Into Thinner Air: From Samagaun to Dharamsala April 26–29, 2026

We left behind the charm of Samagaun (3530m), a vibrant village nestled beneath the towering presence of Manaslu. Life here feels vivid—colorful prayer flags fluttering in the wind, yaks grazing calmly, and locals going about their day with quiet resilience.

By the time we arrived in Samdo (3852m), the change in altitude was unmistakable. The air felt lighter, the landscape more barren. Samdo is a sparse settlement, with a few lodges for trekkers and clusters of stone homes where locals live. After a warm meal, we headed out to explore, and as the Himalayas often do, the mountains surprised us.

We stumbled upon a monastery mid-ceremony. The sound of chants echoed through the stone walls. When the monks noticed us, they welcomed us in with kind smiles, offered us seats, poured us tea, and even shared a taste of rakshi—a local rice spirit. For a few quiet minutes, we weren’t outsiders—we were guests, part of the rhythm of their sacred moment. (I captured a short video—watch it to get a glimpse of this unforgettable encounter.)

Samdo even has a handful of tiny shops—that I jokingly called “the mall.” We passed by a small bakery displaying a lone carrot cake in the window. Sadly, no one was around to serve it, so we walked on, dreaming about its sweet promise. Meanwhile, kitchens across the village filled with the comforting aromas of dinner as locals prepared food for trekkers arriving weary from the trail.

The menus in these villages rarely change, but the meals remain soul-satisfying. Think dal bhat (rice, potatoes, fermented vegetables, and lentil soup), thenduk—a thick Sherpa noodle soup, endless variations of potato and rice dishes, and of course, steaming plates of momos. All vegetarian. All delicious.

April 28–29: The Climb to Dharamsala (4460m)

The trek to Dharamsala was tough. The trail grew steeper, and the altitude more demanding. Every 50 meters I had to pause and take deep, deliberate breaths. The air here is undeniably thinner, but the views—snow-covered peaks, looming glaciers, and endless mountain ridges—make every breath worth it.

I knew Dharamsala wouldn’t offer much comfort. A few years ago, this was nothing more than a tent site. Now, there are small wooden dorms with a single board running across the room—divided into four sleeping spaces. It’s basic. Cold. It was far beyond my comfort zone—but up here, you learn to welcome discomfort, release expectations, and find meaning in simplicity. It’s a quiet reminder that we truly need far less than we imagine.

Our sleeping place for the night.

Tomorrow, April 30, we’ll cross Larkya La Pass (5100m)—the highest point of our journey. Alarm is set for 3:30 AM, with a 4:30 departure. We aim to reach the pass by 10:00 to take in the sweeping views of Annapurna and Dhaulagiri before descending 1200 meters to Bhimthang (3800m). It’s a 16-kilometer day, and at the end of it—hopefully—a hot shower awaits.

After a week in these wild, humbling spaces, I find myself deeply grateful. Grateful for warm meals, quiet moments, kind strangers, and everything waiting for me back home.