Trekking to Annapurna Base Camp

Ten days, roughly 115km, and one very cold shower: the trek that made "doing more of this" my only New Year's resolution.

Christmas morning above the clouds, the moment this trip stopped being a hike and became something else.

How This Trip Came Together

This one wasn't planned so much as it fell into place. A wedding in Dhaka meant being in the region anyway, and Nepal had been sitting on the someday-list for about a year by that point, close enough on the map that not going felt like the harder choice to justify. A friend's encouragement was the actual push that turned "someday" into a booking.

I went solo, but not really alone: I joined a small group trek through Intrepid Travel, seven of us total including myself, a genuine mix of nationalities and experience levels who'd never met each other before day one. The tour cost around $1,700 AUD, covering accommodation, a few meals, and ground transport from Kathmandu to Pokhara (a long, winding bus ride rather than the quicker flight, but a good way to actually see the country before the trekking even started). Flights into Kathmandu were separate.

Booking a solo spot on a group trek turned out to be one of the better travel decisions I've made: company on the trail when you want it, solitude on the trail when you don't, and a built-in support crew for exactly the kind of remote, high-altitude trek where that structure actually matters.

Trip Highlights at a Glance

Why the Himalayas, Why Now

This trip almost didn't happen the way trips like this rarely do: less a plan, more an impromptu yes. Just a decision to go stand somewhere I'd never stood before, in a place with a name I'd known my whole life without ever picturing myself inside it.

Annapurna Base Camp isn't the hardest trek in Nepal, but it doesn't need to be. Ten days, sustained elevation gain, teahouses instead of tents, and a straight line toward some of the most photographed mountains on Earth: Annapurna South, Machapuchare (Fishtail), and eventually a glimpse of Everest itself from the base camp lookout.

Day 1: Eleven Kilometres In

The first day set the tone: 11km, 1,300m of elevation gain, reaching the teahouse at 3:44pm, a solid four hours ahead of a group that clearly meant business. There's a particular kind of pride in finishing a hard first day ahead of schedule, surrounded by people who trained for this the same way you did.

Day one, climbing through a village on the way up, the group still finding its rhythm.

That evening, skipping the group volleyball game to sit alone and watch the sun slide off the mountain tips felt like its own small victory. Some trips are about pushing your limits; this one started by teaching me it was fine to just sit still and watch the light change.

The hot shower was lukewarm at best, a reminder that nobody sensible treks the Himalayas in the dead of winter, and yet here we were, doing exactly that.

Day 2: The View Keeps Getting Better

Nine kilometres, 1,000m of gain, and a lesson that would repeat itself for the next week: whatever view you saw yesterday, today's will be better. Peaks kept appearing where you didn't expect them, a glance left revealing an entirely new range you hadn't clocked yet.

Early morning light hitting the peaks before the rest of the valley wakes up.

By evening, the sky delivered a proper reward: a sunset that turned the whole ridge molten gold. "What a time to be alive," I remember saying to no one in particular, and meaning it completely.

The sunset that earned its own three photos, impossible to stop pointing the camera at it.

Same sky, zoomed in: the kind of light you chase but rarely catch.

Day 3: Solitude and a New Vocabulary for Beauty

By day three, the trail had gone quiet in the best way: 15km through terrain that left plenty of room for thought. There's a particular kind of clarity that only shows up on repetitive, physical days: no signal, no distraction, just footsteps and whatever's directly in front of you.

Reaching Tadapani that night, wrecked in the good way, the group's humour carried the evening. Somewhere between exhausted and elated is where the best trip memories tend to live.

Christmas Morning: The View That Changed Everything

Every trek like this has one image that outlasts the rest. For this one, it's Christmas morning: waking at the Panorama View hotel, told the sunrise would hit around 6:45am, and somehow still managing to wake up right at the wire.

The window blinds went up to a sky already turning gold. Annapurna South and Machapuchare sat under a thick, glowing layer of cloud, the sun somehow rising above it on the far horizon. The door was frozen shut, so climbing out the window felt like the only correct response.

A closer look at the same Christmas morning sky, the kind of light that makes you forget your hair isn't done.

A magical morning

Merry Christmas, from somewhere above the clouds.

Evenings brought their own kind of magic. The night at altitude, the sky cleared completely, stars scattered thick overhead, Machapuchare's summit glowing faintly under moonlight while a teahouse's windows lit up gold below.

A proper Himalayan night sky, no light pollution for hundreds of kilometres in any direction.

Days 4–6: Toward the Sanctuary

The trail kept climbing, and the days blurred pleasantly into a rhythm: descents through valleys, ascents back into thinner air, wifi that suddenly cost money, and bottled water that stopped being available at all. This is the point on any big trek where the mountains stop being scenery and start being the only reality that matters.

The terrain got more dramatic the higher we climbed, clouds constantly rearranging the view.

No altitude sickness, decent sleep most nights, and a growing sense that this trip was giving me something well beyond a stamp in a passport.

Reaching Base Camp and What Came After

The last day of hiking before reaching the base camp. The group energy is high. That day, the hike from MBC to ABC is eqic. Clear sky, mountains everywhere.

The last leg to ABC: the most beautiful hike

Arriving at Annapurna Base Camp came with an odd kind of anticlimax: now what? Looking out at Everest visible on the same horizon, on the same day, is the kind of moment too large to process in real time. You just breathe. You let the scale of it sit there, unresolved.

Arriving at the base camp before noon

That night at basecamp, it was freezing cold. I wore everything I owned and had a brief moment with the mountain by myself, and the moment felt sacred because I knew I would need to say goodbye the next day.

Dusk turning to night, the peak still catching the last of the light as the stars come out.

The morning before we descent, we woke up early to catch sunrise

The days after ABC were quieter and harder in a different way: not physically, but emotionally. Leaving a place like that is its own kind of grief. There was a day of real solitude, seeking it out deliberately, followed by a day of leaning back into the group's company and finding real comfort in other people again. Both were necessary. Neither was a mistake.

Coming Down: New Year in Pokhara

Descending is its own kind of trek: faster, easier on the lungs, harder on the knees, and strange in a way nobody warns you about. One morning near the bottom, there was simply nothing left to walk. Body clock still set to 5:50am, pack already organised down to the last centimetre of spare room in the bag, and absolutely nowhere to be. After ten days of forward motion, stillness felt almost foreign. Meditating through it seemed like the only sensible response.

The trip wound down properly in Pokhara: New Year's Eve spent with the trekking crew turned fast friends, a proper dressed-up dinner out, a late-night waffle, and a massage that every overworked muscle in the body had been quietly begging for since Day 1.

The last full day was a soft one: breakfast at a favourite lakeside cafe, a slow wander through town with the group, lunch overlooking the lake in the sun, and an afternoon of shopping that started reluctantly and ended happily: oils, a set of stone earrings, gifts to bring home, and one slightly indulgent souvenir shirt commemorating the trek itself, bought without a second thought because some things are worth paying for.

Dinner that last night was simple: pizza, good company, and the particular kind of quiet that settles in when everyone at the table knows tomorrow means goodbye.

Saying Goodbye

Ten days on a trail with strangers has a strange way of turning into something magical.

There's a particular kind of gratitude that shows up at the end of a trip like this: not for the mountain itself, but for the people who happened to be walking toward it at the same time you were. Whatever the peaks gave this trip, the people gave just as much.

Is This Trek As Hard As It Sounds?

Short answer: less than you'd think. The itinerary builds in real breathing room: regular tea breaks along the trail, a proper lunch stop most days, and a pace that rewards steady walking over speed. The paths themselves are mostly well-maintained, with stone steps doing a lot of the hard work for you rather than scrambling over loose terrain.

The group I trekked with included two women in their mid-50s, and they managed the whole thing without issue; this isn't a trek that requires elite fitness, just consistent training and a willingness to go slow when the trail asks for it.

Along the way, the local culture shows up constantly in small details: teahouse meals built around dal bhat and momos, and a steady procession of donkeys hauling supplies up to teahouses that have no other way to restock. It's a good reminder that every basket of vegetables, gas canister, and bottle of beer up there arrived on someone's (or something's) back.

On the December timing specifically: yes, it's cold once the sun goes down. But the trade-off is real: December is genuinely quiet, both on the trail and in the teahouses. Fewer crowds at the viewpoints, no queuing for a bunk bed, and a stillness to the whole experience that peak season simply doesn't offer.

The Numbers

• Total distance: roughly 115km of trekking over the core 10 days, plus a few extra days in Pokhara before flying home
• Total cost breakdown:
  • Round-trip international flights (December): ~$2,000 AUD
  • Group tour (Intrepid Travel: accommodation, ground transport Kathmandu–Pokhara): ~$1,700 AUD
  • Travel insurance: ~$433 AUD
  • Food ( meals/snacks, plus tips to the guides): ~$1,200 AUD
  • Gear upgrades (jackets, layers, boots): ~$1,000 AUD
  • Domestic flight, Pokhara to Kathmandu (return leg): ~$150 AUD
  • Approximate total: ~$6,483 AUD per person, all-in, including flights, gear, and tips
• Group size: 7, booked as a solo traveller joining a group trek, including two women in their mid-50s, proof this trek doesn't demand elite fitness
• Elevation: climbing from teahouse villages up to Annapurna Base Camp at 4,130m

Tips & Tricks: Planning Your Own Trip

Best season: December is genuinely quiet on the trail and in the teahouses, with no queuing for a bunk bed and views without a crowd.

Difficulty: moderate. No technical climbing, but sustained daily elevation gain and real cold-weather conditions to plan around. This isn't a trek that demands elite fitness, just consistent training beforehand.

Booking: I went through Intrepid Travel as a small group tour, which covered accommodation, three meals in total (rest of the meals are self-funded so budget accordingly), and ground transport from Kathmandu to Pokhara in one booking. Booking a solo spot on a group trek is worth strongly considering: it solves both the logistics and the loneliness of a remote, high-altitude trek in one move, without requiring you to give up the parts of solo travel that make it worth doing in the first place.

Budget for extras: wifi and bottled water both start costing money the higher you climb, and tipping your guides at the end is customary; factor both into your budget beyond the headline tour price, alongside the gear upgrades (jackets, layers, waterproof ankle stablising boots) that are worth the spend rather than skimping on.

Final Thoughts

There's a version of this trip that never happens: the one where it stays a someday idea, filed away next to a dozen other "maybe one day" plans. What actually got me on that trail wasn't perfect preparation; it was saying yes to something slightly impulsive and trusting the training I'd already put in.

Somewhere between the Christmas sunrise, the frozen door, the stars over Machapuchare, and the strange quiet of finally reaching base camp, this trip answered a question I hadn't fully asked yet: what am I actually capable of, if I stop waiting for the "right" time to find out?

If you're considering ABC yourself, don't let the "winter trek" label scare you off. December means cold nights, but most teahouses along the route have hot showers, the one exception being Base Camp itself, where hot water isn't guaranteed. The difficulty is manageable for most reasonably fit people (regular tea breaks and a well-maintained trail help enormously): train for the elevation gain more than the distance, budget for good gear, and don't discount booking solo onto a small group tour; it solves the logistics and the loneliness in one move, without asking you to give up the parts of solo travel that make it worth doing in the first place.