Traveling in my backyard, I rediscovered waterfalls, fresh fruit, Jupiter’s moons, solitude
As privileged as it sounds, the pandemic left me ‘trapped’ in the mountains; I was at home, like everyone else, with only fresh air. I took it in my stride for a long time until the travel itch started again, which I desperately tried to sink into the routine.
While I knew that everyone was experimenting with new recipes and expected to turn a new leaf, I didn’t go through the cooking phase; My relationship with the kitchen only got ruined. I am ashamed to say that I have not even taken up any new hobby. I once tried to do the shuffle dance, if that matters. In the privacy of my room where I could make a fool of myself, my feet turned to jelly as I lost ground on the floor and accepted the fact that my body’s high-speed coordination was below average. I went That is, I went back to my comfort zone of books and cinema.
long walks
The announcement of the easing of restrictions freed the breath I had been holding inside me for the longest time, and I scrambled for whatever I could keep my hands, no, my feet. Starting from a walk in my hometown of Nainital and marveling at what quiet, clean and beautiful strolls this commercial cesspool had to offer, minus the humanity I did as a kid (including one that I never did, despite growing up there), the first taste of my ‘epidemic travel’ was to explore this tourist town as a local. Like many of us who traveled for work and chose a place to go and explore, slow travel took on a whole new meaning. I reluctantly changed my travel motto from grass to green on the other side, where you water it, and began to explore my backyard Kumaon like never before.
From small villages that were nothing but signboards to me, when I circled them on my way to further, better places, to detours leading to non-descript spots, I took less turns on the road. traveled. I found birdlife, solitude and a hidden billabong over the river from Chanfi village where my mother remembered eating the sweetest potato on a school picnic. I had the pleasure of a waterfall and reunion near Bhalugarh, where I went with my father to visit my neighbors 40 years ago, when he was posted there as a young government forest officer. I ate delicious bajra ka halwa at a homestay in Parvada, which I had bypassed a million times on my way to Mukteshwar.
stay time
I skipped Corbett National Park’s wildlife safari, closed for more than a year, and gazed at Jupiter’s moons, towering above its forests, through a privately installed telescope. I plucked malts sourced from the trees in the villages of their birthplace and tasted them as if, for the first time, they were no longer being delivered to the grocery store. I made friends with a ‘working’ journalist from Bihar and a couple from South India, without traveling far. Heck, I was even relaxing at a reputed hotel in Nainital for the first time, where I had previously only indulged in wedding cocktails.
For over a year, I waited to get a permit for the high altitude trek. When I finally accepted that the pandemic was nearing its end, I went with my guide on an unknown route that didn’t require an official permit. For the first time in the history of my outdoor tenure, I did not meet a human for several days. The only footprints in the snow were of pheasants and predators. A blizzard, several shooting stars, and a stunning sunset over a glacial lake later, I returned home, technically never leaving. Humbled by places I would never have ‘designed’ to explore in normal times, I’m no longer bothered by Instagram posts from people vacationing in the Maldives. Winter is in full swing on the mountains and I’d love some sunshine as the year ends, but I can’t say now that it’s because I haven’t traveled in a long time.
Born and brought up in the Himalayas, the writer writes on culture, ecology, sustainability and all things.
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