A journey to Gosaikunda 2023

For the past two decades, I've known about Gosaikunda but missed the opportunity to visit. Despite spending one and a half years working in Nuwakot and Rasuwa districts, I never made the trek to Gosaikunda. In 2080 B.S., I resolved to organize a group trip to Gosaikunda. Unfortunately, my invitations were met with declinations, either due to time constraints or because some had already visited. Undeterred, I specifically planned to visit Gosaikunda on the fourth day of the Teej Festival, coinciding with my father's death anniversary. 

Despite being unable to find any friends willing to accompany me, I turned to my eldest son, Mr. Shailu Wagle, and proposed the idea. Graciously, he accepted the plan, and on September 17, 2023, we embarked on our journey. As we sat beneath the electric pole, awaiting the taxi, an unexpected incident occurred. I felt something fall on my head, and upon investigation, I discovered it was crow droppings. Swiftly wiping it away with my handkerchief, I boarded the taxi, pondering whether this was an omen of good or bad fortune.

Embarking on our planned journey, we traversed the scenic route encompassing Gyangphedi, Sisipu, Talu Kaseri, Phedi, and Suryakunda in Nuwakot. Our adventure commenced from Samakhushi, where our initial inquiry about the 8 o'clock bus to Gyangphedi yielded disappointing news – the bus had already departed upon our arrival at the bus park. Undaunted, we promptly formulated an alternative plan to navigate through Dhunche. Subsequently, we directed our course to Machhapokhri bus park, intent on catching the bus bound for Dhunche.

Seated in the last row of the Dhunche-bound bus, our journey commenced around 8 o'clock. The vehicle, in impeccable condition, maintained a brisk pace. A meal stop at Gerkhu in the Nuwakot district exceeded our expectations. While anticipating the usual highway restaurant offerings, we were pleasantly surprised by the delectable food. However, our astonishment peaked when the bill arrived, demanding Rs 250 for a vegetarian meal. Questioning the steep price, the hotelier justified it, emphasizing their commitment to uncompromising standards in food quality.

We arrived in Dhunche around 3 o'clock, sharing the bus with fellow passengers, including an Israeli citizen named Marco. Additionally, there was a group consisting of two girls and two boys. While the Israelis prepared and set off independently, the other four individuals from our bus formed a group. It seemed they couldn't maintain a brisk pace, so after capturing a quick photo, we started our trek.

As we advanced, we encountered milestones along the road leading to Gosaikunda in Dhunche. Although some places and their elevations were obstructed by a small vehicle, we managed to capture them in photos. According to one photo, Dhunche stands at an elevation of 2000 meters with around 40 hotels. The trek initiates from the eastern side of Dhunche, leading to Ghattekhola, a 45-minute journey away. Mini Gosaikunda, at an elevation of 1960 meters, lies approximately 40 meters below Dhunche and offers a relatively easy route due to the flat and downhill terrain.

As we ascended from Ghattekhola, we reached a resting place where we indulged in fried corn from our bags. The group of four individuals we left behind in Dhunche also caught up. Deciding to move forward, we climbed from the resting place, only to encounter rain. Retrieving our raincoats from our bags, we continued to Khendi at 2300 meters, where three hotels were present. Despite the hotelier's suggestion to stay due to approaching darkness, our group of six—now combined with the newcomers—pressed on with the goal of reaching Deurali. Equipped with a flashlight, we ascended in the rain, and a dog joined our journey. Perhaps seeking our companionship, the dog provided an unexpected sense of assurance and safety.

After covering a considerable distance, we arrived at a well-lit place known as Deurali, situated at 2500 meters. In this area, we found two hotels and opted to stay at the first one we reached. Having reached our destination for the day, we spent the night there, and the accommodation rate included both food and lodging per person. Each of us paid Rs 850 for our meals and stay.

Curious about the availability of Dhindo made from corn flour, I inquired, only to learn that there was no flour on hand. The hotel owner mentioned having only a bowl of sisno. Since the dining area was upstairs, I descended for our meals. My son, Shailu, had already retired for the night. Upon realizing he wasn't present, I found him near the fire, warming his shoes, socks, and body. We proceeded to eat even in the absence of lights.

During my conversation with the hotel owner, I expressed an interest in Sisno. The waiter initially claimed they were out of it, but after insisting, he brought a hot serving. Shailu, however, found it less sweet and suggested reserving our sweet cravings for Thankot. Despite the day not concluding as planned, we appreciated the hospitality and sweet dish provided by the hotel. After our meal, Shailu retired to the room upstairs. Once the lights were restored, we charged our mobile phones and flashlight, eventually drifting off to sleep.

 The following morning, as my son and I woke up, we settled the bill at the hotel, and the payment of Rs 800 was duly made. Notably, there was another hotel situated above the one where we had spent the night. At that moment, a group of 14 individuals was enjoying tea in the upper hotel. Intrigued by our origin for the day, they inquired, and we explained that we ascended from the lower hotel, where the road began its incline.

Despite doubts about my ability to ascend rapidly, I pressed forward, remembering the fable of the rabbits and turtles. The next destination after Deurali was Dhimsa, positioned at an elevation of 2900 meters and boasting three hotels. As we trekked from Deurali at 6 a.m. and reached Dhimsa at 7:10 a.m., we were joined by Marco, the Israeli citizen. He emphasized the necessity of walking alone for long journeys, citing his military training. After a brief tea break, we continued our ascent and reached Chandanbari at 8:27 a.m., completing the journey in 1 hour and 17 minutes.

Chandanbari, at an elevation of 3250 meters, housed the Lamtang National Park board. Following a salted tea break, we left, cutting bamboo sticks short and carrying it to step in uphill. The nearest destination from there was Cholangpati.

Although the sign suggested a two-hour journey to Cholangpati, we covered the distance in 2 hours and 16 minutes. The ascent from Chandanbari was relatively straightforward. Upon reaching Cholangpati at 10:43 a.m., at an altitude of 3550 meters. We ordered and enjoyed a meal. Seven of the 14 individuals we encountered in Deurali were present, as a separate group of 14 people arrived for lunch.

Temporary hotels were operational during Janai Purnima for pilgrims heading to Gosaikunda. Post-fair, these establishments were dismantled. We paid Rs 1,000, at Rs 500 per person, after our meal.

Following dinner, we continued our ascent, heading towards the nearest destination, Lauribinayak, at 3900 meters. A sloped staircase facilitated our climb. Although weaker than others, I walked alone but had the company of fellow trekkers. We left Cholangpati at 11:39 a.m. and reached Lauribinayak at 1:07 p.m., taking 1 hour and 28 minutes from Cholangpati. While planning to dine at Lauribinayak, we realized we had already eaten. Shailu's generous offer of almonds allowed fellow trekkers to skip dinner, while we continued upward. It became evident that many pilgrims stayed in Lauribinayak, waking early to leave their bags at the hotel before heading to Gosaikunda. They would return after bathing and eating."

Upon reaching Lauribinayak at 1:07 pm, we resolved to continue our journey and reach Gosaikunda to settle for the night. As we ascended from Lauribinayak, rain began to fall, challenging our climb despite the protection of our raincoats. Our immediate destination was the Buddhist Gumba at an elevation of 4150 meters, which we reached at 2:23 pm, covering the distance from Lauribinayak to the Buddhist monastery in 1 hour and 4 minutes.

The journey from Bouddhagumba to Gosaikunda was anticipated to take two hours, as indicated, but we surprisingly reached our destination at 4:17 pm, completing the trek in 1 hour and 54 minutes. Despite the average time estimated from Dhunche to Gosaikunda being around 13 hours, we managed to surpass this target.

Upon reaching Gosaikunda, the scenic view was unfortunately obscured by fog. The three prominent ponds at different elevations included Saraswati Kund at the bottom, Bhairav Kund above it, and GosaiKunda at the summit, situated at an altitude of 4380 meters. Water from GosaiKunda flows into Bhairav Kund, and subsequently, water from Bhairav Kund cascades into Saraswati Kund.

Arriving at Gosaikunda around 4 pm, I sought accommodation in the vicinity. The night proved challenging as I struggled to sleep well. Dry nostrils, elevated breathing rates, and the intense cold led to discomfort. A persistent headache added to the challenges, and despite hunger, I had to rely on my own biscuits for sustenance. To combat the cold, I resorted to sleeping with a hat on.

The following morning, I ventured to the pond and encountered an intense cold, leaving my nose dry. Fearing the possibility of falling ill from bathing in cold water, I decided to only wash my mouth, light a lamp in honor of my late mother (baa), and offer water. Observing a group of 14 people who had accompanied us, we filmed their activities as they prepared to bathe. Initially, they hesitated, contemplating bathing one by one. Encouraged by their cheers, I eventually joined them in the pool for a bath. My son, Shailu, captured the moment on video. Despite a brief slip and momentary immersion in the water, both of us managed to complete the bathing ritual.

With the bathing ritual concluded, we decided to return via Suryakunda and set out on that route. Along the way, we encountered other ponds leading towards the Sun Pond. Suryakunda, situated at an altitude of 4610 meters, proved challenging to locate due to the absence of human settlements and signboards. As we descended from the base, the path became strewn with stones, requiring a descent from an altitude of 4600 meters to approximately 800 meters. My legs ached, making walking difficult, and the pain extended to the toes, further complicating the journey.

We came across a closed hotel named H.CAMP, suggesting it might open during the Gosaikunda fair on Janai Purnima and Dussehra. This fair attracts passengers from Helambu in Sindhupalchowk, Sundari Jal in Kathmandu, and Gyangphedi in Nuwakot. Two hotels operated in this area, one throughout the year and the other seasonally during the fair and the movement of foreign tourists. A board indicated that Upper Ghopte would take 2-2:30 hours, and H.CAMP would require 2-3 hours.

The descent from 4600 meters to 3730 meters involved encountering yaks and sheep grazing alongside a stone staircase-like road. Despite the lack of clear indications on the number of roads crossed or the remaining distance, we reached the foothills at 2:21 p.m., around four hours after the sun had set from the pass.

The slow pace, attributed to my painful legs, extended the journey's duration. Notably, Marco, the Israeli national who had joined us since Nuwakot, arrived while I was ordering food at the Fedi Hotel. Despite having slept until 10 a.m. in Gosaikunda, he managed to locate us upon waking. After enjoying a meal, he paid Rs 800 per person for a simple meal and prepared to head to Nuwakot's Palu Kaseri. The hotelier suggested an unusual activity involving a frog (paha), to which I declined. When inquiring about the duration to reach the palate, the response indicated 2-3 hours. However, upon descending a bit, a signboard contradicted this, stating it would take 3 hours and 30 minutes to reach Gyangfedi. Such impractical information from responsible agencies was deemed unacceptable and potentially misleading.

Descending from the challenging terrain, we encountered a steep stream leading to a path going straight down. Below, a small bridge marked the continuation of the trail, consisting of four steps. Navigating this path proved challenging, especially for a first-time traveler in the dark. The road appeared to have undergone recent development, with locals in the palate mentioning that the old road, though slightly curved, was easier.

As we slowly descended the stairs, weariness set in, given the substantial size of the steps. Notably, on June 30, 1992, Thai Airways met an accident at this site, leaving parts of the aircraft scattered around. Surprisingly, the concerned authorities appeared oblivious to the significance of consolidating and safeguarding these items. Some parts had even been taken to the base by the hotel owner at the foot of the trail.

As evening descended and darkness enveloped the surroundings, progress along the path became increasingly challenging. The descent down the stairs felt endless, with the settlement below appearing to have come down significantly. A tin-roofed house emerged on the horizon, signifying the proximity of civilization. Taking a moment to rest near a designated passenger resting area, we observed the surroundings. The path ahead, however, was strewn with rocks, making the journey arduous. Thirsty and fatigued, we paused to drink water from a waterfall along the way.

After a considerable journey, we spotted distant lights, initially thinking we had reached a settlement. However, the actual settlement was still far away. Upon reaching the village, we approached a house, hoping to find accommodation. To our surprise, the lights were off, and the village seemed quiet. We peered into a cowshed and noticed someone wearing a turban. Unfortunately, we had lost the original road, so we used our torchlight to find our way.

Realizing we were lost, one of the villagers approached us and advised us to wait for a moment. We decided to inquire about accommodation, and the villager directed us to an elderly man's house. We explained that we had intended to reach Gyangfedi in three hours, influenced by a misleading signboard.

Arriving at the elderly man's house, we opened our raincoats, hung our wet clothes outside, and warmed ourselves by the fire. Exhausted and with a bleeding leg, we washed up and settled around the fire. Despite having eaten rice earlier, the generous hosts offered us local egg omelettes cooked in chauri ghee. We had the same omelettes for dinner along with water. Conversations flowed in their native language, and when asked, the Sherpa mentioned their linguistic heritage.

The house, simple and welcoming, had an open door, an improved stove, and two small beds on one side. We slept on mattresses placed on the floor, finding relief from the cold and wet conditions after pouring out buckets of water and chauri for warmth. The night passed peacefully, even with a stray dog in the house.

As dawn broke, we woke up, attended to morning routines, and inquired about the cost of our stay. The gracious elderly man insisted we hadn't consumed any rice or tea the previous day and urged us to decide the payment. Considering our limited funds, we gave him the only Rs 200 we had in our purse, which brought a smile to his face. Grateful, we left the hospitable house for Sisipu.

After descending a bit, a resident from a nearby house inquired about our origin. Explaining that we had descended from the upper house after traversing down from the top, we encountered a dozer-dug road turning toward the river. Hoping it was the right path, we proceeded without a bridge in sight. Summoning courage, I crossed the river, my son following suit but losing a shoe to the swift current.

The steep stream posed a challenge, and we anxiously watched the lost shoe drift away. With uncertainty ahead, we encountered a family moving their livestock. It became evident from their guidance that we had strayed from the correct route. Realizing the need to backtrack, returning to the village would take considerable time after having crossed the river.

Unable to walk barefoot, I decided to seek help for footwear. Sending my son to ask for assistance, a kind local provided us with a pair of old slippers. We resumed our journey, my son wearing the new slippers while I felt relief in my toes. Progressing slowly, we encountered a perilous landslide, but my son navigated it successfully.

Continuing on the dozer-dug road, we met a couple ascending. They, too, were aware of the path and revealed they were Kisang Sherpas running a hotel in Tini Phedi. Parting ways, we encountered another group who had lost their way. Providing guidance, we shared our ordeal and complaints about misleading signboards.

As the afternoon descended, we approached Ghayaghar, where we rested at a shop to cook food. Discussing our journey and the unrealistic time estimates mentioned on signboards, we ate rice and goat meat provided by the shop owner. Despite the meat being dry, the sustenance was crucial after 24 hours of fasting. We paid Rs. 300 and continued our descent.

Anticipating an hour's journey to Gyangphedi, we moved at a leisurely pace. Arriving at the Tadi River bridge, we took a brief rest. Observing a local corn grinding operation under the bridge, we engaged in conversation before heading towards Gyangphedi.

In Gyangphedi, the search for accommodation led us to a homestay. The owner, Karmajit Tamang, welcomed us and shared local insights. During the conversation, he revealed his involvement with the Gyangphedi Teaching and Learning Center, an NGO supporting orphaned, poor, and trafficking victims. The center operates with support from foreign donors and a percentage of homestay incomes.

Following dinner, I retired for the night, and the next morning, we set out for Kathmandu. The challenging journey included a treacherous descent, but the ride eventually took us to Samkhushi, where I took a taxi and reached home around 2 pm.