My Journey to Manaslu and Tsum Valley

My Journey to the Hidden Valley

Let me tell you a story. A story about mountains so big they make you cry. About a valley so peaceful it feels like a dream. And about a journey that changed everything.

The Day Everything Started

I remember the first morning. I woke up in a small village. The sound of water was everywhere. A river was rushing past, wild and loud. The air smelled so fresh, like nothing I ever breathed before.

I put on my boots. Picked up my bag. And started walking.

The path was narrow. On one side, tall cliffs. On the other side, the river. Green trees everywhere. Birds singing. And me, just walking, one step at a time.

That's when I knew. This was going to be different.

Meeting the River

The Budhi Gandaki River became my friend. Every day, I walked beside it. Sometimes it was calm. Sometimes it roared like a lion. The water was this beautiful milky blue color. I crossed it on bridges made of wood and rope. They shook when I walked. My heart beat fast. But I loved it.

One bridge was so shaky, I had to hold the ropes tight. Below me, the river crashed on rocks. I looked down and thought, this is crazy. But I kept walking. And on the other side, a little village waited for me.

The Villages That Time Forgot

The villages here are special. They're made of stone. Big, flat stones stacked up like walls. The roofs are also stone. Everything is stone.

In one village called Jagat, I saw something amazing. A long wall, maybe 100 meters. Covered in carvings. Prayers carved into every stone. People walk around it, always turning the same direction. Clockwise. Always clockwise.

An old man was walking. He had prayer beads in his hand. Click, click, click. He smiled at me. Didn't say anything. Just smiled. That smile said everything.

When I Found Tsum Valley

Then came the day that changed everything.

I crossed a bridge. A small one. And suddenly, the whole world opened up.

In front of me was a valley. Wide. Green. With mountains all around like walls protecting it. Fields of barley moving in the wind like ocean waves. And prayer flags. Oh, the prayer flags. Thousands of them. Blue, white, red, green, yellow. All dancing in the wind.

I just stood there. I couldn't move. It was too beautiful.

This was Tsum Valley. The hidden valley. The valley of happiness.

The Grandmother and Her Tea

In a village called Nile, I met a grandmother. She must have been 80 years old. Her face was like a map, full of wrinkles. But her eyes sparkled.

She waved at me. Come, come. I went into her small house. Dark inside. Warm. She made tea for me.

But this tea was different. Salty. With butter in it. I took a sip. Strange taste. I took another sip. Better. By the third sip, I loved it.

She talked and talked. I didn't understand her language. But I understood her heart. She pointed to a mountain. Said a name. Milarepa. A holy man. Long ago. He lived in a cave up there.

She gave me some bread. Made from barley. We sat together. Drinking tea. Not talking. Just being.

That moment was pure gold.

The Morning the Monks Sang

At 5 in the morning, it was still dark. Freezing cold. I heard something.

Music? No. Voices. Deep voices. Chanting.

I got up. Wrapped a blanket around me. Went outside.

The monastery on the hill was glowing with candles. The monks were praying. Their voices carried down on the wind. It sounded like the mountain was singing.

I sat on a stone. Watched the sky turn from black to blue to pink. The voices kept singing. The prayer flags kept dancing. And I felt something I never felt before.

Peace. Deep, deep peace.

The Giant Mountain

Mount Manaslu. That's the mountain here. It's huge. I mean HUGE. 8,163 meters tall.

Every day, you see it. It follows you. When you wake up, it's there. When you walk, it's there. When you go to sleep, it's there.

In a village called Sama Gaun, the mountain is so close it feels like you can touch it. The north face is all ice. Straight up. Like a wall to heaven.

One evening, the sun was setting. The mountain turned pink. Then orange. Then gold. I just stood there, mouth open, watching. Other trekkers around me, all silent. All watching.

That mountain is like a king. Powerful. Beautiful. A little scary. But amazing.

The Children Who Made Me Laugh

In every village, kids ran around. They were so happy. So full of energy.

In Chumling, three kids followed me. Giggling. One of them, a little girl maybe 6 years old, grabbed my hand. Her hand was so small in mine. She pulled me to show me something.

A baby yak. This hairy, cute creature with big eyes. The girl pointed and laughed. The yak made a funny sound. We all laughed together.

No words needed. Just laughter. Just joy.

Kids here don't have phones or tablets. They play with stones. They run. They climb. And they're happier than any kids I've seen.

The Hardest Day

Then came the big day. Larkya La Pass day.

I woke up at 3 in the morning. Still dark. So cold my fingers hurt. I put on every piece of clothing I had. Two pants. Three shirts. Big jacket. Gloves. Hat.

My guide gave me tea. Hot, sweet tea. I drank it fast. We started walking.

The stars were still out. I used a headlamp. Just a small circle of light showing the path. Step. Step. Step. That's all I could do. Just keep stepping.

The path went up. And up. And up. My legs hurt. My chest hurt from breathing. The air was thin up here. Every breath felt like work.

Hours passed. The sky got lighter. I could see now. Snow everywhere. White mountains all around. The path was icy. I wore special spikes on my boots. Crunch, crunch, crunch in the snow.

I was so tired. I wanted to stop. But I kept going.

And then, I saw it. Prayer flags ahead. Lots of them. That meant the top.

Ten more steps. Five more steps. One more step.

I made it.

Standing on Top of the World

5,106 meters high. That's where I stood.

The wind was crazy. Blowing so hard. Prayer flags were going wild. Flap, flap, flap.

But the view. Oh my God, the view.

Mountains everywhere. As far as I could see. White peaks. Blue sky. Glaciers shining in the sun. It felt like being in heaven.

I fell to my knees. I was crying. I don't know why. Maybe from being tired. Maybe from being happy. Maybe from just feeling so much.

My guide smiled. He's seen this moment a thousand times. But he never gets tired of it.

I stayed there for 20 minutes. Just looking. Just feeling. Just being.

Going Down

Coming down was easier. My legs were shaking, but my heart was flying.

We walked to a place called Bhimthang. Green again. Trees again. Warmer air. It felt like coming home.

That night, I slept so deep. No dreams. Just sleep. Pure, peaceful sleep.

The Apple Pie That Tasted Like Heaven

You know what's funny? In these remote mountains, in a tiny village, I ate the best apple pie of my life.

A woman in Chumling grew apples. She made pies in a small oven. The smell filled the whole village.

I ordered one. She brought it warm. The crust was perfect. The apples sweet. I ate it slowly. Every bite was joy.

Who knew? In the middle of the Himalayas. The best apple pie ever.

What the Mountains Taught Me

By the end, I was different.

I learned that you don't need much. A warm bed. Hot tea. Good bread. That's enough.

I learned that kindness lives everywhere. Even in the hardest places. Especially in the hardest places.

I learned that silence is beautiful. You don't always need to talk. Sometimes just being together is enough.

I learned that nature is powerful. Those mountains made me feel so small. But also made me feel so alive.

The Last Morning

On my last morning in the mountains, I woke up early. Went outside. The sun was rising.

I looked back at where I came from. All those villages. All those mountains. All those bridges. All those steps.

I smiled. Not just with my mouth. With my whole heart.

This journey gave me something. Something I can't really explain. A feeling. A knowing. That life is bigger than me. That beauty is everywhere. That people are good.

Coming Home

When I came back to the city, everything felt strange. Cars. Noise. Crowds. Phones. Rush, rush, rush.

I missed the mountains. I missed the quiet. I missed the simple life.

But I brought something back with me. Those lessons. Those memories. That peace deep inside.

Why You Should Go

If you're thinking about it, go.

Go walk beside that wild river. Go cross those shaky bridges. Go drink salty tea with grandmothers. Go listen to monks chant at sunrise. Go stand on that frozen pass and cry tears of joy.

Go see those mountains that touch the sky. Go meet those people who smile with their whole heart. Go live simply for a few weeks.

It will change you. I promise.

The mountains are waiting. The hidden valley is waiting. And somewhere up there, prayer flags are dancing in the wind.

Maybe they're dancing for you.

Maybe it's your turn to go find the hidden valley.

Maybe it's your turn to discover what those mountains want to teach you.

All you have to do is take the first step.

Just one step. And then another. And another.

And before you know it, you'll be there. Standing on top of the world. Crying happy tears. Feeling more alive than ever.

That is my story, Now go write yours.