I don’t want journeys to end

It’s very commonly said that what matters is the journey and not the destination. And I don’t even know where to begin to explain how much I agree with this somewhat cliché statement. Be it short car rides in the city or long bus journeys in the mountains, I never want them to end. I like the happy anticipation of reaching the destination as well as the sadness of the journey ending. There is a sense of comfort in the continuity of journey; the certainty of having set out to reach a place and of passing time by looking out of the window, introspecting and watching the views drift by, it is very calming.

I felt the same on the bus ride to Kotgaon, the base camp, from Dehradun on my recent trek to Har Ki Dun. It was about a 9-10 hour journey and I could not have been more grateful for the distance between the two locations. The change of landscape from a city to a village in the mountains is something that can only be experienced completely through such long road trips. It was a perfect start to escapism. Meeting unknown people who would soon turn into a family over the course of 8 days, having small conversations, bonding over great playlists and just looking out of the window silently is what made it all so wholesome.

Apart from the road journeys, the trek itself was extremely beautiful which I prayed wouldn’t end so soon. We walked through forests, alongside a river, over the boulders and across the meadows for about 6 days and I felt right at home. Every day I would wake up, anticipating the trek trails that we would be covering that day and hope that we never stop walking. My days consisted of walking several kilometers to the next campsite, talking to fascinating people, admiring wildflowers throughout the trail, feeling consumed by the landscape around me, taking short breaks in between, and resuming the long walk again. It was the ideal routine of walking to a destination, a predefined long journey which I just did not want to end. Even the short walks around the campsites, be it to the river banks or to the dining tent, might have seemed insignificant but I knew I’d miss them as soon as I got back to the dreary life of the city.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the last day of the trek. I did my best and kept a slow pace, desperately trying to memorize the intricate details of the landscape around me, from the sound of the gushing river to the shapes of the clouds in the sky. We reached Taluka (the last stop of the trek, from where we had to drive to Kotgaon), and sat on rocks which overlooked the majority of our trek. It was so incredible to see almost the entire journey in front of us, the meandering river flowing through the converging mountains, which were looming right over us, just a few days ago on our summit day.

Sitting on top of the jeep twice, during the drives from and to Kotgaon on the first and last day of the trek will always be two of my most unforgettable journeys. On the first day, I got to see the rising sun cast its rays on the mountains in the morning, just a few hours after the sunrise, while on the last day I got to see the setting sun cast its rays – hues of golden on the snowcapped peaks with the moon gradually rising in the evening. The transition between the shades of the sun on the snow to the moonlight reflecting from the snow as the dusk set in, was breathtaking. My heart felt heavy as we were nearing the campsite, I just did not want to leave.

Such journeys make me feel complete. Everything that the mountains have to offer – from the sound of the waterfalls and river, the smell of the forests, to interesting conversations with people who lead intriguing lives, ghost stories and the night sky – it is mystical.

I don’t want such journeys to ever end.

*This picture has been taken by Saloni Mehta.