Through the Forest to Tadapani

The path to Tadapani—where every step was a gift

Day 3: Oct 10th - Ghandruk to Tadapani

Some mornings demand your attention. This was one of them.

The Sunrise Commission

Woke up at 5:30 AM to watch the sunrise over Machapuchare. Reached the teahouse terrace with my camera, expecting to be the first one there. I was wrong.

Ann and George had already set up their station—tables arranged, camera logistics sorted, the efficiency of people who take their sunrises seriously. Tinku sat like a statue, phone held steady, determination etched into her posture. This was a woman who had decided she would not miss this sunrise. Period.

Tinku—determined to capture every moment of the sunrise over Machapuchare

Nihar had his DSLR running in timelapse mode, capturing the slow transformation of light on snow. Pratibha had something elaborate going on with her tripod—serious equipment for serious photography.

Pratibha’s sunrise setup—when you’re committed to the shot

I resigned myself to my favorite pastime: shooting the photographers.

Machapuchare catching the first light—the sacred peak that no one is allowed to climb

The sunrise was beautiful. But honestly? Not as spectacular as the sunset from the previous evening. Sometimes the anticipation builds something bigger than the reality delivers. That’s not a complaint—just an observation about expectations and how they color what we see.

The Pushup Incident

After breakfast and health checks, we were supposed to report for warmup by 8 AM. Got late by a few minutes.

When Praveen asked what the punishment should be for the latecomers, Ann clapped her hands in glee—actual glee—and suggested pushups. One for every minute late.

Did my ten. Took a mental note. Made some open threats to Ann—all in light humor, of course. But the mental note was real.

Into the Forest

Started hiking a little after 8:30. The trail from Ghandruk was mostly paved stone steps—the kind that look picturesque in photos and feel relentless under your feet.

Setting off from Ghandruk—stone steps and mountain air

After thirty minutes, we crossed into the forest section. Another thirty minutes brought us to Lonely Planet Restaurant—another teahouse with a nice lookout balcony and a handicrafts store selling Gurung handmade caps and other knickknacks.

Lonely Planet Restaurant—teahouse, viewpoint, and souvenir stop

I got a small Nepal flag there. When you’re trekking, you’re always aware of the grams you add to your backpack. The rest of the souvenir shopping can wait until Pokhara or even Kathmandu. Every gram added is another gram to carry up the mountain.

Praveen refueling at Lonely Planet—the calories are justified

The Trail Reveals Itself

After Lonely Planet, the trail transformed into something else entirely. Beautiful forest sections. Streams crossing our path. Rhododendron forests that would explode with color in spring. Moss-covered rocks that made everything feel ancient and untouched.

The trail after Lonely Planet—rhododendron forest in all its green glory

One of many streams that crossed our path—the Himalayas’ way of saying hello

PC contemplating what not to do next—a wise approach to mountain trails

Bushra bringing unstoppable glamor to the forest trail

By noon, we reached Bhaisikharka. Another teahouse and restaurant. Had one of the best lemon ginger honey teas of the entire trip. As usual, served with a warm smile. There’s something about Nepali hospitality that makes even simple tea feel like a gift.

A Nostalgic Encounter

Renjith Baby was having a nostalgic moment with a name. Nisha. Rumor has it he asked around about her but didn’t get too far on that particular trail. Some questions are better left to the mountains.

Renjith Baby and the mysterious Nisha—some stories write themselves

The Deep Forest

From Bhaisikharka, the trail went through deeper and more beautiful forest sections all the way to Tadapani. Another day where I thanked the good weather and our luck in being in this beautiful part of the world.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep—and we had promises to keep

We were the only trekkers on the trail. The forest was ours alone. Some sections were steep, but mostly the trail rolled through beauty—the kind that makes you forget your legs are complaining.

The unstoppable porter train—carrying more than we could imagine with grace we couldn’t match

Renjith, Deepu, Bushra, and Prakash—where there’s laughter, the trail feels shorter

The lovely ladies of Roaming Souls—making the mountains look better

Tadapani: More Than a Teahouse

By 3 PM, we reached the camp. Calling the lodge at Tadapani a teahouse is an injustice. It had one of the best mountain views from any teahouse we’d stayed at. It reminded me more of a Swiss chalet than a minimalist Nepali teahouse.

The view from Tadapani Lodge—worth every step that brought us here

Tadapani Teahouse—Swiss chalet vibes in the Himalayas

A very large dining area. Very comfortable rooms. As usual, we had lunch first, then later in the evening, snacks. Watched a brilliant sunset. Good conversations stretched into the evening. But we called it a night soon—the kind of tired that comes with satisfaction.

Everyone was reasonably tired and equally excited. Tomorrow, as per the trek description, promised to be a beautiful day through the forest going all the way to Dobato.

The Night Watch

In the night, I woke up a couple of times to go to the bathroom. It was a beautiful night outside—a dark blue sky with snow-capped Machapuchare crowning over everything. A star-filled sky with a full moon casting silver light on the peaks.

Went back to sleep with a smile on my face.

A Note on Roshni

Only the next day did I learn that Roshni had had serious troubles with her stomach that night. It was difficult for her, and unfortunately, none of us were there to help. These are the moments that stay with you—the realization that while you were sleeping peacefully, someone in your group was struggling alone.

Felt bad about that. Still do.

Reflections

Some days on a trek are about the destination. This day was about the journey. The forest trail felt like a gift—something the mountains had prepared just for us. No crowds. No rush. Just the sound of our footsteps, our laughter, and occasionally, the stream keeping us company.

The pushups were a small price to pay for the tardiness. Ann’s delight in our punishment was a small price to pay for the friendship. Every gram in my backpack—including that small Nepal flag—was a small price to pay for being here.

Tomorrow: Dobato. But that’s another day’s story.

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The forest doesn’t care how fit you are. It reveals itself to those who show up.