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Chitlang trail run, I will do it again .... and again

I ran to Chitlang this weekend.

Technically, Chitlang is only 13.14 km from my home, I mean, aerial distance. The actual road distance is about 24 km, and the road goes straight over Chandragiri Hill, which is 2,551 meters high. (Yes, only.)

It was a cold, stubbornly chilly morning. I had planned to run the whole route from my doorstep, but then I looked at my trail running shoes with genuine sympathy. They’re built for mud, rocks, and mischief—not 10 km of paved road punishment. So I hopped on a bus up to Naikab. The bus was packed with morning vegetable vendors. I squeezed myself between sacks of cauliflower and piles of leafy greens. It was still dark outside, but for them, the day was already late. I got off in Naikab, inhaled deeply, and started my run toward Matatirtha.

The route welcomed me with a brutal uphill right from Matatirtha. As I trudged and jogged upward, the dawn slowly took pity on me and began lighting the trail. The Himalayas in the north were also waking up and glowing gently, as if stretching after a long night's sleep. The Himalayas were clear and beautiful, while Kathmandu looked pitifully foggy. 

The dirt track was beautifully empty, the sound of my breath rhymed with chirps of birds. I probably met two vehicles and four bikes in the entire route. My shoes finally got to do what they were made for.

I climbed steadily until I reached the top of Chandragiri. I stopped at Bhaleshwor Mahadev and offered a short prayer. I’m pretty sure I was the first visitor of the day. Cable cars were not opened. The whole place was serene.


The downhill toward Chitlang was the reward I deserved. I zigzagged along the motor road, occasionally abandoning it for delightful little trail shortcuts. No earbuds, no music this time. 


I reached Chitlang around 9 AM and ran through the old Newar town. Kids were walking to school, it was Sunday, the first day after the weekend - sounds so anti-Western. Elderly people sat in the early sun, warming themselves. Others were heading out to their daily work. The town felt calm, warm, alive.

Then came my mission: coffee.

I walked into a “resort” and asked for coffee. They brought me instant coffee. I clarified, with hope, “No, real coffee… beans coffee?” The waiter looked at me with sincere regret—“Sir, the whole town does not have that.”

And so, defeated but still thirsty, I settled for what was available.

Beer. At 9:15 AM.

Cheers

Chitlang ✔

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Comments

  1. BishwaDecember 16, 2025 at 4:09 PM

    Cheers bro, that's exactly what I'll do to quench my thirst.

    ReplyDelete

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