The Mountain That Measures You

The Trek That Changed Me: My Dhaulagiri Story

Mountains greet you with open arms, while others watch your every step, trying to gauge whether or not you have what it takes. The Dhaulagiri Circuit is the latter kind.

The Easy Beginning

When I started walking in the Myagdi Valley, everything seemed simple. Small villages dotted the path. Children waved and smiled. Fields of green stretched toward the hills. My guide, Pemba, walked slowly and told me, "Mountain is not going anywhere. Take your time."

But each day, things changed. Villages became smaller. Trees grew thicker. The path got narrower. After a week, we passed the last village. There was a woman standing outside her dwelling, watching us ascend. She didn’t smile or wave.

I should have understood what that meant.

When Comfort Disappears

At Italian Base Camp, the easy part ended. This is where teahouses stop. Where you sleep in tents instead of beds and where the real trek begins.

The first night in the tent was the first time that I experienced true cold. I was wearing all the clothes that I brought along. Still, it was not enough. The howling of the wind outside sounded like a furious beast. This is why people put themselves through such a torture?

Pemba slept peacefully in his tent. Of course he did.

The next morning, sipping weak coffee that actually tasted incredible, Pemba pointed to a huge white region up ahead. "Tomorrow we'll cross the glacier," he said.

“My stomach dropped.”

Walking on Ice

Nothing can prepare you for walking on a glacier. The Chonbarden Glacier is massive, like a huge frozen river that moves very slowly. We laced ourselves with ropes before climbing on to the glacier.

The ice was making strange noises. Deep, throaty noises. Loud cracks that sounded like gunfire. The sound of the water rushing through somewhere far beneath us. The surface was full of ridges of ice, hidden crevices, loose rocks that shifted underfoot.

Pemba could walk on it like it was a regular sidewalk. I followed exactly in his tracks, afraid to strike out on my own path. Off to our right loomed the Dhaulagiri Icefall. Massive chunks of ice that could break loose and tumble down at any instant. Beautiful and deadly.

It took us six hours to cross over. Six hours of observation of every step of the journey. Once we were on the other side, my legs were trembling. It wasn't from the fatigue but from the effort of remaining vigilant for so long.

That evening, realized the following. The hike is not easy. It requires everything of you, every moment.

The Most Difficult Ascent

French Pass has a height of 5,360 meters. Climbing began at 3 a.m., and our helmets were casting small spots of light in the darkness.

At high altitude, everything is more difficult. Even breathing is a chore. Thinking becomes slow. Time feels strange. I counted my steps to stay focused. Ten steps, then rest. Ten more steps, then rest. Over and over.

When the sun came up, it painted the snow pink and gold around us. Other trekkers climbed above and below us, everyone locked in their own struggle. Nobody talked. We had no breath for words.

After hours of climbing, the ground finally became flat. We had reached the pass.

A Secret Valley

Looking down from French Pass into Hidden Valley, I forgot about everything. My tired legs. My burning lungs. The cold. All I could see was incredible beauty.

The valley spread out below us like a secret world. Tall mountains circled it completely. Snow and rock covered the valley floor. No trees. No birds. No life at all, just perfect silence.

We camped there that night. As the sun set and the temperature dropped far below zero, I sat outside my tent wearing every piece of clothing I owned. The mountains turned purple, then orange, then deep red as the sun disappeared.

Pemba brought me hot soup. "You understand now," he said.

I nodded. I did understand. You don't conquer mountains like this. You just pass through them, grateful and small.

The Cost

Three days later, we crossed our final high pass, Dhampus Pass. By then, I knew the rhythm. Wake up early. Climb slowly. Let your body adjust. Don't fight it.

But I also knew the costs. The headaches that won't stop. The way food tastes like nothing when you're too tired to be hungry. The exhaustion that sleep can't fix at high altitude.

A man from Finland in our group had to turn back. He was too sick from the altitude. His face looked gray. There was no shame in stopping. The mountains don't care how determined you are. They have their own rules.

Coming Back to Life

On the other side of Dhampus Pass, we descended into the Tukuche Valley. With each step down, the world changed. Green appeared. Water flowed instead of being frozen. Bushes grew, then trees.

The first village felt strange after so many days in empty mountains. A woman served us hot rice at a real table. I almost cried at how good it felt to eat warm food sitting down.

Days had passed since there was any sound or activity to fill the air. It was peculiar to be among the hustle and bustle of people after that silence. A voice within me even longed for the quiet of Hidden Valley, despite appreciating the warmth of the dining room.

What Stays With You

Months have passed ever since I finished hiking the Dhaulagiri Circuit. It is still with me every day. Not only with fond memories. Though, with something more. The pain is etched in my memory as vividly as the beauty. The fear is seeped in me as vividly as the success.

“Sometimes, when I’m stressed about life, I close my eyes and imagine the Hidden Valley.” That perfect silence. That demanding cold. That landscape that owed me nothing but showed me everything.

The Dhaulagiri Circuit is not a circuit that provides easy victories. It does not offer comfort nor convenience. But what it provides is far more valuable. It teaches you what you are worth when the comfort you were used to is no longer available, and you are left with nothing but yourself and the mountain ahead.

Not all want such an experience. But for those who want to test their mettle in the wilds, where nature's dictates are paramount, the Dhaulagiri Circuit beckons. The patient and fair mountain.

What Stays With You

It's been months since I finished the Dhaulagiri Circuit. I still think about it every day. Not with happy memories only, but with something deeper. I remember the pain as clearly as the beauty. The fear as strongly as the success.

Sometimes, when I'm stressed about normal life problems, I close my eyes and picture Hidden Valley. That perfect silence. That demanding cold. That landscape that owed me nothing but showed me everything.

The Dhaulagiri Circuit doesn't give easy wins. It doesn't offer comfort or convenience. What it gives is more valuable. It shows you who you really are when comfort disappears and all that's left is you, the mountain, and the choice to keep walking.

Not everyone wants this kind of experience. But for those who do, for those who want to test themselves in wild places where nature makes the rules, the Dhaulagiri Circuit waits. Patient. Fair. Ready to see if you belong there.

If you cross it with honesty and respect, it gives you something special. A story that changes you. A memory made of ice and stone and thin air that becomes part of who you are.

The mountain doesn't change. But you do. And that's the whole point.