On May 14, 2025, there was a unique enthusiasm. While the experience of visiting Lo Manthang in Mustang was important, the plan to set foot on Korala, the crucial northern border crossing connecting Nepal with China, was the main focus today. Naturally, this heightened the excitement.

Harihar Birahi, a senior journalist and my hotel room partner, and I took a morning stroll around the Lo Manthang settlement.

We had arrived late yesterday and had to attend a Press Union program immediately inside the palace complex, so we hadn’t been able to explore Lo Manthang properly. During our walk, we observed the lack of water in the Himalayan region and problems in conserving the available water.

We looked for tea in the market but didn’t find any, perhaps because it was early morning. We decided to return to our hotel, Mystic, to satisfy our craving for tea. After spending about 45 minutes in the market, we deemed it appropriate to return to the hotel. We had already toured the palace yesterday.

It was 7 AM when we returned to the hotel. The rest of our group was also returning after visiting the Lo Manthang market. We chatted with Tashi Nharbu Gurung, the Chairman of Lo Manthang Rural Municipality, for a while. He said, “You journalists should bring out the stories and suffering of this place through your reporting.

Few journalists come here, and most of them have different objectives. Few actually write. You are going to Korala, which is also within this rural municipality. Korala has many problems; if the state were to see and hear these issues, it would be beneficial for this area and significantly aid its development.”

We agreed with the words of the Rural Municipality chief. Indeed, journalists should report what they see and experience. Journalists should report not only from accessible locations but also from remote and rugged areas. Harihar Dai and I recalled the old days of journalism and evaluated the present—most journalists are in a hurry to fulfill their desires and needs in easy-to-access places.

It was around 8 AM when all the friends gathered and began the journey from Lo Manthang (3,850 m) towards Korala (4,600 m), which is an additional 750 meters higher. We had been informed in Lo Manthang about Korala: “It is appropriate to return before 12 PM. The wind picks up fiercely after 10/11 AM, making it difficult to stay outside. Apart from a large field, some temporary Nepali shops made of tarpaulin on the Nepal side, and some tall buildings erected on the Chinese side, there is nothing much to see. So, you won’t need much time there. You will probably be back by 11 AM.”

This was important information for us.

Korala is about 24 kilometers from Lo Manthang. Locals said it takes a maximum of an hour to an hour and a half to reach, though they noted that if we lingered along the enjoyable route, the travel time would be uncertain. In the morning, the hotel owner, Karchung Lhamo Gurung, had reminded us, “Please be careful; Korala is higher than this. You might suffer from altitude sickness. Turn back if you feel difficulty while ascending. Don’t force yourself.”

Our group split into three vehicles, and the journey began. The journey is captivating. The road is unpaved. The question of why the road is not paved did not occur to me.

I believe this road should always remain unpaved. This would help preserve the naturalness and authenticity of the area and support environmental conservation.

We were gradually getting closer to Korala. My estimation was that the geography ahead would be similar to the negative impact I had assessed on the climate and environment from Jomsom to Lo Manthang. The effects of the weather system and climate change have most affected the indigenous agricultural system.

After a journey of about 8-10 kilometers, passing through hills without vegetation, a landscape almost devoid of greenery, but with captivating Himalayan views, we reached near a place called Nhechhung. There is hardly any climb from Lo Manthang to this point; it feels like the car is driving on a flat surface. We saw a stream ahead called Namdok. The surrounding Himalayas were clearly visible. We felt the Himalayas were smiling in welcome.

We got out of the cars. A bridge had recently been built over the Namdok stream. The bridge has made the journey to Korala much easier. We paused here briefly, took some pictures to cherish the moment, and moved on. Next to the stream is a small settlement also named Namdok. It is considered the last settlement on the Nepal side in this direction. We did not enter the settlement. We agreed to visit the village on our way back from Korala if time permitted and continued our journey.

A little further on, on the left, we found an Armed Police Force post (BOP checkpost). We got out and read the police post signboard. The place was called Nhechhung (Nechung). Strategically, this place is extremely important for Nepal. This is Nepal’s last police post in this direction. After this, up to Korala, Nepal’s formal presence is practically non-existent.

The local residents informed us that Nepal’s Customs Office is also here, and formal/informal immigration work is also done from here. We stopped at the post for a while. Shiva Lamsal, the Press Union President, jokingly asked the police, “Is this the last police post of Nepal? Is there no presence of ours above? What if a crime occurs or there is a problem in the settlement there?”

The police replied, “After Namdok, we have no settlement above. The wind is very strong in Korala. We go to the border in the morning and return around 12 PM.”

In other words, Nepal’s formal presence at the Korala border is absent after 12 PM at the latest. I understood that the compulsion, pain, and border reality of our state hidden within the seemingly simple conversation were alarming. This means that the approximately 14 kilometers after Nhechhung are extremely important from Nepal’s security point of view. Generally, a 10-yard area around the border pillar is considered a no-man’s land, but here it is a matter of more than 10 kilometers. The state mechanism in Kathmandu has not paid attention here. The local state mechanism (rural municipality) does not have the capacity or capability. I involuntarily exclaimed, “Oh, so this is how a state runs!”

I felt a glimpse of snow smiling on the surrounding hillocks. It was difficult to determine whether the smile of the Himalayas was satirical or natural given my state of mind.

After the police checkpost, our vehicle started ascending. I felt a slight headache on this incline. I remembered what Karchung, the hotel owner in Lomanthang, had said before the trip. I told Shiva about my headache. He gave me a tablet of medicine, and he took one too. After a while of taking the medicine, the pain seemed to subside a bit. I don’t know if it was a psychological issue or if I was genuinely starting to feel altitude sickness.

The cars continued to climb. Our car stopped when a slightly flat area was visible up top. We all got out of the cars. Based on what we were told, we were at an altitude of about 4,200 meters. It must have been around 9:30 AM, and the speed of the wind was increasing.

The Dhaulagiri and Nilgiri mountains were visible to the south. These two mountains are clearly visible from only a very few places. Around us were barren, pale, yellowish hills, and in the distance, Dhaulagiri and Nilgiri.

After driving for 20-25 minutes from there, we saw a large field, a few tarpaulins pitched in the field, and some neat, large buildings further away. It wasn’t difficult for us to realize we had reached the Korala border crossing. Nepali shops operated under the tarpaulins, while the location of the large buildings was Chinese territory.

We got out of the car and began to walk around the field. There is nowhere else to walk in Korala, but there is an opportunity to feel pain by making a comparative study of China and Nepal. The pain of inequality is palpable!

In the process, we saw Border Pillar Number 24. We approached the pillar. The attention of the people there was focused on our group of 12-15 people. Our group included journalists from three generations, but the experience was the same. The land north of the pillar belongs to China, and the south belongs to Nepal. To secure the evidence of our visit, we took photographs with the pillar in the middle. The political border stops us from traveling with the north-south extended snow-covered mountain ranges, even though the pillar does not obstruct them.

We also stopped at the pillar. Our entry north of the pillar is not possible without formal procedures. Across the pillar is another country. There are huge buildings on the Chinese side. There is a thick deployment of security personnel. We heard that their customs and immigration offices are in those huge buildings. But there is nothing on our side.

The Immigration Office was established in Korala in October 2024 but has not been put into operation. In the name of the Immigration Office, there is a temporary house in a corner. But the rooms are locked. A few Nepali security personnel were also seen, who would soon descend to Nhechhung.

Perhaps knowing we were journalists, the shopkeepers under the tarpaulins gathered before us. They were telling us about their problems. Some friends went with them to look at their shops. How much we listened to and understood their issues is a different matter, but one thing we all deeply felt was the wide disparity in the presence of the two countries at the border. The geography is the same, but the time is different here. The time across the pillar is two and a quarter hours faster, or ahead, than the time on this side of the pillar. The clock shows 11 AM for Nepal, but it is already 1:15 PM across the border.

The wind speed is continuously increasing. Our car was ready to turn back. Before getting into the car, I looked back. I felt Korala was mocking me and asking, “Why did you come here? What did you see, what did you get?”

I continued forward, searching for the answer within myself.