If you're looking for peaks to conquer, Mustang might disappoint you. But if you seek mountains that quietly challenge you, trails that teach you to let go, and moments that surprise you, then this ancient Tibetan kingdom is for you.

In May, I packed what was essential – and what might save my day in a dark hour – and left behind comfort for a month – long adventure. I hoped to wake up with the sun, sip mint tea while the first light hit snowy peaks, admire landscapes while pushing my bike uphill through wind and dust, and fly down rocky trails fully focused. I hoped to meet people, talk in Nepali, dance, and learn – about Nepal and about myself. I also expected to be tired, smelly, cold, and probably suffer a few headaches. But that was all part of the deal.

It all had started with a photo: riders crossing a Tibetan desert with snowy mountains in the background. My initial thoughts: "Wow, that's so cool! Maybe one day..." That "maybe" turned into an idea, then a plan. After a year of preparation, I found myself bouncing along rough roads in a jeep with my guide Laxman and two porters, Santa and Maila, heading up the Kali Gandaki canyon. An abstract dream was becoming very real.

Into the Ancient Kingdom of Lo

Mustang is a land caught between worlds. It’s an independent Tibetan Kingdom of Lo only recently incorporated into Nepal, protected by towering Himalayan ranges. Its upper part stretches like a barren desert, connecting to the world through the deep Kali Gandaki canyon between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri peaks. Relentless winds define it, swirling sand shaping dramatic erosive rock formations, with scattered green oases amidst isolated terrain.

Here, every breath of wind carries the weight of centuries, and every rock formation tells a story of geological time, making human concerns feel beautifully small.

First Pedal Strokes: Learning to Let Go

The first few days proved more a mental battle more than a physical one. Starting in Beni at 830 meters, rather than flying directly to Jomsom, allowed my body to adjust to the altitude. My mind, however, was caught in a spiral of expectations and fears. I had imagined this trip countless times – how conversations would flow, how I'd feel, what each day would bring. But reality often diverges from imagination. I found myself cycling mostly in silence, feeling unexpectedly isolated despite the company.

The road from Beni to Kagbeni via Tatopani, Kalopani and Jomsom, immediately tested my endurance. I felt the elevation gain, the relentless wind and pervasive dust. My body felt strong, ready for the cycling ahead, but my mind that needed a crucial adjusting to fully enjoy the journey.

A breakthrough arrived unexpectedly through a spontaneous basketball game with Tibetan children. This simple joy transformed my perspective. I felt that there would be amazing encounters, moments I could never have imagined while sitting in my Paris office. Sometimes they would be simple smiles, a few sentences in Nepali, and sometimes something far bigger.

From Kagbeni to Upper Mustang: A Different World

After two nights in Kagbeni at 2,800 meters and an acclimatization ride to Muktinath, I was ready to enter Upper Mustang. The checkpoint at Kagbeni was more than just a permit inspection; it was a gateway into a completely different world.

The fierce wind of the lower Mustang vanished, replaced by a mystical calm. The routine became meditative: early starts, breathtaking landscapes shifting from rocky canyons and windswept plateaus to white mountain peaks, and the peaceful, rhythmic sound of gravel beneath my tires.

The ride via Chhusang, Chele, Samar, and Sangboche revealed Mustang's hidden treasures. Colourful prayer flags and ancient chortens stood sentinel over forgotten trails, while fossils embedded in rocks spoke of ancient oceans. Caves, carved into impossible heights, dotted the cliff faces, holding mysteries I could only imagine.

Cycling here demands patience, long steady pedaling through lunar landscapes, sometimes even pushing bikes uphill on sandy switchbacks. It’s about finding rhythm in simplicity. What struck me most was the profound silence – so complete you could hear your own heartbeat, broken only by Laxman singing traditional Nepali songs or his echoing, contagious laughter.

The People of Mustang: Unexpected Warmth

Yet Mustang's real treasure is its people. Evenings passed quickly, sharing stories over steaming cups of mint tea, delicious dal bhat, and heartfelt conversations that sometimes effortlessly crossed all language barriers.

One particularly challenging day, between Samar and Ghami, I was simply too tired to continue. We stopped at a small family lodge for a coffee. The place was simply beautiful, and I asked a single question: "Can we stay here for the night?"

Thanks to the flexible itinerary, we did, and it became one of the most heartwarming experiences of the trip. Many generations lived under one roof—grandmother, daughter, and granddaughters. We spent the entire afternoon resting, my muscles slowly releasing their tension. In the evening, we watched them cook, the aroma of spices filling the small kitchen, while I played with a six-year-old girl who stole my heart.

Each interaction on this journey was an invitation, revealing the beauty and power of genuine human connections. In the mountains people possess a warmth that could truly melt glaciers.

Lo Manthang: A Summit of the Soul

Some journeys don't have a single destination; they unfold slowly, day by day. The trail to Dhakmar wound through increasingly surreal landscapes: red cliffs that looked like Martian formations, ancient caves carved into impossible heights. With each kilometer, I felt I was pedaling backward through time itself.

And then, Lo Manthang appeared. A walled city emerging from the desert like a mirage. It was just one part of my month-long journey, but it felt like reaching a summit, a significant milestone, a halfway point, a much-needed pause. When I left home, I hadn’t even known if I'd reach it, so arriving was a special moment.

Three days here allowed me to breathe. Not just from the challenging cycling behind me, but from a quieter, more personal journey I'd been riding for years. For most of my life, my body often felt like a burden – too slow, too big, something to fix rather than celebrate. Riding through Mustang offered a different perspective every day; I realized my body didn't need perfection. It simply needed to be present, and it was.

The Tiji Festival and Hidden Celebrations

The three – day Tiji festival in Lo Manthang draws travelers from around the world. Monks in traditional costumes and masks dance in the main square with drums and long horns, creating the atmosphere of a cosmic battle. It looked hypnotizing and inspiring, but to fully feel its impact, a deeper understanding of the rituals is needed.

What truly moved me there wasn't the famous show with costumes and masks, widely featured in tourist guides. It was the celebration far from the cameras. A fire burned in the middle of the square, Tibetan people gathered around it, holding hands and singing. The flames danced against their faces, voices rose in melodies – I was stunned by the raw authenticity of the moment.

Beyond Lo Manthang: High Passes and Epic Descents

After the pause in Lo Manthang, returning to the trail felt like waking up. The journey now took on a different character – longer days, harder ascents, and even more thrilling descents.

I enjoyed it all; the effort, the pleasure of the surroundings, the good feeling of my body responding to every challenge. I had found my rhythm, my peace, my happiness. I was full of optimism, simply grateful that we could continue, that we were healthy, and that the bikes were fully reliable.

After each climb, a reward awaited: a descent. The Siyarko trail delivered pure mountain biking bliss – a narrow track carved into the mountainside with views over vertical drops of 1,000 meters. The technical sections demanded absolute focus, my hands gripping the handlebars as loose stones scattered beneath my wheels. It was quite possibly, one of the most stunning spots of the entire trip.

Another purely fun section was the classic MTB Lupra trail from Muktinath to Marpha, a glorious 23km of flowing singletrack. My face smiled and tires hummed as I carved through gentle turns.

Trusted Companions

The three days crossing high passes with bikes, followed by the hike to Thorong La Pass at 5,416 meters, revealed everything about myself and my companions. This journey wasn't faced alone. With every step and pedal stroke came quiet guidance and protection from Laxman, who became a trusted friend. Santa and Maila, endured all challenges with smiles that could light up the darkest mountain challenges.

Trust built naturally from daily acts of kindness, mutual respect, and genuine care. Laxman’s incredible ability to read your needs is remarkable – appearing with hot tea, suggesting rest when you are tired, and remembering I like to wake up with a view on the mountains. But above all, I could say without hesitation: "You decide, I follow", which gives the essential security needed in high – altitude treks.

The care we showed each other daily transformed a journey into something more meaningful. And at the end of our time together, tipping was no longer an obligation – it was a gratitude made tangible, a way to honor the trust and friendship that had carried us safely through the mountains.

The Mosaic of Memory

In Mustang, subtle moments define the journey's richness. A quiet tea in the afternoon, unexpected laughter shared on a dusty trail, the haunting sound of Buddhist prayers echoing in a monastery. Peaks suddenly revealing themselves around a corner, their white summits shining in the morning light. Flowing turn by turn on descents, feeling the bike respond to every lean and shift.

Individually, each might seem small; collectively, they form Mustang's unforgettable mosaic. It’s hard to plan them all – they simply arise when you're present enough to receive them.

Coming Home

Mustang doesn't promise summits; it promises something quieter, more meaningful: the freedom to discover your own story, one pedal stroke at a time. Over 470 kilometers and 12,000 vertical meters, my journey taught me the value of being open, present, and grateful – for the place, the people, my body, and the agency guiding me safely along the way.

In Mustang, I learned that the best adventures aren't about conquering anything at all. They're about letting yourself be changed by the journey.

Acknowledgment

The partnership with Snowy Horizon Treks and Expedition transformed what could have been a simple adventure into a deeply personal journey. While I planned it extensively, the agency fully supported my dream – cycling alone with a guide for a month, listening to my needs, understanding what made me comfortable and what stressed me, adapting on the way to changes, requests, and feelings. This level of care and attention creates the safety that allows for genuine adventure.

This feeling of complete trust – knowing that experienced people have your back when you're pushing your limits in some of the world's most remote mountains – is what makes the impossible possible. It's why I'm returning to Nepal in November with Snowy Horizon, ready for whatever story the mountains want to tell next.