[Note: You might want to read Tryst with the travel bug – Tunganath chapter, before starting off]

“This is not the place you’re looking for…”

The septuagenarian’s eyes had the conviction to challenge Google’s 20 years of unparalleled expertise. We dived deep into the matter to gauge whose fault was it? It didn’t take us long to realise that we were indeed in the wrong place.

We had numerous questions in our minds. It was already 3 in the afternoon. Sun, like an obedient child, had started preparing for its nap. The setting didn’t allow us to answer all our doubts. So, we surrendered ourselves to the wise old man to guide us through our tough time.

He read our puzzled faces and told us the way out. We had searched for Chopta Tunganath instead of Tunganath. One extra word in the search bar had cost us 180 more kilometres of travel and a doubtfulness on our management skills. The prominent issue before us was the time shortage. We only had around three more hours of adequate natural light left for the day. And in that, we had to cover 90 kilometres of hilly terrain.

While my travel mate was firm on reaching Tunganath the same day, I had other thoughts in mind. I wanted to rest at Rudraprayag and then continuing the journey the next day.

Myopic eyes rely on spectacles for providing them with clear sight. However, the lenses overdo their job and provide holographic images when they encounter vehicles with headlights on, from opposite direction. I, being devoid of any superpower, was a bit wary of riding in those conditions. Hence, the opinion of resting and going the next day.

In some way or the other, my travel mate had sensed my discomfort. He convinced me to defer any decision until we reach Rudraprayag.

“A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it.”

I couldn’t have agreed more with John Steinbeck at that point.

The roads which seemed exciting a few hours back seemed to have lost their charm. I was too focused on reaching the destination on time. The sun, at times, would stare right into my eyes and at times would glance from behind the hills. Nothing around me had changed much, yet everything seemed different.

We reached Rudraprayag around 4 P.M. We stopped to calm our hunger and anxiousness. Based on the information provided by the locals, we still had a minimum of two and a half hours of ride left. The remaining journey had one main stop – Ukhimath.

Since our intervention by that wise old man, we had focussed more on achieving smaller targets, instead of acting on our larger goal. This deferred decision making allowed us to assess and factor in the current situation in a better way. In a way, we were following the Agile methodology. One mistake in our approach, and we find a different way to mend our ways. We weren’t that bad in management after all!

With every curve we crossed, the road started showing its raw nature. Maybe, she was trying to match up to the surrounding. The Mandakini river kept our spirits high and helped us in reaching Ukhimath on time. The sun had almost set while our fuel gauge was adding fuel to our worry. Nonetheless, the iron-willed hostellers were more willing than ever to reach the base.

The journey had saved its best for the last. Nature was rewarding us for our patience! We were riding at less than 1500 m elevations, yet there was ample snow along the roadside. The air had become colder than my reaction when asked to eat Khichdi.

It was pitch dark when we reached the base camp. We booked a room and rested for a while before gorging on the food. We were both mentally and physically exhausted. There we met another rider who had come all the way from Delhi by riding continuously for more than 9 hours! We were in complete awe for his will. We got along and decided to trek our way to Chandrashila peak in the morning. Post dinner, it was time to call it a day.

Writers often mention that a chill went down their spine when they first touched their love interest. I strongly doubt if that chill can match the one I felt when I covered myself in woollen layers while sleeping. It was brutal, but not cold enough to require another person’s body heat. Such a relief!

My past trekking experience was nothing but a nightmare. My sinus had lost a war to my ego when I saw the healthiest member in my group trekking ahead of me. I was sceptical at first, however, post surgery, clear nostrils instilled confidence in me like no other.

All my plans died within 5 minutes when I found myself out of breath after walking less than 200 steps. 7:30 AM is no time to quit if you start at 7:25 in the morning. Keeping the researched Google photos in mind, we continued our trek.

I’ve always disliked subjectivity. It leaves more room for confusion than alignment on the desired path. Words being the proponents of the same are often limiting. Words often fail the sole purpose they are designed to serve. Now, let the photos do the talking.

Last time I saw this much snow, I was glued to the idiot-box, watching Mr. Bond in Die Another Day. It was simply surreal. Again, I see myself drowning in the sea of subjectivity offered by the words. It won’t be fair to mislead you with my inept knowledge while describing the scenery you just witnessed.

In two hours I stood in front of the abode of Lord Shiva – the highest in the country. It had this strange tranquillity around itself. At the top, my nostrils weren’t crying out blood and my lungs weren’t howling either. I safely concluded that I was ready to move to the next milestone – Chandrashila peak. The path was steeper with twice the snow as the path we had trekked so far.

I had hardly moved a hundred metre when I felt difficulty in breathing. My fellow trekkers were in a better condition to tackle the situation. 30 minutes later, my ex-roommate reached the summit, while the guy we met at the base was also on its way to meet him. I, on the other hand, was trying to find the speed at which I could continue my ascend without killing myself. After numerous calculated steps, I decided to let my lungs breathe peacefully and head back.

The introspective walk back to the base was the most fulfilling part of my trekking. I was smiling the whole way back. I had not felt this level of content in a long while. Every obstacle I had crossed to reach this place flashed in front of me, and I couldn’t help but pat myself on the many milestones I had achieved. For a BMI challenged person with emotional lungs, trekking to an altitude of over 3600 m is like solving Kashmir issue.

An hour and a half later we returned to the base and started preparing for our journey back home. Even the arduous trekking couldn’t force us to have a bath. We had arrived with a bag each of clothes but were leaving with truckloads of memories.

I had honed my bike riding skills, having ridden the bike for more than 250 kilometres in mountainous terrain. Because of it, we reached Srinagar by 6:30 PM.

While the first half of this journey was exciting and fearful, the latter was satisfactory. I had lots of questions in my mind before I started this short journey. Three days later I couldn’t have been more satisfied. To be honest, I’m not someone who lives life on the edge. Not the one who lives for impromptu plans or spontaneity. I take my sweet time to evaluate alternatives and then choose the most suitable option. This trip would always be special to me for one simple reason – I went against my decision and did everything I could to make my earlier decision of not going, a mistake.

I can never forget how it felt when the cool breeze kissed my face while I rode the bike. The sudden push I felt when I twisted the throttle. The predictable wave of torque, which then put a smile on my face. The sweet exhaust note which competed with Beethoven’s symphonies. That day, the child in me was happy to see his infatuation for machines finally blossom into a three-day-old courtship.

There might be better days ahead of me. Days when the machine I would ride would be mine. Days when I wouldn’t have to think about money or time at all. I might even flaunt the broadest and brightest smile.

However, it won’t be the same again. Because it won’t induce a smile on my face, similar to the one I have at this very moment.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sail. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain