Follow the Yaks: Trekking the Langtang Valley in Nepal

Brendan and I have returned home from a month of travels, the highlight of which was an eight day hike in Nepal's Langtang Valley. Only 120 km from Kathmandu, Langtang is a lesser-known trekking area, as compared with popular routes like Everest Base Camp or the Annapurna Circuit. Despite its proximity to the capital city, the drive to the trailhead takes 6-7 hours, owing to the road being essentially a one lane, muddy, deeply rutted jeep track that winds up and down mountainsides. The valley is remote, but is still a "tea-house" trek, meaning that the trail goes through tiny villages where mountain lodges can house and feed you for the night, so there is no need to carry camping gear. We planned a fairly aggressive hiking itinerary, hoping to cover a lot of ground in the somewhat limited time that we had available, while still making sure to enjoy the journey and leave adequate time to acclimatize to the altitude. After some back-and-forth, we convinced our wonderful guide Bishnu that we could hike in 8 days what most groups do in 15. Here's a little story about our day-to-day experience.

Day 1: Shyaphru Besi to Godathabela (1460m – 2972m); 20k

After two fascinating but hectic weeks of work in Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan, at least half of which was spent in cars and planes – it was a welcome relief to know that all we needed to do for the next eight days was walk.  The trailhead is in the village of Shyaphru Besi, at 1460 m elevation. The combination of having fresh legs and starting at relatively low altitude made the first day feel like a regular hike at home, although it was extremely hot and humid and we poured sweat as we made our way ever upward through dense tropical forest.

One of many suspension bridges we would cross on the hike.

Bishnu set a slow but steady pace, and we dutifully fell into step behind him and enjoyed turning our brains off and just immersing ourselves in the beautiful landscape. We encountered a few monkeys and several mountain goats, and passed by countless waterfalls and tall rock walls stained black with honey from nesting bees high above our heads. The forest was lush and bursting with tiny orange, pink, and yellow flowers, as well as copious amounts of stinging nettle and marijuana growing wild at the edges of the trail. As we followed the river upstream, the only sounds were our sparse conversation and the ever-present birdsong. We saw very few other hikers; most of the people we met on the trail were local villagers, many with trains of donkeys carrying supplies along the trail. The villages that we passed through were tiny: clusters of a few houses and, in some cases, small mountain lodges.

Our lunch spot: the village of Bamboo.

The Langtang Valley was hit hard by the 2015 earthquake, and the aftermath of the disaster was readily apparent. It was sobering to pass by memorials and many homes that had been reduced to rubble by landslides, but encouraging seeing the constant reconstruction. We were happy to have chosen this particular hike, where the money we spent in the local communities could contribute to the ongoing efforts to rebuild. Our day finished at the “Hotel Tibetan” in Ghodatabela, and the people there seemed shocked that we had hiked all that way in one day (this would become a common theme throughout the week). Lodges differed along the trek, but all offered between 6-12 small, simple, tidy rooms with two single beds and sometimes a table to pile bags on. Each lodge had a separate eating area with benches, and often a wood stove where you could warm up in the cool evenings. Rooms cost $500 rupees, just over $5 CAD, and we usually spent about $15-20 between us on each lunch and dinner. At just under 3000 m, Hotel Tibetan was a perfect place to stay the night and acclimatize a little to the increasing altitude. We "enjoyed" a cold bucket "shower", then retired to our room for a fitful sleep.

Hotel Tibetan, 2972 m.

Day 2: Ghodatabela to Kyanjin Gumba (2972m – 3870m); 13k

We were up at 6:30 to start hiking to our highest altitude in this side of the valley. The second day was my favourite day of the trek: with every 100 m we gained, the landscape seemed to change so quickly. We were out of the dense forest now, higher up above the river and into the open, sweeping views of the sub-alpine. The surrounding mountains changed from being tiny peaks that we glimpsed in the distance to imposing white-capped peaks that dominated the scenery. We started passing by mani walls in the middle of the trail, which are long rock walls made of stones carved with intricate Buddhist symbols and adorned with the ubiquitous Tibetan prayer flags. Buddhist doctrine dictates that you always walk around these clockwise, so we were careful to stay to the left of the walls as we passed by.

A mani wall

Langtang literally means “follow the yaks”, and on Day 2 we started to see many of the valley’s namesakes. I love the look of yaks – essentially huge, long-haired, horned cows with fuzzy feather duster tails – and I found out on this hike that I also love the cheese they produce. It’s nutty and sharp, and tastes a bit like a combination of old cheddar and Parmesan. Delicious. Yak hair is also very soft and makes a lovely warm blanket or scarf.

Yakkity-Yak

I started feeling the effects of the altitude at about 3500 m. I didn’t feel sick or have a headache, but my breathing became more laboured and every step upward (and they were ALL steps upward, often literally on uneven, seemingly never-ending stone stairs) felt like it took a disproportionate effort. We were moving extremely slowly, but still covered good ground and reached our destination of Kyanjin Gompa at about 2:30 in the afternoon. This village was quite a bit larger than the ones we had been passing through, and it was nice to have a few hours of daylight to stroll around at the base of the glaciers of Langtang Lirung, a 7000+ m mountain. The lodge was one of the nicer ones we would stay at, and the only one that had a working hot shower. We quickly found a bakery, devoured some surprisingly delicious cake, and sat happily in the sun drinking tea and gazing at the insane scenery around us.

Arriving in Kyanjin Gompa

The view from our window at the tea house.

A side note about the food. In the Langtang Valley, the menu is regulated by the National Park Conservation Board, so that each tea house has the exact same one. On the first half of the hike, we were becoming a bit despondent about the food, which was really quite awful. Before the trek, I had been looking forward to eating dal bhat, which is the Nepalese staple food and is traditionally a delicious lentil soup served with rice and several side dishes of curried, steamed, and pickled vegetables. It's usually the perfect energy food (as Bishnu liked to say, "Dal bhat power, 24-hour!"). In the valley, however, the soup was basically just the water that lentils are cooked in, which looked and tasted for all the world like dirty dish water, and the only side vegetable was curried potatoes (these were, thankfully, really good). Turned off this dish at an early stage, we resorted to sampling other offerings on the menu like eggs and noodles, eggs and rice, eggs and potatoes, etc. Everything was the same bland colour and flavour, and there was not a vegetable to be seen (except for the potatoes, I suppose). I am not saying any of this to complain: this is a harsh, remote mountain environment where basically nothing grows, and all the food needs to be carried in by donkey. We survived just fine for a few days eating this way. However, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it was difficult, especially when expending so much energy every day and already dealing with digestive issues thanks to the altitude combined with the exertion. Luckily, our food options would change slightly on the second half of the hike, which we very much appreciated. More on this in a bit.

Sustenance.

Day 3: Kyanjin Ri peak (4400m), then down to Lama (2470m); 24k

Brendan and I woke up early the next morning to get a side hike in before we headed back down the trail with our guide. There was a peak just behind our tea house called Kyanjin Ri, and it was impossible to resist climbing to it. We set out before breakfast with a Snickers bar each and some water. It was so nice to hike with only a running pack, instead of lugging the heavy hiking pack around! The climb, although only about 2.5k, was really tough, owing to breaking through the 4000 m elevation mark. It's quite humbling to experience how difficult everything at altitude is, and I kept reminding myself of the ultra running mantra "forward is a pace" to avoid getting overwhelmed with the uncooperativeness of my legs and lungs. We reached the peak in just over an hour, and relished in sitting at the top by ourselves for about 20 minutes, taking in the stunning views on a bluebird morning. We ran back down to the lodge, and it felt good to stretch the legs out and move a bit faster, even if we did get some strange glances from people as we burst back into the village.

Kyanjin Ri peak, 4400m. Langtang Lirung (the real peak) behind us.

From Kyanjin Ri peak down to our destination for Day 3 was 2000 m of descent, and this hike was nothing short of a slog. We had already covered all of this ground, so retracing our steps while constantly hiking down steep terrain, even though we were moving much faster than when hiking uphill, was hard on both the body and the mind. We arrived at Lama Hotel feeling quite rough, and our spirits were not exactly buoyed by this accommodation, which was the most...rustic one that we stayed in. Collapsing into our sleeping bags at the end of the day, we resolved to just get through the night and look forward to the next day of new trails up the other side of the valley.

I didn't take one photo on the way down, so here's a pic from the path up. Just picture us hiking down these for 5 hours.

Day 4: Lama to Thulu Shyaphru (2470m – 2250m); 12k

Day 4 had us hiking down to a fork in the trail, then up the other side of the valley on new terrain, climbing back up about 800 m to reach essentially the same elevation that we started at in the morning. We had been hiking for about 30 minutes after our lunch break when we got hit by a sudden, violent thunderstorm with marble-sized hail and torrential rain being blown horizontally by the wind. Struggling to stay warm in the pelting rain, we passed by a small home perched on the side of the mountain, and the man inside immediately invited us in to warm up. We tried to politely take our soaking wet, muddy shoes off at the door, but he was having none of it, and ushered us in to his home. The house was a clay shelter with a corrugated metal roof weighted down with rocks; the whole thing was no larger than a typical North American bathroom, and housed a family of 5. We peeled off our wet jackets and sat inside in front of the wood fire; Brendan sat on the family's bed and I sat in the kitchen area on a long bench. The man made us black tea as he was serving his family some soup for lunch. I was struck by how organized and neat everything was in this house; it contained everything you need, and nothing more. This experience was in many ways the highlight of our entire hike, and we later said that we were actually glad to have been caught in the storm so that we could experience this generous and warm hospitality.

Shelter from the storm.

After we finished our tea, the rain let up and we continued on our way after profusely thanking the man for his kindness. We left some money tucked under a tea cup, not wanting to make a display of it but hoping that the family could make good use of some extra cash. The trail snaked down to a suspension bridge over a river, then began to climb upward again through a vastly different landscape than we had experienced on the other side. This was lush and green, with terraced agriculture at every opportunity. We could see corn, barley, greens, garlic, squash, tomatoes, and onions growing in gardens, and were optimistic that perhaps we would not, in fact, develop scurvy on this trek. Our day ended in the cute village of Thulu Shyaphru, with the nicest lodge that we stayed in the whole week, complete with a bathroom attached to our room with a real shower (albeit cold), flush toilet, and sink (most lodges had outdoor pit toilets and a hose from the mountain stream to wash up). We felt like we were in the throes of extreme luxury as we sipped masala chai in the little courtyard and ordered chicken curry with vegetables for dinner. Although the tea houses on this side of the trek still had the same menu, they had the addition of a curry section, owing to (a) more Hindu influence on this side, and (b) the agricultural options. It was a perfect re-set halfway through our trek, and we slept like logs for the first time, with satisfied bellies and (relatively) clean bodies. 

Agriculture, I love you.

Day 5 and 6: Thulu Shyaphru to Chyolangpati (2250m – 3654m) to Gosainkunda (4380 m); 13k

Nothing but climbing on Day 5. As we left the agricultural area behind, we hiked through vast rhododendron forests. Rhododendron is the national flower of Nepal, and Bishnu collected some dried flowers to save for making tea later on. The weather had stayed cloudy after the storm the day before, and we spent most of this day in the mist but never got rained on. We kept hearing cuckoos singing away - I had never heard one before, but there is no mistaking that call - they sound exactly like cuckoo clocks. It was pretty comical. Apparently cuckoos migrate to Nepal in the summer months from as far away as Africa.

Rhododendron forest. Now imagine the sound of a cuckoo clock, and you're as good as there.

We finished the day fairly early in the village of Chyolangpati, where only one lodge was open. Day 6 was much the same: climbing, climbing, ever slower as the air got thinner. We had no views as we made our way up the trail, but it was nice to hike in cooler temperatures than the sauna we had started in 5 days earlier. We reached Gosainkunda in good time, just before the sky opened up and started raining/hailing/snowing. The highest altitude we would stay at on the trek, it was freezing, and we spent the afternoon huddled in front of the woodstove in the eating area. We met two separate groups of Nepali hikers, most of whom spoke good English, and we really enjoyed getting to know them and chatting the afternoon and early evening away while drinking hot water from a huge pot on top of the stove. Our room was so cold that we hung a carpet in front of the window to try to insulate from the wind howling through it, and slept in all of our clothes (almost literally: I was wearing long underwear, wool socks, a merino wool shirt, a fleece, puffy jacket, and toque) inside our sleeping bags, with two blankets piled on top of us. 

Gosainkunda

I'm under there somewhere.

 Day 7: Laurebina Pass (4620m), then down to Sing Gompa (3250m); 15k

Surprisingly, I had a great sleep under all those layers, and we woke up to a clear morning so decided to do another side excursion on our own. We set out to gain Laurebina pass, which, at over 4600 m, would be the high point of our trek. Being alone on this trail was an amazing experience - it felt like we were the only people in the world. It was so gorgeous and almost completely silent - the only sounds were of birds chirping. We hiked past several alpine lakes and reached the pass after about 45 minutes, sitting under the prayer flags for some time, gazing at the snowy Manaslu mountains in the far distance and marvelling at the silence. 

Laurebina Pass, 4620 m. Brendan's feeling sick; I'm just high on a Snickers bar.

The day before, one of our new friends had told us of a Nepalese tradition of building rock cairns to wish the departed a safe and happy journey in the afterlife. I thought of this story as we sat in this peaceful place, and decided to build one for my dad. It was quite an emotional, but very special moment, and I couldn't think of a better place for this cairn to stand. A few seconds after I built the cairn, a bird landed on top of the prayer flags, our only company the entire morning. As I fumbled with my phone to try to get a picture, it took flight, departing in a beautiful flutter of wings.

As we headed back to the lodge, we travelled the shore of Gosainkunda, a high altitude lake that is of spiritual significance to both Hindu and Buddhist religions. Every year, people make pilgrimages to the lake, which is thought to be holy water. The tradition is to dip your whole body three times into the lake; this is said to absolve you of your sins. Although it was freezing cold water, the morning was sunny and the air felt warm, and I couldn't pass up jumping in. I did my quick three dips, the cold making me gasp for breath and my limbs going numb as I waded back out of the water. 

A dip in the lake ;)

After breakfast and a futile attempt to warm up after my sin-cleansing, we started back down the trail. The weather had turned again, and we felt like we were hiking in a cloud, with very low visibility and cold temperatures (I was hiking for the first time in my puffy jacket). We stopped for lunch at Chyolangpati, where we had stayed on night 5, then continued onward down a new trail to the village of Sing Gompa, for another day of continuous steep downhill. The highlight of this village was the yak cheese factory, where we bought a hunk of the hard cheese to munch on over the next couple days.

Into the mist.

Day 8: Sing Gompa to Dunche (3250m – 1950m); 10k

Our last day was uneventful, and I was a mixed bag of emotions as we descended to our final destination. I was so grateful for the experience, and feeling sad that it was ending, but also excited to be finished and heading to Kathmandu for some relaxation time. I was also exhausted, and looking forward to returning to good food and indoor plumbing. We hiked back down into the tropical forest and marvelled at how lush it was after being in alpine environments for so long. We followed a river that originated in Gosainkunda, and met our jeep at the trailhead in the roadside village of Dunche. It was strange to see roads and vehicles again, and to hear the sounds of village life outside of the mountains. "Just" a 6-hour drive back to the city, and our Langtang adventure was officially over.

The end of the road.

Despite the lengthiness of this blog post, it's still quite difficult to adequately describe this experience. I have wanted to go to Nepal for a very long time, and it was everything I expected it to be, and more. The mountains are beautiful, the people are wonderful, and the different religions seem to coexist in a mutually respectful harmony. I love that Tibetan prayer flags hang everywhere, and think that their symbology really sums up Nepal as a whole. The flags represent earth, wind, sky, fire, and water, and are meant to be hung in high places so that they are always in motion. As the flags flutter in the breeze, they spread compassion, peace, wisdom, and strength into the space around them. What a wonderful thought.