I started at daybreak to trek to the Valley of Flowers around five kilometers away. The valley was not on the pilgrimage route, and, since I had started much earlier than the rest of my companions, I found myself completely alone among the majestic mountains. After walking about four kilometers, I descended down into the glacier-covered landscape. As a protected National Park, there are no villages in the valley, and neighboring villagers aren't allowed to graze their cattle here. Nothing could detract from the sublime beauty of the Valley of Flowers. As I sat among plants five or six feet tall and listened to the silence, I experienced a kind of ecstasy that city dwellers don't get to appreciate. The bountiful wildflowers were spread out like carpets, their myriad intoxicating smells casting a spell difficult to ward off. It wasn't until the rains started in the afternoon that I was snapped out of my reverie and forced to start my return journey.
The next day I reached the maximum elevation I would see on my trek, an altitude of 4,329 meters by the sacred site of Hemkund Saheb. A glacial lake surrounded by seven snow-clad peaks, the Hemkund Saheb occupies a prominent place in Sikh and Hindu mythology. It took me about six hours to complete the steep six-kilometer ascent that took us up a whopping 1,281 vertical meters. Oxygen deprivation made the last few kilometers extremely daunting. It was humbling to see aged Garhwalis literally running up the mountains while I suffered with every step. Redeeming the entire experience was the exquisite scenery spread out before me, with the clouds constantly playing games and changing the whole landscape every few minutes. You could stand for hours appreciating the visual feast as one peak comes into view only to be covered by clouds which reveal another peak in turn. It was the ultimate natural slide show.
The vegetation had also changed remarkably. When I started at Ghangria, there was considerable tree cover, which gradually thinned to a few shrubs and bushes at the top. The last half-kilometer of the trail is home to the elusive Brahmo Komol. This flower, perhaps the only Komol (lotus) to grow on land, features prominently in Hindu scriptures and grows in the wild only in high altitudes.
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