After dinner last night we were joined by roughly a dozen Nepali hikers, who immediately took over the dining room and commenced a party that lasted for hours. The noise travelled straight into our room, preventing us from sleeping for most of the night.

 

The 4.30 a.m. alarm was not our friend, and neither were the freezing temperatures we faced outside. Most of the Nepalis had left before us, their head torches forming a trail up Pikey Peak. This ended up being to our advantage, as the route wasn’t clear at times so we just walked in the general direction of the torches above us. It wasn’t long before we hit a set of well-formed stairs that would take us most of the way to the top. Clearly our pace was incredibly slow, as we were overtaken multiple times by late-starting Nepalis.

 

In a little under an hour we reached the summit, at 4065 m, just as the sun was starting to rise above the mountains. Roughly 60 people were already there, of which only four of them were tourists. We couldn't believe that this little-known peak was so busy, until we found out later that Saturday (today) was the one day off that Nepalis get each week. I guess they were making the most of it. (A few days later we ran into an Italian woman who ascended midweek. There were no Nepalis, and only a handful of foreigners. It sounded much more appealing than what was in front of us.)

 

The sight was incredible. There were peaks almost all the way around us, but those of the Everest range were by far the closest. We had no idea which mountains we were looking at, so I asked a guide to help us out. He started listing the name of every mountain we could see; the only ones I remembered were Everest, Lhotse and the Annapurna range way off in the distance. It was strange to see planes and helicopters flying well below us, going to and from Kathmandu. The sun wasn't in the perfect position to light up the peaks, but I imagine that the afternoon view, if clear, would be spectacular.

 

Because we were taking so many photos, it didn't take long for our hands to go numb, even inside our gloves. The wind chill was strong and went straight to the bones, forcing us to perform lap after lap around the summit. A few locals started playing music and dancing around, which seemed like a good way to stay warm. I wasn’t about to join them though.