I’ve always called myself a “nature person.”
Or so I used to tell everyone.
Or so I used to tell everyone.
Mainly because I used to go on the occasional hike. Also, because my childhood was spent walking for 2-3 hours to and from our old home in the village, twice a month. It felt like enough of a credential, right? But what I had never done was a real trek; you know, those overnight-stay, sore-leg, chill-and-rest-with-friends, wake-up-in-the-middle-of-nowhere kind of treks.
So when I finally went on one, my first; let me tell you, I had no idea what I was signing up for.
It started as a plan. A pre-exam plan, actually. Me and my three closest friends had already predicted that our final presentation would emotionally bankrupt us, and the exams would suck our souls dry. So, to reward ourselves (and maybe just to survive), we planned a four-day trek. Four girls. One destination. Kapuche. Simple.
Now, only one of us had ever been on a trek before. The rest? Total beginners. One friend had never even left home without her family. And she had asthma. Inhaler-always-in-the-pocket kind of asthma.
So, when I say we were unprepared even after a month of planning, I mean it.
The next morning after our sweet semester break started, we dragged our drained bodies onto a 5 a.m. microbus to Pokhara. The plan? Reach by 1 p.m., catch the last public jeep to Sikles, and chill watching the sunset.
HAHA.
What we completely forgot in our excitement was that this was Nepal, and traveling by road here basically means: expect the unexpected. Dust, mud, and road construction every 10 meters.
We were stuck in that boiling hot microbus, suffocating in frustration. By the time we finally rolled into Pokhara, it was 4 p.m. And surprise-surprise, the public jeep to Sikles?
Already gone.
(Our first “adventure” unlocked.)
Also, just so you know, we were students on a budget. Missing that one jeep meant we now had to reserve a vehicle just for us. And just like that, our humble budget decided to disappear into the hills before we did. But like the reckless little dreamers we were, we laughed it off and told ourselves: “Worry later. Let’s just go.”
We finally reached Sikles around 8 p.m., completely exhausted, and yes, missed the sunset, very obviously. We unpacked, freshened up, ate great thakali khana, tried the local jhaneko raksi (only to violently regret it and spit it right back out), and knocked out, hoping the next morning would make up for everything.
AND OH, DID IT.
It felt as if the universe wanted to apologize for the mess that was yesterday.
Locals told us it had been raining nonstop until the day before. But that morning? Clear skies, golden sunlight, and the Annapurna ranges standing there like royalty. We had everything: clean stone paths, neatly arranged rooftops, colorful houses, majestic views, and silence that somehow healed parts of us we didn’t even know were tired.
I remember looking around and going, “This is it. What’s even the point of trekking two more days? We’ve already seen heaven.”
(Spoiler: I was very wrong. Again.)
We started the actual trek that day, led by a sweet dai we met in Pokhara and a guide-cum-hotel-manager of the place we were staying. The journey began like something out of a dream. I was living my childhood walks and my adult dreams at once.
And then... we got lost.
Not even half an hour into the trek, me and one friend decided we absolutely needed to stop for just one berry; aaiselu. It looked so perfect, that orangish yellow against the green, begging to be photographed. I had just gotten a new phone, and the camera was making everything look cinematic.
So we stopped. For five seconds. Just five.
And when we looked up, everyone was gone.
Just... vanished into the green.
I swear it felt like they were abducted by forest spirits.
But oh, how I regret stopping for it.
Looking back, I could’ve (should’ve) just taken a normal picture and edited the heck out of it later in Photoshop. Why did I feel the need to physically pick that one aaiselu for a better angle?
I’ll tell you why. Because it was my first trek, and I was stupidly excited.
That first trek excitement where everything feels magical, where your brain says, “This one moment matters more than staying with the group.” And that’s exactly how we got left behind. Just like that.
It was official: we were two noobs who got lost 30 minutes into their first ever trek.
And that’s when the real story begins...
Stay tuned. Because what happened next ?
Even crazier. Even funnier.
And yet even more unforgettable.
Even crazier. Even funnier.
And yet even more unforgettable.