Room fare 1000, but two boiled egg cost 600 rupees

Last night, I impulsively ate rice with ‘yak curry’ which was definitely not a good idea. I realised this at dawn. On 19 June, after a five-hour trek from Nepal’s Yak Kharka, I arrived at Thorong Phedi. The time was 1:32 pm. I had planned to rest for an hour and have lunch here, so I settled into Throng Base Camp Lodge and Restaurant.

I was now at an altitude of 4,540 metres. Through the clear glass window of the restaurant, I could see two waterfalls cascading down nearby. The idea of having lunch in a place like this was so surreal, it made my appetite vanish! Before long, one of the staff members approached and asked, “What would you like to order?”

I looked through the menu and chose a pizza priced 950 rupees. A bit pricey, yes, but I had wanted to try something different. To be fair, if you don’t bring variety to your meals in the mountains, you may well lose your appetite altogether.

I’ve forgotten the exact name of the pizza, there were too many complicated names to remember, but it was loaded with mozzarella on top that much I remember.

At the table directly opposite of me, I noticed a woman around my age sitting quietly. It was clear she was a fellow trekker, likely also heading to Thorong High Camp. After a few minutes, she greeted me with a “Hi” and asked if I’d be climbing up today. I replied with a “Yes.”

Through our brief chat, I learned that her name was Jaradine and she was from Singapore. She had ordered dal (lentil) and rice. Since she’d ordered before me, her food arrived first. She ate while casually browsing something on her phone.

Out of the blue, she asked if I’d like to play a game of chess. I politely declined. At that moment, I didn’t feel like doing anything at all. Honestly, who even thinks of playing chess while eating dal-rice at 4,500 metres above sea level?

By then, my pizza had arrived. The temperature outside was 3°C, quite chilly. But the sight of a piping hot pizza doubled my hunger. The crust was crisp, and the mozzarella was generously spread. Add to that the surreal beauty of the mountains surrounding us, it was all part of the experience.

After finishing the pizza, I didn’t delay any further. I bid farewell to Thorong Phedi and set off for Thorong High Camp. Although I had planned to rest for an hour, I ended up staying for almost 1 hour and 50 minutes.

Looking up, I saw Thorong High Camp perched directly above on the mountain. The path leading up was winding. Small rocks clung precariously to the mountain's surface, like tiny birds flapping their wings, as if a single gust of wind could send them tumbling down hundreds of feet.

From Thorong Phedi to Thorong High Camp, I had to climb about 350 metres. At the beginning of the climb, I felt a bit breathless and tired. But after walking for 15–20 minutes, my body began to adjust — this is always how it goes for me.

While climbing, I often had to pause and catch my breath every 10 steps, sometimes I paused after just three steps. After trekking like this for 1 hour and 23 minutes, I finally reached Thorong High Camp. My porter, Mangal, had arrived long before me. Just then, a light drizzle began.

Since it's the off-season, there were fewer trekkers, and most of the teahouses and restaurants at the top were closed. Only one was open, Thorong High Camp Hotel and Restaurant. The moment I stepped inside, it started pouring heavily.

Any other tourist might have been excited to see it rain, might also found it romantic. I, however, was filled with anxiety. Tomorrow, at 4:00 am, I was supposed to start my climb to the long-awaited Thorong La Pass. If this rain persisted, that would no longer be possible. I pushed aside my worries and sat down to order a milk tea.

I hadn’t gone to my room yet. The power was out, and I was told there was no way to charge phones in the room. There was also no mobile network. My fleece was slightly damp, so I took it off and placed it nearby.

The tea arrived. As I sipped it, I browsed through the photos from the previous day. At a nearby table, two people were chatting in fluent Hindi. They didn’t look Nepali either. One of them suddenly asked how I was doing. I told him I was fine.

We ended up chatting a lot and I learned they were Indian. Two more joined us in the dining hall, they were all travelling together. The electricity came back. I plugged in my phone to charge.

Evening was approaching. I had been sitting there for nearly two hours but still hadn’t gone to my room to see the sleeping arrangements. Without the fleece, it was getting quite cold. It’s time to check out the room.

My down jacket was in my bag, which Mangal had taken to the room earlier. Room number 104. I made my way there in the dark, grabbed my down jacket, and returned to the dining hall. They asked what I’d like for dinner. I asked, “Until when will the kitchen be open?” The reply came, “It’s very cold, so we’ll close by 8:30.”

I wasn’t particularly hungry, having had pizza back at Thorong Phedi, but I eventually ordered vegetable pakoras (fritters). More deep-fried food, which made me slightly uneasy, but I brushed it off. After placing my order, I headed for the Thorong High Camp viewpoint. It was a 100-metre straight climb from there.

Not long after I started climbing, I saw one of the four Indians following me. I was glad to have a companion. It was about 7:00 pm. We spent around twenty minutes at the viewpoint. The man introduced himself as Seraj.

We took a few photos together and decided to descend since it was getting dark. A light drizzle continued. The surrounding mountain peaks were shrouded in mist, yet Chulu West Peak sparkled. A breathtaking 360-degree view. We made our way down carefully as the path was slippery.

Back in the dining hall, my pakoras had arrived. I started eating straight away. Before I could finish, a staff member came over and asked, “Would you like breakfast tomorrow?”

I said yes, knowing there would be no teahouses or food stalls till Muktinath on the way down from Thorong La Pass tomorrow. After much thought, I ordered two boiled eggs. Calling them golden eggs wouldn’t be an exaggeration, as they cost 600 rupees!

Fifteen minutes later, the eggs arrived wrapped in foil. Since I’d be leaving at 4:00 am, I had to settle the bill then and there. As soon as I glanced at the bill, my eyes widened in shock, a total of 2,690 rupees! I had spent that much in just four hours.

One milk tea: 240, pakoras: 850, boiled eggs: 600, and room rent: 1,000 rupees. I paid the bill and returned to my room quickly. It was freezing. Once inside, I discovered another issue, no electricity. The dining hall had solar lights, but my room was pitch-dark. I usually can’t sleep without at least a dim light, so I used my headlamp as a makeshift light source.

As I tried to sleep, it felt like someone had poured water on the bed! But I quickly realised it was so cold that the mattress felt wet. I pulled the quilt open, curled up as tightly as I could and tucked everything I’d need in the morning under the quilt to keep it warm, including the foil-wrapped eggs. After tossing and turning for a long time, I finally fell asleep.

Suddenly I woke up, I thought it was dawn. But the sound of rain outside made my heart sink. I looked at the clock, only 11:00 pm! The combination of anxiety and excitement had apparently already disrupted my sleep. At some point, I drifted off again. At 4:00 am, the alarm went off.

I got up immediately. I could hear movement in the next room, the Indian trekkers were also awake. When I stepped outside, it was still drizzling. I freshened up. Since there would be no drinking water along the way, I boiled mineral water and filled my flask.

Just then, Mangal, my porter, came running from somewhere. I had no idea in which room he had spent the night. He said, “Let’s go now!” and I handed him my bag, saying, “You go ahead, I’ll follow.”

Mangal left with the bag. I popped two Oreo biscuits into my mouth and sipped water as I set off. I put the eggs in my daypack thinking I’d eat them if I got hungry on the trail.

It was 5:15 am when I began. Today I wore four layers of clothing. Up above, the wind was fierce, and it was bitterly cold. Except for gloves, I wore everything. After climbing for a bit, Chulu West Peak came into clearer view. I don’t have the words to describe such beauty.

All I did was climb. To my right, I caught sight of Thorong Peak, another breathtaking view. Eventually, I reached a small bridge. Below it, water rushed down from a snow-covered mountain. I wanted to linger, but there wasn’t time.

I had to reach Muktinath via Thorong La Pass as quickly as possible. As the day wore on, the wind would only intensify, and the risk of rock falls would increase. If I stood still, I’d freeze. So I had to keep moving, slowly, if needed, but steadily.

After about two hours of trekking, I felt like it had been ages since I’d seen any greenery. It felt like I’d been walking through a stony desert for years. A barren, lifeless kingdom.

I sat on a large rock and began humming, “Moner jore cholche re deho, deher vetor mon... (The body moves with the power of the mind, the mind within the body...)”.

But there was no one to listen. Even I could hear myself barely over the howling wind. I began walking again. This time, I put on my gloves. After a while, I looked back and saw the Indian group approaching.

From a distance, they looked like little red and black specks. There was still no sign of Mangal. He appeared for some time and then vanished again behind the curves of the mountain.

After another hour and a half of trekking, I spotted colourful prayer flags fluttering in the distance. That gave me a sense of relief. The closer I got, the more clearly I could see Thorong La Pass. Elated, I broke into a run. What a marvellous moment!

As I arrived, I saw Mangal sitting on the steps of a closed teahouse. His hands were in bad shape, almost frozen. He didn’t have enough warm clothes. I took off my gloves and gave them to him. As for me, I didn’t feel cold anymore. Why would I? My heart was filled with the warmth of joy.

I took some photos and recorded a video to preserve the memory. Thorong La Pass sits at an altitude of 5,416 metres, the highest point of the Annapurna Circuit trek. I dedicated this achievement to my dear mother and to Nishu.

Now it was time to descend. Maybe I’ll climb again one day, taking another route.