By Vipin Labroo
It happened many years ago. I was in my early twenties. I and a cousin of mine, who was also a childhood friend, were hanging out one lazy April morning, thinking about ways to kill time. I suggested that we head towards the Doon Valley, as we had both grown up over there and were quite fond of the place. He readily agreed, and in a matter of hours, we were headed in his red Maruti 800 (the first smaller model) on the Delhi-Ghaziabad highway.
While driving on we decided to get more adventurous, and drive all the way to Rudraprayag, immortalised by Jim Corbett in his Man-Eating Leopards of Rudraprayag. In no time at all we were in Rishikesh, from where we drove in the direction of that delightful Himalayan town of Narendra Nagar, now internationally known for the Ananda Spa. On reaching there we again had a change of plans and decided to do the Dhanaulti- Mussoorie stretch instead, as we had never been to Mussoorie, taking that route.
And how wonderful that decision turned out to be, driving through some of the most spectacular mountain scenery that I have ever come across in my life. We first reached the quaint hill town of Chamba (not to be confused with the Chamba of Himachal Pradesh), situated at an altitude of some 5000 to 5500 feet above sea level, and breathtakingly beautiful. The air was cool, crisp and laden with the scent of pine, oak, and rhododendron.
Dotting the hillsides were numerous cottages, mostly built in the colonial style. After an invigorating cup of tea and some eats, we were on our way on the ride of our lives to Dhanaulti. The topography was now dense coniferous forests of deodar-pine.
Mile upon mile, through the numerous turns and bends, dips and inclines. The mists would roll in intermittently, obscuring the view temporarily. We were driving with the headlights on, with a bunch of birds occasionally swooping down right in front of the car and, then just as we thought that they had gone under the wheels they would rise again tweeting in unison.
I also remember seeing a dog with a thick red coat lumbering across the road. We slowed down and let it pass. Such was his majesty. The animals in these parts were unused to too much human presence and therefore had no fear of them. This wonderful ride continued endlessly and is etched permanently in my memory. I can still recall the sweet pine-scented air that rolled in through the open windows of the car like it happened yesterday.
After more than a couple of hours of this wonderful and almost surreal ride, we reached Dhanaulti, a tiny tourist spot which was a little off the beaten track in those days. Dhanaulti is heavily forested with pine, oak, and rhododendron, and being at an altitude of almost 8000 feet receives heavy snowfall in the winter. Those days it used to have one large hotel, probably called Dhanoulti Breeze or something, a Garhwal Vikas Mandal guest house, and probably a couple of small cottages. We chose to spend the night at the guest house, which was spartan, but comfortable.
Early next morning we drove on towards Mussoorie, which we reached in a couple of hours. The drive went through similar topography initially, but the hills became barer, and the roads worse the closer we got to Mussoorie, where we did the tourist routine of walking the Mall. We left the place fairly early though and proceeded towards Saharanpur via Yamuna Pul where we stopped for a brief swim in the ice-cold waters of the Yamuna, (imagine!) emerging from the mountains.
The journey from Saharanpur to Delhi was an uneventful one, after all the excitement that preceded it and we reached our destination late in the night, on a relatively cool April evening.
