Nothing is as satisfying as watching dawn break over Annapurna. All is still and silent, except for the soft crunch of snow under thick-soled boots, as the mountains poke through the mist, bathed in the tawny glow of the Nepalese sun.

In 2010, 79,000 trekkers, mostly from Southeast Asia, flocked to the vast Annapurna Sanctuary, hoping to catch a glimpse of the vast amphitheater of Himalayan peaks. We were one such group.

Getting there, however, was no easy feat, especially for a large group like ours.

Of the three routes available, we chose the 12-day Annapurna Sanctuary trek, through forests of oak, rhododendron and Gurung villages - the perfect route for 23 rowdy high school students who craved adventure yet were unwilling to relinquish the luxury of hot showers for more than two weeks.

And we chose the perfect time, October, late enough to escape the monsoon, but early enough to avoid the risk of being crushed by winter avalanches.

We began our journey well-fed, rested and full of anticipation, making our way from the coastal tourist city of Pokhara to the start of our trek in one of Nepal's many double-decker "hippie buses" - complete with vinyl seats and intricate Buddhist graffiti adorning its walls.

Sticking our heads out of the window, we watched throngs of tourists threading in and out of dusty streets, and enjoyed the scent of hot local breads, known as chapatti, wafting from the market stalls, reveling in the cacophony of the civilized world before embarking on our trek.

The first days of hiking, from Dhampus to Landrung, was surprisingly relaxed. I was expecting rugged, rocky landscapes and vigorous uphill climbs. Instead, there were flat, stone paths, chestnut forests, locals tending to their crops and rolling hills that looked like cake batter falling into a tin tray.

Protected within the Annapurna Conservation Area, it felt like strolling through a Shangri-La of lush green and wispy cirrus clouds.

I was beginning to think my full pack of blister pads and dehydration salts were redundant. How wrong I was.

As we entered the gateway to the Annapurna Sanctuary, the light green hues darkened and a jagged path dotted with suspension bridges hanging precariously between two cliffs, appeared. The oppressive heat and harsh incline of the slope instantly wiped off our eager grins and killed all conversation.

While I trudged on in my shiny Columbia hiking boots, the porters, ranging in age from 15 to 50, bounded up cracked stone steps with 10 kg packs strapped on their backs and flimsy plastic sandals on their feet. As we stepped aside to let them pass (giving way to the porters being the golden rule of Annapurna courtesy), I could only muster a shame-faced nod of admiration and disbelief.

Tourist hikers were easily distinguishable by their elaborate fanny packs, hiking poles, waterproof pants and ankle-high Gortex shoes. Regardless of nationality, we greeted fellow hikers with a nod and a breathless namaste, or hello, proudly displaying the full extent of our Nepalese vocabulary.

Frequently, especially at the beginning of the trek, groups of elderly women, approached us with bags of handmade goods. Even the most frugal among us could not but help succumb to their persuasive marketing - "300 rupees, you buy? Very, very nice, wear this bracelet, no more bad luck".