Bhairab Kunda Trek: Where God Lives & Your Legs Beg for Mercy

By Michal

Let’s start with a confession: I thought "offbeat trek" meant "gentle hills and empty trails." Turns out, it’s code for "you’ll be lost, cold, and questioned by a mule named Gary 3.0."

My partner this time? Anjali—a botanist who identifies Himalayan flowers by Latin names and laughs at blisters. Our mission: Bhairab Kunda (4,250m), a sacred lake hidden in Nepal’s wild Rasuwa district. Locals say Shiva bathes here. I say Shiva must really like freezing water.

Phase 1: Denial (and the Bus Ride That Shook My Soul)

The "adventure" began with a bus to Syabrubesi that felt like being inside a washing machine full of rocks. Anjali sketched rhododendrons while I practiced transcendental meditation to avoid vomiting. "It’s character-building!" she chirped. "So is prison," I muttered.

Day 1 was deceptively lovely: terraced farms, smiling Tamang kids, and a suspiciously flat trail. "This is Nepal’s best-kept secret!" I bragged, as Anjali pointed to distant snowy peaks. "That’s where we sleep tomorrow." The peaks smirked.

Phase 2: Bargaining (With Leeches & a Mule Named Karen)

By Timure (1,800m), the trail became a muddy staircase. Rain turned paths into Slip ‘N Slides. Then appeared Karen—a mule with resting diva face—blocking a cliffside trail. "Pay the troll toll," her eyes said. Anjali offered trail mix. Karen ate it and still didn’t budge. (Himalayan mules run a tight racket.)

At Briddim (homestay village), our host aama (mom) fed us gundruk (fermented greens) "for strength." Anjali called it "probiotic." I called it "swampy regret."

Phase 3: Terror (AKA The Night My Socks Became Sentient)

At Kharka (3,600m), temperatures plunged. I wore:

• 4 layers

• A beanie borrowed from aama

• Socks so thick, my boots groaned

• Existential dread (warmest layer)

That night, wind howled like angry ghosts. Anjali dragged me outside. The Milky Way blazed so bright, it looked like diamonds spilled on velvet. "That’s Sagittarius," she whispered. I whispered back, "That’s my frozen snot."

Phase 4: Revelation (When the Lake Stole My Snark)

The final climb to Bhairab Kunda broke me. Thin air, scree slopes, and Anjali humming Bollywood songs like a demon. "Almost there!" she lied for the 47th time.

Then—silence.

The lake appeared—opal-blue, wrapped in snow peaks, prayer flags fluttering like confetti. A lone sadhu chanted by the water. Anjali’s botany lecture died mid-sentence. "Oh," she breathed. "Okay. Wow."

We sat for an hour, watching clouds dance on the water. No jokes. No complaints. Just… awe. (And mild hypothermia.)

Phase 5: Descent (Or, How Gravity Became My Nemesis)

Going down, my knees staged a mutiny. "Use walking poles!" Anjali advised. I used them like crutches. At Thulo Syabru, a granny laughed at my penguin-walk and gifted me raksi (firewater moonshine). One sip, and I forgave Nepal for everything.

Anjali grinned: "Kanchenjunga next?"

I threw a kwati bean at her.

The Takeaway: Mud, Magic, and a Mule’s Grudge

Bhairab Kunda isn’t just a trek. It’s:

• Karen the Mule’s snack-based tyranny

• Aama’s gundruk gospel

• Prayer flags snapping like applause

• That moment when nature hushes your inner cynic

Would I return? Ask me when my quads regenerate. But sacred lakes? They stick to your soul like dal bhat to ribs.

Pro tip: if you want to go trek in Nepal don’t miss to go Nepal mountain adventure. This is the best trekking company in Nepal, the accommodation is best, and the facilities are good. I was going with the other company before, but the trek accommodation and facilities are not good as much I think but when I go with Nepal mountain adventure my imagination got match