Some trips stay with you long after they’re over. For me, one of them will always be the hike to Pathibhara Temple in Taplejung. It wasn’t just about getting to a sacred place. It was about the people I was with, the in-between moments, and that quiet magic the trail seemed to hold.
I went a few years back with my family, along with two other families who were close to my dad. The best part? Their kids were my age, which meant I had instant partners for adventure (and for mischief). We started walking at 3 a.m.; the kind of early when everything is still, the air feels damp, and it seems like the whole world is asleep except for you. With only our torches lighting the rocky path, we set off into the dark, our footsteps echoing softly against the hillsides.
The climb was steep, but walking before sunrise felt surreal. Bit by bit, the sky started shifting. First a deep blue, then streaks of orange, and finally that soft glow of dawn spilling across the ridges. Suddenly the trail wasn’t just a path anymore. It was lined with prayer flags dancing in the wind, with mountain ranges fading endlessly into the horizon. There were no tea stalls open, no shops, no noise. Just us, the crunch of our boots, and the sound of our breathing matching step for step.
We walked together; sometimes laughing, sometimes just quiet. The adults kept telling us to pace ourselves, while we kids teased each other over who was falling behind. There was a thrill in knowing this wasn’t just any hike. We were on our way to a place so many people dream of reaching.
When we finally made it to the temple, we realized we were the first ones there. The compound was silent, the air sharp and cold, and the temple stood steady against slow-moving clouds. For a moment, it felt like the whole mountain was ours. We offered our prayers, tied our prayer flags, and then just stood there, letting the stillness sink into memory.
The way back had its own charm. By then, groups of people had started climbing up. They’d ask us how much farther it was. And us, still buzzing from the morning, would smile and say, “Aba 10 minute ma pugcha,” even though we knew it would take longer. Not to trick them, but to keep their spirits alive... just like we had done for each other earlier. Their relieved faces were enough of a reward.
Looking back, those hours on the trail feel nothing short of magical. From walking under a sky full of stars, to watching dawn paint the mountains, to being the first ones at the temple, and then cheering on strangers on the way down... it all stitched together into a memory I’ll never forget. More than anything, that trip reminds me that sometimes the road itself is just as sacred as the destination.