Your clients could climb every Nepalese mountain

There’s an easy-ish first day to the Annapurnas trek, but day two is tougher – it culminates in an arduous climb up the hillside to Sikles village. Day three is a chance to rest and recharge – the clouds shift to give a good view of Lamjung Himal (6,983m), which towers over Sikles.

Day four is another tough one, climbing Tara Hill Top. Calling it a “hill top” is misleading – at 2,800m it’s more than twice the height of Ben Nevis. But the Himalayas does have all 14 peaks in the world that are higher than 8,000m, so I guess it is all relative?

The Tara Hill Top route snakes up through a jungle landscape. With heavy mist and hanging vines, it feels more like the Lost World than the Himalayas, and I tuck my socks into my trousers to stop leeches finding my skin. As the rain stubbornly falls, I have to accept that there will be no views at the top but refuse to take the easy option when my tour leader Chandra offers me a short cut. Trekking is a mental battle as much as a physical one, and I feel chuffed to stand on Tara Hill Top – even with zero visibility.

Chandra is there every step of the way – literally. He is my shadow. At first I suspect he has a thing for sweaty body odour but when I stumble on the descent (which happens frequently as my legs start to tire) and I feel him grab my rucksack handle, I realise he wants to catch me as I fall. It’s reassuring to know he has my back and I trust him with my belongings and my life. I’m slightly less trusting of his descriptions of the trails.” An “easy downhill” turns out to be a two-hour knee-jamming descent down a series of unrelenting rocky steps.

When the walking gets monotonous, he teaches me a Nepalese trekking song, Resam Piriri, and I teach him Ten Green Bottles – not sure who has the richer cultural experience there.

The other member of our band is my trusty porter, Cheese – his name isn’t quite Cheese, but that’s the easiest alternative, and it sticks. He appears to make light work of carrying my rucksack… but it would take me twice as long with the extra load.

This particular Annapurna trek is off the main “Annapurna circuit”, so fellow tourists are sparse on the ground. Local children are curious to see a foreigner and try their luck: “Namaste… chocolate…!” But Intrepid has a strict policy not to encourage begging, so Chandra deflects them for me. Two nights are spent in homestays in the hamlets of Yangjakot and Ghalegaun, where lentil curry is the only option on the menu. Sikles, slightly bigger, has the upgraded option of a guesthouse with a Western-style toilet. I start to crave simple luxuries I would normally take for granted – easy access to electric sockets, 4G and Wi-Fi, hot showers and high-wattage lightbulbs. If your clients can withstand these temporary deprivations, a top selling point for this tour is that it gives a fascinating view into how people live in rural Nepal. You see the effort that goes into ploughing a rice field, washing clothes at communal water taps and weaving a straw mat by hand, and it makes you realise just how easy we have it.

When I switch to the Everest trek and infiltrate the crowds that are bound for base camp and even the summit, I lose that feeling of intimacy with local life. The route to Everest is more established, and the great number of trekkers, guides and porters make it a more social experience. With local porters ferrying loads up to 80kg each to ensure teahouses further up the chain are stocked with beer and noodles, and trains of mules and jopkes (a cross between a yak and a cow) stacked high too, at times it feels busier than London’s South Bank.

Before I start trekking, there is a petrifying landing in Lukla to bear – it’s a notoriously short airstrip built on the steep incline of a hillside, leaving no room for error. My new tour leader Chitra has taken the flight many times but is hardly reassuring: “We’re not meant to be permanent,” he tells me.

Day one is an easy two hours downhill to Phakding. Day two is the hardest stretch, with a punishing afternoon climb to Namche Bazaar. After disappointingly overcast views in the Annapurnas, my luck has turned and each morning I awake to clear skies. I keep my fingers tightly crossed – no guide wants to guarantee the views – and am pleased as punch to have a clear view of the world’s highest mountain on day three. We walk 45 minutes uphill from Namche to Hotel Everest View (3,880m) and enjoy a cup of tea on the terrace with one of the best panoramas I have ever seen: Everest (8,848m), Lhotse (8,516m) and AmaDablam (6,812m) in their snow-capped, sun-kissed glory.

Chitra whips out chocolate bars and the moment is made. And that’s what will stay with me – long after the memories of the long drops and the hard beds have faded, I’ll remember the Himalayas and the friendly Nepalese people and it will be one of the best holidays I’ve never had.