Rak Airways, a leading carrier of the UAE, will offer three flights a week to Kathmandu from February 15, marking the expansion of the airline’s network to 11 destinations.

Rak Airways re-launched operations in 2010 with two routes to Jeddah and Calicut, India. Since then, the airline has focused on extending its route network across the GCC, Indian sub-continent and North Africa, a statement said.

Rak Airways CEO Omar Jahameh said, “Kathmandu is a destination that appeals to both leisure and business travellers. The stunning natural scenery and opportunities for trekking and climbing have developed Nepal into a thriving tourism destination.”

“The tourism industry is a key area of focus for the Nepalese government; last year’s dedicated tourism campaign increased visitor numbers by approximately 20 per cent,” he added.

Trek can be what walkers make of it

In the shadow of Mount Everest and its magnetic lore, a cross-border route with a grand name, the Great Himalaya Trail, is being touted as an epic, untapped alternative to the bucket-list trek to base camp on the world's highest mountain.

Trekking this trail is an odyssey, not a routine vacation, and even promoters admit that it's more a theory or consumer product for an untested market than a continuous path. Instead, it's a web of paths, many unmapped and barely connecting, that meander east to west along the Himalayan range.

Granted, the Great Himalaya Trail lacks the history and utility of the Silk Road, the ancient trade network that linked Asia to Europe, or the cohesion and accessibility of the Appalachian Trail for hikers in the United States.

Instead, it is what trekkers and climbers make of it: a one-time hike through forests and grasslands at lower elevation, an assault on high passes that demand technical skill, or a periodic pilgrimage to sample chunks of the rugged expanse.

Susanne Stein, a 44-year-old German, completed an eastern trek on Nepal's section of the trail with three guides in late 2011 and is preparing for the central and western leg in February. When it's all over, she'll have covered 1,050 miles in 165 days.

"One thing I like very much is just to move," said Stein, a health specialist whose assignments for international aid groups have included Sudan's Darfur region, Pakistan's earthquake-hit Kashmir region, Afghanistan, and Nepal. "I always have the feeling I want to see around the corner. This keeps me going somehow."

Stein set out a week after a deadly earthquake in the Himalayan region. Some paths had been virtually wiped out by landslides, forcing her team to crawl at times. In the past, she visited the Everest region on her own. But Stein prefers guides on the Great Himalaya Trail, or GHT, because they motivate her when she is exhausted and they sometimes have to choose a way forward from several options.

"The GHT goes through areas where there is no guesthouse, no food, and no defined trail. So I guess for the average tourist, it is too difficult to do it alone. Besides the fact that you need to be fit. Probably for people with very good navigation skills, and a good map and GPS, it's possible," Stein wrote in an email.

A Nepal-based campaign aims to transform the Great Himalaya Trail into a basket of options for adventurers who prefer itineraries without roads and teahouses. It says western districts like Dolpa, Humla and Mugu offer rich scenery and local culture that has little outside exposure.

Promoters have broken the Nepalese stretch into 10 sections that can each be walked in a few weeks. Dorendra Niraula, an official at Nepal's tourism ministry, hopes repeat visitors will trek parts of the trail over five or 10 years.

"We are in the initial stage of the project," he said. "It's a challenge. We are trying to diversify tourism."

The goal is for people to "go to places they have not thought of going," said Robin Boustead, an Australia-based trekker who traversed 3,700 miles of Himalayan trails and says he has another 2,500 miles to go. He charted his trips with GPS, published a guide book and runs a trail website.

Boustead belongs to a loose alliance of trekkers, tourism agencies, nongovernmental groups and Nepalese officials who hope a more even spread of tourist revenue can help a poor, politically weak nation that emerged from civil war five years ago.

These marketing pioneers are still finding their feet. Some efforts overlap; some agendas diverge. There are concerns about the commercial and environmental impact on areas unaccustomed to tourism.

Tourist-friendly Nepal spearheads the idea, and a trail section in Bhutan is on the map. There is less development in Chinese-ruled Tibet, as well as old foes India and Pakistan, which share the Himalayas. The goal of coordination across sensitive borders is immense, but Boustead wrote in an email that "the long-term strength of the GHT lies in its international focus."

After finishing my SLC exam, I visited my village Dolpo. The eight days of the SLC exam seemed almost a month for me because I had planned the journey to my village before exam. Dolpo is located in the northern part of Nepal which touches the Tibet border. The village is often known as the hidden beauty land of Nepal. It has been announced as an important tourist destination since 2002. The number of tourists coming to Dolpo is very high and they even need to pay very high fare entering here as compared to any places of Nepal.

There is a very low literacy rate in Dolpo because the government has failed to provide education to the people. At present, there are about eight to nine boarding schools that provide quality education to the students. But not a single school is aided by our government. Instead they are dependent upon the support of foreigners.

These schools have become able to make positive influence upon the villagers as the local have even started becoming aware about need to cleanliness, development work and sense of education. And now I feel that there are many areas in Dolpo which can be developed in the days to come.

So, I request all the friends of Dolpo who live in Kathmandu and any other places of the world to return to our own village and work together for its development.

"Go, go!" Roma, my paragliding pilot, has judged the wind's direction and has decided it's the right time for us to run off the mountainside. Dragging along the parachute's weight, my feet scurry over grass towards endless blue sky until I can no longer touch the ground. Gradually we soar above Pokhara, Nepal's second-largest city, until the only sound is the cold air sweeping past my ears. Directly ahead of me are the Himalayas, with bright ice-capped peaks reflected in the lake below, while scattered in front of this tremendous backdrop are a mix of multi-coloured parachutes and eagles gliding across the sky.

It's not the first time that Nepal has impressed from the air. A few days earlier, my flight from Varanasi to Kathmandu had provided a dramatic view of the Himalayas, so it was no hardship when our landing was delayed by an hour and we spent the extra time enjoying the views as we circled above the city.

Once on the ground and having haggled a taxi driver down to a reasonable price, I head into the city to a soundtrack of subcontinental pop blaring from the taxi's stereo and with crisp winter air blowing through the windows, carrying with it a combination of smog and the aroma of spices used in the food being sold at roadside stalls.

Soon I've been delivered to a set of guarded medieval doors and, once ushered through them, the noise of the city fades away. I'm greeted ceremoniously by having an ivory-hued khata - a traditional Tibetan scarf - draped over my shoulders.

This isn't a temple but my hotel. In a country rich with characterful accommodation, Dwarika's Hotel stands out: a living, breathing institution of Nepali heritage, culture and hospitality. The hand-carved wooden furniture is produced in Dwarika's workshop using traditional production methods, while smaller items, such as pots and stone slabs, are hand-crafted and locally sourced. Dotted around the hotel are vintage examples of Bagh-Chal, a traditional Nepali boardgame that guests are encouraged to play, and the staff aim to subconsciously educate visitors on Nepali culture and history, making it feel like an inspired conservation project disguised as a hotel.

When I venture back out beyond those medieval doors, I find Kathmandu bursting with fascinating districts. Thamel is a central mishmash of hostels, shops, eateries and travel agencies. Walking through the main backpacker district, the streets are heaving with rickshaws, and I find the most interesting venues are located down quieter side streets. The most memorable of these for me is a music shop run by Arjun Chainpure, who uses a Tibetan singing bowl to demonstrate a meditating "music massage".

To avoid overloading on the plethora of Hindu and Buddhist sights scattered across Kathmandu, I hire a taxi for the day for approximately US$15 (Dh55). Swayambhunath, otherwise known as the Monkey Temple for the troops of primates that live there, is shrouded in the aroma of incense, draped in strings of brightly coloured prayer flags and sited with a beautiful bird's-eye-view over the Kathmandu valley.

The next, the giant stupa of Boudhnath, transcends the hordes of tourists it attracts. Thousands of monks, pilgrims and Tibetan refugees visit Bodhnath daily, offering prayers, circling the stupa clockwise and preparing butter lamps to light at sunset. Craft centres, monasteries and souvenir shops surround Bodnath and the nearby cafe rooftops are ideal for taking in the revered ambience. A short walk away is Pashupatinath, one of the most important Hindu sites in Nepal, located near the cremation terraces along the banks of the holy Bagmati River. The interior of the temple is only for Hindus but a quick and respectful walk around the outside, shunning the constant attention of would-be guides, and along the riverbank is all you need to gain a feel for the spiritual nature of the place.

Back at the hotel, Krishnarpan restaurant offers the traditional cuisine of the Newaris, the indigenous population of the Kathmandu Valley. Details of each of the six courses to come are described on hand-pressed Nepali paper embossed with my name and, as they arrive, my taste buds are treated to a selection of holy ceremonial food, Himalayan herbed lentils, homemade plum pickle and, of course, the region's ubiquitous momo (steamed dumplings). Each course is served in different handmade crockery and the vegetables are sourced from Dwarikas's organic farm. My six-course menu costs $30 (Dh110) but there are options for up to 22 courses, so long as you book in advance.

Moving on from Kathmandu, I head to the largest and most impressive of the medieval city-states in the valley. Bhaktapur is a Unesco World Heritage Site located on an ancient Tibet-India trade route and is full of well-preserved Newari architecture. With a mixture of temples, shops, restaurants and local tradesmen in the grandeur of a 13th-century, traffic-free town, it's easy to spend a day simply wandering around through the old-fashioned surroundings and peculiar alleys. It's a good place to find pure pashmina, depending on your haggling skills and ability to tell the difference between the real thing and synthetic fakes. Entry to Bhaktapur costs $10 (Dh37) for foreigners.

Finally leaving behind the chaos of the Kathmandu Valley, I go on a 20km white-water rafting trip down the Trishuli, a major river originating in Tibet. The varied terrain is unexpected - warm sand on the riverbanks, snowy peaks in the distance and lush green plains between mountainsides ranging in steepness from areas dotted with houses to vertical drops. It's past the peak season for rafting so the Trishuli is not busy and I just about manage to stay aboard the raft, surviving grade four rapids (six being the highest). The warmth of the sunshine is not enough to offset the occasional waves of freezing water but for the adrenaline junkie and nature lover, it's a worthwhile outing. It's reasonably priced too, between $30 to $50 (Dh110 to 184).

Moving farther west, I make the short trek to the village of Bandipur at 1,030m, enticed by a fellow traveller's description of it as a "fairytale". I am surprised at how few visitors pass through this township of 5,000, made up of a few winding lanes leading from a main square with its handful of traditional Newari inns, lodges and cafes. It feels like a mix of a film set and a time capsule.

I settle in to the Bandipur Inn, a restored Newari mansion embedded in the mountainside, decorated like a grandmother's living room and where the staff welcome you like visiting relatives. The modest wooden rooms look out towards the Himalayas. It's hard to drag myself away from the fireplace but I do so to explore the village before its 8pm bedtime. This includes a 40-minute trek to the Gurungche Hill (best done at sunset) for spectacular views across the Annapurna range.

I continue to Pokhara the next day, where I take to the skies for a bird's eye view of the Himalayas. The city has gained a reputation as a centre for tandem paragliding, with the take-off point just outside Pokhara, from where the lake acts as a reflector of the captivating mountain vista to the north. Go early for the best visibility. Tandem flights cost from $100 (Dh367) and vary from half an hour to an hour.

Pokhara itself is refreshing and laid-back - the opposite of Kathmandu's smog and heaving streets. In what is becoming a habit, I start exploring the city from the top-down. The World Peace Pagoda - an impressive white pagoda presented by Japan and sited on a striking viewpoint over Pokhara and Lake Phewa - is reached after a two-hour trek through mustard fields, forest, stone houses and, finally, some shoddy steps. The less-athletically minded can also drive here.

Returning to town, I spend a clear sunny afternoon rowing across the lake enjoying the reflection of Himalayas in the lake for $8 (Dh29).

The main lakeside street is full of hotels, restaurants and bars, and is crowded with travellers and locals. It's a place to hone your haggling skills and I manage to reduce by at least half the first price I'm quoted. Possibly it's from being mistaken for a local but bargaining is essential and prices are generally lowest in the mornings. On my last night in Pokhara, I indulge in a plate of momos at Rice Bowl, a traditional Tibetan restaurant popular with the locals and where dinner costs only $3 to $5 (Dh11 to Dh18) per person). Compared to most of early-to-bed-early-to-rise Nepal, Pokhara is a city of night owls.

This trait makes my 4.30am wake up call the following day a begrudging affair as I don thermal layers to stave off the chilly pre-dawn temperature and trek uphill in darkness for two hours. As the final leg approaches, it's to a soundtrack of giggling local teenagers and panting trekkers. All of them have been drawn here for a seat on the edge of Sarangkot Peak to see the sun rise over the chain of the Himalayas and, after 20 minutes, the lilac haze over the snow-capped peaks dramatically turns golden. As the sun breaches the horizon, the trekkers cheer and we all began feeling the warmth of the sun. If you do any one-day trek while in Nepal, this is the one.

I opt for a 40-minute morning flight back to Kathmandu instead of a long and winding mountain bus journey. As before, there are delays but this one is before the 18-seater propellor plane has even taken off. And, once again, the view from the airport's rooftop cafe make the wait easy to endure. When I finally board the plane, I feel like I don't want to leave and I tell myself Nepal is a place worthy of multiple visits.

In the shadow of Mount Everest and its magnetic lore, a cross-border route with a grand name, the Great Himalaya Trail, is being touted as an epic, untapped alternative to the bucket-list trek to base camp on the world's highest mountain.

Trekking this trail is an odyssey, not a routine vacation, and even promoters admit that it's more a theory or consumer product for an untested market than a continuous path. Instead, it's a web of paths, many unmapped and barely connecting, that meander east to west along the Himalayan range.

Granted, the Great Himalaya Trail lacks the history and utility of the Silk Road, the ancient trade network that linked Asia to Europe, or the cohesion and accessibility of the Appalachian Trail for hikers in the United States.

Instead, it is what trekkers and climbers make of it: a one-time hike through forests and grasslands at lower elevation, an assault on high passes that demand technical skill, or a periodic pilgrimage to sample chunks of the rugged expanse.

Susanne Stein, a 44-year-old German, completed an eastern trek on Nepal's section of the trail with three guides in late 2011 and is preparing for the central and western leg in February. When it's all over, she'll have covered 1,050 miles (1,700 kilometers) in 165 days.

"One thing I like very much is just to move," said Stein, a health specialist whose assignments for international aid groups have included Sudan's Darfur region, Pakistan's earthquake-hit Kashmir region, Afghanistan, and Nepal. "I always have the feeling I want to see around the corner. This keeps me going somehow."

Stein set out a week after a deadly earthquake in the Himalayan region. Some paths had been virtually wiped out by landslides, forcing her team to crawl at times. In the past, she visited the Everest region on her own. But Stein prefers guides on the Great Himalaya Trail, or GHT, because they motivate her when she is exhausted and they sometimes have to choose a way forward from several options.

"The GHT goes through areas where there is no guesthouse, no food, and no defined trail. So I guess for the average tourist, it is too difficult to do it alone. Besides the fact that you need to be fit. Probably for people with very good navigation skills, and a good map and GPS, it's possible," Stein wrote in an email.

A Nepal-based campaign aims to transform the Great Himalaya Trail into a basket of options for adventurers who prefer itineraries without roads and teahouses. It says western districts like Dolpa, Humla and Mugu offer rich scenery and local culture that has little outside exposure.

Promoters have broken the Nepalese stretch into 10 sections that can each be walked in a few weeks. Dorendra Niraula, an official at Nepal's tourism ministry, hopes repeat visitors will trek parts of the trail over five or 10 years.

"We are in the initial stage of the project," he said. "It's a challenge. We are trying to diversity tourism."

The goal is for people to "go to places they have not thought of going," said Robin Boustead, an Australia-based trekker who traversed 3,700 miles (6,000 kilometers) of Himalayan trails and says he has another 2,500 miles (4,000 kilometers) to go. He charted his trips with GPS, published a guide book and runs a trail website.