Focus on the journey, not the destination. Joy is found not in finishing an activity but in doing it - Greg Anderson

I once journeyed to the top of one of the peaks of the mighty Himalayas, and I cannot agree more. Years after that adventure, some first experiences still come back with impeccable clarity. Although I always wanted to write those memories down, I kept putting it off, until I read Out in the Silence: After the Crash by Eduardo Strauch, where he describes his 72-day ordeal stranded in the Andes and their eventual rescue. It kindled the rivulets of isolated episodes into this small pond of memories.

At first, it was just a remote thought. Pondering over hot coffee during an evening walk, I discovered that my close friend shared the same wish. A sheer stroke of serendipity! Within no time, the itinerary was formed and we were already lost in reverie. There are many professional communities that organize Himalayan treks, and we chose IndiaHikes. We hiked to the top of Kedarkantha Peak (12,500 feet) during the first week of May 2018, an experience that engraved in me an indelible snapshot of those beautiful peaks stretching into the sky, with the winds singing paeans to their might.

No great feat can be accomplished without preparation, especially for someone unfamiliar with the dynamics of higher altitudes, the added weight of backpacks, and extended hours of trekking. A routine of physical training that started about 40 days earlier soon became part of us, staging both body and mind for those 6 days ahead.

And then, the day finally arrived. We were the first to reach our meeting spot, outside Uttarakhand Railway Station at dawn on a cozy morning. Two groups were formed for the 8-hour journey ahead. The road took us through narrow, winding mountain passes, a river following us in the gorge below. At one of the stops, the river was close enough to touch. I was amazed by its serenity. Pure water showcasing beautiful pebbles on its floor, its gentle brush against my feet the most refreshing thing I’d felt. Breakfast on the way was delicious, and the view of Kempty Falls from the window made it more so. I still remember how sweet and satisfying the water was from a stream flowing down a mountain creek, our healing potion for the fatigue ahead. We spent the rest of the time learning about each other, enjoying moments of silence while gazing at mountain ranges stretching across the horizon, broken only by thunder and rain. I was so eager for a glimpse of snow-capped peaks that I remember debating with my friend over every distant white mass we spotted, only to realize it was clouds. In a way, it made me surrender to all the new experiences I would behold in the days to come.

The next four days in the wild were spent trekking up to the top of Kedarkantha and back down to base camp, followed by another day of road travel. The stories recorded in the Himalayas are like colors on a soap bubble: vibrant, and everyone takes back unique memories, just as the colors you see depend on your point of view. Out of all my experiences, a few are special enough that I decided to lock them here in words.

Birds

Probably the most colorful aspect of the trek was the birds. For the first few days, I was an aloof observer of the birds passing by. This changed because of two fellow trekkers: one carrying a massive camera at all times, talking one moment and perfectly still the next, gazing at some distant point. He was accompanied by the “bird-wizard,” who had a mobile bird encyclopedia and was obsessed with spotting a Monal, which she said are extremely rare in the wild. (Definitely check out that bird.) But we got lucky! One afternoon after a tiring stretch, I spotted her running around shouting “Monal! Monal!” After struggling to locate it through the binoculars, I saw one of the most beautiful birds I had ever seen, perched on a distant tree, displaying its flamboyant colors. And there I was, the third member of the birdwatchers squad. Over the rest of the trek, we spotted at least 20 different species I never knew existed. It taught me that if you look closer, there is beauty all around you. You just need to trade your attention to enjoy it.

Getting closer to the Summit

As we reached the base camp of Kedarkantha, I had my first glimpse of its crown. I clearly remember convincing myself that it wasn’t far away; it looked so close. The campsite was in a perfect spot, the summit projecting a preview of itself, inviting you to take up the challenge. I knew I was prepared. After a delicious lunch, as I was meandering around, I stumbled upon some eerie cattle skeletons left behind by predators, a reminder that there is more to these mountains than meets the eye. I reached a vantage point that revealed distant mountain ranges with a lush green valley spread across the horizon. I sat there contemplating under a clear sky, wondering what lay beyond the clouds concealing my sight. Shortly, a billowing mass of mist and water vapour came rushing in my direction, engulfing me entirely. I could not see anything around me, not even my own feet, like I was floating in some dreamy world. As it passed, I chased it as best I could and ended up back at camp. The next few hours brought dramatic turns in weather. The sky darkened with grey clouds, heavy rain poured, even hailstorms. We huddled inside a larger tent sharing spooky stories, the thunder and pelting ice adding music as if nature itself were the storyteller. Since arriving at this base, visibility had been poor. Except for the peak right beside us, there was nothing. Those hours of rain had made us momentarily forget the serene calm of these mountains, such that the sudden silence after the hailstorm felt almost eerie. And then I saw the most defining moment of my odyssey. Those beautiful mountain ranges, revealed for the first time. I don’t recall if everyone ran like I did, like a madman towards the nearest ridge for a clear view. The pure joy and admiration upon seeing something so majestic yet so calm squeezed out some tears.

On the peak

On the final stretch to the summit, I couldn’t resist looking back at our base camp, diminishing in size. It was like a small smudge in that vast expanse, soon out of sight. We started seeing patches of snow between rocks. At the peak, the mountain ranges I had glimpsed the previous night were just a preview of what I was about to witness. There were peaks in every direction, as if the horizon itself was jagged. When one of the leaders started calling out their names, in my mind they personified, bringing a sense of belonging and connection. I recorded that conversation on my phone. Listening to it with my eyes closed still transports me to that exact moment: those mountains surveying me, the muffled voices of friends around, some taking pictures, some enjoying the silence, and the wind howling. For the rest of the journey back down, a part of me was left at that peak. I still find myself going back there to enjoy that pristine beauty and calm.

A few other moments are worth mentioning. During our trek down from the summit, there was light snowfall. Perhaps some were expecting it, but for me it was a pleasant surprise, another “first.” Some of us didn’t heed the warnings about vultures, and soon enough there were a few circling above. Everything we came across got a “Himalayan” prefix, and somehow that prefix made everything sound more magnificent. Yes, you guessed it: the Himalayan Vulture. I also spotted the Himalayan Pika. As a group we played a lot of games, and one night after dinner, the innumerable stars pulled a few of us out of our tents. We lay on the ground stargazing, singing songs, all the while staying vigilant of the mules grazing around us in the dark. That sky held the most stars I have ever seen in one night. There were many more such escapades than I could have expected, and I’m sure the mountains won over all of us, and everyone returned with a trove of happy memories.

And finally, I cannot wrap this up without quoting our local guide. Whenever we slacked off and took longer rests during the hike, we’d hear him holler from far up ahead: “Rukna Mana Hai, Thakna Guna Hai!” (Roughly: stopovers are forbidden, and exhaustion is a crime!)

Let me go back to when my friend and I sat in Starbucks, ruminating over which trek to choose from so many options. As beginners, you vacillate between two things: wanting higher altitudes and a bit of fun in the snow, while not being confident in your preparation or your body’s ability to cope with harsh conditions. You end up calling trek leaders and friends for suggestions, sitting up all night deliberating, and it’s funny, because the next day you somehow find all the negative reviews about the very trek you chose.

So to all future enthusiasts out there: trust your instincts. Go where you want to explore, within your comfort limits, and no matter what you choose, the mountains promise you will never regret it. There is no wrong choice or right altitude. Every part of those Himalayas is a remarkable bundle of adventure.

Himalayan stories are countless, and each is unique. For me, this was a special and dear one. I decided to put those unforgettable moments into words, hoping to share the joy and inspire others to embark on such a journey.

Thanks for reading. I had as much fun writing this as I did living it.