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Ten years ago, when I was planning our honeymoon, I was thrilled to discover the overwater villas of Maldives. I was much less thrilled to discover how much they cost. We went to Bali instead (an excellent choice), but I could never quite get the overwater villas out of my head. So with the 10th anniversary approaching, it was as good a time as any to loosen the purse strings. 

Essential Information

Maldives is unlike any other country. It is a collection of 1200 tiny coral islands, of which less than 200 are inhabited by locals. Another 100 or so house private island luxury resorts. The local islands were out of bounds for tourists until as recently as 2008 to shield the traditional, conservative society from the corrupting influence of alcohol-guzzling and bikini-sporting tourists. Then market forces led to their opening up, and the islands currently walk a tightrope between embracing the economic benefits of tourism and preserving their culture.  

In the intervening years, I had travelled to the Maldives for work, visited some local islands and wanted my wife, Moumita, to also experience this less glitzy but more authentic and no less beautiful side of Maldives.   

Maldives is Visa-free for all nationalities. All you need is a return flight ticket and a hotel confirmation. Do fill out the digital immigration form, IMUGA, before departure. It will save you precious minutes on your vacation and avoid an ordeal with the appalling airport Wifi. This is experience speaking.  

There’s a currency exchange counter near the airport’s exit but US$ is widely accepted and often preferred across the country, so only convert a small amount (say $50) for incidentals. Tourist SIMs are available right outside with packages starting at $40, but there’s little need for one. Once you are on your island, you’ll be on your hotel Wifi.   

With the dry details out of the way, let’s start exploring. 

Male

We landed at Male airport at noon and had three hours to spare before our scheduled speedboat transfer to our destination, the gorgeous local island, Fulidhoo. So we set about exploring the chaotic capital. 

Male isn’t exactly loaded with unmissable sights, but it’s certainly worth a quick look for an insight into local life. While the local islands are laid back, Male is bustling with the commotion of commerce. The National Museum, which I had visited on a previous trip, gives a great primer on Maldivian history and its unique way of life. The old Friday mosque is nearly four hundred years old and made of intricately carved coral boulders. We sampled some Maldivian short eats – breads and pastries in varying shapes and forms, almost always stuffed with Tuna. Worth a try! 

The Local Island Experience

And then we were off to Fulidhoo. The local islands are a great way to experience the incredible natural beauty of Maldives and get a real taste of its culture without breaking the bank. But, of the 200-odd local islands to choose from, why Fulidhoo? I wanted something not more than 90 minutes away from Male by speedboat (the more distant islands can be reached either by (very) expensive seaplane transfers or (very) long ferry rides). But not too close to Male either (locals mention that islands like Maafushi are now swamped with tourists and stripped of their charm). I needed good hotel options (well-rated, mid-range hotels), plenty of things to do on the island (this is usually a challenge) and with reliable operators on the island who can arrange diving, snorkelling and fishing excursions. 

Holiday planning using ChatGPT was a game changer. I got tailored recommendations without having to sift through tons of different blogs. And thus, Fulidhoo.   

Now, if the blog feels like a love letter to Fulidhoo and our hotel, Luau Beach Inn, let me assure you they have earned it. We were warmly greeted by our names upon arrival on the island’s jetty as if meeting old friends. The service throughout was exceptional – efficient, warm and non-intrusive. The food at their restaurant on this tiny, remote island can give upscale city restaurants a run for their money. The room was spotless and well-appointed. And the views from the balcony are to die for. 

The island is pocket-sized, just 750 m long and 250 m wide and home to only 600 Maldvians. The folklore goes that four families had settled here a few hundred years ago and everyone on the island today has descended from them.   

With the last rays of the sun lighting up the island in an afterglow, we went for a stroll around Fulidhoo. We were drawn to a crowd (in Fulidhoo, that’s 5 people) on the beach and lo and behold! Right there was a group of Nurse Sharks, merrily chomping on the tuna they were being fed by a hotel’s staff. They looked so docile that it makes one wonder what earned them their reputation for ferocity. Fulidhoo was already proving to be a great choice. 

The next morning, in the bright sunlight, the waters surrounding the island revealed their true colours. There were more shades of blue than you find in an Asian Paints catalogue. If we made friends with Nurse Sharks in the evening, it was now the Stingrays’ turn to bless us with a visit. Tourists have to take snorkelling trips to see them, and here they were right at our doorstep! 

The entire periphery of the island is rimmed by pristine beaches. The beaches are spotless and the sand is just white coral dust. We had to pinch ourselves to believe that the place was for real. And the clincher? There were barely a dozen people on the beach!  

After an early lunch, it was time to explore the underwater wonders with a scuba dive. The Discover Scuba program by PADI is a 2-hour program, including an hour of coaching in shallow waters followed by a dive with an instructor. One doesn’t need expert swimming skills to do this. The fee per person was around $110. 

We were gliding underwater around the coral garden, swimming among schools of fish of every imaginable colour. Time stood still. I felt like I was inside one of those National Geographic videos I had grown up watching on TV. Just then Moumita gestured to my right. I turned to see an enormous Reef Manta Ray glide past me, its silvery grey back shimmering in the rays of the afternoon sun. These gentle giants of the ocean are a rare sight. On land, I would have jumped with joy. Undersea, I could only manage a broad grin. At that moment, I promised myself that we just have to become certified Scuba divers someday and explore a lot more of the underwater wonderland.  

After dinner, we headed to a cafe that screens live sports to catch Liverpool take on Manchester City. Witnessing Liverpool take Man City to the cleaners was priceless. The day could not have gone any better. 

Watching the match with locals also gave me an insight into the people. The Maldivians are quiet and soft-spoken. Disappointments are expressed only through a collective gasp and a goal is celebrated with a quiet smile. No screams of joy or shrieks of frustration for them. Conversations during half-time revolved around how life on the island was changing with the onset of tourism. 

The next day, we went snorkelling. All islands have operators who arrange excursions to the best snorkelling spots accessible from there. From Fulidhoo, people go to Shark Point and Turtle Point. If watching the nurse sharks up close the other day was delightful, swimming with them and having them poke and brush against me felt unreal and positively hair-raising. 

But the weather gods were less kind today. There was a storm brewing in the area and the sea was very choppy. After tolerating several minutes of the boat swaying wildly, the hearty, traditional Maldivian breakfast inside me defied gravity, sprung right out and poured straight out into the ocean. It was becoming impossible for our weak constitution to put up with the moody sea; we skipped meeting the turtles and headed back. 

We had plans of going sunset fishing but the fisherfolk decided against venturing out owing to the turbulent weather. The evening was instead spent admiring the sunset, taking a last stroll along the island, and reflecting on life on these islands. 

Apart from the fish that is abundant in the surrounding waters, everything else needs to be brought from outside – whether a toothpick or a coffee maker. But they make the most of what they have. It has a kindergarten, a primary school, a mosque, several grocery stores and cafes, a water desalination plant, a sewage treatment plant and a power generation plant – all for the 600 residents and a handful of tourists. It even has a sports club of its own. 

It has designated “Bikini beaches” where tourists can dress as they please and a separate beach for locals where tourists if they choose to go, should dress more respectfully. Once upon a time, every man on the island was a fisherman; that’s now changing with most youth preferring to go into the tourist trade. Thus continues the tenuous balance between the desire to protect traditions and embrace tourism. 

Maldivians continue to be simple, warm people. The hotels are not territorial or competitive. We freely lounged on hammocks put up by other hotels, clicked photos on another hotel’s beach swing and used beach beds laid out by a third hotel. We were greeted with polite smiles and no one asked us where we were staying. Our hotel freely recommended other establishments for some services. It was such a breath of fresh air, not being sold to. In such contrast to most places in India.  

Early the next morning, with a very heavy heart we had to bid goodbye to Fulidhoo and Luau Beach Inn. Within three short days, the place had started feeling like home. But a part of me was also looking forward to what lay ahead. After a decade of lusting over pictures of over-water villas in the Maldives, we were finally going to stay in one. 

The Resort Island Experience

We arrived at our resort, Aadaran Prestige Vadoo, with very high expectations. After paying more than $1000 for a night’s stay, we had earned the right to high expectations. 

A part of me secretly wishes for misadventures on travels because writing (or reading) a blog with words like majestic, gorgeous and breathtaking is no fun. And Aadaran Prestige Vadoo didn’t disappoint. Like in Fulidhoo, we were greeted at the pier upon landing. Only this time, far from knowing our names and despite seeing the two large suitcases we were carrying, they wanted to know if we were there on a day trip. We were then ushered to the reception. While they had already sent our luggage (containing my wallet) to the room, they insisted that they couldn’t possibly allow us to proceed until we paid the $6 Green Tax.   

Then we were met by our “24-hour personal butler”! What that meant, as we later realized, is that we would be served only by him, while he was the “personal butler” to many other guests.  Their marketing game is way stronger than their service game. My wife was not impressed. Over the last 10 years, she has gotten used to a much more efficient butler service that’s truly personal.

Throughout our stay, the most frequent greeting we encountered from the staff was “What’s your room number?”. Sometimes by three different staff members during a single meal. When I offered to tattoo the room number prominently on my forehead for their convenience, the waitress blushed and assured me that I shouldn’t take the trouble. About 3 minutes later, a colleague of hers came by to politely enquire about our room number. I kept a lid on my rage and kept munching on the food, which I grudgingly admit was delicious. 

After drooling over the villa and shooting it from every angle imaginable, we stepped out to explore the property. Of course, we risked more disappointing encounters with their staff, but we braved it anyway. Our first stop was “a cooking demonstration by a chef”. Why a chef should demonstrate cooking “Upma” to guests at a luxury resort, most of whom were Indian couples on their honeymoon, is a mystery I’ll possibly take to my grave.  

But all their incompetence was swiftly forgiven and forgotten as soon as we stepped into the Villa. It was every bit as dreamy as I had imagined it to be. Mammoth in size, tastefully designed, equipped with every necessity and many luxuries and with more drinks in the minibar than we could consume without risking hospitalisation. The surrounding water was those hundred shades of blue that the Maldives spoils you with. A wooden staircase from the villa led right into the ocean and schools of colourful fish often swam right by. And nothing but the blue sea between you and the horizon.  

And that was the story of our stay. We thoroughly enjoyed the immaculate villa and some memorable meals, interspersed liberally with exasperating encounters with their staff.  

And soon, it was time for sunset. We had booked a sunset villa but were robbed of what was to be the highlight of our stay by cloudy skies. So we headed to the Kandolhi bar, to drown our sorrows in some mocktails. It’s the main bar of the resort built on a lovely wooden deck and a lovely place to spend an evening. There we met Velu, our bartender from Sri Lanka and possibly the only sane man on their staff. While sipping some of his specials, Moumita and I indulged in a deep conversation about how the last ten years had been and what the next ten could be like. 

That was followed by dinner at Kakuni, a barefoot seafood restaurant. Couples who were more in love (or more in money) had a special set up for them with candlelit tables set right on the beach. We were cheerfully cheap and took a table inside. Here too, as elsewhere, the food was brilliant. It tasted as delicious as it looked elegant. And thus the last night of the vacation came to a close. 

The next morning, after one last stroll around the island and a hearty breakfast, it was time to head back. While boarding the speedboat back to the airport, three different staff members came by within 5 minutes asking for our room number to tag our luggage. It was a fitting farewell. Years from now, I may forget how blue the waters were and how white the sand was. But never will I forget that I once had the privilege, albeit brief, of residing in Villa #809 of Aadaran Prestige Vadoo.   

There’s a joke among climbers in this part of the world. A Nepali’s idea of “flat” is a little up and a little down. It’s not a joke. It’s the cold truth.

There are no easy days on this trek. This is big-mountain country and the steep ascents and descents never let you forget that. No leisurely strolls through meadows here. There are only two kinds of terrain on the trail – steep and very steep. 

Over 8 days, we ascended from an elevation of approximately 9000 feet to over 18000 feet and then all the way back down again over the next 3 days. It tested both my physical and mental fortitude to their limits.  

But all tiredness disappeared when, on Day 9, I stepped out at 3:30 am from our tea house at Gorakshep and saw the snow-capped mountains all around me shimmering in the glow of the near-full moon. Surreal.

The temperature was a bone-chilling -15 °C.  After a 2.5-hour long, steep climb I was on top of Kala Pathar. It is the peak that offers the best views of Mount Everest. The spectacular panoramic view has not just Mount Everest in it but Nuptse and Lhotse as well. 

At more than 18000 feet, Kala Pathar is the highest altitude I have ever attained. Just as the first rays of the sun began to bathe the peaks in a yellow glow, the still-bright moon started going down behind the peaks. At that moment, the grind of the last eight days felt completely worthwhile. I counted my blessings.   

Ever since I started trekking, a trek to the Everest Base Camp has been on my bucket list. My resolve strengthened when I saw the movie Everest. To attempt the summit, I will have to wait for the next lifetime. A pilgrimage to the Base Camp would do for now. Hikers come here from all corners of the world, from Canada to Australia. Being right next door in India and not going would be a sin. 

I had booked my trek through Bikat Adventures. The 12-day trip ex-Kathmandu cost around INR 60,000 excluding food. The return flight to Kathmandu was approximately INR 30,000 and food on the trek cost around INR 35000. Including miscellaneous expenses, one can budget approximately INR 150,000 for the trip. Our group had only three hikers and was accompanied by a guide and a porter. 

Day 0 – Kathmandu

I had a spare day in Kathmandu which I used for a spot of sightseeing. Boudhanath is a giant, whitewashed stupa with a glistening golden crest painted with the eerie-looking Boudha eyes. It is beautifully adorned with colourful Tibetan prayer flags. It’s one of the most important Buddhist shrines in Nepal. The stupa is surrounded by a circular gallery with some very atmospheric cafes and beautiful stores selling exquisite Tibetan handicrafts. I enjoyed lunch at one of the many rooftop cafes with a glass of chilled Coke and arguably the best views in town.  

In the evenings, Thamel is the place to be in. This neighbourhood in downtown Kathmandu is backpacker central. Trekkers and tourists from all over the world congregate here. It is packed with affordable accommodation, cafes and pubs serving all manner of global cuisine, trekking gear stores and handicraft shops. The bustle around the place has to be felt to be believed. It really comes alive in the evenings, with the music overflowing into the streets from its many excellent pubs. 

Day 1 – Kathmandu to Lukla by flight and onwards to Phakding 

The trip got underway with a flight to Lukla. Lukla Airport consistently features in the list of the most dangerous airports in the world. The tiny airstrip is only half a kilometre long and has a steep gradient. Our landing was uneventful (thankfully) but looking at the airstrip does induce a generous dose of trepidation. The 20-minute flight through the Himalayan foothills almost skirts the hills at times. With an outstretched hand, you may be able to touch the huts on the hills. Okay, I am exaggerating. But only a little.   

At Lukla we met our guide, Chandra, and porter, Mahesh, had some tea and set off right away. The first day starts with a comfortable descent from Lukla to Phakding. The route passes through postcard-pretty villages and is dotted with teahouses every few metres. 

These tea houses are the lifelines of treks in Nepal. They provide frugal but cosy accommodation and simple but fresh, hot meals. The dining halls here are the centre of all activity where trekkers gather after the day’s toil to unwind, sip some hot ginger lemon or chilled beer, play cards and chat. Owing to a long tradition of hikers from the West coming in large numbers, one will find Pizzas, Pastas, Noodles and Pancakes on the menu, apart from the local staple Dal – Bhat. 

Day 2 – Phakding to Namche Bazar 

The steepness of these slopes hits home today. It’s a long day’s walk to Namche. With every zig-zag turn, I prayed for a small flat stretch to catch my breath back. But the slopes are relentless. The scenery though was breathtaking. Most of the day’s trek is through a forest and multiple times during the day, we crossed the famous suspension bridges across the Dudh Kosi river. The Dudh Kosi is aptly named. The rapidly gushing water appears as white as a stream of milk. Crossing these suspension bridges, also used by yaks and mules, is a mini adventure in itself, especially when strong winds rock them vigorously.    

We entered Namche Bazar at dusk and immediately fell in love with this postcard-pretty town. Namche is the capital of the Khumbu region, the region in which Mount Everest is situated. Namche is a weird, out-of-step place on the otherwise spartan trail. It has cafes serving Salmon Sushi, Live Music bars and North Face stores. It’s a good place to stock up on any provisions one may need because supplies get scarce and scarily expensive beyond this point.  

Day 3 – Acclimatization at Namche Bazar

My idea of acclimatisation is a lazy day spent in bed with a book and some hot beverages. Our guide, Chandra, thought differently. 

Starting from Namche Bazar, we hiked up more than 1500 feet to the Everest View Hotel. The views from the hotel are spectacular. While Everest bestows the region with its fame, several other peaks in the region are strikingly beautiful. Ama Dablam, meaning “mother’s necklace’, a 20,000-foot-high peak that we encountered often on the trail, just mesmerised me. 

Near Namche Bazar is the Sherpa museum which does a fantastic job of documenting all facets of Sherpa life. It traces the history of the region from ancient to modern life, gives numerous glimpses of the colourful sherpa culture and documents the mountaineering feats in the region meticulously. It is an absolute must-visit for anyone wanting to understand this mysterious region. 

Day 4 – Namche to Tengboche 

Another day of gorgeous mountain views. Another day of back-breaking climbing. 

The unexpected highlight of the day was a bakery next to Tengboche Monastery. After days of eating the bland food at tea houses (the diminished sense of taste at high altitude was more to blame than the food itself TBH), this was a carnival for my tastebuds. The quality of their cakes was exceptional and a bakery like this won’t be out of place in Paris or Stockholm. Their cakes can do as much good for the soul as prayers at the monastery next door can. 

Coming to the monastery itself. The Tengboche Monastery is a 100-year-old gompa that is not only sacred to the Buddhist faithful but also to mountaineers who wish to summit Everest. They make it a point to seek blessings here before proceeding onward.  Listening to the monks chanting in the chorus was deeply moving. 

The teahouses in Tengboche were all full so proceeded to the next village enroute, Debuche to stay the night. If you are beginning to spot an obsession with names ending in “che”, well, “che” apparently means “ a place that the guru’s feet have trodden”. The stretch from Tengboche to Debuche passes through a beautiful Rhododendron forest. Though the flowers were not in bloom, this stretch still was among the prettiest we encountered in the entire trek. 

Day 5 – Tengboche to Dingboche 

Today we left the greenery behind and climbed above the treeline. After this, the scenery would get increasingly stark. We passed through pretty little villages, Pangboche and Shomore on the way. 

While I was lucky to evade altitude sickness ( a fairly common occurrence) on the trek, there was no escaping homesickness. We weren’t halfway through yet. The most testing slopes were still ahead of us. The temperatures and oxygen levels would keep on dropping sharply. My taste buds were betraying me and all food was tasting bland. The prospect of enduring this for another week, without any friends for company, was weighing me down. I was beginning to feel that I had bitten off more than I could chew. 

Day 6 – Acclimatization

One more acclimatisation day. But Chandra’s got no chill! 

We hiked up to a viewpoint and I must confess, the views made the climb well worth the effort. Once back, I spent the rest of the day catching up on sleep and some light reading.  

Day 7 – Dingboche to Lobuche 

Once again, today’s highlight was gastronomical. For lunch, I feasted on Indian-style Puri-Tarkari at a teahouse in Thukla. Soul food. No disrespect to the Daal-Bhaat or Pastas, but Puri is love. As more Indian trekkers start frequenting this region, a trend that has picked up after the pandemic, I hope some Indian food will also make its way to the menus here. 

The landscape continued to be starkly beautiful. The weather was bright and sunny and I have never seen bluer skies. The anticipation of nearing the Base Camp also buoyed my spirits and today’s climb, despite the challenging terrain, felt a lot more relaxed. 

Day 8 – Lobuche to Gorakshep & Everest Base Camp

Today was the big day. We started early in the morning and reached Gorakshep around 11 am. 

Gorakshep, situated at nearly 17000 feet, is the highest settlement on the trek. It is a tiny patch of flat land surrounded by steep mountains on all sides. It has no source of water. The water here is airlifted through choppers. No wonder a bottle of water that costs NRS 30 in Kathmandu costs NRS 500 here. 

After a quick lunch, we headed off towards the Base Camp around 1 pm. The climb towards the Base Camp is along the famous Khumbu Glacier. The landscapes were nothing like anything I had seen before. The glacier looks beautiful and ominous at once.  

The base camp itself is somewhat anticlimactic. It’s merely a relatively flat stretch of snow-free land covered in rocks and pebbles, the last such stretch before the glacier and ice fall. Its symbolic significance cannot be overstated, but it isn’t the prettiest sight you will see on the trek. The Everest peak itself is quite distant and hardly looks imposing from here. Add to that about 500 people jostling for the perfect photo at the same spot. 

Nevertheless, the feeling of making it to this spot is indescribable. Legendary mountaineers who submitted Mount Everest would have all started their climb from here. I was standing at a spot with unparalleled significance in the world of mountaineering and I could not be more grateful.   

We slept early once we got back because we would leave for Kala Paththar in the dead of the night. Kala Paththar is, both figuratively and quite literally the high point of the trip. 

Days 9-11 – The descent!

After summiting Kala Pathar early on the morning of Day 9, we came back for a hearty, well-earned breakfast. And then we started the descent. On Day 9 we slept in Pangboche and the next night at Namche. By the evening of Day 11, I was back in Lukla. 

During the three days of descent, I felt truly relaxed to enjoy the breathtaking scenery. Freed from the tyranny of ascent, I paused now and then to gawk at the majestic mountains. 

I was also fortunate to spot some rare Himalayan wildlife, a Musk Deer (which sprinted past me too quickly to be photographed) and a Himalayan Tahr (which did not mind posing for some clicks).  

I won’t brush aside the feeling of accomplishment lightly. This was the longest, highest and steepest trek I have done so far. If you want to hike for the joy of it, there are many alternatives in India that are easier on the eyes, on the body and the pocket. But if you want to trek for glory, there’s no better playground to test out your mettle and endurance than this big mountain country. 

We went to sleep in our tents at 8 pm, not knowing what the following day would hold for us. We had reached Dhunda, the last campsite on the trail before Buran Pass, at a lofty 13000 feet. After braving the biting cold, inclement weather and treacherous terrain, we were here. But whether we would cross the Buran Pass, the raison d’etre of the trek would be decided by the weather gods. The trek leader would wake us up at 1:30 am, only if the weather stayed clear to the pass-crossing. 

The wake-up call never came. Instead, I woke up at dawn to find the campsite bathed in powdery white snow. I was instantly overcome with the disappointment of not getting a chance to cross the pass. It was to be the high point (quite literally!) of the trek. Not crossing over felt like unfinished business. I would forever wonder what lay beyond on the other side. But if something had to deny me the opportunity, I am glad it was the first snowfall of my life. 

The Essentials

Buran Ghati in Himachal Pradesh is considered among the most beautiful treks in the country, and justly so. It is a moderate-difficult trek because it climbs up to an altitude of 15000 feet. Indiahikes does a fantastic job of documenting treks and you can read the detailed itinerary on their site. I’ll focus more on my personal experiences and reflections here. 

I and a group of friends trekked with Trek the Himalayas (TTH) in May’23. The trek takes 7 days including transportation from and back to Shimla. The fee including all stays, meals, guide charges and transport was approximately Rs 16,000. 

The Journey Begins

After a scenic 8-hour drive from Shimla, we reached Janglik, the tiny, postcard-pretty village that’s the base for the trek. With its charming traditional houses in wood and stone, beautiful temples and meandering paths through terrace farms, Janglik is a delight to walk around. 

Here we met our trek leader, the local guides and our fellow trekkers. Our trek leader, Satyaprakash, was a stoic man of the mountains who would awe us by completing the entire trek in a pair of slippers. The local guides were a jolly bunch from Janglik, very hospitable and always at hand to help. Techies from Bangalore made up most of our trekking group. A welcome exception was 13-year-old Aarav, a spirited young boy who had already done other Himalayan treks and always stayed at the head of the group. 

We spent the night in a dorm in an austere homestay. The spartan homestay was a nice bridge between the comforts of city life and the frugal tent stays that were to follow. 

Paradise Found

Out on a walk the next morning, I crossed a lady who was carrying a big basket full of firewood from her farm on the slopes to her home up the hill. When I requested a photograph, she not only obliged happily but also invited several of her friends to get their portraits clicked! Soon a gaggle of Himachali ladies was crowding around my camera, giggling at their photos. Their faces were full of character and their easy, confident gaze had none of the bashfulness that characterizes their counterparts from the more conservative lowlands. They make light work of the arduous task of carrying manure, firewood and cattle feed up and down the hill between their farm and home. 

And on that note, we set off. Over the next two days, we trekked through gorgeous pine forests and lush green rolling meadows, soaking in the incredible Himalayan landscape. The big, snow-capped mountains of the Dhauladhar range kept us company throughout. The only people we met were either goatherds or fellow trekkers. 

Each campsite on the trek outdid the previous one. The campsite at Dayara, set amidst the meadows with grand mountain views, was absolutely gorgeous. The next one at Litham was set on deep-set snow with nothing but white snow all around and not a speck of green in sight. 

We also got used to being pampered with delicious, warm meals. The modern trekker need not bother with carrying provisions and cooking for themself. The good trek groups all provide simple but delicious and nutritious hot meals. Over the course of the trek, TTH treated us to an array of desserts including Shahi Tukda, Custard and Jalebi.    

On the third day, we made an excursion to Chandranahan Lake from Litham. This alpine lake, flanked by tall mountains on all sides, is the source of the Pubber River. After the challenging hike up, we reached the top and found the lake completely frozen. The expansive mountains surrounded us on all sides and made us realize just how puny we are when juxtaposed with the might of nature.    

Not All’s Well

The excursion to Chandranahan had been taxing for some in our group. Their bodies were not acclimatizing well to the increased altitude of almost 14000 feet and they had struggled to maintain pace. Some of them were also experiencing increased heart rates or low oxygen saturation levels, both of which can be potentially dangerous. The trek leader had to turn some of them back. The news from the next camp at Dhunda was not great. It had been snowing incessantly, the tents were wet and the chances of pass-crossing were dwindling. All this prompted more than half of our party to turn back from Litham. 

Now this was my first trek with TTH and I have no major complaints. But I strongly feel they should have taken greater care to ensure that trekkers came prepared for the challenge. Indihikes is extremely professional in this regard. They insist that trekkers furnish proof of meeting their fitness goals before commencing the trek. TTH pays no heed to such stipulations and takes along everybody who shows up, irrespective of their fitness levels. They seem happy making a quick buck.  

Those of us who stayed back were dejected to see so many of the group leave. But we were determined to take our chances at crossing the pass. After all, that’s why we were here. 

The ascent from Litham to Dhunda on the fourth day was a mild one and our group made short work of it. The Dhunda campsite is well above the treeline and entirely engulfed in snow. The first look at the Dhunda campsite took my breath away. Summit or no summit, this alone was worth soldiering on for. This winter wonderland was enveloped in fresh snow as far as the eye could see. 

Uncertainty & Speculation

We were all sitting clustered together in the common dining tent, discussing our prospects of crossing the pass, when suddenly, magically, it started snowing. This was bad news for our chances of crossing the pass the next morning but my heart spontaneously leapt with joy. This was the first time I was experiencing snowfall. I immediately sprinted out of the tent, rediscovering the child within. Within minutes, powdery white snow had covered all our bright red tents.

We spent the entire afternoon observing the shifting weather and speculating how it would turn out the next morning. And the frequently changing weather kept us guessing. Rain and snow followed overcast skies but every now and again the sky would turn clear and the sun would peek out, giving us hope. I told myself that I had already gotten more on the trek than I had bargained for and the pass crossing would only be the cherry on the cake if it happened. After an early dinner, we went to sleep with nervous anticipation.

Heartbreak

The weather gods were not kind. After relatively clear skies till one in the night, it had started snowing again and it continued to snow incessantly till dawn. We all woke up dejected but took it in our stride and saw it as an excuse to come back again to cross the pass some other day. As if we needed an excuse to come back to this paradise!    

We started our descent along the same route we had taken to climb up. Along the way, we were rekindling memories of crossing these same places on our way up. The stretch from Dhunda to Litham was laden with foot-deep fresh powdery snow. What’s more, it was still snowing. Trekking down amidst the snowfall felt surreal.  

Coming back below the treeline and rediscovering the specks of green after being surrounded by a sea of white for three days was deeply refreshing. We completed the last hour of the descent towards Janglik in incessant, piercing rainfall. But the allure of reaching the base camp to a flat bed and a warm, dry blanket brought a spring to our strides.

The homestay at Janglik which had seemed spartan when we had arrived at the beginning of the trip now felt like the epitome of luxury for our wet, muddied and tired bodies.     

This was the end of a memorable adventure. We headed back to Shimla the next morning, to civilization as we know it. 

Why do we trek?

I have often wondered what makes me want to trek. The terrain is strenuous and often treacherous. Sleeping inside tents in cramped sleeping bags is certainly not my idea of comfort. The toilet tents, despite best efforts, are invariably stinky. But the opportunity to experience the majesty of nature, away from the maddening crowds, trumps all manner of discomfort and has made trekking an addiction. 

I have also thought deeply about the morality of trekking. Trekking takes us to untouched but fragile ecosystems. We leave our biowastes behind which can, despite precautions, seep into the water stream and impact communities downstream. Most trekkers and trek operators are very conscientious and try their best to leave no plastic waste behind but lapses certainly occur. The mules carry heavy loads of provisions and tents for the group up and down the treacherous slopes and fatalities are not unheard of. 

But on the credit side, the revenue from the trekking groups is a vital income supplement for communities hitherto dependent entirely on animal herding and seasonal agriculture. Many young men from the surrounding villages now choose to guide trekking groups over herding cattle. It also draws away the tourist load a little from the more commercialized hotspots.    

For trekkers, it’s a motivation to invest in one’s fitness. It certainly has been the driving force behind my attempt to maintain at least modest fitness levels. Trekking also stirs up consciousness and a leaning towards a more minimalistic life in harmony with nature. At least some of it stays with us, even after we are back in our urban jungles. 

But whom am I kidding? All said it’s just a drug that keeps me coming back for more.