Manaslu Circuit Trek - Day 8: Dharamsala to Bimthang via Larke Pass

I Continue From Here: Manaslu Circuit Trek - Day 8: Samdo to Dharamsala

Day 9: Dharmasala (4,460 m / 14,632 ft) to Bimthang (3,590 m / 11,778 ft) via Larkya/Larke Pass (5160m/16929 ft) - 18km/10H

15-May-2026

I woke up at 3:30 a.m. and got ready. It was bitterly cold outside, but we had to freshen up and assemble in the dining area by 4 a.m. Thankfully, the portion of oats served that morning was smaller. KP must have spoken to the kitchen staff.

As always, we were the last to leave the campsite, setting out at 4:30 a.m. KP allowed me to lead the way so that the others could match my pace. I walked slowly and steadily. We needed our headlamps for only about thirty minutes; by 5 a.m., the first light of dawn had begun to brighten the sky. Soon, the mountains were bathed in a golden glow, and the sight was simply magnificent.

Thanks to the acclimatisation hike to Manaslu Base Camp, the fear of the unknown had already been conquered. Larke Pass no longer intimidated me; the climb itself was fairly straightforward. What made it challenging was the temperature. We had layered up heavily before starting in the freezing cold, but as the sun rose, it became surprisingly warm. Along the way, we kept stopping to shed layers. A few trekkers also experienced headaches and dizziness due to the altitude and exertion.

Antonio was having some difficulty breathing, and he later told me that walking behind me at a much slower pace helped him manage it better.

The view from Larke Pass was exhilarating, to say the least. Larke Peak stood right beside us, and in every direction snow-capped mountains stretched across the horizon. KP surprised us by pulling out a can of beer that he had carried all the way up. We each took a sip and celebrated the successful crossing of the pass.

It was also Manisha's birthday. At Larke Pass, we celebrated together, using an apple as a makeshift birthday cake amidst the mountains. Ward sang the birthday song while their guide dramatically split the apple into pieces with his bare hands and offered it to everyone. The apple burst apart in such an unappetising manner that nobody seemed eager to eat it. People politely found excuses to avoid taking a piece, and I quietly moved away. Fortunately, I had a chikki with me, which I offered to Manisha and Sangam instead.

At the summit, one of the guides was creating a sculpture using the bones of a dead animal. Curious, I asked, "Is that an elephant?"

"No, it's a bird," he replied, pointing at a long bone hanging like a cantilever beam.

The exchange immediately reminded me of the famous drawing from Le Petit Prince.

The steep descent from Larke Pass was challenging, but the trek to Manaslu Base Camp had prepared me well. Even so, I remained cautious. A slip on these slopes could have serious consequences. KP stayed close to me while the others moved ahead, making sure I navigated the descent safely.

After the long and demanding downhill walk, we stopped for lunch. The Nepali women running the place were exceptionally friendly, greeting trekkers with warm smiles and cheerful conversations in English. They spoke Hindi as well. I chatted with two of the three Israeli boys I had met earlier. They seemed thoughtful and easy to talk to. Their guide, who had become a familiar friend along the trail, was there too, and we exchanged a few words.

Inside the lodge, the walls were covered with graffiti. Trekkers had written their names, countries, and messages, almost as a way of marking the completion of their journey. Yet among these cheerful inscriptions were several messages filled with anger and hostility, many related to the Palestine conflict. Written exchanges appeared to unfold across the walls between Israeli trekkers and pro-Palestine supporters.

It saddened me that even here—far removed from war, politics, and the noise of everyday life, in the very lap of nature—people still carried hatred with them. Even in these remote mountains, far from civilisation, we remain prisoners of our biases.

In that moment, I became aware of my own biases as well, and the realisation left me uneasy. While it is natural to take sides during conflicts and express our opinions, perhaps true humanity also requires the ability to step back from our certainties, question our prejudices, and resist allowing strong beliefs to harden into hatred.

The walk from the lunch stop to Bimthang was easy but not particularly interesting. Bimthang itself, however, was beautiful. The settlement is largely built around trekking tourism, with most of its buildings being guest houses run by people from nearby villages. Many new lodges were under construction, a sign of the growing popularity of the route.

The cottage where we stayed was outstanding. Unfortunately, the weather remained cloudy, and we could not see much of the surrounding landscape. KP assured me that the views from Bimthang were spectacular. I would have to wait until the next morning to find out.

That evening, we had a little pizza party. Between us, we ordered nearly every variety listed on the menu. KP strongly recommended the mushroom pizza, and he was absolutely right—it was delicious. He also ordered some yak cheese for us to sample, giving us a taste of the local flavours. To top it all off, he surprised us by ordering an apple pie for everyone.

Later that night, a funny incident unfolded at the dinner table. At a nearby table sat an Indian boy and girl. We had seen them at Shyala too. Earlier that evening, I had even spoken to the boy. He was from the United States, and his parents were originally from Bangalore.

"We speak Tamil. You're a Kannadiga?" he had asked, trying to understand the difference.

As it happened, Antonio walked over to their table and wished the girl a happy birthday. She looked puzzled.

"It's your birthday, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, it is," she replied with a smirk.

By then, I realised what had happened and told Antonio that these were not the same people we had celebrated with earlier. Ward immediately joked that Antonio was being racist, and everyone burst out laughing. Even the girl joined in, repeating the accusation playfully and telling him not to worry.

We teased Antonio about it for the rest of the evening. At Larke Pass, he had enthusiastically declared that Manisha and Sangam were the best people he had met on the trek, and now he could not even recognise them. He had even asked them to join us for the Pizza party. The irony provided endless amusement.

We ended the evening with a few games before finally calling it a night. It had been a long, exhausting, and memorable day, and we had all earned a good rest.

To be Continued...