What started as a plan to visit the flood-affected areas of Jalbinayak, Chobhar, and Khokana quickly turned into an unexpected adventure. With blocked roads ahead, we changed course, landing in Pharping. As we sipped tea at Dulalni’s tea shop, Mal Dai (Sigar Maila) casually suggested, “Let’s go to Champadevi!” Without hesitation, we agreed—and thus began a spontaneous journey into the unknown.
It was Dashain, and I had a 4-5 hour work commitment later in the day. Confident I could make it back by afternoon, we set off on the hike, unplanned but eager. The monsoon’s aftermath was devastating—entire settlements and roads were washed away. A 65-year-old local Tamang woman mentioned this was the first time her village had experienced such severe flooding.
Leaving our bikes behind, we began to climb. Completely unprepared—no sticks, no bags, no food—I was even in kitchen slippers! The path became tougher with each step. We joked about wild animals and robbers, but there was a real sense of caution in the air. Luckily, Mal Dai’s jungle expertise kept us grounded.
The trail, covered in wild bushes and dense with rhododendron trees, was both beautiful and challenging. After the stairs, the path grew steeper and the rocks slippery. Eventually, the trail disappeared, forcing us to navigate through thick undergrowth.
There were no shops, no water, and no one else in sight. Our only sustenance came from wild shoots we collected. As we trekked higher, the forest gave way to rocky terrain, and the climb became grueling. Yet, three hours in, we finally reached the summit of Champadevi.
The summit offered a sense of serenity, a perfect contrast to the chaos of our unplanned journey. I nibbled on the shoots I’d gathered earlier, while Mal Dai, ever the stoic, opted not to eat. With no food, no water, and hardly any other hikers, it was a rare moment of quiet reflection.
Along the way, we shared stories of our past, filled with laughter and nostalgia. Despite the decade gap in our ages, we had both grown up in the same locality, and our shared memories made the trek less exhausting. At the top, we met two foreign hikers and a group of Nepalis who joked that they’d almost reported us missing. We had, in fact, reached the summit two hours before them!
I discovered a hidden water tank at the top, filtered the water with a cloth, and filled my bottle—a small act of self-sufficiency that taught me the value of resilience.
After resting for an hour, we began our descent. On the way down, we encountered an elderly foreign couple and a group of Nepalis. We exchanged pleasantries but didn’t keep in touch, as is often the case with fellow travelers.
As we made our way back to the bikes, pride washed over me. Despite being unprepared, we had conquered the trek, finding humor and joy along the way. A hiker even warned me about malaria from the water we drank, but I shrugged it off, trusting the mountain’s water.
We descended in about an hour, riding straight back to Kathmandu, stopping for tea in Chhetrapati before parting ways. I even made it to work just in time.
Ultimately, whether planned or not, journeys are full of unexpected twists and challenges. But the satisfaction of reaching the destination—especially with a trusted companion—makes it all worthwhile. Sometimes, the best trips are those you never planned.
Cost of the Journey
Total Duration: 6 hours
Expenses: NPR 200 (shared costs)
Fuel: Additional for the bike
Hike: Champadevi trek successfully completed.
