Wanderlust | Yatralogue | wavemag.com.np

How to get there: Take a bus to Pokhara, and spend the evening there. Next day, get a bus to Nayapul. From Nayapul it's a four-five hours' long trek of moderate difficulty to Ghandruk, if you take it slow. Many people get up in just three hours. Alternately, you could skip Pokhara and head straight to Nayapul via a bus to Beni.

How much to take: During tourist season, (October through March) expect prices to rise to a little over Rs 500 per day for food and lodging. Off season, when the occasional rain cools things down, expenses could be Rs 300 to 400 per day. Bargain if you're up for it.

What to take: Good trekking boots, a hat and sun screen (SPF 30 and above), a bottle of salt to fend off leeches should you veer off into the forest, water, a camera and rechargeable batteries.

A sea of clouds slowly gathers overhead and swiftly engulfs the mountain. I run for my windbreaker and some warm clothes. Pay heed to clouds near the mountains, as they almost always mean rain. It's a welcome respite. I've trekked for four-and-a-half hours with the sun beating down on me mercilessly, turning my sunscreen into a joke. It's all worth it, though—here in Ghandruk, the rain serenades the mountains in an ethereally beautiful manner.

I can't shake this feeling that I know this place, as though I've been here before. And then it comes to me—one day, years ago, when the telly at home offered only one channel, NTV, all day, I happened upon a documentary with festive images from a village beautifully nested atop mountains. The name, Ghandruk, seemed a poor match for the majesty of the atmosphere. Surrounded by mountains on all sides, it seemed like something out of a fairytale.

My trek started with the promise of a sweet dream—graduating from college. Researching the impact of tourism in Ghandruk was the perfect opportunity to both realise my travel dreams and get a decent degree at the same time. I greeted the morning with a heavy breakfast; eaten along the banks of Phewa Taal, with the calmness and tranquillity of the lake slowly engulfing you, it's a religious experience.
But the bus ride to Nayapul, the first leg of the journey isn't quite so, well, smooth. Once there, the fun begins, as you make your way up the relentless, rugged trails carved into ancient mountainsides to the tune of the rushing river below, a chorus of birdsong above, and the low, buzzing drone of insects all around.

Trekking through the foothills of the mountains is different from making the higher reaches as you near the top. The difference is air, clear, cool, and pure air—and lots of it. It's the perfect accompaniment to the brilliant off-season sights. As I trekked through the excellently managed paths, I had a clear view of the magnificent panorama of the Annapurna range and her iconic symbol, Machapuchhre, all un-obstructed by hordes of swarming, clicking tourists.

I had plenty of rest stops along the way and a failing battle with the urge to photograph everything I saw, and it still took me just five hours to reach to the village. Having sung the praises of getting back to nature and all of that, you'd be surprised to know one of the things that impressed me most about Ghandruk—the electricity.

As you get closer, the lights on the horizon twinkles like fireflies in the dusk. Thanks to a micro hydroelectricity plant the villagers helped to install, Ghandruk has not only banished the dark, but also got really cheap electricity—at 75 paisa a watt, way cheaper than Kathmandu rates. And I'm happy that I can recharge my exhausted batteries.

Ghandruk is mostly populated by Gurungs, and their hospitality is legendary throughout their traditional stronghold of Kaski and all over Nepal. Once in their domain, you're treated not like a guest, but like a long-lost family member. Our wonderful host at Gurung Cottage, Kisham Dai, also helped a lot in my efforts to dig up information relevant to my research. As president of the lodge management committee, he had a wealth of facts and observations regarding Ghandruk's tourism scenario. "It's finally picking up," he said, and he didn't need to explain too much. The conflict has left its mark here too. The Annapurna Conservation Area Program (ACAP) office must now rebuild itself from the ruins of what it once was, and the memories of bloodshed remain fresh. Still, most villagers are optimistic. It must be the majesty of the mountains that they grow up amid that gives them such resilience.