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There is a moment, just past dawn when the trail lifts you above the green folds of the Marsyangdi Valley (that originates from the northern slopes of the Annapurna circuit range, near Manang) and the world becomes nothing but gradient – stone beneath your boots, sky pouring cobalt overhead, lungs tightening in the thinning air. I have felt that tug before.
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The Mountain that calls
In 1982, a wide-eyed vagabond with a twenty-year-old bravado, I came here searching for silence and altitude. Forty years later, I returned, older, slower, and joined by my son, Tomer, and my daughter-in-law-to-be, Deena. Our ascent in March 2023 was both pilgrimage and reunion, a braid of past and present twisting up toward Thorong La Pass.
Annapurna Circuit Trek Experience
Peaceful Pokhara: Lakeside Calm Before the Trek
Pokhara was our base camp – both the beginning and the return point of our trek. About 200 kilometers west of Kathmandu, it’s one of Nepal’s most beloved destinations. We stayed in the lakeside neighborhood, a pocket of calm and charm, where everything feels curated yet easy. The vibe is unhurried. Time stretches.
Landscape view during my Annapurna circuit trek in Nepal
Setting Off: Annapurna Circuit Begins With Heart and Grit
We were gearing up for the Annapurna Circuit trek. Tomorrow, we begin our ascent to the dizzying heights of 17,769 feet (5,416 meters) – a journey that will call for grit, breath, and steady resolve. We were well-prepared: the gear is in place, and we were joined by two trusted porters who will walk this path with us.
It’s been four decades since I last hiked this route. That journey in 1982 remains etched in memory – raw, untamed, and transformative in ways I only began to understand years later. I won’t pretend I’m not feeling a swirl of emotions – excitement, yes, but also a quiet apprehension. Do I still have what it takes? Will I be able to keep up with my kids? These questions hum softly in the background as I ready myself.
But one thing I know: this will be a journey to remember. A trail of high mountain passes, raw beauty, and shared silences. Moments that etch themselves into memory – not just for the views, but for what they awaken in us along the way.
Across Steel and Sky: Nepal’s Suspension Bridges and Changing Roads
The narrow suspension bridges are the only way to cross the roaring rivers that cut through the mountains. Forty years ago, these bridges were made of wooden planks – shaky, creaking with every step. Today, they’ve been upgraded: metal grating underfoot, suspended by thick steel cables stretched from one cliff to the next. They sway and bounce with each footfall. Deena and Tomer love it – the thrill, the exposure, the drop below. Me? I keep my eyes ahead. I avoid looking down or to the sides. The rushing water has a dizzying pull. So I breathe and focus on the next step.
Building the Future: Roads, WiFi, and Hope in the Himalayas
Nepal ranks low on the global poverty index, yet everywhere we go, I see people working, building, carrying, connecting – striving to improve their lives. Accessibility is one major area of change. Roads are being built, carved into the mountains with rudimentary tools and raw determination. They are often treacherous, but they’re opening up the country. Another quiet revolution is happening through internet connectivity. Almost every tea house we stayed at had WiFi. It was unexpected. It was also hopeful. In these remote mountain outposts, people are logging on – learning, exploring, dreaming.
Walking Meditation: Mantras, Mountains, and Mindfulness
Chame, elevation of 2670 meters (8760 feet), is our chosen resting place after a five-day hike. The magnificent scenery is awe-inspiring. Everywhere you look, there are majestic mountain peaks and lush, forested slopes.
Houses are blended seamlessly into their natural surroundings, like gems nestled in the rugged terrain.
The gushing river provides a constant soundtrack. While my companions find the suspension bridge crossings thrilling, I just want to reach the other side.
Every day, I remind myself many times over, especially when I catch my mind drifting, the mantra my beloved Danna suggested: “You are here, right now, right here.” And with every step, it becomes true.
This is no longer just a trek. It’s a walking meditation.
Upper Pisang Winter Spell: A Day Inside a Snow Globe
I woke up a couple of days ago in Upper Pisang – elevation 3,300 meters (10,826 feet) – to a world transformed. Outside the window: a deep, quiet carpet of snow. For a moment, I wondered if we’d be staying put, bunkering in. But after checking the weather and consulting with Milan, our head porter, we decided to continue.
It turned out to be a magical hike.
The sun warmed our faces, while snowflakes floated down like blessings from the pine trees above. It felt as if we were walking inside a snow globe – suspended in time, cradled by light, silence, and the crunch of fresh snow beneath our boots.
Manang to Ice Lake: High Altitude Lessons in Breath and Resolve
Manang, at 3,519 meters (11,545 feet), is where we’ve paused to rest and prepare. Yesterday, we took a side trek to Ice Lake – 4,600 meters (15,100 feet) – part of our acclimatization plan: climb high, sleep low.
The trail was steep and demanding, made more difficult by the recent snowfall. I was grateful for my crampons; without them, the slick path would have been treacherous. Every step upward felt like a conversation with my breath.
But the views…
When the skies opened up in the morning, the Annapurna range revealed itself in full splendor. Annapurna II stood luminous against the blue, watching over us as we made our slow, deliberate climb.
Challenging as it was, the trek felt like the right kind of preparation for the altitude, for the days ahead, and for the final push to Thorong La Pass.
Buddhist Monasteries and Mindful Practices in the Annapurna Circuit Highlands
As we made our way through the upper reaches of the Annapurna region, Buddhist monasteries and sacred symbols became more frequent. Colorful prayer flags fluttered in the high mountain wind, each strand carrying a quiet intention, a whispered wish for peace. We passed weather-worn stupas, stone mani walls etched with sacred mantras, and small clusters of prayer wheels—always spinning, always in motion.
Local people walked by, their hands gently turning these wheels, repeating age-old mantras. No urgency, just presence. Their quiet devotion infused the trail with a sense of calm. Watching them, I found myself slowing down, matching their rhythm, absorbing their peace. Here, mindfulness isn’t taught. It’s lived.
Manang to Upper Camp: Snow, Grit, and High Desert Beauty
For two days, we trekked from Manang to the Upper Camp, a section of the region safeguarded from monsoon by the towering Annapurna range. This protection shapes a dramatic, high-altitude desert, where vegetation thins and silence deepens.
However, this seemingly barren terrain holds a special place in my heart, owing to its breathtakingly beautiful and striking colors. The primary tones of gray, brown, and white dominate the landscape, while sudden bursts of vivid beige, dark pink, burgundy, and deep green add a touch of vibrancy. This combination of colors in its raw and untamed form creates an awe-inspiring and stunning sight that stays with you long after you’ve left it.
The final stretch of this walk, from the Lower Camp to Upper Camp, 500 meters (1640 ft) elevation gain, was quite the challenge. My body was pushed to its limits as the ascent became steeper and more strenuous. I felt my nose running uncontrollably, my legs becoming increasingly heavy, and despite sweating profusely, a cold sensation crept over me. The temperature hovered just above freezing.
My lungs burned, and the air thinned. I had to pause often just to breathe. Beneath my feet, ice glazed the trail. Snowflakes twisted and spun in every direction.
This was no longer a trek. It was grit. Breathe by breath, step by step.
And then – arrival.
Not triumph, but gratitude. Quiet, humbling, overflowing gratitude.
Thorong La Pass Ascent: Frozen Air, Fiery Joy
I’m struggling for air, awake in a cramped room at Upper Camp. Three narrow beds. That’s it. My mind tells me it’s the altitude, but my body doesn’t listen – it’s in panic mode. “Breathe,” I whisper to myself. “Deep and slow.” I lie flat on my back, afraid to turn, not wanting to wake Deena or Tomer, who sleep soundly beside me. I wait. For sleep? For the 4:15 alarm? Maybe both. The night drags on.
At 4:15, the alarm pierces the stillness. We spring from our sleeping bags, throw on layers, gather our gear, and shuffle into the packed dining room. Black coffee. A bowl of porridge. By 5:15, we’re out the door.
Thirty or forty of us – hikers, porters, guides – move silently into the dark, headlamps flickering like stars on a slow migration. There is no scenery to behold, only the sound of crampons crunching into snowy white powder and birds chirping.
Everything is white on the Annapurna Circuit
By 6:30, light begins to touch the world. Everything is white, still, and breathtaking. We find a tiny teahouse – someone lives and runs it here, against all odds. A cup of hot lemon tea tastes like gold.
The trail rises steadily, a 500-meter (1,640 ft) gain. The grade is moderate, but the cold and thin air make it feel steeper. I move slowly, sometimes passing others, sometimes letting them pass me. Everyone walks in silence, wrapped in their own effort. I stop to take off my gloves and snap a few photos, thinking, if not now, when?
Tomer waits patiently. I like to think he’s making sure I’m okay. I haven’t asked, but I’m sticking to that story – I like it.
At 8:30, we spot Deena. She waves, phone in hand, capturing our approach. We’ve reached Thorong La Pass, 5,416 meters (17,770 ft). We embrace each other, our porters, and the sky. This moment-long imagined, long hoped-for, is here. I’m flooded with joy. Deena selects a tune, and Milan joins me in a dance.
Time to Descend
Then it’s time to descend – fast and unforgiving: 1,700 meters (5,770 ft) down. The slope is slick. The trail is treacherous.
Deena glided ahead like a mountain gazelle. Tomer stayed close, steady, and watchful. Our porters moved between us, navigating the descent with quiet determination. The sunny window we had enjoyed at the pass gave way to a steady snowfall, light at first, then thick and blinding.
Our porters were struggling. They had only one functional pair of crampons between them. The other pair was useless. Worse, they weren’t wearing sunglasses. The glare off the snow disoriented them, making every step harder. Deepak, in particular, was unsteady. But they stuck together, leaning on one another, moving with quiet grit. At one point, Deepak slipped and fell. Milan caught him, helped him up, and they pressed on.
I worried for them. I worried about us. My knees screamed on the descent, the terrain slick and unforgiving. Snowflakes swirled in every direction. Tomer stayed near – his presence grounding, a quiet anchor in the storm.
Eventually, we stopped for a bowl of hot vegetable noodle soup. It warms me from the inside out. At 2:00 pm, we arrive in Muktinath.
We made it.
Landscape view during the Annapurna Circuit trek in Nepal
We did it – Annapurna Circuit in the Himalayas, Nepal
I’m filled with joy and awe – completely overwhelmed by the intensity of this experience I’ve dreamed about for so long. The path, the altitude, the silence, the sheer effort – it all comes rushing in. And then it breaks open into something else. Something luminous.
Hafiz, the 13th-century Persian poet, said it better than I ever could: “The Beloved has gone completely wild – He has poured Himself into me. I am blissful and drunk and overflowing”.
That’s exactly how it feels. Wild. Sacred. Beyond words.
Muktinath: Where Hindu and Buddhist Paths Converge
Muktinath is more than just a destination – it’s a sacred threshold, revered by both Hindus and Buddhists. Every year, countless devotees make the journey here, seeking something beyond the physical: redemption, blessing, peace.
For Hindus, Muktinath is one of the 108 Vaishnava shrines, where Lord Vishnu is worshipped as the supreme deity. It is believed that bathing in the icy waters of its temple can wash away one’s sins and bring liberation – moksha – freedom from the endless cycle of suffering, death, and rebirth. Vishnu, they say, resides in the sacred streams that flow through this high mountain sanctuary.
For Buddhists, Muktinath holds a deep connection to Guru Rinpoche (Padmasambhava), the great sage who brought Buddhism to Tibet. It is believed he meditated here and attained profound insight. The site carries the stillness of that spiritual memory, and for many, a sense of awakened presence lingers in the air.
Here in Nepal, the lines between faiths dissolve. Pilgrims walk side by side, offering prayers in different languages but with the same reverence. In a world often divided by dogma, Muktinath quietly reminds us: the path to the sacred doesn’t belong to one tradition alone. It belongs to those who seek with sincerity. And that, perhaps, is its greatest teaching.
For more travel reflections, visit his website
This is a guest post by David Gev.
David Gev is an artist, writer, and former businessman who explores trauma, travel, and transformation through narrative and visual art. He lives between Los Angeles and wherever the next mountain calls. Learn more about his journey here.