Into the Mist: Ghorepani Blues and the Great Poon Hill Tease

It begins, as these days tend to, with the slow violence of an early alarm — 5:30 a.m. A time that belongs to monks, insomniacs, and the tragically ambitious. I am none of the above, and this morning, I politely refuse the call to greatness. Let others chase the sunrise. I’ve already seen the sunset — and it was glorious.

The day before, after arriving at New Viewpoint Lodge, nestled at nearly 2,900 meters, I made a strategic life choice: rather than crawl out of bed in the arctic dark of morning, I convinced my faithful roommate and Silvia, a spirited member of our group, to ascend Poon Hill with me at golden hour, the evening before. Why? Because I’m not an early bird. I’m a dusk hawk. A sunset jackal. And tomorrow’s schedule, with another long trek ahead, demanded a little pragmatism.

We climbed slowly, the three of us, through drifting mist and aching knees, hoping to catch the sacred peaks at that elusive, cinematic moment — just before the sun dips and everything glows like a backlit prayer. The trail is muddy and winding, a staircase to nowhere — or so it feels when clouds blanket the summit. Still, we arrive. We look out. And for a fleeting moment, the veil lifts, and there they are: Annapurna South, Hiunchuli, the mysterious Machapuchare (the Fish Tail, so sacred that no one is allowed to climb it). They emerge like forgotten gods waking up late for a ceremony. It’s beautiful. Brief. A tease, really. But it’s enough.

Meanwhile, back in the story everyone else is telling…

After breakfast the next day, our group sets off from Ulleri to Ghorepani, winding up through oak forests and flaming rhododendrons — Nepal’s national flower and a botanical fireworks display in red, pink, and white. The trail is challenging, but not for the reasons one might think. We’re not yet in “high altitude” (in Nepali terms, anything under 3,000 meters is still just “hill country”), but the thousands of stone steps test calves, patience, and any remaining illusions of being “fit.”

What makes the Annapurna region remarkable isn’t just its geological drama, though there is plenty of that, but its human texture. The path is a living corridor through Magar villages, where hospitality is instinctive and chickens outnumber humans. This isn’t raw wilderness. It’s an inhabited, storied, ritualised terrain. Every stop has a smile, every lodge has its rhythm of tea, socks drying by the stove, and gentle laughter in languages that dance between Nepali, English, and occasionally Italian curses on particularly brutal inclines.

Upon arrival at Ghorepani, we settle into the lodge like well-trained nomads. Hot tea and biscuits greet us on long wooden benches. The clouds wrap the valley like a secret. Some venture out for supplies, others gamble their dignity in rounds of “Porco”, a wild, card-based evolution of the Italian classic “Merda,” ideal for adult children with chapped lips and altitude buzz.

Dinner is warm, the conversation warmer. And as the others prepare for their pre-dawn climb to Poon Hill the next day, I nestle into my blanket, already satisfied. I’ve seen the mountains glow, not under the scream of alarm clocks but under the quiet hush of a Himalayan dusk.

Reflections from the Trail

The Annapurna region, named after the goddess of nourishment, is a slow-moving poem. Its circuit trek, first opened to foreigners in the 1970s, has become one of the world’s classic long-distance routes — winding through lush subtropical forests, desert-like trans-Himalayan plateaus, and villages of Gurung and Magar communities whose traditions thread ancient Buddhism, animism, and modern mountain pragmatism into daily life.

But don’t be fooled by the word “hill.” These “hills” reach for the heavens. The Annapurna Circuit challenges not with Everest-style ego stakes, but with rhythm, endurance, and a strange, joyful humility.

Want to follow the whole journey?

Check back tomorrow for tales of sunrise redemption, more tea, and the long descent into new valleys, sore legs, and even more card games.