The Art of Slowing Down: Taking the scenic route through the heart and soul of Nepal

“How long are you here for?”

An older woman with gentle eyes and a calm demeanor stirred up a light conversation on the first morning of our Annapurna Circuit bikepacking trip. She was the owner of a tea house in Bahundanda, Nepal, called Hotel Superb View—a fitting name given its sweeping 360-degree panoramic view of the valley below and mountains ahead.

My partner, Matt, and I had only planned a 2-week trip, which would include bikepacking the circuit and traveling across the world to Nepal from our home in Durango, Colorado, and back. We knew it would be tight. As I met our host’s gaze and answered the question, her eyes lit up with surprise at my response. She replied that most people typically spend a minimum of one month traveling around this region of Nepal.

Over the next 10 days, I learned why a month—or longer—is ideal for a visit to this jovial country. Everyday life in the small villages of Nepal’s countryside is quiet, peaceful, and slow. Unlike the fast-paced American life I was familiar with, time extended well past the normal confines we know to exist for common activities such as meals, travel, and simply living. Through unplanned pit stops, spectacular views, unfavorable weather, heartwarming meals, and breathtaking side quests, Matt and I would spend much of our trip adjusting to this new, foreign way of life. These experiences became opportunities for us to reevaluate how we choose to approach our day-to-day life; a blessing in disguise, as we would later find out.

Expect Delays

The plane dipped in and out of clouds as we descended into Kathmandu: Nepal’s capital and largest city. Our first day consisted of grabbing our permits for the Annapurna Circuit, assembling our bikes, and packing our bags.

The start of our ride was 116 miles from Kathmandu, and Google Maps estimated it would be about a 6-hour drive. Prior to arriving in Nepal, Matt had connected with a local named Dipesh—through a Facebook Group—who would provide us with a private ride from Kathmandu to the start of the trek.

Dipesh picked us up from our hotel at 7 a.m. and we began the long drive to our starting point. Pavement quickly turned to rocky dirt roads as soon as we left Kathmandu, and with the decreased speed came bumper-to-bumper traffic and construction delays. Matt took the front seat and talked to Dipesh about life in Nepal, while I sat in the back and watched colorful cargo trucks, buses, and motorcycles bump along the rough roads.

Despite my anxiousness to begin our multi-day ride, I was entertained by the chaos. When pressed, the horns of buses and cargo trucks burst into a songlike melody. Dashboards decorated with flowers, prayer flags, and tokens of good luck would catch my eye. Phrases painted on the outside—“Mom and Dad,” “Road King,” “Don’t teach your father how to drive,” and “Sweet Dream,” to name a few—made me laugh and reflect on the impact Western culture has had.

We arrived just outside the village of Bhulbhule around mid-afternoon, a few hours later than the Google Maps prediction, and just as the clouds overhead began to darken and swell. We unloaded our bikes and attached our packs to our handlebars and seatposts. Dipesh hung out with us until we were ready to push off, taking our photo and letting us know he would happily pick us up at the end of our journey should we need a ride back to Kathmandu.

After our trip concluded and it was time to return to Kathmandu, we did end up calling Dipesh. As we discussed logistics, he grew more and more excited at the idea of adding a couple of pit stops along the way to show us his favorite spots.

He picked us up at 6 a.m., and we made our way to a quiet lake outside of Pokhara for a boat tour. Our next stop was for lunch at a restaurant called Dal Bhat Power, followed by one last stop at a roadside waterfall/swimming hole. We were honored and grateful Dipesh felt comfortable sharing these places with us. Without his recommendations, we would have just pushed towards the big city—our final destination before heading home—without stopping to appreciate the small things that Dipesh obviously held dear to his heart.

Weather or Not

Most trekkers and bikers on the Annapurna Circuit plan their trips in October when the weather is ideal and the skies are clear, offering unobstructed views of the massive Himalayan mountains. April is the second best time, which allows visitors to sneak in just before the monsoon season arrives, like clockwork, in the late spring. Due to schedule conflicts, however, Matt and I had to settle for May, which meant cutting it very close to the start of the monsoons. In the height of the monsoon season, from mid-June to late September, rain falls all day long and well into the night.

Immediately after we started our journey, the skies above grew ominous and a low grumble filled the void between the canyon walls. The rain came lightly at first, then began to fall steadily. We soon realized we had arrived at the Annapurna Conservation Area at the same time as the afternoon monsoons but, thankfully, the season hadn’t yet progressed to the point where the rain seizes every waking moment of the day.

The next few days consisted of 5 a.m. wake-up calls with the hope of making up mileage early in the day to steer clear of inclement afternoon weather. Still, we continuously fell short of our daily mileage goal and had to adjust our plans on the fly. One convenient characteristic of the Annapurna Circuit is that there is no shortage of villages and tea houses along the route, which made finding a place to rest for the night rather easy. Most of the villages we came across had their own unique charm. We found ourselves in quiet towns next to waterfalls with prayer wheels at the entrance awaiting passersby. Others had water buffalo and goats grazing along the roadside, prayer flags strewn from one building to the next flittering in the wind, and young apple orchards out back of tea houses and hotels.

Afternoon storms provided time to relax and reflect on the day’s events, an opportunity I rarely gift to myself on big adventures. I thought about how I usually push hard during the day to get as far as I can in the allotted timeframe. By the time the sun goes down, I’m too exhausted to think and end up going straight to sleep, only to do it all over again the next day. These periods of reflection provided a deeper appreciation for what we were doing in Nepal in the first place: breathing in the air of new landscapes and experiencing the cultures and customs of a region on the other side of the world.

Although the weather was at times stressful, visiting on the cusp of monsoon season meant very few tourists. During peak season, tea house vacancies are hard to come by, yet we had our pick in every village we visited. We chose colorful spots that offered a view of the surrounding landscapes, and on a couple of occasions requested a room with a connected bathroom or shower, a luxury not readily available in all villages. For the most part, the rooms were simple—one or two beds with a thin pad, pillow, and blanket; but what made the tea houses special—not to mention where they made most of their money—was the food.

Food for Thought

The beauty of eating in Nepal is that most meals, especially in the smaller villages, are home-cooked and made with ingredients sourced from the tea house owner’s personal gardens. At the tea house in Tal where we stayed, we were treated to a tour of the backyard that contained a thriving garden, a handful of animals, including chickens and goats, and a puppy that was trained to sit on its hind legs and bow when you said, “Namaste.” We were led to a small and rustic kitchen, neat and organized with spices lining the wall, before retiring to the dining room and writing down on a small pad what we’d like to have for dinner.

Since most meals were made from scratch, the time between when we placed our order and when we received our food felt long. Most meals took about an hour to prep, but the final dish was always worth the wait. Matt and I enjoyed massive servings of dhal bhat, fried rice, chow mein, soups, and mo-mo (dumplings)—all prepared on the spot by the tea house host. In the time we spent waiting for our food, we’d drink large pots of tea to rehydrate after a long day of riding. The views from the restaurants were oftentimes perfect for gazing out the window and getting lost in thought—from people watching along the streets to peering out over the breathtaking landscapes and daydreaming of what lies at the feet of the Himalayas. I would find myself taking mental notes, another adventure for another time.

Savoring the Side Quests

On a few separate occasions, we chose to diverge from the standard bikepacking route in search of solitude, mountain views, and thrilling singletrack.

The detour to Upper Pisang delivered us to one of our favorite villages in the early hours of the morning. Cedar burned in brass holders, perfuming the air with the familiar scent I knew from ceremony back home. Here, we were treated to our first singletrack section of the journey, before taking on a 3,000-foot climb in search of a glimpse of the Himalayan peaks we were circumnavigating. The clouds of the incoming afternoon monsoons kept the peaks shrouded in mystery, but a glimpse is indeed what we got from time to time as we pushed our bikes up the steep hillside.

Our second side quest was arguably our best. The hike to Tilicho Lake (16,138’ elevation) gifted us with a sunrise that bathed the Annapurna range in crisp shades of pink before transitioning to a deep golden glow. At one point, I looked down to find a paw print gently pressed into the fine dust under my feet. A snow leopard had been on the same trail only moments before we began our hike, a blessing in itself as these big cats are extremely elusive. Tilicho Lake was a sight to behold in person. The calm, cerulean water stood in stark contrast to the bright, white mountains. I sat with the rocky giants and the still waters of the lake, allowing the moment to settle into my memory.

A couple of days later, we topped out on the 17,769’ Thorong La Pass and then descended into the Muktinath Valley. Our final side quest lay just on the other side of Thorung La. Whereas the road dropped down into the canyon, Lubra Pass ascended into the foothills. Here, we found some of the best singletrack on the entire route. One last hike-a-bike rewarded us with clear views of the Annapurna Range and the Mustang Region, a stunning contrast of white-capped peaks and dusty desert hills. We spent a little extra time admiring the beauty of the world around us before descending into the final moments of our trip, hooting and hollering the whole way down.

Lessons Lived

Accustomed to a fast-paced world, each of these experiences opened our eyes to a life lived presently. No matter how long our journey on any given day, we always arrived at our destination. Despite the extra time needed to prep a meal or a pot of tea, our hearts and bellies were full at the end of the day. Even though the monsoon stayed its course, we found gratitude and splendor in the sunrise starts and developed a deeper appreciation for the mountain views we were granted from behind storm clouds. I hope that as I settle back into everyday life, I can hold tight to these profound moments—lessons in the art of slowing down.

Ti is an Apache/ Diné adventurer, storyteller, aspiring photographer, and outdoor brand strategist based in Durango, Colorado. A member of the Protect Our Winters (POW) Bike Alliance, Ti is passionate about protecting the landscapes she loves so that the next generation can enjoy smooth singletrack and technical climbs for years to come. When she’s not on her bike, you can find her trail running, rafting, snowboarding, writing, or baking. Follow her on Instagram at @run.wander.ride.