, leveled entire communities, and claimed nine thousand lives. It caused a landslide in the Langtang Valley, and a glacier collapsed, carrying tons of rock and soil with it. In a couple of minutes, Langtang village and its people were completely destroyed. There stood only one structure. An approximate of 310 individuals perished, primarily Langtang locals and about 80 international hikers.
Approaching the recently established Langtang Village
After being evacuated, the survivors finally made their way back and established a new hamlet directly over the remains of the previous one. They revitalized the valley and fixed up the teahouses and walkways. They didn’t forget, though. Nearby is a monument that is adorned with prayer flags that flutter above plaques bearing the names of the deceased and periodically features pictures left by the families along the path where the corpses were found.
A strong breeze and a brilliant sun followed us as we hiked. The air became notably thinner as the route grew gradually higher. Gazing upon hairy yaks grazing alongside the path, we were accompanied and harassed by large, loping dogs.
Boulder mounds and desolate scree gave way to stumbling over green woodland trails and gushing waterfalls. We waved to porters, swerved around pack-trains of donkeys, peered inside shrines, and spun prayer wheels.
The timing of the year was perfect for rhododendron blooms, and they were abundant.
The timing of the year was perfect for rhododendron blooms, and they were abundant.
The trail is always gorgeous and ever-changing.
Like yaks and prayer flags, stupas may be seen all over the place.
Donkeys with heavy loads, most likely bearing aeropresses and hair straighteners
The terrain becomes more steeper.
The route grew steeper over time. It always looked steep, even on the way back down.
After three days, we arrived to Kyanjin Gompa. Trekkers utilize the settlement, which is at the highest point of the path at 3800 meters, as a base for ascents to the surrounding peaks, which towered over us on all sides.
The path to Kyanjin Gompa from our guesthouse
There’s a café there that serves wonderful coffee and other retro favorites, like pineapple upside-down cake, which was handy because we had left our aeropress back in Kathmandu.
One of the most popular and remotest cafés I’ve ever been to. There were a lot of hikers there, and we overheard them talking about things like Everest, glaciers, blood oxygen levels, and helicopters. Now that it was much colder, I began to live in my wool long underwear suit all the time.
desolate and windswept but very sunny and dazzling
It’s windswept and desolate but also really sunny and brilliant, so I really advise against sliding off the edge.
We ascended to a point where, after leaving Gompa, we occasionally had to trek through mud, snow, or ice. We occasionally lost sight of the valley’s bottom due to dense mist. Watching from the safety of the foothills, we could see snow rushing down distant mountainsides in little avalanches.
The vistas, however, are always worthwhile.
That was the highlight of our trip to Nepal. Standing at 4700 meters above sea level, Kyanjin Ri offered us a serene view of the surrounding mountains, with each towering peak appearing smaller than the last. It was amazing.
Salutations to Nepal! A record-breaking Namaste to Nepal! A record-breaking Namaste to Nepal! A record-breaking Namaste to Nepal! A record-breaking peak
Easy breathing
On the seventh day, we retraced our steps after having breakfast in the cozy teahouse kitchen, which included Tibetan coffee and tsampa porridge with the lama in residence. Though we weren’t in a rush, you could go all the way back to Syrabru Besi in a single day. At a teahouse on the river at a height of around 2790 meters, we took a break and relaxed close to the freezing, fast-moving water.
Easing into the river, the ideal place to spend the final night
A lovely last-night stop, relaxing by the river and taking deep breaths
Guesthouse Riverside
The following day, under the first rain we had seen since Darjeeling, we strolled back into Syrabru Besi. We happened to stumble onto a neat guesthouse with cozy rooms and cool beer, a small piece of paradise. Furthermore, the bus stop for the arduous journey back to Kathmandu the next day was directly next door.
Hiking alone in the Himalayas: Oyv’s worst experience was getting a severe blister. I did, however, miss the hair straightener somewhat.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to miss the aeropress.fortunately didn’t had to miss the aeropress
Continue Reading
Check out the remainder of my road stories for more about our travels from Cameroon to Japan, including more adventures (and misadventures).
Considering going on this journey alone as well? For guidance, see our page on itinerary and preparing for trekking Langtang Valley without a guide.
Alternatively, if you’re still in India and intend to drive to Nepal, here’s how to pass the Sonauli border.
