In Dingboche

A happy and enthusiastic start from Deboche in the morning. 

Made it to Dingboche today in just under four hours, with a single tea stop to soak in the view and warm our hands. The hike was refreshing—steady inclines, sweeping mountain vistas, and crisp Himalayan air that never fails to awaken the senses.

As we ascended today from 3,770 meters to 4,360 meters, the trail took us through Pheriche and then into the Imja Valley, crossing the Lobuche River before the final pushup to Dingboche. The distance was about 10 kilometers.

Some photos on the way.

The gentle chime of the yak bells drifting through the mountain air is pure serenity — a calming rhythm that soothes the soul as they gracefully pass us by.

This is my third year in a row staying at the same cozy teahouse here, and it felt like a homecoming of sorts. The familiar faces of Gelu Sherpa, the owner, and Sudeep, the ever-smiling cook, greeted me with warmth. Sudeep’s already prepping my favorite—aloo paratha with Indian pickle—simple, hearty comfort food that hits the spot in this altitude.

A peek into our dining room in the tea house. There’s a timeless charm to teahouses in the Himalayas, especially the ones with traditional, old-style heaters — known locally as “bukhari.” These cylindrical iron stoves sit at the heart of the dining room, often fueled by wood or dried yak dung, radiating a deep, comforting warmth that cuts through the chill. In a place where electricity is limited and warmth is a luxury, the heater becomes more than just a source of heat — it becomes the heart of the home. Conversations flow and hikers from around the world come here and share the same space.

After a satisfying lunch, I tucked in for a much-needed nap—just an hour to reset. Then I delved into “Outlive” by Peter Attia, a gift from my colleague and lunch buddy Varun Kumar, just before I set off on this journey. The book dives deep into the “Four Horsemen” of chronic disease—Cancer, Heart Disease, Type 2 Diabetes, and Neurodegenerative Disorders—arguing that unless you take bold steps, it’s these slow-creeping threats that often claim our lives. It’s a sobering, fascinating read, especially out here where life feels so raw and real.

As the day progressed, the weather soon took a turn—cold, damp, and grey skies eventually gave way to gentle snowflakes swirling around the camp. 

Below us, rivers snakes through the valley, rushing over boulders and echoing through the silence. It’s moments like these where the physical challenge of the trail blends with introspection—we’re finally at real altitude now, and the body can feel it.