I’m not going to lie—I was a bit scared. Even the locals had advised me to walk carefully, as yesterday’s snow could have covered the path.
One thing I learned here was that stepping in someone else’s footprints on a solid icy trail could prevent slipping, but when the snow starts melting, the opposite happens. That part melts more, increasing the chances of slipping.
Thus, it was better to sink your leg in and pave your own path. But again, you have to be very, very careful. My trekking pole was my ultimate guide throughout the downhill hike.
With the aim of Panch Pokhari to Chhimti, I moved forward. Even the locals were confident I would make it, which added to my motivation.
While taking some videos, I happened to drop one of my gloves. I ran back to get it, which completely exhausted me. It reminded me yet again—I was at 4,100 m. I couldn’t let my heart race like that. I slowed down, took a final glimpse of the Panch Pokhari homestays, and it was time to say goodbye.
As I moved forward, I saw that the five boys had also hiked down already. They were playing in the ponds. But I wasn’t really happy to see them stepping on the holy Bhairav Kunda.
These ponds are sacred, and people even take ritual dips here. Walking in them felt disrespectful. While it did look fun, sometimes we need to understand our limits. I’m pretty sure the boys were unaware of this, and that’s completely fine. They’ll learn about it someday.
I ignored them and moved forward, as I had to reach the destination anyhow. I knew at least three of the guys would eventually catch up with me. I didn’t rush, though. I moved steadily.
The ledges were extremely dangerous, so I didn’t want to take any risks. Within half an hour, I reached the spot I was most scared of—Lauribina!
At first, I glanced down. And yep, the same thought came to mind as the day before—”How the heck did I climb this?” After taking a few deep breaths, I decided to climb down—very, very slowly. I kept talking to myself, motivating myself.
The guys were almost there too, so I had some safety backups. I proceeded—half a step at a time. At one point, it was so dangerous that I almost slipped.
My bag was a burden yet again! It was pulling me back. I had to sit and carefully put my leg forward, but the bag wouldn’t let me do it easily. I even thought about throwing my bag all the way down. I regretted making it so heavy, but after all, I had carried the things I wanted and needed. So, looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing.
After crossing not even a quarter of the section, I finally got a grip on the sidebar. If you remember, the bar had been broken on the way up. Even though I held onto it, the risk was still there. What if it broke, and I fell over?
Not just that—the downhill path itself was the real challenge. It was covered with snow, and I had to carve my own way down. I reached the base and patted myself on the back, but I wasn’t happy yet. My heart was still pounding because even the upcoming Sat Ghumti’s downhill section was dangerous.
I looked back, and the guys had already reached Lauribina. To one of them, I shouted a warning, “Bistari hai… chiplo cha!” I waited for a while to make sure they climbed down safely.
Once one of them got a grip on the bar, I knew they’d be fine. Since they were five and young, I believed they would help each other. So, I continued forward. Very carefully, I moved ahead, almost slipping at multiple points. After crossing Pangsing Bisaune, I knew the next challenge was coming.
The downhill stretch ahead looked very dangerous. I hadn’t looked back while climbing up, so now, seeing it from above was terrifying. It was even worse than Lauribina!
Normally, this wouldn’t have been the case. But since it had snowed so heavily, it felt like there was no path at all—just a few footprints to follow.
Note: This trail has stairs, making it much easier during other seasons. But only during this Panch Pokhari winter trek, it becomes much tougher.
And it’s not just me saying this—every local I met during this solo trip told me the same. I was extremely careful, taking baby steps, praying, and motivating myself.
I was my only friend. I was my only savior. I was gaining the confidence I had come on this trip to find. This journey taught me just how important it is to do things alone because there will be times in life when no one will come to save you. Maybe not even the ones you think are closest to you.
With these thoughts lingering in my mind, I carefully crossed Sat Ghumti—a huge achievement already. I kept remembering my prayers from the temple, wishing for a safe return home.
As I was walking downhill, I reached a point where there were no footprints at all. I thought I had taken the wrong path. There was a confusion point while coming up, and I had marked a direction, but obviously, it had been erased by then, or I had missed it. I took the other path—it was a shortcut, but turned out to be even more dangerous.
You know that feeling when you’re climbing downhill, and if one step goes wrong, you start running uncontrollably, unable to stop? That happened to me—but in the snow.
The ledge was extremely dangerous, and somehow, I was saved. I had to scold myself and quickly regain focus. Even though I had crossed the most dangerous sections of the trail, I knew the path ahead still posed risks. The melting snow had made the trail even more slippery. I would only feel safe once I reached Chhimti.
Soon enough, I reached Nosyam Pati. It had started snowing here as well. Surprisingly, three of the guys had overtaken me and were already at the hotel. I ordered black tea, just like the day before.
Here, I also met a couple heading to Panch Pokhari. They were perfectly on time, so they would reach the top by evening. While the boys suggested they push for the viewpoint, I understood their walking pace and past altitude sickness issues.
I praised Sherpa Dai’s hospitality but suggested they stay at Panch Pokhari instead. The guy was already worried about possible altitude sickness, as he had suffered from it during his ABC trek.
They didn’t have any medicine either. So, I gave them the Zolamide I had brought and told them to leave the unused tablets at the hotel for future travelers. Hopefully, they did.
After showing them my videos of Panch Pokhari (especially that of Surya Kunda), their excitement to reach the top rose. I wished them luck, and after finishing my chiya-biscuit, I moved on together with the three boys. We looked back for their other two friends, but they were nowhere to be seen.
I was tired but kept walking, reflecting on everything that had happened over the past three days. That’s exactly when I realized—I should write about this adventure on Travel Nepal Today.
I still remembered that one path where I had fallen on my way to Rato Mato. I was waiting for it. Soon enough, the four of us reached the hotel where we had stayed earlier. Turns out the guys had left some of their clothes there. It’s a smart way to lighten your burden on the trail.
Then, I took the lead again. By now, I was already feeling hungry. The only things I ate were the Snickers bar while hiking down from the viewpoint, noodles at Lama Dai’s place, and the chiya biscuit in Nosyam Pati. But I didn’t want to take out my snacks just yet—I had planned to eat at Tuppi Danda.
This time, I took a few shortcut routes. My right shoulder and back were hurting like hell. I tried rearranging the bag, but the pain wouldn’t go away. I had to loosen the straps, and at times, I even had to support the bag with my hand. This was easily the most annoying part of the entire trek.
Soon enough, I reached the ledge where I had almost fallen earlier. The snow had completely melted, making it much easier to climb. In fact, it was the only uphill section I had to tackle on the way back to Tangu Kharka.
On the way, I met a group heading toward Nosyam Pati. There were four or five of them, so I gave them a heads-up about the trail conditions and mentioned that there was a hotel at Rato Mato in case they weren’t prepared. The leader of the group seemed determined to push on, so he didn’t say much.
By the time I reached Tangu Kharka, I was starving. I took a break and grabbed my Snickers. I’d love to take a Nepali energy bar on my next trip, if you think you can be a sponsor, contact me :p.
The weather on the trail kept changing—it was sunny at times, then cloudy, and even sleeting in some sections. So, I had my raincoat on the whole time to avoid getting sick.
That’s how careful I had been throughout this journey. I had also learned to prioritize my health, make quick yet well-thought-out decisions, and trust my instincts. It’s surprising how much a solo trip can teach you.
Finally, I reached Tuppi Danda—very close to my final destination. At this point, my phone finally got network coverage again.
Of course, my family had been worried since I was traveling alone, so I quickly called my mom to let her know I’d be home the next day. She had been trying to reach me since the day before, so I explained the remoteness of the place.
After filling my water bottle and letting the guys know that I’d now only stop at Chhimti, I continued.
By now, I was exhausted. I had been walking since morning—45 minutes to the viewpoint, the same time back, and then at least another five to six hours since leaving Panch Pokhari.
But strangely, I didn’t feel the fatigue in my legs. Instead, it was my eyes that felt heavy. I was getting sleepy, probably because the trail had lost its sense of adventure. No more snow, no more climbs—I was back on the green forest trails. I just kept walking, eager to reach Chhimti as fast as possible.
On my way, I met another solo traveler. He asked for some advice, which I gladly shared, and he continued toward Tuppi Danda, planning to stop there for the night.
After reaching Deurali, I was even closer. A puppy came running toward me, playfully trying to bite my legs. I just shooed it away.
A few minutes later, I realized I had missed the trekkers’ trail and had unknowingly continued along the road, reaching a place called Amilopani. I had a feeling something was off. After asking a local didi, I confirmed that I had missed the shortcut back in Deurali.
Eventually, I reconnected with the correct trail. The familiar sight of the waterfall told me I had finally reached Chhimti.
I crossed the suspension bridge, took a short two-minute break, and then continued. Soon, I reached the same hotel where I had my lunch before starting the trek. The morning bus was parked right in front of it.
I folded my trekking pole, marking the end of my solo trek, and stepped inside the hotel for inquiry…
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