The Himalayas in Winter: A Solo Trekker’s Guide to Everest Base Camp and three passes 

In the cold silence above 5,000 metres, where oxygen thins and every step feels like defiance, I found myself surrounded by eight-thousanders, dwarfed beneath the shadow of Everest, and yet, felt more alive than I’ve ever been. 

Last winter, I attempted a version of the Everest Base Camp trek that few speak about in casual conversation, and even fewer dare to complete: the Everest Three Passes Trek via Gokyo Lakes. This isn’t the postcard-perfect trek to Base Camp. This is the full traverse of the Khumbu, a high-altitude crucible that takes you over Kongma La (5,535 m), Cho La (5,420 m), and Renjo La (5,360 m)- three high passes, while tracing some of the wildest and diverse terrain the Himalayas has to offer. I did it solo. In December. At the cusp of winter, when the crowds vanish, trails freeze, and silence claims the mountains. 

This article is a distillation of insight: what this trek truly demands, how it reshapes you, and what I wish someone had told me before I set foot on that frostbitten path. You’ll find my day-by-day breakdown, gear and acclimatization tips, and the unfiltered truth about the physical and mental grind of this trail. 

Why I Chose the Everest Base Camp and Three Passes Trek in winter 

When most trekkers race to the Khumbu in October or April, I chose to walk into the heart of winter, with temperatures plunging below -20°C regularly (sometimes even below -30), mountain passes buried under snow, and the trail echoing with nothing but my own breath. It wasn’t for glory. It was for silence. It was for solitude. 

● The Mountains Strip Down in Winter: Winter in the Himalayas is a season of truth. The landscape sheds its crowds, its noise, its soft edges. What’s left is the raw, brutal beauty of high-altitude wilderness: stark glaciers, frozen rivers, knife-edged ridgelines, and sky so clear you feel like you're trespassing in the gods’ domain. The same trails that choke with trekkers in peak months are now stripped bare. Silent, infinite, and yours alone. 

There are no traffic jams at Kala Patthar. No waiting queues at Cho La. You don't just trek the Three Passes in winter—you earn every metre of it. This is when the Himalayas stop being a destination, and start becoming a rite of passage. 

● A Personal Challenge: Having completed high-altitude treks before, I needed something that tested not just my body, but my mindset and systems. 

Would my layering hold up? Would my hydration strategy still work at -20°C? Could I trust myself alone in whiteout terrain?The Everest Base Camp via Three Passes and Gokyo Lakes trek was the perfect proving ground. Add winter to the mix, and it became a self-supported expedition, not just a trek.

● But Let’s Be Clear: Winter Isn’t for Everyone. While winter made the mountains feel more personal, it also made every risk more permanent. I don’t romanticize winter lightly. It’s harsh. Teahouses are often scarce. Water freezes in bottles and pipelines. Snowfall can block trails. If you're not fully prepared, physically, mentally, and logistically, winter will eat up your margin of error. But if you are, winter offers something the peak season never can: solitude, intimacy with the terrain, and the deep, echoing silence of true high-altitude adventure. 

My 12-Day Itinerary: Everest Three Passes Trek in Winter 

Day 1: Lukla → Jorsale 

After flying into the world’s most legendary, and statistically the most dangerous airstrip, I hit the trail under a sky as clear as it can be. The usual buzz of trekkers was missing. Villages lay still. It was just me, the Dudh Koshi river, and the stillness of winter. I stopped at Jorsale, just past the Sagarmatha National Park gate. 

Day 2: Jorsale → Phunki Thenga 

A steep push to Namche in the morning, but instead of staying, I dropped down to the shaded, forest-wrapped hamlet of Phunki Thenga. It’s colder, quieter, and well below the usual stops but ideal for controlled altitude gain and a tactical jump on the next day’s ascent. 

Day 3: Phunki Thenga → Tengboche 

A sharp climb through rhododendron forests opened onto Tengboche’s frostbitten ridge. The monastery stood wrapped in silence, with Ama Dablam gleaming like a blade behind it. The Sherpa village founded by Sir Ed Hillary was still, cinematic, and surreal. 

Day 4: Tengboche → Dingboche 

The trail rose above the treeline, into frost-glazed fields and frozen rivers. Dingboche, one of the last inhabited villages, welcomed me with its single open teahouse. The altitude hit harder here, but the sky seemed deep and endless. It felt like it belonged to another planet. 

Day 5: Acclimatization: Dingboche → Nangkartshang Peak → Dingboche 

A high-altitude buffer day. I climbed to Nangkartshang Peak (5,083 m) under full sun, each breath heavier than the last. The idea: climb high, sleep low. The view from the summit was unreal: Lhotse staring down like a god. But this day was less about views, more about survival strategy. Much needed before the next day’s push. 

Day 6: Dingboche → Kongma La Pass → Lobuche 

The toughest day of the trek. I started at dawn across a featureless, frozen moraine. Kongma La (5,535 m) was wind-blasted and eerily unmarked. No trail, no sound, just space and cold. The descent into Khumbu Glacier was slow, slick, and nerve-testing. 

The final stretch to Lobuche was brutal. The Khumbu valley narrowed into a natural wind tunnel, turning every gust into a blade. By the time I reached Lobuche at sunset, I was frozen to the bone and running on fumes. I was dehydrated, half-dazed but grinning like a fool as euphoria had arrived before warmth ever did.

Day 7: Lobuche → Gorak Shep → Everest Base Camp → Kala Patthar → Gorak Shep

A day of milestones. I reached a deserted Everest Base Camp by noon. The usual tents that cover the base camp were not there. It was just wind over icefall and a few scattered trekkers. Later, I summited Kala Patthar (5,645 m) at golden hour. Everest lit up solo, no clouds, no wind, no noise. Just stillness and scale. 

There were no flags, or any celebrations. It was just stillness, and a quiet recognition between me and the mountains. It wasn’t about conquering anything. Just reaching, witnessing, and silently thanking the land that let me in. 

Day 8: Gorak Shep → Dzongla 

A short but cold descent into the shadows of Cho La. Not a soul in sight. Dzongla emerged at the base of craggy ridges, isolated and wind-swept. It looked like a ghost village in winter’s grip, with just one caretaker waiting in a shuttered lodge. 

Day 9: Dzongla → Cho La Pass → Gokyo 

Another technical crossing and the weather turned. Cho La (5,420 m) was iced over, sky greyed out. The safety rails had been destroyed by a recent rockfall, but the microspikes saved the day. The descent from Cho La was steep and rocky. As I dropped into the Gokyo Valley, the wind picked up sharply and snow freckles danced through the air. The legendary Gokyo Lakes lay frozen in silence: white, glassy, majestic. That night, a snowstorm rolled in and mercury plunged to -30°C. 

Day 10: Gokyo Ri Summit → Phortse Thanga 

A dawn push up Gokyo Ri (5,357 m) in brutal windchill. At the summit I could witness Everest, Lhotse, Makalu, Cho Oyu: the four 8000ers in one glance. Renjo La was closed after a relentless snowstorm. Could I have pushed? Maybe. But the high Himalayas demand respect. This wasn’t a missed milestone; it was a conscious, seasoned decision that every serious trekker eventually learns to make. I dropped sharply into the tree line toward Phortse Thanga, finally rejoined by other winter wanderers of the Khumbu. 

Day 11: Phortse Thanga → Jorsale 

Reconnected with the main EBC trail. Now, it felt tame. Descending was strange as if the mind had acclimatized to the thin air. Villages reappeared. People returned. But the quiet of the upper circuit clung to me like altitude itself. 

Day 12: Jorsale → Lukla 

The final stretch. Familiar trails, thicker air. The rucksack felt lighter. Maybe it was the oxygen, maybe something more. I returned to the same treehouse I began with. My legs were sore. Gears worn. But the soul? Quiet.

Lessons from the Trail: What the High Passes Taught Me 

1. Knowing When to Turn Back Is Survival Sense

The decision to skip Renjo La wasn’t a personal failure, it was ‘mountain sense’. In winter, judgment matters more than ego. Knowing when to push and when to pause can mean the difference between a story and a statistic. 

2. Gear Isn’t Optional, It’s Survival 

Winter trekking isn’t about toughing it out. It’s about smart layering, windproofing, and trusting your microspikes when the trail disappears under ice and temperature goes below -25°C. 

3. Hydration and Nutrition Are Half the Trek 

Water freezes. Your appetite shrinks. But dehydration and calorie deficits hit harder at high altitude. Systems I trusted on the usual treks had to evolve for -25°C nights and slower metabolism. 

4. Solitude Is a Mirror 

In peak season, the Khumbu can feel like a festival. In winter, it’s a monastery. Days of silence strip you down to the bare essentials: your breath, your thoughts, your resolve. You don’t conquer the trail; you come to terms with yourself on it. 

5. Minimalism is Efficiency in the Mountains: 

By Day 4, I knew exactly what I used and what I didn’t. Every gram of dead weight became a lesson. Winter trekking rewards precision. Smart packing isn’t about having more, it’s about needing less. 

Winter Trekking Logistics: Gear, Permits & Smart Planning 

Winter in the Himalayas isn’t just a season, it's an entirely force of nature. The trails are quieter, the stakes are higher, and every decision you make before stepping onto the mountain can shape how (or if) you come out the other side. 

Planning Smart: Timing, Route, and Self-Awareness 

● Winter weather in the Khumbu is notoriously unpredictable. Forecast apps like Windy can offer estimates, but they often fail at predicting microclimates across passes and valleys. Speak to locals, lodge owners, and Sherpas on the trail for accurate and latest weather updates. 

● Build buffer days into your itinerary. The high passes: Cho La, Renjo La, and Kongma La can close without warning due to snowfall or wind. I skipped Renjo La not because I was unfit, but because it was unsafe. If you’re trekking solo, shadowing a group with Sherpas or porters helps with trail-blazing through deep snow. 

Pro Tip: Add a high-altitude acclimatization hike before going beyond the 5000 meter mark. From Dingboche, the Nangkartshang Peak is a popular and fantastic acclimatization option (~5,100m). Climb high, sleep low. It forces your body to adapt by generating more red blood cells, crucial for oxygen-deficient altitudes. 

Gear That Saved Me: 

● Layering: Merino base, fleece mid, down jacket, waterproof shell (for snow and rain).

● Footwear: Insulated, waterproof boots with room for sock layering. 

● Microspikes: Essential for the Cho La glacier. 

● Waterproof and thermal gloves, Neck gaiters, Warm caps 

● Other Climbing tools: Headlamp, Power Banks (wrap them up in warm socks to prevent power drainage due to the cold), 

● Optionals: Sleeping bag, Trekking poles 

Pro tip: Forgot something? Don’t panic. Namche Bazaar has everything. From microspikes to down jackets, but expect premium prices. Higher teahouses offer charging for electronics, usually for a fee. 

Permits & Route Access: 

You'll need: 

● TIMS Card (Trekkers’ Information Management System) 

● Sagarmatha National Park Entry Permit 

● Khumbu Pasang Lhamu Rural Municipality Permit (can be obtained at the entry point of Sagarmatha national park) 

Pro Tip: If attempting high passes, ensure your travel insurance explicitly covers high-altitude trekking above 5,000m and emergency helicopter evacuation as many policies don’t, especially in winter. 

Route Alternatives If the Passes Are Closed 

1. Kongma La Pass: If Kongma La is closed, the safest re-route is through Thukla Pass. From the village Chhukung, head down to Dingboche and rejoin the classic Everest Base Camp trail through Thukla and Lobuche. This route offers better trail visibility, easier gradients, and more open tea houses. 

2. Cho La Pass: Avoid Dzongla: When Cho La is impassable, often the case after fresh snowfall, skip the Dzongla detour entirely. Instead, return via Lobuche and descend toward Pangboche through the main EBC trail. 

3. Renjo La Pass: If Renjo La is closed, the best exit is through the scenic Gokyo Valley. From Gokyo, descend through the villages Machhermo, Dole, and eventually reach Phortse Thanga or Namche Bazaar. This route, while longer, offers consistent trail markings and open lodges even in off-season.

Winter Hidden Gems on the Everest Base Camp Trail 

Once the big-ticket passes and summits are behind you, the trail still whispers its secrets. These are the places I’d return for the hush, the light, the rare stillness that only winter allows. 

1. Gokyo Ri at Sunrise: A Masterpiece 

While Kala Patthar gets most of the hype, sunrise from Gokyo Ri offers an uninterrupted 360-degree panorama of Everest, Lhotse, Makalu, Cho Oyu, and the entire Ngozumpa Glacier in golden light. In December, you might have it all to yourself.

2. The White Ice Lakes of Gokyo 

Most trekkers see the Gokyo lakes in peak season: Turquoise and brilliant, but crowded and melting. In winter, they’re otherworldly. The ice is frozen but still reveals layers of aqua and cobalt beneath the ice. Its nature in slow motion, caught between two states. Don't miss the third lake (Dudh Pokhari) just after sunrise. 

3. Dusk in Lobuche: Silence at 16000 feet 

No horns. No yak bells. Just the wind over stone roofs and the sharp rustle of prayer flags. Lobuche in winter is meditative, a contrast to the buzzing rest-stop it becomes in spring. Step outside just before the sun drops behind the ridge and watch the entire village bathe in gold and blue. 

4. Nangkartshang Peak: The Secret Acclimatization Gem 

Just behind Dingboche lies Nangkartshang, a lesser-known acclimatization peak with jaw-dropping views of Ama Dablam and the Imja Valley. Few take the time to climb it, but it’s a must if you want to prepare for the passes and soak in solitude at 5,000m. 

5. Namche’s Winter Warmth: Unexpected Festive Spirit 

If you’re trekking in December, don’t rush past Namche Bazaar. Fairy lights flicker on snow-covered roofs. Lodges serve surprisingly festive meals: yak cheese pizza, apple pie, and fire-heated rooms. It’s quiet, cozy, and oddly heartwarming. 

Final Thoughts: A Winter Trek That Changed My Lens 

There were moments on this trek when I questioned myself. Alone, frozen, breathless at 17,500 feet, with wind slicing through every layer of gear. There were mornings when my water bottle was frozen solid, my gloves stiff with frost, and not a soul in sight for hours. But there were also moments when it all made sense. 

When I began this journey, I thought I was chasing the famed Three Passes of Everest, and the base camp in winter. But what I found was something quieter, and, in many ways, more lasting: the clarity that comes when life is reduced to effort, instinct, and staying upright one step at a time. The mountains rarely give you what you want. But they always give you what you need. Sometimes in the form of beauty, sometimes through struggle. 

Would I do it again? 

Absolutely. Not because it was easy. Not for the story. But because it was real. Because there are so few places left in the world where you can still feel like the first human to arrive, even if that place sits beneath the most famous peaks on Earth. I’d go back for the stillness above Gokyo. For Lobuche’s golden hour. For that last push over Cho La, when the wind howled like a warning and the sky cracked open like prophecy. More than anything, I’d go back because winter in the Everest region doesn’t just test your limits: it redraws them.