Deoriatal Chandrashila (DC) trek was my first solo adventure, and it remains my first love. This journey was more than just a physical challenge; it was a transformative experience that humbled me in the vastness of the Himalayas. With IndiaHikes, I embarked on an adventure that surpassed all my expectations.
On 30th November 2023, I completed the Deoriatal-Chandrashila trek, and it hands down became the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. It was truly life-transforming, and although I struggle to put all the learnings into words, I know I emerged as a different person after those six days. I am eternally grateful for the struggles, reflections, learnings, and most importantly, the new friendships I forged along the way.
The Initial Struggles
The trek was four days long, and the first two days were a struggle. But on the third day, which involved a steep ascent through dense forests for hours at a stretch, I found my rhythm. For the first time, I was walking ahead and even conversing with our trek leader for more than an hour during the ascent—something I never do. I felt confident in my footing and my pace. I felt like a pro trekker. All my doubts, fears, and insecurities seemed to fade away.
Interestingly, four different people at different times questioned why I was being so hard on myself. This led to some reflection and seeing myself in a different light.
The Summit Night: A True Test of Endurance
The summit night was the hardest part of the trek. We had to start our journey at 2 AM, which was different from our usual 8:30 AM start. Despite not sleeping well for the past six days, I was confident after my triumph on the previous day. However, as soon as we started the summit push, I felt weak and fatigued. There was no muscle pain, just an overwhelming lack of energy.
We began the trek in pitch darkness, using headlamps to navigate. The trek leader briefed us about the timing, precautions, and temperatures. His words, “Mountains first they break you, then they make you,” resonated deeply with me. As we walked, my condition worsened. I informed my trek leader, who advised me to hydrate more and kept an eye on me. Despite my spirits being high, my body was giving up.
A Battle with Inner Demons
After a 2 km walk on a rocky terrain, right when we were about to enter Chopta for the summit climb, I was just done. The leader said this was due to lack of sleep. I thought, “Why, why, I thought I was finally doing good.”
I’m scared of dogs, and Himalayan dogs are big and fluffy. Especially at night, their glowing eyes can be terrifying. At the entrance gate of Chopta, we were briefed about dog fights and warned not to pet any of the dogs as they might bite. Great, I thought.
But just when the climb started, I was so drained and dead, I was putting all my body weight on the trek poles and in my mind saying “1, 2” with each step. My only goal was to take two steps forward and keep repeating it. Dogs were fighting, barking, crossing between my legs and trek poles, but I had no energy left to even be scared.
Given that we had to reach the summit to see the sunrise and we were walking in freezing cold weather, our brief was to walk real slow and not to stop for more than a minute anywhere. When we started, the leader asked me to stay towards the middle of the group so that I have people around me. But very soon, they all started crossing me, and in some time, I was the last trekker, something which had never happened in all the six days. I could see their headlights ahead and tried my best to up my pace and reach them.
They took a longer break due to me, and when I reached, I was just done. I was breathing very heavily, and the way I was walking, it was pretty much like a dead log being carried by my trek poles. I pleaded that I really wanted to rest, but that wasn’t an option. The leader gave me a pep talk to push me ahead, and I said something like the only reason I have walked this far is due to my mental pep talk; my body gave up at the start. But even saying these lines made me pant again.
A Small Act of Kindness
When we started again, everyone crossed me quite quickly. I could see some headlamps waiting for me a little longer, turning in my direction. I don’t even know who these people were, but I was so grateful. Little did they know, that gesture helped me push harder.
During the trek, to drink water from our backpacks, we would turn sideways so another trekker could get a water bottle from our bag. I was so exhausted that I asked one of the last two trekkers to get my water bottle. They waited while I sipped water, then put it back. I immediately realized that I just wanted them to pause so I could catch up, which wasn’t fair to them. Then I saw the trekker who helped me, S, wasn’t wearing gloves.
“Wait, you aren’t feeling cold?” I asked.
“Bohot lag rahi he, par gloves lana bhul gaya,” he replied.
“I’ve two, take one,” I offered.
We were advised to wear woolen and snow gloves. Interestingly, sharing my gloves gave me more energy than water, rest breaks, or chocolate combined.
Walking Alone: The Inner Journey
The trek to Chandrashila is a curvy one, and that made it harder to keep up with them. Pretty soon, all the lights faded, and I was joined by our guide. I exhaled a sigh. The guide always sticks with the person who is last and very clearly struggling. I have seen it in the previous trek days.
I was so good yesterday, and today I’m worse than the worst. Fucking hell. What’s the point of doing this? Why am I never serious about my personal goals? I should have slept or made an effort to sleep more. Given that today we won’t be stopping for breaks and this day is time-bound, with the trail ahead getting steeper and temperatures dropping further, I won’t be able to make it to the summit, let alone catch up with folks. In that case, why am I continuing? I was mentally prepared to end the trek after the third day. Why am I suffering so much? My parents and grandparents told me not to come; I should have listened to them. Why don’t I listen to people? This was a horrible idea. I’m done.
My negative mental chatter was at its peak. I kept blaming myself, but I was so drained that I didn’t have the energy to hate myself. Thankfully, Vijay bhai interrupted my thoughts and started a conversation. I asked him about the remaining distance, and he said his usual answer, “Thoda hi aage he.” I was like, “Bhaiya, ab to jhut mat bolo.”
I begged him to leave me and go. “I just need a 15-minute nap,” I pleaded.
“Madam, temperatures kafi low he. If you stop now, you won’t be able to start again. Your body will get cold. Walk very slowly, koi baat nahi,” he said.
“Bhaiya, isse slow to tortoise bhi nahi chalta,” I replied.
“Madam, aap jyada mat socho, bas chalte raho,” he encouraged.
Finding Strength in Stories
I also realized that if I wanted to quit now (which I did), I would be taking one of the guides with me, which would be unfair to the rest of the team. If I can’t stop or go back, the only option left is to walk.
At this point, reaching the summit was not on my mind. That boat had sailed long ago. I just wanted to survive until everyone was back from the summit.
My mind was a nonstop negative banter box. To distract myself, I asked Naveen bhai to share some stories. He narrated a mythology story about how Tungnath temple was formed, but I was zoning out. I said, “Bhaiya, thoda comedy story bolo na, I’m not the dharmik types.”
He couldn’t think of anything. Then I asked him how he was doing, and he said he didn’t sleep well last night and was relatively new to the trek compared to the other guide. Today, he was struggling. That fixed me up.
Man, here I’m cribbing and bantering about how much I’m suffering, and this person, who has done more hard work than me and is struggling, is still taking care of me. How insensitive am I?
One learning here was that every time I helped someone or genuinely asked for someone’s well-being, it made me feel immediately and so much better.
He shared a bit about himself, and I think that made him feel better. I was definitely out of hosting my pity party. After a short while, he said, “Madam, you are doing better now. Shall I go and check the other trekkers? I will check on you in a short while.” I said, “Sure thing. Don’t worry, I will be fine.”
Realizing My Why
This section was my alone, uninterrupted reflection time. I kept thinking, why am I doing this trek? I was perfectly fine and mentally prepared to stop after day three. I’m not going to reach the summit anyway. Then why am I still walking? I had multiple reasons to do the trek—for my friends and family who can’t do this, to do hard things alone, to have a unique experience, etc.
If your why is a four-sentence answer, that’s corporate bullshit. Your why needs to be a four-word answer. Why the hell am I trekking?
I had recently read two books, David Goggins’ “Can’t Hurt Me” and Arlene Blum’s “Breaking Trail.” Both were phenomenal reads, but I couldn’t grasp one of the learnings from each book.
David says, when you think you are fucked, you still have 55% left in your tank. While Arlene, during an expedition to Mount Denali, was content to stop just a few kms before the summit with no guilt. So, how does one know when to push and when to be content? Which one should I pick now? I kept reflecting on these and other things (which I don’t even remember now), and suddenly it hit me:
It’s MY MOUNTAIN, MY CLIMB—that’s my why.
I’m doing this trek for me; all the lessons, learnings, and failures are mine and mine alone. It’s a journey inward.
The walk till now was my David Goggins moment. I was done, but I had to push through, and I clearly had more in the tank. The trail ahead now is Arlene Blum. I’m content and completely okay if I end the trek here. This is my summit. I felt lighter and relieved.
A Magical Moment: The Glittering Path
Just then, out of the blue, Vijay bhai came back to check on me and immediately turned my headlamp off. Before I could ask anything, he said, “Bohot roshni he,” and gestured me to look up. It was a starry, full moon night—the first we had seen in all these days. Not just that, the stones we were walking on were made of mica (from which glitter is made), and the whole path was sparkling in the moonlight—like Tinkerbell fairy dust. I was blown away.
Vijay: Madam, aap to bohot acha kar rahe ho. Dekho kitna dur aa gaye.
Me: Thank you bhaiya. Haan abhi thik lag raha he.
Vijay: Acha he, ho jayega, chalte raho.
Me: Thank you. Aur kitni dur he?
Vijay: Aree jyada dur nahi he, aap aese hi chalte raho.
He said he had to go on and check on another trekker who was struggling. I didn’t know someone was behind me. I immediately told him not to worry about me and to check on the other person.
Walking Alone: The Final Stretch
I was feeling better, both physically and mentally. Walking at a steady pace, I focused on breath work, hydrating, and eating sugary treats. I was mesmerized by the beauty around me. Walking alone, I felt a sense of freedom. This section was gated and public, so it was safe.
I’ve read books and watched documentaries of people doing long-distance solo trails like PCT (Pacific Crest Trail), ACT (Appalachian Crest Trail), and was always in awe of them. I wanted to experience a bit of it, but I can’t carry that heavy backpack and walk alone in the wilderness for months. This walk is just perfect. It’s almost like this was handcrafted for me.
With each step, my underlying emotion was gratitude. I was so grateful that I got to do this. With each turn, I reflected on my learnings from this trek, the awesome friends I had made, and this whole experience. Nikita, a fellow trekker and dear friend, really pushed me hard on the self-love bit. I smiled thinking of her. My hands were frozen, so I couldn’t move my fingers. I clapped my trek poles and said, “I’m proud of myself.” That choked me up.
I thought tears were reserved for the summit, but this was my summit. I was so excited to tell Nikita and the others that I patted my back—figuratively, I patted my trek poles. That made me excited to push ahead. With each turn, I saw peaks more clearly, which was a wow moment. The darkness was fading, and the view was breathtaking. There was a freshness in the air, and I felt light and happy. With each turn, I kept repeating, “Gosh, I’m so grateful that I get to do this.”
The Summit: Embracing the Accomplishment
After a while, I spotted Naveen Bhai. He was sitting at an intersection.
He said, “Aree madam aap to bohot jaldi aa gaye, ekdum thik bhi lag rahe ho?”
Me: “Haan, abhi better lag raha he. Bhaiya, baki sab kahan he?”
He pointed ahead. I could see some silhouettes a bit far away.
Me: “Bhiaya, aur kitni dur he?”
N: “Arre madam, aab to aa hi gaye. Bas thoda sa dur he.”
Me: “Bhiaya, aapka thoda ya mera thoda?”
N: \Laughs/ “Arre chalte raho. Bas pass me hi he.”
Me: “Thank you bhaiya, aapne bohot help kari. Aapki tabiyat ab kesi he?”
N: “Welcome madam. Ab me bhi thik hun.”
I kept walking ahead. This patch had black ice. And given that I was walking alone and it was still not that bright, it woke me up further more. If I slip, that will be a big injury.
As I walked a bit ahead, I started seeing trekkers in some distance. That fired me up. I also spotted Nikita and her husband in short distance. I upped my pace and carefully kept walking towards her.
Me: “How’s it going, folks?”
They said they were struggling and wanted to quit. DC has lots and lots of false summits.
N: “Dekh na, kitna dur he. Utna to ja hi nahi sakte. Fir chal ke kya fayda?”
Me: “Aree tu ye kyun soch rahi he? It’s your mountain, your climb. When you think you are done, that’s the summit. Me to har turn aur better view lene ke liye chal rahi hun.”
N: “Ye shai bola tune. I will follow this.”
Me: “Bas ek turn upar aa.. Killer views he yaar.”
And she got up and started walking.
With every turn, I could see the summit, and that made me a bit more excited. But reflecting back, I was still not focused on reaching the summit, instead taking just one turn. The summit push of DC is quite steep. I did feel I was done here, but then I heard our trek leader’s voice, “Chalo, chalo aa gaye.” I smiled and thought, “Let’s push a little more.” He did say in the briefing that we all will summit. And I was excited to see my fellow trekkers.
After a while, I was really tired and then I saw Jill and Emma with whom I’ve shared a tent on the second night. They saw me and screamed, “You are here, come on” – with really both hands up in the air. Their excitement and happiness was an electric shot. I pushed ahead further. And by then, I could hear the rest of the group talking. I pushed ahead. Now I was really tired. And then Ashish Sir, spotted me and cheered me – tab to chalna hi tha.
I walked ahead and Sir congratulated and hugged me and said, “I’m proud of you.” He is ex-military, compliments don’t come easy to him. I choked up and said, “Thank you, sir.”
Jill and Emma hugged me and congratulated me again. I told Emma, “I did pat my back.”
Emma: You should. You should be super proud of yourself.
The rest of the team saw me, and everyone came to congratulate me. They were genuinely happy and were cheering me on. Aarav, Nikita’s son, gave me a high-five while looking behind my shoulder. I told him, “Your mom and dad are just a turn away, and they are coming.”
After one more thank you, I broke down. I had no business reaching the summit today. And I have never had so many strangers genuinely cheering me on with nothing to gain from me. I couldn’t say another word; I just had tears in my eyes. I still don’t know why I was crying.
Nikita came in a short while. I hugged her. We both had tears in our eyes. I started crying.
All I could say was, I don’t know why I’m crying.
She said, “Look what you have accomplished, never ever doubt yourself again.”
I said, “Thank you,” weepingly.
Few other folks came to check on me when they saw me crying. Nikita said, “she’s fine, just emotional.” They patted my back and left. When James heard this, he said: “Aree cry more, don’t hold back. We all just finished crying. Mere to 2-3 rounds hue.”
I’ve never been told to cry more by anyone, let alone a man. What is this world? We all did a group huddle with some military slogans, and all the time I was struggling to hold back the tears. I still don’t know why I cried.
Then after the photo session and still trying to soak the 360-degree mountain peaks, our trek leader asked us to pick a mountain peak and gave us a postcard to jot down our feelings while sitting in solitude.
I was so mesmerized by the peaks and reaching the summit that I just had tears flowing from my eyes.
A New Perspective
After DC, whenever I have faced obstacles in a trek or life that frustrated me, it’s never a question of whether I can finish. I immediately think, “What can I do to solve this situation? How can I make this better and keep moving?” I call it my debugging mode and, in turn, understanding myself better. It would be easy to complain, but real life isn’t like that.
There have been moments in my life where I’ve given up too early, usually when it feels too hard. But that’s where the greatest change happens, where the best lessons are learned. Too often, we quit too early.
Reaching the summit was emotional. I had pushed through a barrier I didn’t know I could. I got on that summit, and it wasn’t how I planned, but maybe it was everything I needed. It showed me what we’re capable of if we keep going.
[…] I remember the first time I signed up for a Himalayan trek. I was insecure, unfit, unsure. And yet, somehow, I made it to the Chandrashila summit. […]