Discover India - Adventure Tour

A holiday in the hills that is truly off the beaten track has much more to offer than just a pleasant change. It has more to do with 'total change': what's it like to fall asleep in a cottage with only the swishing pines to disturb the sound of silence; to see the heavens lit up in all their beautitude on a night with only a flickering candle as a distraction; to be in the midsts of simplefolk - no treachery for miles around; not to even mention the sheer joy of fresh, pure air, and eye-soothing nature all around....

Many tourists, Indian as well as those from abroad, are slowly veering away from the regular hill stations and looking further afield-towards lesser known hill-destinations that afford a total break from the pressures of city lifestyle.
A good place to explore for such quiet holiday locales is Kumaon, a region that includes the districts of Nainital, Almora and Pithoragarh.

In fact, with the overselling of hill resorts in Kashmir and Himachal Pradesh, the district of Almora to some extent and that of Pithoragarh to a greater extent, promise to be the premier attractions in the north western Himalayas in the decades to come.
Of course, in planning an itinerary one needs to bear in mind one's interests. What is it that would stop one from getting bored. Is it long walks along forested mountain paths? Is it scenary? Is it temples and archaeological delights? Or something else?

In our case we decided on the most natural choice. A choice that Kumaon offers in abundance - a nine day itinerary through some of the offbeat vantage points in Kumaon that offer the best snowscape panoramas of the Greater Himalayan peaks in the north. Starting Delhi, one could either take a train to Kathgodam and then onwards into the hills by road; or one could fly to Pithoragarh via Lucknow and then proceed by road.

In our case, we decided to do the entire journey (approximately 1,200 kilometres) by road. To be shockingly precise: by motorcycle. That certainly is an offbeat style of travelling in India as yet. Though, it is worthwhile to add, we met atleast four other tourers on bikes in the hills.

Besides, since we were setting out in the beginning of March, almost a month before the tourist season to this region begins, we were in for some exclusive time, mountain gazing and otherwise too.
DAY ONE. The first day of the journey is, as always, boring. One is forced to traverse a part of the western Uttar Pradesh plains - so full of the smell of sugarcane, mollases, liquor distilling and the overgrowing affluents from the industries in this area. Having travelled only too often from Delhi towards Kathgodam-our first night halt, we had very limited options to halt midway. A cup of tea at Uttar Pradesh Tourism's (UPT's) bungalows at Garh Mukteshwar and Muradabad were the only breaks we had between Delhi and Kathgodam, a ride of 280 kilometres.
An equally ideal halt for the first night would be at one of the lakes surrounding Nainital
Bhimtal or Naukuchiatal being the preferrable ones - since they are on short diversions from the main itinerary. While we stayed the night at Kathgodam's small Kumaon Mandai Vikas Nigam (KMVN) rest house, those preferring to stay at the lakes will have to drive up to Bhawali (29 km) and take the diversion there on.

DAY TWO. Before leaving Kathgodam it is advisable to look over your car or motorcycle at least once. Top up the fuel tank, check your engine oil, and don't forget to look up those brakes. Most major manufacturers have their sevice points at Kathgodam or Haldwani. The road from Kathgodam to Almora is a delight all the way.

The gradient is gentle, the road very broad, and finished smooth by a paving machine. The 93 kilometre journey doesn't offer any dramatic scenery though you'll start noticing the fresh air and crisp sunshine now.

Almora is a big district town with thinner tourist traffic than Ranikhet and Nainital. At this time of the year it was almost deserted of visitors. The KMVN Holiday Home (which lacks convenient parking space) was equally desolate. Besides, since Holi (the festival of colours) was only a day or two away, Almora - as all of Kumaon - was in a holiday mood.

Having a distinct British legacy, Almora has some interesting, old English houses which, though having been converted for various purposes, still retain their colonial flavour. The nights here in March are still quite chilly and a room heater was welcome relief. Even though the elevation is nominal (1648 metres), the lack of fans in the room pointed to the fact that, unlike many other prime hill-stations which tend to get hot because of overdevelopment and maninspired denudation, the summers were still pleasant here.

DAY THREE. The peaceful and serene night, as we would continue to notice throughout our trip, had a marvellous effect on the nerves. We were up very early the next morning without a trace of the previous day's fatigue. The snow clad peaks appeared a good bet to try a few shots with a tele. But as I was to realize much later (when we were closer to the peaks) my judgement of clarity was clouded by our foggy city standards.

The bazaars were doing brisk business as Holi approached. BaL Mithai a famous sweat meat from this area and bost bought in this town, Kumaon shawls and woollens - all were up for takes. But what caught my attention was a roadside tailor stitching Gandhi topis (Gandhi caps) which most of the gents wear here for playing Holi. It is also reminiscent of the strong links that Almora and its adjoining areas have had with the freedom movement, Mahatma Gandhi himself and such other freedom fighters as Gobind Vallabh Pant. Besides them, Almora also attracted many saints, prominent among them being Vivekananda. While looking for some vestiges we only found a small cottage that serves as the Ramakrishna Math here.

We left Almora by noon and headed for Kausani, our next halt, just 54 kilometres away. After descending from Almora the road winds its way mostly along the valley and we had the constant companionship of lush green paddy fields, luxuriant vegetation all around and an occasional rivulet.

The famous Devit emple at Kainchi, with its bright safron and red colours made for an excellent picture. So did the varying patterns of paddy fields in contrasting greens and browns. Holi was now just a day away and sundry revellers on the road kept stopping us, putting the traditional Indian tika and asking for nominal contributions.
Just a few kilometres short of Kausani, the road finally starts its steep climb up to the town (1994 metres) which is actually a kind of pass between two valleys. There is a small bazaar, a number of private hotels all around it and that's about all of Kausani. We headed for the KMVN Rest House two kilometres further ahead. And while we looked all around us for a slice of the famous Kausani view, there were only the clouds to keep us guessing.

Never mind. The Rest House, for a change, had one other guest. Built on a sprawling hill side, we found enough wood to make a camp fire going by evening. The swishing pine forests all around were a constant background companion. In the valley below were a myriad twinkling lights marking Someshwar, Baijnath and its adjoining areas. But best of all, tomorrow was our rest day.
DAY FOUR. The rule by and large for these areas seems to be that one gets the clearest view of the Himalayan ranges in the early morning. And true to this, the next morning we found the Great Himalayan panorama spreadout afront. The Trishul, with its distinct triple peaks, was the most prominent and caught the rising sunlight first.

The afternoon was spent on a disovery trip to the surrounding villages. I was intrigued by the trees in a full bloom of white flowers. On inquiry we found that they were peach trees. Kausani had also been a producer of tea during the British Raj. Today, after almost five decades of neglect, there are still clumps of tea plants in the villages around here. The village woman, whose running commentary this is a translation of, was kind enough to make us a glass full of it and give us a dose for the way.

As evening set in a majestic moon - the full orb of it-rose from the east. lt was purnima (full moon night) and the bonfire of Holi got crackling at the small bazaar nearby. Unfortunately, the cloud cover along the higher reaches was unrelenting, reminding us that there would be none of that glorious view of the snow peaks in moonlight. By the ime dinner was over and a fire crackled happily outside our cottage, the rain gods were thundering and lighting up the distant horizon towards the south west.
DAY FIVE. Surprisingly, we woke up to a bright morning. It was time to leave for our penultimate destination - Chaukori (pronounced Chaukodi). The road goes down from Kausani into the next valley to the famous Baijnath temples. The sky was again overcast, but I did manage a few pot shots of the temple complex which actually came out better than I thought. (Those wishing to photograph the interiors and Sculptural pieces of these and other medieval temple complexes in the region need prior permission from the Archaeological Survey of India, Delhi).

Our next step was Bageshwar, named so after its famous temple of Bagnath (Bag being the Hindi word for tiger). Yes, at one time this entire area had a sizeable population of tigers, leopards and panthers. lt was Jim Corbett's hunting grounds all right. Built beside a rivulet, it is a custom for devotees wishing for a boon to tie a bell in front of the Bagnath temple.

It wasn't lunch time yet and so we decided to start our ascent towards Chaukori still 47 kilometres away. The only little town on the way was Kanda with a bunch of miserable eating joints. But as luck would have it, we persisted in our journey onwards and were amply rewarded. A small pahadi dhaba (local eating house) in one of the villages was most pleased to serve us fresh chapatis with a dish of potatoes, peas and tomatoes. But that was not all. Just as we had parked our bike a thunderstorm broke out spewing a shower of hail too. And as if that was not enough, it cleared considerably by the time our hot lunch had been devoured.

But, of course, luck doesn't smile forever. Just five kilometres short of Chaukori, the sky turned menancingly dark and a major storm was imminent any moment. The big question was: whether we would make it to Chaukori first or would the storm overtake us before that. Luck chose the former.

By the time we entered the porch of the Chaukori Rest House, the now chilly winds had risen to gale velocity. The manager and staff were an affable lot and by the time we had checked in it started raining cats and dogs. But wait! There was a discernable change in the drumming sound on our tin roofed room. Peeking out of the window wasn't enough. We rushed out. It was a hailstorm of some magnitude. Soon, to our disbelief, the surroundings had turned an eerie white while the hailstorm kept up its onslaught. This was indeed a lucky escape for us.
But more was in the offing. Half an hour later the storm eased and the clouds to the north parted as if to say 'look'. And looking we were indeed! There was pure silvery snow clad mountainscape peeking through the clouds. The porch was the only place which afforded enough cover for shooting. And before I realized, my SLR was bleeping 'end of the roll'. But that half hour or more was an experience of a lifetime. It still refreshes me as I type it down in words. Chaukori must be rated the highest in our trip amongst the offbeat vantage points visited so far.

DAY SIX. At 2010 metres above sea, the night at Chaukori had been colder because of the fresh snow the storm had brought the previous evening. We awoke very early again, as if synchronized with sunrise. And surely, I realized, we city dwellers had ' lost all bearing of what chaste and clear weather actually meant. That morning, there was not a speck of cloud, much less any haze that leaves long shots appear with an insipid and undefined blue cast.

It was perfect shooting time - picture perfect to be more precise. The first rays of golden-yellow sunlight came through clearly on film. Even as the sun rose higher, the panorama of mountains including the Nanda Devi, Nanda Kot, and Nanda Khat stood out against the blue sky.

Yes, even that blue was out of this world. What was equally interesting was the foreground-the Chaukori tea estate with its darkgreen tea plants and red soil. A short walk along a kutcha (unmetalled road) took us through the garden of nicely pruned tea plants (all remnants of the Raj era) and to the other side of the hill. From here the panorama was different and the foreground had rolling hills dotted by tiny, shiny specks which were actually slate tiled roofs reflecting sunlight.

There were two Alsatians barking themselves hoarse at the lavish, though now crumbling, tea estate bungalow. But the bungalow was so tempting a shot that I sneaked behind the abandoned store houses and did my best to get it on film. Besides, my wife with her usual resourcefulness, had negotiated to buy a kilo of Chaukori tea. Eighty rupees a kilo for long leaf tea was an unquestionable bargain.

DAY SEVEN. Though the manager had coaxed us more than once to stay back, we decided to retrace our steps and proceed to Binsar by late forenoon. We'll probably always repent not staying on. But then city dwellers like us have such weird concepts like time, schedules, deadlines and paid leaves added on to their vocabulary. None of these made sense in the lap of nature.

Chaukori to Binsar is an up and down drive via Bageshwar and Taluka. The Great Himalayan peaks will be a constant companion till Bageshwar. Then they appear only intermittently. Finally, with Almora only 20 odd kilometres away, there is a big hoarding that says 'Welcome to Binsar Reserve Forest'. You take the branching road and start a steep ascent. When I say steep, you should imagine driving your- vehicle full throttle in first and second gear up this incline.
The 11-kilometre stretch takes one right up to 2,412 metres above MSL - the highest of the vantage points we have hit so far. The KMVN rest house is the only habitation around, apart from a forest dak bungalow further up the hill. Besides, we were in for a slight shock: Binsar, the manager announced, had no electricity at all.

It was fairly chilly, windy and damp up here. As usual, the snowscape at this time - it was nearing 5:30 in the evening - was hidden beneath piles and piles of fluffy clouds. We were headed for an eventless evening, or so it appeared. Night came on and we were to head for the dining hall. But something caught our attention. It wasn't mountains.

And it wasn't a rising moon. It was the heavens themselves. I only remember having seen such a starscape in the Thar many years ago. At last, the Milky Way lived up to its name. The Great Bear, which is prominent enough to be visible in city conditions, was now lost in this overexuberant medley. It is tempting to try a few long exposure shots provided you don't have an unwary fellow-guest pointing his flash light at you.
Since it was three days past full moon, Mr. Moonshine was taking his time rising. He finally came up only after we'd tucked ourselves in the thulmas - sheep wool blankets made on village looms and extremely warm. They are markedly warmer than blankets and not too heavy either.

DAY EIGHT AND NINE. We took an early morning walk through the dense forests around. The tree trunks covered with moss were pointers to the fact that Binsar received a fair amount of rain. And yes, the forests are not pine groves. Apart from the bright red bottle flower trees, it was difficult to identify the other flora for me.

The after effects of the storm that had crossed us in Chaukori were still very much visible. The morning at Binsar was bright and the sweeping panorama very clear. The Bungalow, which offers a nice view of the range, is an ideal place to shoot from. A few panned shots in sequence were necessary to cover the entire length. To get closeups you'll require a good telephoto, upward of at least a 300 millimetre one I was using.
By 9:00 in the morning we had finished with work and were ready to leave Binsar on our way down to the plains, but not before stopping a night at Nainital. This was to be the great anti-climax. A climb down to what we call civilization. But then, all the good things in life must have an end. And these end faster than one wishes. The only consolation that one can offer oneself is: "O.K., we'll come back to this glorious land for more very soon". Dare I say, we know only too well when that 'very soon' will actually be!