March 8, 2024, edited by Francesco Rigodanza
Nepal is an Asian country composed of 15% Himalayan mountains. That 15% is often the obsession of mountain lovers who for years sigh thinking about the emotions that could be experienced in front of peaks too high to be imagined, surrounded by too little oxygen to climb them easily.
It is an obsession that has long been stuck in Alessio's head, a lover of running, skiing, mountaineering and anything else that forces him to return home exhausted. Alessio is also a lover of being in company and coordinating people and therefore in a few months he convinced four of his friends, with whom he shares some of these passions, that going to Nepal in early January and doing 220 km in 6 days around Annapurna, one of the most dangerous 8000ers, crossing at 5400 m the Thorung La Pass, is a crazy cool idea.
Michele, Roberto, Camilla and Francesco believed this intense optimism of Alessio. Really. Or they realized that making a trip among friends to the other side of the world is not an everyday thing, and if you have to do something with a high risk of exhaustion and burnout, it is better to do it near people with whom you feel comfortable being terrible, because it will happen often.
And so on January 3, 2024, at three in the afternoon, after thirteen hours of flight, eight of Jeep, a first introduction to spicy Nepalese food, immeasurable Jet-Lag, Alessio, Roberto, Camilla, Michele and Francesco took their 20 L backpack from a dusty Skorpius, noted that it was too heavy for what they were used to, checked that they had taken everything, scanned the horizon in search of those famous big mountains, and left from Besisahar for their Annapurna Circuit Trekking.
Day 1 - Besisahar – Sjange. 20 km 900 d+“It leaves me breathless”
Western tourist at the first taste of spicy Dal Bhat
Besisahar, the village from which the Trekking starts, is a small cluster of houses by the riverbank at 700 meters above sea level. The landscape is that of a tropical forest that hasn't seen rain for a while. Because here January is the cold and dry month. You can tell by the dust that abounds on the roads and plants, while the inhabitants from time to time go out to wet the doorstep of their house so they can breathe without a neck warmer in front of their mouth. You don't see snowy mountains in the distance, too much haze, and those that for now surround the valley are covered in vegetation up to the tip. Not at all similar to the imagination of the Nepalese mountains. Yet, they are already peaks of almost 4000 meters.
It is a long Himalayan valley. Very long. So long that the start is as different as you can expect from a mountain trail. A wide road badly paved with truck passage. Yes, the road to the pass will be very long.
It is a strange moment the start of a long journey. A narrow interval of time in which you release everything that the head has created in the previous months. Anxieties, expectations, worries, hopes, fears, motivations. Everything. And indeed the sensations are terrible. Hyper-attentive to possible reactions that anticipate the final result. Yes, the first ten minutes of a multi-day trek are always disappointing. Fortunately, like every bad moment of a trip, it passes.
Alessio, who is the one who feels this luggage the most, is the first to stop. Pee moment. Michele accompanies him. He is the youngest and least experienced of the group and therefore wisely chose to copy every action of his coordinator. Francesco has already punctured the sugar bag, the one that was supposed to serve him for the whole trip, and is trying to recover as much as possible without mixing it with the road dust. Camilla has just realized all the mistakes of backpack preparation, despite having been advised to do it at least five times in the previous days. Roberto is already looking at the slow average per kilometer. It is always like this. The first ten minutes are a feedback to everything that was done wrong before. Because two things never lie: knee joints and backpack shoulder straps.
After the first ten minutes of initial disorientation, the group continues at an enthusiastic pace, today only 20 km await them to arrive at a first stop village: Sjange. Because it is still January and the sun in these narrow valleys sets at six in the evening.
The road is all uphill. For the first few days it will always be like this. Either very uphill or slightly uphill. You cross many colorful villages, you answer the first questions of origin request and you wonder about those laughs of the children following your passage “have they never seen people dressed in neon with badly matched colors and exaggeratedly thick legs?”
Roberto as soon as he can run, even uphill. Alessio records videos for content. Michele asks. Camilla looks for descents. Francesco lags and complains.
Usually the malaise of the start lasts ten minutes. Francesco has had so many starts like this and knows it well. But this time it is lasting longer. Too much longer. Maybe it is the backpack, maybe it is the Jet-Lag. Maybe it is him who is not able. He worries. Francesco is here because he likes mountains a lot, more than anything else, and since these mountains are higher than any other, he is convinced he will like them even more. This is why he said yes to Alessio, sure friends, the trip, the adventure, the physical challenge, all valid reasons, but in the end there is always one thing that ignites the spark of passion and determination, and that thing for Francesco is the little tear that falls when he finds himself in front of very beautiful mountains.
He wasn't even very worried before the start. Naive. He has already made many trips like this. But it was years ago. When he was an athlete. He did races, podiums and competitive things. And now enough. He uses that energy and that time to stress out more at work. And treks do not lie. Francesco is no longer that athlete and he has just realized it. Or Convinced. And while he slows down, while he continues to hope for a temporary crisis he begins to fear not being able to truly see those mountains. Damn negative worms that get into your head.
The last meters before Sanje are a steep flight of stairs down, two curves by mistake and a Tibetan bridge. Probably the ninth of the day. And then, right at dusk, here is the first shelter of the night. Almost a forced choice without being too picky. The five travelers find themselves in a wooden hotel with large spaces, where the spaces are between the wooden planks, not inside the accommodation. Small very essential rooms with mattresses placed on the floor, an electrical outlet and absence of bathrooms. A first exercise of adaptation.
It is only the first day, not even three hours have passed since the start, and yet finding yourselves together around a table lit in waiting for dishes from the local kitchen, you feel as if you have already been traveling for months, as if suddenly those newly created habits, those group dynamics, were already there forever, waiting for you in Nepal. You didn't need to invent anything. You just had to get there.
Food, laughter, bullshit, utopian plans, first promises “but if I arrive alive at the end then…” and you go to bed each in your sleeping bag waiting for the other 200 km remaining to arrival.