A Day on the Trail: Feeling Good at High Altitude
Trekking at high altitude isn’t just about walking. It’s a survival mode. One wrong move—cold shower, skipping a meal, walking too fast—and your day flips from joy to misery. But if you respect some rules, the Himalayas will reward you more generously than you ever imagined.
Mornings wake ups are hard. The room is icy, my mouth is dry, my head is heavy, and my stomach is empty. My cycling clothes are still damp from yesterday - pulling them on is an icy shock before sunrise. Do I leave the warmth of my sleeping bag? I cling to my cup of hot tea for a few more minutes. Here, hot tea is more than comfort—it’s survival.
Then comes the toilet. Sometimes it’s a luxury—clean, private, indoors, like in the upper Mustang. Other times, it’s more of an expedition. At Manaslu trek, it’s outside, headlamp on, shoes laced, dressed like for a summit push. My tip: always keep toilet paper close—at altitude, your bladder has its own high-altitude schedule. Packing is next. Everything has its own place: sleeping bag here, a dry bag with clean clothes here, other bag with dirty clothes there, electronics, medicines, cosmetics. Porters are grateful when bags are ready before breakfast – it means they can take an early start.
This time feels like the calm before the storm. What awaits me on the trail? Will my legs feel strong, or will every step be a fight? Did I rest enough? Did I drink enough? Am I ready to climb higher—or will altitude hit me hard? You never really know until you take that first step. And still—I can’t wait to just be on the trail again.
For breakfast, I take porridge, omelet, and roti – Nepalese thin round bread. Don’t expect much vegetables – salad and fresh tomatoes are the first thing I eat when I come back home. But here, in small family lodges, food comes with smiles. I always try short conversations with Nepalese people: “Namaste” and “Malaai tato pani dinus” – please give me hot water.
At high altitudes, the air is dry, you breath faster, and water leaves your body quicker. Hydration is everything. Here’s what keeps me alive at altitude: one thermos of tea in the morning while still in bed, one litre with breakfast, another on the trail, and two more before night. Four to five litres. With a Steripen, which kills all bacteria and viruses in one minute, I can drink tap water safely - no plastic bottles, and saving both money and nature.
I pack my day backpack: warm clothes, rain jacket, first aid kit, headlamp, toilet paper, sun cream, and documents. Everything ready. "Jam jam” – let’s go. With the first steps on the trail, the good feeling of moving again arrives. My mind settles down, my body finds the rhythm, my eyes fill with spectacular views. “Bistari, bistari”—slowly, slowly—the guides remind us. Up here, oxygen is scarce, heart beats faster, and a few stone stairs on the trail feel like sprinting ten floors. Have you ever walked in slow motion, yet your lungs burned as if you’d been running? That’s altitude putting you in your place.
A reward for patience is a good acclimatisation. The rule of thumb: 2500, 500, 1000 – arrive at a maximum 2500 m altitude, don’t sleep more than 500m higher each night, and take a rest day every 1,000m. Many treks, even Everest Base Camp, push very fast—headaches and loss of appetite are common, severe AMS and evacuation happen as well. I learned that “bistari” wins at altitude.
For all this effort, the views are the reward. They fill your eyes, hug your soul, and make your heart smile. Some treks—Manaslu, Langtang, Mustang—offer solitude: just you, the sound of a river, the crunch under your shoes, the camera always ready. No need to wait for others to leave your frame. Everest Base Camp? Quite the opposite—crowded, noisy, less space to breathe. But even with crowds, the mountains remain the stars, the locals their companions. And every time I look up… oh, it’s good to be here.
When we arrive at our lodge, the second part of the day starts: rest. Tea, biscuits, and stories that start to flow. We were all on the same trail, but each saw the mountains differently. That’s the magic of sharing. There’s no rush to unpack or shower. After walking, the body needs to rest, breathe, and adapt to the higher altitude. And showers? They are one of the great Himalayan challenges—temperature uncertain, water pressure unpredictable, space limited, and cleanliness negotiable. Honestly, one shower every few days is enough. Why risk getting cold? A tap with water, a pack of wet wipes, and dry shampoo can work miracles.
Then, the evening routine is simple: unpack, clean with wet wipes – or shower on lucky days, sometimes wash clothes, and go back to the dining room. Guide and porters are usually already there. I order mint tea for everyone. These hours are precious – sharing laughs, checking photos, enjoying the company – quiet time between two storms: one that has just finished, and one ahead tomorrow.
Dinner means dalbhat – rice, lentils, curry, greens, and sometimes meat. It’s the only dish that …never ends. You can always ask for more. In fact, they will always bring you more. Learn: “Malaai pugyo” - I’m full – it’s not polite to leave anything on the plate. Dal bhat is always fresh, cooked through, and easy to digest. Trust me: diarrhoea at 4,000m is not worth gambling on those tempting momos.
Each evening (and morning), I check my oxygen saturation and note the results together with a short description of “how I feel”. Levels drop after a long day of walking and gaining altitude, but a good meal and sleep make them rise again in the morning. The numbers are a good indicator of the progress of our acclimatisation, but it’s never the full story. In Langtang, we climbed very fast: 2200 m, 3200 m, and Kyanji Gompa 3800m in three days. My saturation dropped below 70%, I had a headache, lost my appetite, and couldn’t sleep. I should have gone down, but I didn’t. I was lucky. Lesson learned: sometimes the bravest thing is to descend. On the day to Everest Base Camp, my saturation was 86%, and yet I felt awful. On the way back to Gorak Shep, I suffered a headache, nausea, and extreme tiredness. And after the night's rest? I felt fantastic. Mountains and altitude are unpredictable and humbling.
But sleep is sacred up here. It’s recovery, adaptation, survival. Before going to bed, I prepare my thermos with hot tea, biscuits, shoes, jacket, and headlamp within reach—as if preparing for battle in the night. Dogs may bark, the wind may howl, the weather may shift, and hunger may come back. You can’t control the mountains, but you can control your routines. Walk slowly, drink tea, eat dal bhat, and sleep like your life depends on it—because it does.
As I close my eyes, I replay the day: the smiles, the jokes, the views, and the “namaste” greetings on the trail. And I wonder what awaits tomorrow. Probably, more tea, more walking, more views, and more negotiations. It’s a survival mode, but in a spectacular scenery.
