You packed your trekking poles. You packed your blister plasters. You downloaded offline maps. And then someone asked what you would eat up there and you went quiet.
Here is the honest answer: mainly rice and lentils. Also cake. And one tea that will become the best thing that happens to you every afternoon.

This is a guide to food on a Nepal trek - what is actually available, why it is designed the way it is, and how to eat well without getting into trouble. Because the food is not the problem. It is smarter than most trekkers expect. You just need to understand the logic first.
(If you are wondering whether you are fit enough for this in the first place, I wrote an honest guide on trekking in Nepal for women over 40. Start there. And if your feet are not ready for it, none of the good food will help - this is how you prevent blisters on a long trek).

Let me explain why.

Rice gives you carbohydrates and fiber — steady energy, no crash. Lentils give you protein and more fiber, which means you stay full longer. No desperate hunger peaks at 3,500m. The curry — mild spice, usually potatoes — is easy on the stomach and the spice itself has antibacterial properties, which matters when you are not entirely sure about the water source. The pickles are fermented vegetables, almost always carrots and cabbage. Probiotics. Your gut will thank you.

Nothing on that plate is fresh in the western sense. Everything is cooked. Everything is freshly prepared from scratch - rice in the pressure cooker, potatoes peeled when you order, spinach thrown in a pan to order. The only thing that is pre-made is the pickle.

This is not laziness. This is the smart approach to feeding people safely at altitude with no refrigeration.
Most teahouses run on solar panels. No electricity grid, no fridge, no freezer. The days can be surprisingly warm, the nights extremely cold. Food safety is not something you manage with a refrigerator here - you manage it by cooking everything fresh, every time.

One more thing you need to know: Dal Bhat is all you can eat. You finish your plate, you hold it up, and they fill it again. Rice, lentils, sometimes the curry too. Free. No asking, no awkwardness. Trekkers say "Dal Bhat power, 24 hours" and they mean it completely seriously.

Local people eat Dal Bhat twice a day and rarely have stomach issues. There is something to learn from that.

The standard menu looks something like this:

• Dal Bhat (several versions, vegetarian where meat is not available)
• Garlic soup
• Fried rice with vegetables, or with vegetables and egg
• Noodle soup (Chow Mein style, with vegetables)
• Thukpa (Tibetan noodle soup - slightly different from Chow Mein, more of a broth, excellent in cold weather)
• Sherpa stew (thick potato and vegetable soup - underrated, very good at altitude)
• Momos (dumplings, usually vegetarian)
• Tibetan bread / Gurung bread
• Sometimes pasta, sometimes fries

A note on momos: they exist on most menus but they take time - often 30 minutes or more, because they are made fresh to order. If you want them, order in the afternoon when you arrive, not when you are already hungry.

A note on garlic soup specifically: it is on every single menu for a reason. Locals swear garlic helps with acclimatisation. I cannot confirm the science. I can confirm it is warm, tasty, and everyone seems to drink it without complaint at altitude. Order it.

Gurung bread is a speciality of the Annapurna region — wheat or buckwheat dough, deep-fried, served with honey. It tastes like a warm doughnut after a five-hour uphill. It is one of my favourite things about this trek.

If you are trekking a more popular lower route (around Poon Hill or parts of the Annapurna Circuit), expect a wider selection - Indian dishes, continental options, even pizza in some places. The higher you go, the simpler it gets. This is not a complaint.

​In parts of the Poon Hill / Annapurna region, the mountain is considered holy and killing animals is not permitted. No meat at all in these sections - eggs are fine, but the Dal Bhat is fully vegetarian. This is worth knowing in advance so it is not a surprise.
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The local people eat Dal Bhat. So should you, most of the time.

Protein bars: You will not find proper protein bars in the mountain teahouses. They sell snacks - Snickers, Mars, the occasional biscuit. Buy protein bars in Kathmandu or Pokhara before you start, wherever your departure point is. If you want to be really organised, bring your own protein powder and mix it with water at the teahouse.

Canned tuna: Sounds ridiculous. It is not. Most small teahouse stores stock canned tuna. Yes, there are mercury concerns with regular tuna consumption. But on a 10-day trek in the no-meat zones, it is a practical source of protein that does not require refrigeration and is actually available. Worth having a few tins.

Eggs: Available everywhere, always. If you want a protein-rich breakfast, scrambled eggs or an omelette is always on the menu. Egg whites are your reliable daily protein boost.

Iron: If you are concerned about iron intake (particularly relevant for women), bring iron supplements. The vegetarian mountain diet is not heavy on iron-rich foods. Easy to manage with a supplement.
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Fiber: Do not worry about fiber. With all the rice and lentils, you will be fine.

For breakfast, most teahouses offer a few things: porridge (usually oatmeal, often with apple, cinnamon, or honey), pancakes (banana or apple are common; some places do lemon with peanut butter or honey which sounds wrong and tastes right), scrambled eggs or an omelette, and Tibetan bread or chapati. Milk tea is always available and always good. Instant coffee too, if you need  it.

Personally, I keep breakfast light when I am trekking. Milk tea, some fruit, a bit of honey. I do not want a heavy stomach for the first few hours of walking.

Fresh fruit is limited the higher you go. Some places have watery cucumbers or carrots. If you are going self-guided, pack apples and bananas from the lower villages. Apples last longer. Bananas get you through the first couple of days. If you are trekking with a guide, this is usually handled - guides buy fruit along the way. These are the realistic options.

Hydration matters more at altitude than most people expect. Tea counts toward your daily fluid intake. Soup counts. You are aiming for 3-4 litres of fluid a day, and not all of it needs to come from your water bottle.
Here is what you will find on every teahouse menu, and what each one is actually for.

Ginger lemon tea - This is the one. If you drink nothing else on the trek, drink this. Hot water, ginger, lemon, usually honey. It is warming, it settles an uncertain stomach, it is good for the throat (altitude plus dry air plus effort equals trekker's cough, and ginger helps), and it tastes like something your grandmother would have made you when you were ill. Which is exactly the energy you want at 3,500m. Order it every afternoon when you arrive. Order it again after dinner. It is cheap and it is everywhere.

Ginger lemon water - Same ingredients, no tea base, just hot water. Lighter if your stomach is already dealing with altitude. At some teahouses this is what they mean by "ginger lemon tea" - at others they make a distinction. Either version works.

Milk tea - Black tea with milk and sugar, served hot and strong. This is what the locals drink all day. Close to what a western person would recognise as chai, though not always spiced. Very good for mornings before you head out.

The food on a Nepal trek is not Instagram food. It is not exciting by city standards. But it is honest, it is safe, it is filling, and it is adapted over generations to exactly this environment. There is a reason the local people thrive on it.
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You will too.

My first trek to Annapurna Base Camp, I kept wondering why people kept climbing and staying up there in the condition they were in.
Coughing. Sneezing. All night long. Every teahouse, every night. I'll be honest - my first reaction was judgment. I thought: these people are sick, why aren't they turning back? Why are they being so irresponsible, dragging a flu up a mountain?

Then I asked myself a better question: why are so many people coughing and sneezing, at the same altitude, on the same nights? That's not a coincidence. That's not a cold.

Here's what four treks - and a lot of research since - have taught me.

​In four high-altitude treks so far, our groups have always made it to the summit. That's not luck I take for granted - it's never been guaranteed, and it's never been a sure thing for everyone in the group. Two people, on two different treks, had it close.

​Here's how I explain it to anyone joining one of our treks now: one type hits your lungs. The other hits your head.

The lungs type - you get short of breath, even resting. A dry cough that won't quit. In serious cases, a fast heart rate and a bluish tint to the lips. This is what doctors call HAPE (High Altitude Pulmonary Edema) - fluid building up in the lungs. It can happen to genuinely fit people with zero warning. It is also the more dangerous of the two and can become fatal within 12 hours if someone doesn't descend.

The head type - a headache that painkillers don't touch, nausea, confusion, trouble walking a straight line. This is HACE (High Altitude Cerebral Edema), and it's really a severe escalation of ordinary altitude sickness rather than a separate illness. It can be fatal within 24 hours if ignored.

​And then there's the common one, AMS (Acute Mountain Sickness) - basically a hangover crossed with the flu. Headache, nausea, fatigue, no appetite, bad sleep. It usually shows up within the first day at a new altitude. Annoying, not usually dangerous, as long as you respond to it instead of pushing through it.

​This was a 14-day trek - Langtang first, then up to Gosaikunda Lake, then down through Helambu. One of the fittest people in our group, genuinely athletic, the kind of trekker you'd assume altitude wouldn't touch, started feeling nauseous and lightheaded around 3,500m. We'd been climbing steadily - at 3,000m he was fine, by 3,500m he clearly wasn't.

He took medication, but the next day's plan was a push toward Tserko Ri, the roughly 5,000m summit, sleeping around 4,000m on the way up. Our guide, Sahadev, made the call: this man stays at 4,000m. Not because he was weak. Because that is exactly the right response to altitude symptoms - you don't push higher hoping it passes. You stop, and you let your body catch up.
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Here's the part that stuck with me. Days later, after Gosaikunda, our route took us over Lauribina La pass at around 4,610m - higher than where he'd had to stop before, though still short of Tserko Ri, the roughly 5,000m summit the rest of us had reached without him. He crossed Lauribina La without a single symptom. Same body, same person, just more days of gradual acclimatization behind him. That's the clearest proof I've seen that altitude sickness isn't really about fitness or willpower - it's about time and pacing.

​On a different trek, another woman in the group started with a severe headache around the same altitude - 3,500m. Because she also hadn't slept well, she wasn't sure if it was the altitude or just exhaustion. Hard to tell the difference when you're up there.

The local advice, from everyone around us, was garlic soup. We fed her a lot of it. She eventually vomited - a lot (not sure if it was the garlic in her stomach or the altitude though :)) and felt immediately better afterward. We slowed our pace, she slept, and the next day she reached the 4,500m summit goal with the rest of us.

Garlic and ginger tea are genuine local Nepali remedies, and there's some real science behind garlic supporting blood circulation. But I think what actually helped just as much was slowing down and letting her body process what was happening instead of rushing the schedule.

Sleeping at 4,100-4,300m, I've had nights where my breathing went so shallow I woke up feeling like I couldn't get enough air. That feeling alone can spiral fast if you let it.

Here's what I do, and what I now teach every person who treks with me: calm down first. Then count your breaths - in for four, out for four. In 1-2-3-4, out 4-3-2-1. It forces your breath to equalize and gives your mind something to focus on other than panic.

Nine times out of ten you'll realize you weren't actually short of breath - you were panicking about being short of breath, which is a different problem entirely. The real danger at altitude isn't usually the thin air. It's letting panic take over before you've even checked whether panic is necessary.
​
This breathing technique is one of 5 rituals in my FREE Adventure Kickstart Rituals Guide - the others are just as simple and just as useful, on a mountain or on an ordinary Tuesday.

​I watched this happen to someone else, and it stayed with me. A Nepali woman, at night, around 4,300m, panicked completely. Screaming, shouting, unable to bring herself back down. She had to be walked down the mountain in the dark, with people organizing around her to get her to safety.
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I couldn't do anything for her in that moment except watch. It's the clearest example I've seen of how altitude sickness isn't only physical - the mental spiral can be just as dangerous as the thin air itself.

​I've never gone up without one, and watching these two close calls handled calmly and correctly is exactly why. A guide isn't a "nice to have" at altitude - they're the actual difference between a hard day and a medical emergency. This is one of the biggest reasons my Nepal retreats run with experienced local guides who've spent years reading these signs - not because I don't trust trekkers to be careful, but because at 4,000m, having someone watching you who has seen this a hundred times is worth more than any amount of personal toughness.
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If you're considering Nepal, this is the kind of thing I build into every trip.

​​Have you experienced altitude sickness, or are you preparing for a high-altitude trek? Tell me in the comments - I read everything.

Every morning on the Camino I watched the zombie ritual.

5am. White fluorescent lights. Pilgrims sitting on the edges of their bunks, unwrapping bandages from blisters so bad I'd never seen anything like it in my life. Wincing. Taping. Hoping today would be better than yesterday.

By the end of the Camino I had a theory: the whole thing is actually a walking pharmacy procession. I saw every blister prevention product ever invented, every blister recovery kit, every wound dressing, every experimental taping technique known to humankind. If I were a pharmacist or a drugstore owner, I would absolutely sponsor the Camino, brand all of it, and put up signs every 10km: Nearest pharmacy: 200m. You're going to need it. Business idea. Someone take it. 

I walked 500+ km on the Camino Primitivo - considered as one of the toughest of the Camino routes. Not a single blister. Same in Nepal. 14 days trekking in the Himalayas. Zero.
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Here's my system.

I am not a podiatrist. I am not blessed with miracle feet - I actually have plantar fasciitis, which means I already have to be careful about how I treat them. What I do have is a simple three-part system I've used on every long-distance trek for years. It costs almost nothing and takes five minutes a day.

I got lost in the Himalayas at 4,100 meters. Alone. With two phones and two SIM cards - and zero signal on either.
​It was late afternoon. The group had stopped for coffee, and I told them to go ahead while I tied my shoelace. One wrong path later, I was walking downhill into the most beautiful, completely empty valley I'd ever seen. Monkeys. Waterfalls. Not a single other person.

​After an hour and a half, I realized I was definitely not heading to Rainbow Tea House.
Here's what happened next: I found a tiny village so remote that tourists almost never reach it. Children surrounded me immediately, laughing, trying English words. I tried to explain I was looking for a tea house. They smiled and waved. Nobody spoke enough English to help - and my messages weren't going through to anyone.
Eventually I found someone who could tell me: Rainbow Hut was two and a half hours away, through the valley, following the river.
So I walked. In the dusk. With a headlamp. Alone.
By the time I reached the tea house, it was dark. Sahadev - our guide, with 15+ years in these mountains - had already organized a search party. Guides, local people, donkeys and mules running the trails looking for me. He arrived at the tea house an hour after I did. I have never seen anyone that pale.
I tell this story not to scare you. I tell it because of what it showed me about women over 40.
I didn't panic. I assessed. I made decisions. I kept moving. Not because I'm special - because by our forties, most of us have been through enough to know that panic doesn't solve problems. Rational thinking does.
That said: Nepal is not a walk in a park. Here's the honest guide.

Is Nepal Actually Doable for Women Over 40?

Yes. With a caveat: it depends entirely on which Nepal trek and how you prepare.
I've done four different trails in Nepal: Annapurna Base Camp, Mardi Himal Base Camp, the Langtang-Gosaikunda-Helambu circuit, and Pikey Peak. This November Sahadev (my friend and local guide) and I are co-hosting a group through Khopra Ridge for the first time - a 6-day trek reaching 4,200 meters, with a summit day to Khayer Lake at 4,827 meters. Daily walking is 4-6 hours, not 8-10. Porters carry your main bag. Tea houses appear every 1-2 hours. The trail is well-maintained.
I was 45 when I first reached 4,100 meters at Annapurna Base Camp and stood there unable to quite believe I'd done it. I was 47 when I made it to 5,000 meters on Tserko Ri in the Langtang area - the last 800 meters so thin on oxygen that I was taking a few steps, then stopping to breathe, then a few more steps. I made it. At 47.
The mountains don't care about your age. They care about your preparation.

This surprises people. The physical challenge of Nepal is real but manageable for most moderately active women. What I've seen break people - women and men - is the comfort gap.
By our forties, we're used to our routines. Our good pillow. Our face wash. Eight hours of sleep in a proper bed.
In the mountain teahouses: you sleep on a thin mattress on a wooden plank. Rooms are shared - privacy doesn't exist here. You pull your own sleeping bag tight because the blankets are there but you'd rather not think too hard about when they were last washed. I always pack a scarf to put over the pillowcase. The toilet is shared. The water is cold. Hot showers don't exist above a certain altitude - you're washing with a bottle of water, doing the basics.
It's noisy. It's cold in the evenings. And period supplies - tampons and pads both - are simply not available in the mountains. This is a taboo topic in local culture. Local women don't discuss it. If you manage to explain what you need, someone might quietly pass you a pad. Bring everything from home. Don't rely on finding anything on the trail.
None of this is dangerous. All of it is uncomfortable. And somewhere around day 3 or 4, the emotional question arrives: Why am I doing this? I could be at home right now.
That moment is the real test of Nepal. Not the uphill. Not the altitude. That moment.
The women who get through it do so because they've already decided the answer. They know why they're there. They've committed.

​The Altitude Question

At 4,200 meters, the air is noticeably thinner. Most people feel it as a mild headache, slower thinking, needing more breath for simple movements.
We've had group members with more serious symptoms - vomiting, severe headache. We carry medication. We monitor carefully. And we follow the most important advice Sahadev ever gave me:
When you arrive at altitude, don't rest immediately. Keep moving. A slow walk around, some gentle yoga on the grass, a short uphill and back. This keeps your breathing rhythm active while your body adjusts. Every time I've done this, I've been fine. Every time I've seen someone go straight to their bunk, they've woken up feeling worse.

What to Prepare (The Honest Version)

You don't need to be an athlete. You need endurance.

​Specifically: you should be able to do 30 minutes of jogging or 15-20 minutes of jump rope before you go. Not comfortably - pushing yourself, but finishing. That's the baseline.
What I'd add beyond that:

• Leg strength. The knees take the most punishment, especially on descents. Squats, lunges, single-leg work. This matters more than cardio.
• Jump rope. I'm slightly obsessed with this, specifically the cordless version. It builds calf strength, quad strength, and - critically - trains your breathing rhythm at elevated heart rate. That rhythm is exactly what you need at altitude. Start with 2-3 minutes, build to 15-20 over weeks. The cordless option means you can do it indoors, in any weather, in a small space. Minimal investment, real results.
• Consistency over intensity. Three moderate sessions a week for three months beats two weeks of heroic effort. Your legs need time to adapt, not just one big push.

One more thing: the first four people who sign up for the November Nepal trek receive free access to the Adventure Pill - my 7-day movement programme built specifically around lower body strength, stability, and breathing rhythm. It's designed as trek prep. 

The "Nepali Flat" is real. It means you're going up and then down and then up again, constantly, with no actual flat sections. Your legs feel it differently than a straight incline. Train hills, not just flat runs.
Tea houses are social. You share tables with strangers. You eat dal bhat (twice a day if you want - it's unlimited). You talk to people from everywhere. This is part of what makes Nepal Nepal.
Cold nights, warm days. The temperature swings are dramatic. Layers are everything. One item I'd never leave behind: merino wool base layers. They regulate temperature, they don't hold odor (useful when laundry is not an option), and they're light.
Insurance is not optional. We're trekking at altitude in a remote area. Emergency helicopter evacuation exists and sometimes gets used. I have seen it. Get your insurance before you go.
(e)SIM for Nepal. Mobile data is spotty in the mountains (as I discovered). But having a local (e)SIM for Kathmandu and Pokhara and some lower altitude lodges is genuinely useful. 
How many nights is right? I've done treks of 4 nights and 14 nights. Four nights is a teaser - beautiful, challenging, but just when your body and mind are adjusting, it's over. You leave feeling like you could do so much more, which is actually a good feeling. Fourteen nights is absolutely doable, but the emotional accumulation is real. The discomfort builds. The "why am I here" moments multiply.
The sweet spot I've found - and why Khopra Ridge is structured the way it is - is 6 nights in the mountains. Long enough to actually change something. Short enough that you don't hit the wall. You get the discomfort, the challenge, the views, the earned exhaustion - without the full breakdown. It's the perfect length for a first or second Nepal trek.

The Moment That Makes It Worth

All of It.

Standing at Annapurna Base Camp at 4,100 meters, I cried. Not dramatically - just quietly, in the way you do when something you didn't quite believe you could do turns out to be real.

That's the thing about Nepal that I can't quite explain in a practical guide: the altitude strips away everything ordinary. By day 4, you're sleeping well despite the wooden plank, eating dal bhat with real appetite, having conversations with strangers that feel more honest than most conversations at home. Something about the mountains makes people real.
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And when you get back to Kathmandu - hot shower, actual bed, reliable wifi - it doesn't feel like relief. It feels like returning from somewhere that mattered.

Want to Do This With a Group?

This November Sahadev and I are co-leading a small group through the Khopra Ridge trek for the first time - 11 days. Sahadev has 15+ years guiding these mountains and a 99% successful trek rate. (He's also the one who organized the search party when I got lost. He's very good at his job :))))
I deliberately timed the trip around Tihar - Nepal's biggest holiday, also known as Diwali - so we experience it as it actually is: candles, flowers, families gathering, the whole country lit up. Not a tourist show. Real life unfolding around you.
We move at a pace that lets you actually see where you are. Porters handle your main bag. Daily yoga sessions are included. Everyone who signs up receives a customized packing list. And the first four people to sign up get free access to the Adventure Pill trek prep programme.

The early bird price is €1,100 per person if you book before 31 May 2026. After that, it's €1,300.
See the full Nepal trip details here.

​When I decided to walk the Camino Primitivo, it wasn’t for a big spiritual awakening or a midlife “find yourself” quest. Honestly, it was logistics.
A full route - Oviedo to Santiago.
Two weeks - just enough time off before getting back to teaching yoga and VA work.
And it ticked my usual boxes: short, steep, beautiful, challenging. Perfect.

But life had other plans (doesn’t it always?).
Those yoga classes I was rushing back for? Canceled.
One of my longest VA clients? Business sold, work gone.

​So instead of walking on schedule, I was walking it out.
All the endings, the questions, the weird sense of freedom that comes when your plans fall apart - they came with me in that backpack. And somewhere between the rain, the sweat, and the silence, the Camino started to shift from “trip” to therapy with better views.

If you want to see how this journey actually looked - the mountains, the coffee breaks, the laughter, the messy hair, and the little miracles - you can walk it with me on Instagram.
It wasn’t a polished trip. It was sweaty, real, sometimes lonely, sometimes euphoric - and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.
Because sometimes, the best way to find your balance is to lose it on purpose.

The shift from summer to autumn is like watching a tree turn gold—there’s beauty, change, and an invitation to let go. Summer was about expansion and radiance. Autumn, though? It’s about slowing down, gathering the lessons of the year so far, and preparing for the most productive months in the corporate world ahead—September to November.

On 22 September, the autumn equinox arrived - a rare moment when day and night stand in perfect balance. It’s the apex of transition, the tipping point where we leave summer’s fiery extroversion and step into autumn’s quieter invitation: slower days, cozy evenings, warm food, and reflective space.
If summer was all about festivals, adventures, and saying yes to every outdoor hour, autumn pulls us toward the blankets, the books, and the tea kettle. It’s the season where we’d rather sip something warm than chase another sunset. And yet - here’s where it gets interesting.

The Paradox of Autumn
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Even though nature asks us to slow down, many people find that autumn is the most productive time of the year. Research and productivity experts note that September and October often bring a surge of focus - partly because the holidays are over, and partly because the corporate world piles on deadlines, budgets, and year-end goals.
As one article on LifeAt.io puts it, autumn can feel like a sweet spot for getting things done - but only if we balance it with grounding practices.
So we end up holding two truths at once:

• Inside, our bodies crave rest, warmth, reflection.
• Outside, the world demands deadlines, targets, productivity.

We can’t escape this paradox, but we can learn how to balance it.

Autumn Isn’t for New Beginnings
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Here’s an important shift in perspective: autumn isn’t the season for rushing into new projects or big fresh starts. Nature shows us this clearly - leaves fall, plants retreat, seeds go dormant. Energy is about releasing and reflecting, not exploding forward.
This doesn’t mean “do nothing.” Instead, autumn invites us to:

• Review what worked and what didn’t this year.
• Notice which habits, projects, or relationships feel nourishing - and which don’t.
• Let new ideas quietly rest in the soil.

Think of this season as the seed stage. Your ideas don’t need to sprout yet. They’re rooting, drawing nutrients from experience, and waiting for spring’s natural expansion to give them wings.
Autumn is background work time: reflecting, sketching, planting seeds. Not the push of execution, but the quiet work of preparing for what comes next.

• U - Unwind Your Nervous System

​Try Bhramari breath: inhale, then exhale with a humming sound like a bee, 5–7 times. Or practice sound awareness - closing your eyes and noticing the subtle layers of sound around you. Both soothe Vata’s restless energy.

• M - Move with Intention

Choose grounding practices: slow yoga flows, walks in nature, forward folds, balances. Move to center yourself, not to perform.

• N - Nourish Deeply

Support digestion and the colon with warming foods. Try stews, porridges, roasted veggies, and tonics. Golden milk is my favorite cozy potion (recipe below!).
 And if you want to nurture your gut even more, here’s a 30-minute yoga practice for digestion I recorded for you. Roll out your mat, follow along, and let your belly feel at ease. 

Takeaway

Autumn is a season of contradictions: cozy and pushy, inward and outward, gentle and productive. We can’t control the outside world, but we can choose how we balance ourselves within it.
So tend your body, soothe your nervous system, nourish your gut, and let your ideas rest like seeds in the soil. Your spring self will thank you.

If you’d like more reflections and seasonal tools, sign up for my newsletter - this is where I share future seasonal resets and keep our little community inspired and grounded.

Because autumn doesn’t ask you to bloom. It asks you to root. 

​I can hardly believe I’m actually about to do this. In just a few days, I’ll strap on my backpack, pick up my trekking poles, and walk 320 kilometers across northern Spain. Two weeks, one foot in front of the other, through mountains, villages, and all the weather the Camino gods decide to throw at me.

So what is the Camino Primitivo, exactly?
It’s the original Camino route - the first path a pilgrim ever walked to Santiago de Compostela, way back in the year 814 AD. King Alfonso II made that journey from Oviedo to visit the newly discovered remains of St. James, and thousands of pilgrims have followed in his footsteps since.
The Camino isn’t just one route - it’s a whole web of pilgrim trails criss-crossing Europe. Some are flatter, sunnier, easier. The Primitivo? Not so much.
This one is a wild child.
It winds through the mountains of Asturias, where mornings can be 5°C mist and afternoons 32°C sun. It’s known as one of the toughest routes: one day you’re climbing to 1,200 meters, the next you’re dropping 700, then climbing back up again. Your quads never get bored.

So why did I pick this one?
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At first, it was pure practicality:

• 320 km — a full Camino route, start to finish, not just a “section.”
• 2 weeks — just enough time off to squeeze in a pilgrimage and still get back to teaching yoga and my VA work.

But then the universe laughed. Those classes I was rushing back for? Gone. One of my longest VA clients? Business sold, no more work for me. Suddenly, the Camino shifted. It wasn’t just about the schedule. It became about letting go, walking it out, and seeing what shows up when I stop clinging to plans.
And, of course, because the views are said to be out. of. this. world - rolling green hills, stone villages, forests so still you can hear your heartbeat. The kind of trail that makes you whisper, “holy sh*t, I’m really doing this.”

Which brings me to the next part: packing.
If you want to survive two weeks of mountains, sun, rain, and dorm life, you’ve got to be smart about what you carry. My dream goal? 6 kilos total. My first trial pack? 10.5 kilos. Classic.
So here’s exactly what I’m bringing (and overthinking) for my Camino Primitivo.

​Camino Primitivo Packing List: My Attempt at 6kg (And How It’s Going…)
My Packing Goal (and Reality Check)I went in with a very clear goal: 6 kilos total.

• 1 kg = my backpack itself (a 38L Decathlon).
• 5 kg = everything else.

Minimalist, light, free. Like a mountain goat with Wi-Fi.
Then I did my first trial pack. Drumroll, please… 10.5 kg. The second one: 8.5 kg. OK, that's it.
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Yep. Double what I wanted. So this blog is both my packing list and my confession. I’m still trimming, tweaking, and learning to let go. But here’s where I’m at.

I’m a huge fan of Decathlon*—affordable, practical, durable gear that doesn’t make me cry if it gets muddy, sweaty, or dragged through an airport. That’s why you’ll see so many of their items on my list. I’ve added the exact models where it makes sense, in case you’re as nerdy about gear as I am.

🧥 Jacket & Outerwear

• Puff jacket: Forclaz MT100 (Decathlon)
• Rain poncho

Food; None. Zero. Nada.
This is Spain - we’re talking bread, cheese, wine, tortillas, tapas. Trust me, I’ll survive.

Final Thoughts (for Now)
So that’s my list. Will I end up closer to 6 kg than 8.5? We’ll see. I’m still in the editing phase. Packing light is an art, and clearly I’m still in kindergarten.
But here’s what I know: the Camino doesn’t care if you have 5 outfits or 2. It cares if you show up, put one foot in front of the other, and let the road strip you down to the essentials.
And honestly? That’s the real packing list:

• Curiosity.
• A sense of humor.
• Decent shoes.
• And maybe… just maybe… fewer bikinis (I am sure they make these +2 kg.)

​If you want to see how this all plays out - the mountains, the mishaps, the sweaty selfies, and whether I actually survive with “only” 10 kilos on my back - you can follow along in real time. I’ll be sharing daily stories and updates on Instagram and tracking the full journey step by step on Polarsteps.

​Come walk with me (virtually) - cheer me on, laugh at my packing mistakes, and maybe get inspired for your own adventure.