Going it alone on the Annapurna Base Camp trek
21.07.2023 - 08:31
/ roughguides.com
/ Helen Abramson
Rough Guides writer Helen Abramson discovers the ups and downs of the Annapurna Base Camp trek in Nepal – all without the help of a porter or guide.
Something wasn’t right. I generally like to think of myself as physically fit. In fact, a doctor told me that was the case. I was convinced. Yet two days into the Annapurna Base Camp trek, every time I took a step up or down, my thighs hurt like the fires of hell. And up or down, it seemed, were the only options; flat surfaces were hard to come by.
I was mentally preparing a sternly worded letter for said doctor, in which I pointed out that his assessment was irrefutably and woefully incorrect.
Image by Helen Abramson
A few weeks earlier, my boyfriend and I had arrived in Nepal in the October peak season (the other being April–May), the day after the tragic storms that killed at least 43 people, of which 21 were trekkers, in the Annapurna Circuit region. We were filled with thoughts of those affected by the catastrophe as we travelled to Pokhara, the tranquil yet touristic lakeside town used as a base for the thousands of trekkers who pass through the Annapurna Sanctuary each year.
The Annapurna Base Camp Trek (also known as the ABC route), however, was sheltered from the storms and thus unaffected. We decided to tackle this 7–10 day hike without a guide or porter, carrying all the luggage we’d need in 45-litre backpacks.
This route, mostly inaccessible to vehicles, winds through prayer-flag strewn hamlets dotted around the lush valley of the fast-flowing Modi Khola River. It’s overlooked by the domineering peaks of Annapurna (8091m) and Machhapuchchhre (6993m), meaning “Fishtail” for its distinctive summit. The paths undulate almost constantly by way of seemingly huge and endless steps carved into the earth.
Image by Helen Abramson
Perhaps the swift pace of our first day had something to do with my aching legs, but speed was getting us nowhere on day two. We were unquestionably lost. The map had led us astray, indicating a path that didn’t exist, and extending our walking time to Chhomrong by around 2.5 hours and – most concerning for me – involving an awful lot more stairs.
The scenery changed dramatically as we increased altitude, from verdant stepped-farm hillsides, mossy jungle and misty autumnal woodland, up to rocky creeks peppered with waterfalls and finally to snow-speckled arid expanses.
We walked between four and seven hours each day, rising at icy-cold dawn to startlingly deep-blue skies and watching the golden sunlight spread majestically over the distant peaks before it hit us and warmed our freezing bones. Clouds usually rolled in late morning, bringing rain and slippery ground, which I over-acquainted myself with one afternoon after I slipped