Day 7: Khopra Ridge to Khayar Lake and Back

Everyone at Khayar Khola

The summit day hung in the air like a dark cloud for months—with a silver lining of excitement, a promise of self-affirmation, and a guarantee of suffering. I had pictured this day vividly, in as much detail as possible, many times before. The entire preparation for the Khopra Ridge trek was built around completing this day with a smile. Still, it proved to have its own highs and lows.

For me, the high came in the last thirty minutes. Gaping at a brilliant Milky Way in the darkest sky I’d ever seen. Losing the trail. Watching Praveen find our course again in minutes with surgical precision—totally ignoring the Nepali guide who insisted we double back a kilometer. Finally stepping into the lodge amongst high fives, hugs, and applause from friends. It brought tears to my eyes. The third time that day.

Context: The Days Before and After

To understand Day 7, you first need to know about Day 6—the 6.5km, 2,250-foot climb from Chistibang to Khopra Ridge—and the Day 8 descent of 5,200 feet to Paudwar. Day 6 was light and easy, probably because our bodies had adapted to longer days by then. But Day 8, the mandatory descent for everyone, meant those who summited Khayar Lake would be continuously dropping more than 8,700 feet—from the summit, down to the lake, all the way to Paudwar.

Chistibang to Khopra Ridge

Khopra Ridge to Paudwar

This had always concerned me. A misstep. A twisted ankle. A gravelly slip. Any could mean a disastrous end to a dream.

Day 7 was simple in definition: climb 3,500 feet continuously from the ridge to the lake, then return to the ridge. Eighteen kilometers round trip.

The Plan

Every evening, trek leader Praveen and guides Prem and Asmir briefed the team about the next day. On Day 6, Praveen laid out the plan in simple terms. We’d start at 5:30 a.m., climbing continuously through gradual and steeper sections to reach Khayar Khola—seven kilometers and 2,200 feet of elevation gain. He’d set a safety cutoff of five hours. Anyone arriving after that would rest, then return to the ridge with some guides. It would be too risky to continue.

Those who made the cutoff would finish their snacks and push on to the lake—another 1,400 feet of climbing. We’d spend fifteen to thirty minutes at the lake, descend to Khayar Khola for lunch, then return to the ridge.

The plan made sense. Mountain weather typically turns nasty in the afternoon. With no exit routes except the main trail and only a single shelter at Khayar Khola, safety had to be paramount. He left each of us to decide individually. Some chose immediately to hike shorter distances. Some decided upfront to stop at Khayar Khola. Some needed more time to think.

I didn’t know who all were going. Bushra, Alima, Renjith, Deepu, and Anushree had opted out. Vandana, Roshni and Tinku asked for an hour more time to decide. Tinku asked if I thought she could do it. I told her what I believed: if she couldn’t complete the trek, I knew for a fact that I wouldn’t be able to either. This opinion was based on what I’d seen from her on previous treks and in the days leading up to Day 7.

The Night Before

Sleep was patchy through the night. I was worried about Renjith’s health, checking on his breathing and perceived comfort periodically. Around 2:30 a.m., I woke up, went to the bathroom, freshened up, wore my trekking clothes, set the alarm for 5 a.m., and tried to sleep. The 50L bag was empty except for two liters of water, snacks, and layers for the day. I didn’t have a smaller daypack.

When we assembled in the morning, George, Ann, Roshni, PC, Tinku, Pratibha, Nihar, and I were there. I was surprised not to see Simon. Roshni told me he’d decided to skip it after a sleepless night. Renjith, Bushra, Vandana and other friends came to see us off. After a light breakfast and photos, we set out. By the time we started, it was 6 a.m.—no need for headlamps. We’d already lost thirty minutes.

The Climb Begins

We watched a brilliant sunrise across the Annapurna and Dhaulagiri ranges. The first kilometers followed the ridge with valleys on both sides, then continued through ledges with the mountain on one side. The turns created an interplay of sunlit sections and mountain shadows. For the first time on the trek, layer management became crucial.

I’d planned to wear my RS T-shirt and merino wool long-sleeve as base layers, alternating between a windcheater and down jacket on top. But when I asked CK to grab my windcheater from the bag’s shoe compartment, he confirmed it wasn’t there. I felt stupid, not knowing how I’d messed up my packing. The windcheater had hidden itself skillfully in a corner, but for now I was stuck with a down jacket and two T-shirt base layers.

Once past the ledge section, we hiked through rocky terrain. Some rocks had ice and were slippery. On one of them, a porter—now serving as a guide for the day—slipped and hurt his shin. It was remarkable to watch his professionalism as he shook off the pain and continued without slowing down. The trekkers passed those slippery sections without incident. Everyone was careful. Though we’d packed microspikes, the slippery patches weren’t contiguous enough to warrant the hassle of putting them on and taking them off.

The Sacred Lake

Khayar Lake, a high glacial lake, is like Sabarimala for the region. I didn’t realize how much the Nepali people—Hindu and Buddhist alike—revered this lake until I returned to Hotel Dashain in Pokhara two days later. At the reception, Pratibha, the hotel owner, asked about the trek. When I mentioned Khayar Lake, she spontaneously stood up with folded hands. She simply said it was a powerful, spiritual place. I didn’t respond, but I understood what she meant.

The First Decision Point

By then we’d covered about five kilometers, and the groups had split up. Tinku, Pratibha, Nihar, and I were a few hundred feet up a near-vertical section of steps when the radio crackled. Asmir, with George, Ann, Roshni, and PC, was on the other end. He explained to Praveen that Ann wasn’t very comfortable and was contemplating returning after Khayar Khola. We could see George, Ann, and PC with Asmir below.

Praveen spoke directly with Ann, assuring her that guides would accompany her if she decided to return. He discussed at length to confirm she was sure she wanted to reach the Khola. That was a heartbreak moment. I knew then that CK would return with Ann—for them, the two peas in a pod, it was together or nothing. CK was climbing comfortably, within his limits, without breaking a sweat. With that decision made, we pushed on to Khayar Khola at a slightly faster pace. We lost another thirty minutes, but it was inevitable.

Tinku developed a dilemma. We all knew the back end of the group would miss the 10:30 cutoff. She didn’t want Roshni to return disappointed, so she considered stopping at Khayar Khola. I shared my view: Roshni would honestly prefer Tinku to complete the trek. This was a personal challenge—largely physical and mental—where external help contributes little while on the trail. Tinku decided to continue, and there was no looking back.

Khayar Khola: Confusion and Delays

We reached Khayar Khola—an opening with a single shack of a restaurant—well ahead of schedule. We all refilled our water. Here, several misunderstandings and confusions cost us a full hour. By the time we arrived, the packed snacks should have been delivered by porters. They hadn’t. Praveen told us to order snacks and that we’d push on in fifteen minutes. I didn’t hear this. I just sat at the table, charging electronics and chatting. Then Nihar got his piping hot omelet, which looked sumptuous. I spontaneously ordered one too, though I had enough snacks for the rest of the trek. I ended up making a four-egg omelet myself when the cook struggled with the math. Tinku and I shared it. By then, the packed snacks—rotis and sabji—had arrived, leading to more delays. All told, we lost forty-five minutes.

Ann, Roshni, PC and CK arrived a few minutes after. Praveen, knowing CK could hike at the required pace, offered him the choice to continue to the lake. Though we all tried to convince him—Ann included—he was steely in his decision: do it as a family or not at all. My eyes were moist watching this exchange.

The Final Push

We heard the guides shouting, “Mausam kharab ho raha hai, chalo chalo!” That shout had an icy sharpness of reality and consequences. We quickly snapped a few photos with everyone and started off for the rest of the hike—a short, steep one. About 4.5 kilometers and 1,300 feet of climbing, with an initial flat section. True to their words, the mausam had turned kharab. We were engulfed in fog with low visibility.

Now well above 14,000 feet, every step was a struggle for all of us. Probably not for the Nepali guide. From that point, it was six of us: four trekkers, Praveen the leader, and Damchi the guide.

When the steep sections hit and I felt my heart rate rising, I told myself it was time to manage my body better, well within its limits. I settled into a rhythm: take a number of steps, then pause for a fixed number of deep breaths to stabilize my heart rate. I consciously adopted deep belly breathing through the nose, exhaling slowly through the mouth. Initially, twenty steps with a pause for five breaths. Eventually, I worked up to fifty steps. Since others were following me on the narrow path, everyone settled into a similar pause-and-go rhythm. Nihar, however, was at his physical limits, running on fumes and willpower.

The Summit

Before Khayar Khola, the terrain had turned alpine—little to no vegetation, just rocks and gravel. As we approached the last kilometer, a wall of hill stood in front, covered with brown grass, a slippery path, and a railing on one side. We slowly, one by one, made it to the top. There was a temple. We waited for Nihar, who took fifteen more minutes. We were rapidly losing body heat and wanted to move to the lake, just around the corner a few hundred meters away.

The lake was covered in dense fog when we arrived. The Annapurna mountain that was supposed to be magnificently reflecting on it was nowhere to be seen. Honestly, it was bittersweet, but I knew never to judge or hate nature. When hiking, you take it as you get it. That uncertainty is part of the experience. Eventually, the fog over the lake lifted enough to give us glimpses of its glassy depths.

We all took turns taking photos and congratulating each other. There was no exhaustion for the three of us, but Nihar was clearly at his limits. And we all knew the day was only half done—3,000 feet of descent awaited. I checked with the guide about when darkness would set in. He said 5 p.m., considering the weather. We started back within fifteen minutes.

The Race Against Darkness

We walked without pauses for an hour and a half to Khayar Khola. The team had prepared a hot lunch. After congratulatory exchanges, they urged us to finish quickly and start back. We did. By the time we hit the trail, it was 4:45 p.m. It was clear we’d be walking some distance in the dark with headlamps.

Praveen started with a blistering pace, and somehow the three of us kept up. Tinku and I walked together for the first couple of kilometers, but later when I checked, we’d gotten separated. I was with Pratibha, Praveen ahead. Tinku, Nihar, and the guides were about fifteen minutes behind. After a while, I found myself alone with Praveen and Pratibha up ahead. I was comfortable with this distance—I didn’t want to listen to or participate in conversations, but rather push on safely at a pace where I could see both Tinku behind me and the trekker ahead.

Once darkness began setting in, I increased my pace and caught up with Praveen and Pratibha. With my headlamp and whatever lights the other two had, we pushed on. The Nepali guide kept offering to take our backpacks to speed up the pace. None of us was ready to hand them over. At no point did it feel unsafe to walk in the dark with headlamps. I felt more focused and calm with only a few steps ahead to concentrate on.

Lost and Found

For the last three kilometers, we could see the lodge far away as a cluster of lights. Behind us were three headlamps with Tinku and her group. We were all in each other’s sights most of the time.

About a kilometer and a half from the lodge, I couldn’t see the lodge lights anymore. The trail turned uphill—a surprise, since the morning route from the lodge had no descents. We were following the guide. At that point, Praveen got a radio message from camp: we were off the trail and should reorient. Prem da, with Tinku’s group in the back, had seen us climbing and immediately knew something was wrong. He conveyed through the guide walking with us—the one who’d hurt his shin that morning but was a true trooper—that we should double back to rejoin the main trail.

Praveen didn’t agree. He used Gaia GPS to reorient us relative to the trail. He calmly explained that we were about two hundred meters away, up on a hill from the main trail, and could reach it just by going sideways down the hill to our right. I understood. Within a few minutes, we were back on the main trail. Pratibha followed, and we were on our way.

We reached camp in the next fifteen minutes. All our friends were waiting with loud cheers and high fives. I’ll never forget that moment. Thank you. I had to fight to hold back tears of happiness. I knew then it wasn’t just two roaming souls walking the trail that night. Everyone was there in spirit.

Reflections at the Lake

Going back a few hours: while sitting at the lake and looking into its depth, I felt waves of emotion and memories. Many long-forgotten things flashed before me. I felt the minuteness of our existence in scale. As an atheist and not a spiritual person, feeling forces unexplainable through physics and mathematics was an alien experience.

Next time I sit by Khayar Lake, I hope to spend more time there in that peace.

Epilogue

Ann, PC, Roshini and CK - who had returned from Khayar Khola - reached back by 5:30 with Asmir. I was checking with Praveen every half an hour their whereabouts. Of the other Roaming Souls who stayed back some did day hikes starting with watching the sunrise. Vandana had a personal goal of climbing above the highest elevation she earlier did. Some souls did not roam the mountains that day. Renjith and Simon completely rested and that helped them both. We might hear more about that day later when they share their own stories.