There are landscaped gardens carefully tended by old hands & there are secret gardens tended by the daedal hands of Nature.

These untouched utopias may not be as well-manicured as earthlings would have fashioned them.

Bereft of pebbled parterres & ornamental benches, or elegant lanterns, they still exist —gracing the Earth uninhibitedly.

Yet, they’re happy places, abounding in Elysian bliss.

Path leading to Base Camp, Kharchi, Uttarakhand

The seeds of this ‘happy valley’ — The Valley of Flowers in Uttarakhand were sown in my mind some 30 years ago. But marriage & motherhood compelled us to traverse ‘sought-after’ lands &, we couldn’t have carried a bawling baby or forced a senior uphill.

Yet, every time I visited exotic gardens, the valley of my dreams, relegated to the hinterland of my headspace, often tugged at my heart space.

September 2024 & I was confined to bed. ‘Plantar Fasciitis & heel spur’, pronounced the doctors. Fortunately, a dozen physiotherapy sessions declared me fit.

So, we decided to venture out in August 2025 because the valley would be abloom! Then came news of cloudbursts, flash floods & landslides.

‘Do you people need to go right now? Can’t you go in January?’ questioned my father-in-law.

‘But the flowering season is from June to September,’ I exclaimed, hoping that he wouldn’t conspire with my mom & convince us to call off our trip.😰

My bestie & my brother too felt we were throwing caution to the wind.

We had registered this expedition with India Hikes, but by the first week of August, the number of registrants had begun to dwindle on the WhatsApp group!

A couple of days before our journey, I experienced a sudden catch in my back & what followed was another round of physiotherapy.😱

Bucolic scenes from outside my train window 

However, we left on the preplanned date & arrived at Haridwar Station. We ditched the flights due to their inconvenient timings & believe me, monsoon glimpses of India can be amazingly swell!☺️The above pictures, I’m sure, will say it all.

I’m not new to Haridwar & Rishikesh, having visited the twin towns since childhood. Yet the place never ceases to enthral.

One can’t stay cooped up for long. When the Ganga beckons, it’s impossible to resist.

A dip in its icy waters is for the truly bold & dauntless, & that’s my better half who took the plunge without any qualms.

Ganga Arti is unmissable, but that evening we failed to find a seat, as it was Janmashthami (the birthday of Shri Krishna).

At 5 the next morning, we assembled at the pick-up point preset by India Hikes. The balmy weather was unlike the wintry weather of Rishikesh, which I was so used to during my earlier visits in December.

However, as the van zoomed uphill, the scene changed! Verdant jungles replaced the concrete ones.

The roads that had, until then, run parallel to murky rivulets suddenly led to plunging dells swelling with misty streams. Fluffy clouds parted to reveal a leaden sky & the sultry weather melted into thrilling chill.

At one point, when the looming hills were at par with us, I even naively felt, ‘This is it. We are at the top!’ However, we had just finished an hour of the 10-hour trip! 😛

Yet, when we alighted for lunch, the veil had been lifted & countless Chir Pines stood tall & welcoming, spreading their hardy boughs against an azure sky. What are the mountains without the Pines & Firs?? Gone too was the nip in the air.

By about 4 pm, rolling hills stood cloaked in verdure & peppered by rustic hamlets. We had reached Kharchi Base Camp! 🤩

While our luggage was transported via a winch, we had to trudge uphill.

The sound of silence was punctuated by the burble of a babbling brook & the nippy air was redolent with a light, earthy petrichor.

A rickety wooden pathway formed a bridge, beneath which raged a sparkling runnel.

A set of slippery, uneven stepping stones led to our lodge.

As I scrambled over the skiddy ridge, my knees touched my chin & I uneasily wondered what it would be like to scale loftier mountains!

Each new level revealed a new splendour.

View from atop the India Hikes Basecamp, Kharchi

The emerald green hills dotted with dollops of resplendent colours, soon unveiled as crimson cannas, golden sunflowers, zippy zinnias, rosy roses & joyous gladiolus.🥰

The moving mist forced the blushing zinnias to look away coyly.

The Gladiolus that often gilds the lily in bouquets seemed to be the graceful garden variety here.

They held sway like well-manicured, slender fingers of a graceful demoiselle posing with elan.

A dew-drenched pink rose arose alone like a defiant youngster.

A host of pink hollyhocks stood their ground against an old wall.

The rains had already vivified the landscape & another wreath of mist was waiting to descend.

The whole atmosphere was so bewitching that we wondered aloud what it would be in the Valley of Flowers!

Sweeping Views from Kharchi Base Camp

We reached our lodging at the outpost & clicked as much as our lens could hold.

A few minutes before sundown, the curtains of clouds parted to unwrap yet another marvel & this time —the Dronagiri Peak at a distance!

With the blue firmament streaked by silvery clouds forming the perfect silver screen, the snow-streaked Dronagiri emerged as a celestial formation —ethereal & sublime!

To refresh your memory, legend has it that this was the mountain to which Lord Hanuman flew to fetch the miraculous life-bestowing Sanjeevani herb to restore Lakshmana’s life!

After tea & light refreshments, we, along with our team of about 20 hikers, assembled for the orientation session to familiarise ourselves with what to expect.

The following morning, we set out for Poolna & reached in about 2 hours. A jeep ride took us to Ghangaria, from where we commenced our trek.

Although the pathways were well laid out, the steps were rocky & the dirt track was slippery.

‘Oh! This is nothing,’ we were told. ‘Wait till you commence your trek to the actual valley, & you’ll know how challenging that can be’.😥

I wondered how this serendipitous odyssey would have panned out for Frank S Smythe, the British mountaineer & his team, who chanced upon this valley when they wandered off course, & to boot, in 1931, when there was no way! Wasn’t that a commendable feat? But for him, this valley would have remained an undiscovered gem!

My challenges were ongoing. Regrettably, devouring a high-calorie sweet left me with a queasy tummy, which curbed my movements on the steep slopes.

When I couldn’t push myself anymore, I requested a pony to transport me to the base camp at Ghangharia. Well, it wasn’t comfortable, but the footslogging was really enervating.

The journey seemed interminable & by early evening, it began to drizzle. Inadvertently, I had worn my winter clothes over my rainwear. Raindrops trickled into my clothes, & the accompanying chilly weather made me sicker. 😢

Finally, when we reached our room at Ghangharia base camp, I was shivering with a mild fever.

I cannot proceed further without commenting on the commendable care accorded by the India Hikes Team. From regularly monitoring my condition to administering medicines, they did everything to make me comfortable.

While husband & the team left for the valley the next morning, I decided to stay back. Of course, I was gripped by an intense FOMO. In between snoozes, I thought hard & cursed my condition. However, by evening, perhaps due to adequate rest, I awoke with renewed vigour & put forth my idea of heading for the valley the next day when the team would trek to Hemkund. The team, though very encouraging, warned me of the challenges.

The following morning, I awoke with determination & decided that I wouldn’t leave the place without sighting the valley.

Post breakfast, my husband & I set out, but while he joined the team to Hemkund, I ventured alone. It isn’t unsafe, as the trail is often teeming with tourists.

The overcast sky & the claggy weather presaged how the day would pan out.

I had barely begun shuffling around & I was gasping for breath. Sensing my discomfort, a few pithu carriers approached me. I had always wondered how inhumane tourists could be towards other humans who were tasked with the job of carrying people on their backs. However, that day, I had to eat the humble pie & I relented.

Please note that ponies cannot trek such a steep incline. Those grazing at the foothills were the ones that had arrived from Poolna.

The Nepali Pithu carrier lowered his cane basket, which was lined with a cushion. He looked emaciated & yet chirpy & civil. I felt terribly guilty, but I did not bargain with him when he quoted a fancy price.

And I decided to hoof it up whenever possible & not be a burden on the poor guy. Believe me, it pricked my conscience, but their livelihood depended on weary tourists like me.

For a while, we plodded through cloud-capped mountains, gushing cascades & forested terrain.

In 20 minutes, we reached the check-post of the Valley of Flowers! ‘Wow! I made it!!’ My heart skipped a beat!😍

‘That’s it??’ I enquired, to which knackered young trekkers half my age, raised their eyebrows & mumbled wearily, ‘You’ve a long way to go…..’.🙂‍↕️

That sounded like a school teacher who was going to throw in her towel😒

The pithu guy smiled wryly & exclaimed, ‘We haven’t crossed half the expanse..’ 😰

The pictures of fauna that greeted us at the entrance seemed scornful.

Yet, something in the atmosphere seemed to chivvy me into completing my mission.

We made the mandatory entry in the register & proceeded. The number of tourists entering the premises will be tallied at the end of the day. Even knapsacks & the number of plastic bottles or Lays packets would be tallied.

Believe me, I felt I was stepping into a sacred grove!

The niveous mist, the refreshing spray of rain, & the fragrance of aromatic herbs —everything was so divinely welcoming that I was all agog & excited to foray farther.

The salubrious mountain air made me feel healthier & I decided to amble along. The scenes changed rapidly, alternating from clear to foggy.

Naturally cobbled pathways, which got us sprinting cheerily one moment, were suddenly obscured by fog.

Yet, the alpine blossoms bordering the winding rivulets looked chirpy & at home!

Nature’s raw beauty greeted us at every step.

At one moment, if the sight of dainty blooms delighted us, the very next, there were warning bells of bears on the prowl!

Nevertheless, we prodded along & at times, there was nary a soul in sight.

And when panic gripped, a lone wayfarer appeared from nowhere, like a ray of hope.

Yes, I was sprinting along with energized fervour, while the pitthu guy kept urging me to ride comfortably on his chair. But the salutary mountain milieu was so invigorating that I felt as fit as a fiddle!

Passing clouds deposited their payload on stony steps, which turned treacherously slippery & yet in some spots where the Sun shone, trudging was a breeze!

‘Nature is the best teacher,’ it’s said & there were gentle reminders along the track, highlighting this fact.

Deep gorges reflected the sthenic strength of crisscrossing waterfalls that surmounted every boulder along the way.

And crumbled boulders formed bedrocks, humbled by the sheer force of surging streams!

Silver cascades surged forth in diabolical urgency, spraying a cold drizzle on rocks & pebbles, flora & fauna, & drenching drooping tree trunks.

Yet, when the furious rapids touched base, they bowed down to Mother Earth in humility — offering her pretty, delicate flowers for her flower bed.

And then, as we traipsed along the forested glen, the sound of a gurgling brook filled the air.

As we drew closer, the gurgle grew louder, till we came face to face with River Pushpawati!

Some of the best views of the river can be had from across the bridge bridging the valleys.

To think how labourers back then might’ve laboured to build this bridge, braving the weather conditions & the burbling beck below, is simply beyond imagination!

We dawdled a bit, not really wanting to leave the scene.

Among the many wondrous scenes, the most striking were the Himalayan Birch, aka Bhojpatra trees (shown below).

If truth be told, I couldn’t help going back to my Amar Chitra Katha days & imagining how Shakunthala & the princesses of yore might’ve penned soulful sonnets on the bark of this birch with peacock feathers for a pen!

Nature never fails to impart lessons. These bright blossoms that sprouted from rock crevices elucidated just that. Blown by the gale, or perhaps flown by birds or bees, some seeds scattered & found their ground, built their community & bloomed together on an otherwise barren rock!

The forest sounds alternated between the rustling of leaves, the clop-clop of footfalls & the swooshing of a waterfall. Even as we bimbled ahead, the roaring of a river quickened our pace.

That was the Alakananda, frolicking her way over rocks & rubbles. River Pushpawati merges with the Lakshman Ganga, & this confluence is the Alakananda!

Soon, the steep inclines unfolded into lush dales adorned with specks of yellow, lavender, pinks, & reds! We had arrived at the actual Valley of Flowers!!

I leave you here to relax, read & relish the visuals.

Follow this trail to discover more alpine gems that shall be strewn your way from Nature’s basket in God’s Own Valley —The Valley of Flowers Part-II.