Finding Mude | Yatralogue | wavemag.com.np

How to get there: An eight hour bus ride gets you to Jiri and then it's a six day walk to Mude in Solukhumbu. One could also take a flight to Phaplu and trek for a day and a half.
What to take: Hiking boots, warm clothes, sunscreen, camera, water purification tablets to cut the cost of buying water which is ridiculously expensive. And of course, loads of energy.
Cost: The per day cost till Junebesi is expensive, up to Rs 700 a day. Beyond that the prices decline to Rs 400 including lodging.

A bright clear morning spent on the rooftop of the bus turned into a rainy and stuffy afternoon inside the bus - packed like sardines with all the locals taking cover from the rain. We were on our way to Jiri, our first stop on the way to Mude. A small village in central Solukhumbu, Mude couldn't have arrived too soon.

Once there we headed straight toward the Deurali Pass. I slowly breathed in the pollution-free air as I took in the open, green landscape before me, dotted with prayer flags and rock carvings. Essentially devoid of people save for a few porters and village children, I felt like an adventurer, charting new territories and discovering new lands.

A quick daal bhaat at Shivalaya, a small riverside town, and we began the second and steeper half of our first day's trek.

As we climbed to higher heights and colder temperatures, it became evident that the first day's trek was beginning to wear out the group, and we were more than happy to reach our stop, Deurali Pass. At roughly 2,500 meters, this small Sherpa village on the peak of a hill kept us warm with hot showers, warm tea, and a wonderful fire. Despite the thought of my aching body and the long trek that lay before me, I felt content among friends in this cozy and rustic accommodation.

Day two began with a slippery downhill walk, past Buddhist stupas and donkeys jingling away as they carried heavy loads to remote villages. Walking for what seemed an eternity, past waterfalls, over bridges, and around landslides, we finally reached the bottom of the valley and another riverside town – Kinja Bazaar.

Kinja is beautiful: the rustling of the river, the open space of the valley, the first view of the Himalayan range, the morning bazaar, the warm breeze of the evening and the clean and friendly environment of the town. We spent the night here, knowing that the toughest part of the journey lay ahead of us– a straight ascent of 2,000 meters. We began our ascent to Lamjura Pass, the highest point on our trek, on the third day with recharged energy.

After 900 metres, we lunched at Sete where we were treated to a gorgeous view of the valley and river below, the greenery surrounding us, and the clouds just barely above us. Almost 2000 metres higher than the previous day, we stopped for one of the most spectacular sunsets I've ever seen. My questioning of God's existence turned simply into wonder after seeing the jagged outline of the Himalayas sparkling pink in the dying light. Yet, after the sun had set and the cold damp night had settled upon this vulnerable one-homed village, I began to long, for my comfortable bed back in Kathmandu.

The fourth day of our trek began with a short ascent to Lamjura. At over 3,600 meters, the hills reminded me much more of a Mongolian desert than the fertile green hills of the lower altitudes. The airplane to Lukla flew by every few minutes, disturbing the peace in this otherwise heavenly place.

Our descent took us through an abundantly lush forest, a lazy river and around a gigantic rock jutting out of the earth to yet another valley. Junbesi, a picturesque town with an apple orchard and a mystical Buddhist monastery overlooking it was our resting point. Having caught a nasty bout of the flu, I was more interested in my bed than exploring anything around me. Trekking was akin to torture at that moment, and no amount of fresh air or beautiful scenery would be worth it.

After a wonderful sleep, my war with the hills felt distantly in the past, and I was ready for another day's trek. Once again at lower altitudes, the landscape recalled that of our first few days, with the greenery and steppe agriculture common to Nepal. Phaplu, home to the saddest-looking airport I've ever seen, redeemed itself with its spectacular Himalayan views and tasty momos.

Leaving Salme and reaching our destination had me in the best mood since my first day. Though the village consists of no more than 10 houses, one telephone, and a school, everything seemed beautiful to me. In this Sherpa village, I found friendly people, fresh air, beautiful flowers, and my first view of Everest. That's when I realised why people trek- to renew their perspective of life.

or those of us who live in cities, it is a humbling experience to remember the simple fact that not everyone in this country lives as we do. Not everyone attends school or has electricity. This experience helped me appreciate the luxuries of what Kathmandu had to offer more than ever before.