This is PART II in a blog series about my trekking experience in Nepal. If you’re new to the series, visit PART I of the series for the full table of contents.

June 9 (Day 6) — Sunburn, Exhaustion & The Nunnery

I slept last night despite the fact Bradley accidentally lacquered our room with the smell of smoke, which made it difficult for me to suck in a decent breath for much of the night.

Bradley smudges each village guesthouse bedroom with incense to purge the room of negativities and unwanted spirits. I enjoy the ritual, too, but having forgotten to open the windows, the smoke soon permeated our entire room. In a desperate attempt to breathe and stop my impending nausea, I opened the front door to the outside for a good while. Eventually, most of it cleared out, we had a good laugh, and I slept.

Thick clouds roll in from the valley to cover the distant mountain peaks, then once again disappear to make way for the morning sun. The sun has reigned over us since day one on this trek and the tops of my hands and arms and the backs of my legs are burning to a crisp—what I call ‘hiker burn’ because only the tops of my arms are exposed to sunlight from the way I hold my trekking poles.

They can’t take another day of unimpeded rays, especially today’s seventeen miles of downhill hiking, which is no joke for the Himalayas, so I opt for a new clothes strategy—a long-sleeve pullover to cover my arms and rain pants for my legs. Even amid the sunlight, the strategy pays off thanks to the cool mountain breeze of the Himalayas and my skin thanks me for it.

We’re heading back the way we came to the Manaslu Circuit, but today’s path runs the opposite side of the valley, passing through green grass bluffs filled with farm animals, well-constructed village homes and delightful distant waterfalls to gaze upon.

As we march, Bradley and I spend the morning swapping stories from our childhood and when the topic of our favorite teacher arises, I can’t help but remember listening to Mrs. McCarter, my fourth grade homeroom teacher, reading aloud to all us kiddos the Chronicles of Narnia.

Every day we would scamper into the well, a spiral staircase pit, and wait for Mrs. McCarter to perform with great enthusiasm and deft all the character voices in each story from beginning to end. Each day’s reading left us begging for more and complaining about whatever other work was to be done that day.

I imagine it’s how stories were told back in the day; the village storyteller who could assemble their tribe through a shared story. It was a privilege to grow up hearing Mrs. McCarter, and to connect with the magic of story.

We cross over a suspension bridge, Lama Dai turns around, and asks: Want to see Gumba?

We still have many miles to walk today, but trust that if Lama Dai brings up an activity, it’s worth our time. He’s the expert here, after all.

Okay, nuns, says Dai.

We turn to each other and shrug. Visiting a nunnery brings conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, as two strapping young lads, we don’t want to disturb the meditative atmosphere. On the other hand, it’d be wonderful to see how they live. We opt for yes and soon enter the complex through the ornate, bright red door.

The grounds looks tiny from the outside but is massive inside the walls. A few red-robed nuns lurk in the distance and we wait as Dai prompts a nun outside the main meditation hall to see if we can enter. One woman opens the doors for us and allows us five minutes of sitting before we move on.

As we leave the nunnery, I can’t imagine myself taking robes right now but it’s inspiring to see other’s life-long dedication to a single path. I think to myself that I’ll walk many paths in this lifetime. I’m already daydreaming of yoga certification, spending time learning movement and whatever is my next big writing project. The possibilities are limitless, so long as we open ourselves to not knowing.

By mid-day, I am miserable and tired. Wi-Fi is on my mind because it’s been three days now without it, a fairly significant time period when it’s something I’ve come to expect daily. Plus, it was my birthday two days ago and I want to hear from friends and family back home and remind my parents I am safe and sound.

My knees and ankles are exhausted from the day’s seventeen downhill miles when we arrive at Chumling and we opt for much-needed showers, dinner and WiFi.

Hearing from my family and receiving unexpected birthday messages from friends warms my heart and allows me to crack a smile after a long day. It’s nice when things come unexpected. When I expect nothing, I feel that much more grateful to receive when something does come along.

Since we’ve been documenting the hike with photos and videos every day, it’s nice to have electricity in the guesthouse where Bradley and I can charge our phones and power bricks.

Documenting this experience so thoroughly has taken diligence and hard work so far, especially on nights like tonight when I’d rather just fall sleep, but I force myself to journal and record one last video log before I sleep. I’m curious what comes of the work, but if nothing at all, I find the process to be therapeutic and eases my mind for a good night’s rest.

June 10 (Day 7) — Remembering Dreams

Today is one of those days in the never ending flow of days where you look back and it blends in with all the others.

I was not injured, heart-broken or depressed nor was I elated or surprised. It was a day of work with subtle progress toward a destination and a feeling of contentment at the end of a long day’s walk. There was purpose, and sometimes that’s all one needs to sleep well at night and dream the dreams one hopes to dream.

Every morning, Bradley and I discuss our dreams from last night. Since we sleep at nine o’ clock and wake at six, there’s plenty of time to dream and dream deeply, but I’m finding it difficult to remember the stories of my mind. So I begin to write them down when I wake in the middle of the night and this helps jog my memory.

Bradley and I decide that the people in our dreams are less important compared to the type of person they represent. For instance, if I dream of a good friend who I haven’t seen in years, the dream person is an archetype for something greater, be it “best friend”, “close friend”, “acquaintance”, “forgotten friend”, or “stranger”.

The faces that surround me change moment to moment and year to year, but the archetypes stay the same. It’s a reminder, no matter whose in front of me, to notice my patterns in how I treat them. The faces are merely a test for my behavior.

Sometimes the trail itself seems like a dream. It’s a different reality in which to experience new sights, think deeply, and look inward. It’s a dream from which I’m interested in waking.

Today we officially finished our Tsum Valley hike and returned to the Manaslu Circuit. Now begins the climb into the Himalayas to reach 15k feet, the highest I’ve ever stood on the eastern side of the earth.

A short poem I wrote today:

Two butterflies kissed me today.

Or were they attacking?

I guess when you’re strong enough

Everything starts to feel like love.

June 11 (Day 8) — Lows, Frustration & Being Alone

I don’t know why today was a difficult day, but I feel it worthwhile and therapeutic to attempt an explanation.

Even though we don’t hike many miles, about ten each day, the trail presents steep elevation gains and descents that make it difficult. However, this alone isn’t the problem. Perhaps it’s that we’ve been at this trail for eight straight days now and without any “zeros”, which for me, someone who hasn’t seriously hiked in four years, is a lot to manage without a day’s rest. That said, my body is adapting and I can tell I’m not in any serious need of rest. But it’s one possible reason why today is difficult.

Another reason is that the sun is shining bright for the entire day, which burnt the tops of my arms and the backs of my legs such that the rest of my body looks like it belongs to a different person. The burn isn’t so painful, but ever since resorting to a long sleeve pullover and rainpants for the last two or three days to keep the burn from worsening, my hiking pace feels cumbersome as I don’t want to sweat beneath my sleeves. I guess I shouldn’t complain since my clothing choices are self-imposed. Hopefully by tomorrow my body will be ready to ensure the sun.

These physical challenges make the day difficult enough, but a few mental factors are staring to weigh down on me full-length.

Since Bradley and I are on this trail together and the path requires a guide to hike, there is hardly any space between any of us.

Traveling with guide means no worries when communicating, arranging and paying for our meals and shelter, but it also means less space for myself.

For this, I’ve resorted to hiking slowly and far behind the group to create room for myself to think and be. I keep mostly silent, too. The avoidance is almost like pouting, but I feel it’s what I need to process the emotions passing through my mind and body.

All in all, I’m not worried. I know it’ll soon change—likely tomorrow when I wake.

June 12 (Day 9) — The Big Questions

Today there is still heaviness and at times when I’m hiking, I wish to be doing else.

Part of me wishes the trail was more like the PCT. I want to meet beautiful and open people along the path, share stories and emotions, and stumble upon trail magic in the middle of nowhere. I have an attachment to the good old days.

Then again, this path is a good teacher. Since none of these things are present on this trail, I’m forced to look inward.

I think about what I want. The answer is clearer now than ever before, but grows muddled when I’m following others and remaining silent on my opinion. I wish to more clearly listen to what’s going on inside me and voice the answers that arise.

Today there is a knowing that I subtly rely on others when making my life decisions and thus become dependent in ways that keep me from knowing myself. One day, I will have to take my own path and accept the responsibility of walking it.

It dawns on me how I grow most in the movements when I’m alone. Especially when I solo travel, I feel self-reliant, adaptive and faithful toward my experience. I’m reminded of a Krakauer quote from Into The Wild, that “it’s not always necessary to be strong, but to feel strong.” Navigating in the world, following my heart and surrendering to the flow helps me be this way—to feel strong. I anticipate the day when this opportunity arises once again.

The more I ask these questions of myself, the more dead ends I find. Each thread tugs at my mind only leads me back to the present moment.

In Pokhara, I met a German man named Tim who told me to empty my concepts into the Ganges, a river which he later visited. I enjoy this idea, ridding myself of mental models and letting life be as it is, because this too leads to the present moment. In this space, there’s no judgment, anticipation or worry. Only acceptance of what is and the ability to move forward into what is yet to be.

June 13 (Day 10) — Podcasts at the Halfway Point

It’s official. We’re halfway done with the trek and it feels as if we’ve only just begun.

Today there’s more climbing and it’s a short day, only five miles of hiking, so I spend the evening prior downloading podcasts. It’s the first time I’ve listened to audio on the trail. I’ve leaned purist when it comes to my hiking, wanting to be in the moment with whatever thoughts and emotions arise in my direct experience. But that’s all changing and the old ways of being are breaking down.

I downloaded the 10% Happier podcast starring Dan Harris with guest Daniel Ingram because I’ve read Daniel’s book, Mastering the Core Teachings of the Buddha: An Unusually Hardcore Dharma Book in which he claims to have reached the state of Arahant (aka Enlightened). I was interested to hear more from him, to say the least.

It cleared up for me what it means to be enlightened. It’s a confusing and dense subject but enlightenment isn’t a panacea. The experience doesn’t rid oneself of negative emotions, unskillful situations and pain. The big difference is that there’s no longer a doer, observer or witness that attaches to or associates with experiences. There is surrender of control to intentions, thoughts and actions. Daniel says he wouldn’t trade his current experience post-enlightenment for anything other than maybe world peace, and even then he would be reluctant to do so. It sounds like a nice position to be in, and maybe I can earn a slice of that cake myself one day. Ha.

The episode also helped clear up the concept of having attachments. I still desire a female partner, but I’ve felt conflicted hearing about the importance of severing worldly attachments. It came as a relief knowing I can find a partner and still develop and grow along my path. It’s felt right to me all along and hopefully this relationship aids in the betterment of everyone involved.

Listening to the episode also rekindles an interest to learn two powerful meditative practices (from what I hear): Mahasi Saidow’s noting technique and the Dzogchen pointing out instruction. Then again, I’m beginning to see meditation techniques as a bunch of the same stuff. Tools that lead down different roads to the same path.

While my inside world was filled with thoughts of enlightenment and relationships, the outside world held towering glacial mountains on all sides, a massive frisbee and hacky sack session with village children, and a visit to an ominous glacial lake where we stacked cairns.

Tomorrow we reach Dharmasala, the highly sought after village destination right before Larke Pass, which stands at over 15K feet—the highest point on the Manaslu Circuit and the trip thus far. It’ll be a long day tomorrow and rest is appreciated when night settles over the valley.

June 14 (Day 11) — Sickness Arrives

“A healthy person has a thousand wishes but a sick person has only one.” — Indian Proverb

Today we finally reach the highly anticipated village of Dharmasala, which feels more like a few outposts than a village. It’s the longest day of hiking so far and we crawl up the mountain at a snails pace because of the rising elevation.

When I arrive, I’m feeling the symptoms of altitude sickness. I saw the writing on the wall at the police station earlier that morning, literally—there was a poster that explaining to be careful during the next section.

Any sickness at altitude is altitude sickness, said the poster.

I sigh and bury my head into my hands in the child’s pose position.

I’m surprised by the illness. I’ve been to this height before when hiking Mt. Shasta and in Peru, too. But nature doesn’t care about my past experiences and it hits me like a ton of bricks.

My forehead is hot, I’m sapped of energy, I may purge out of both ends at any moment, and worst of all, the center of my head throbs against the front of my skull. The cook serves me a huge plate of rice for dinner and I feel awful because I can only stomach one bite.

Luckily, there is a Philippine woman from Canada named Mary and her guide who offer me some Zolamide medicine. I usually refrain from medication, but I’m desperate to feel better so I swallow it down and head back to bed.

The door creaks open, Lama Dai is carrying a small bowl of ginger garlic soup and he sets it on the floorboards beside my bed. It’s better than the rice but I can’t stomach more than a couple measly bites. Bradley asks if I’m going to eat it and I say yes, that I’m going to wake up later and drink it all down. I promise myself I’ll soon feel better enough to do so.

Right before he leaves, Lama Dai says that if I’m not better in the morning, it’s best we head back to the previous village.

My heart sinks. There’s no way I want to backtrack those long miles and then do them again. I sleep after some intentions and prayers that surely, I will be well in the morning.

I wake two hours later curled up in the fetal position and slog down the cold soup remnants. I think about how health is truly the only thing that matters for a human being. Sickness overpowers all my practices like a river rushing over bedrocks.

I’m overpowered and can only surrender to the sickness and do my best to rest. At least I’m able to stomach some food. I lay back down, curl up and sleep.

Continue reading Part III of the Series here:

I hope you enjoyed the read! If you did, please share it with a close friend, comment your thoughts below, and consider following the journey:

A special thanks to Everest Holiday, Gossamer Gear and friends and family for your support.

Wishing you well on your journey.

Love,

David (@stay.in.alive)