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I’m no itinerant trekker. I doubt I’m even good at it. I still like being a participant. I had lost my way during the Churdhar trek in Sirmour (Himachal Pradesh) some months back. I was really edgy for that half an hour when I was all by myself in the wilderness, but by the time I got reunited with my group, I had shed the baggage of hastened anxiety. So, when my three friends suggested taking the tougher “unofficial” route to Srikhand Mahadev, my new carefree spirit was quick to acquiesce. The 25-km trek starts from Fancha village near Jeori town; the traditional route is through Nirmand. The first day’s trek meandered through a forest. We walked past trees that allowed a modicum of sunlight to penetrate, much like Churdhar. By afternoon, we seven –three boys from Zirakpur (Punjab) had joined us on the way – reached the first camp set up by Fancha villagers. The next morning, 25-year-old Anil Negi, who was deployed at the first camp, assured us that the route to Lord Shiva’s abode was easy. It takes experience to realise that when a Himachali gives direction, he assumes that your capabilities match his. They don’t. We began our long march. Rocks, big and small, replaced trees. We could see snow-covered mountains. The ascent was steep. So instead of looking ahead, I looked down, concentrating on the next step. Trudging up the hill, we reached the first glacier. At Churdhar, I had a tough time walking on ice. Here it was not a patch of ice but a glacier! No one volunteered to go first. Just because my anxiety level was down by no means meant that the adventure threshold had shot up. A herdsman climbing the glacier proved to be our saviour. We literally followed in his footsteps and thanked him profusely, but a tad too soon. Another glacier lay ahead, much bigger. Anil Negi’s assurances were for the likes of him, not us Punjabi trekkers. It was 3 pm and it was important to reach the second camp before sunset. One of us proposed to return, another pondered, two suggested that we climb the hill to avoid the glacier. We agreed to the plan. We were crawling, if someone could see us from above – our feet and hands were clinging on to the mountain. As we gained in altitude, we were gasping for breath. And water was in short supply. We criss-crossed three or four mountains to escape one glacier. At 5, we sighted the second camp. The way to it was another treacherous path. This time, we crossed a glacier with a not-so-steep-gradient. At 7, we hit the second camp after 12 hours of trekking. Our resolve to go any further had taken a beating. After tea and rice mixed with pulses (our first meal of the day), we snuggled into the sleeping bags, too tired to think of which direction our journey was to proceed. At 6.30 am, the ice was shimmering in the sunlight; the clouds seemed like hanging cotton balls. I felt like a speck, almost non-existent, free. It was a very peace-inducing moment. The four of us decided to return, three opted to brave it out; they would not leave without paying obeisance. The journey back was no less demanding. A herdsman again helped us cross the glaciers. The rain made it worse as we slipped and fell several times. By the time we reached Jeori, we were exhausted, but no one was complaining, certainly not me. Churdhar had made me less anxious as a person and as a trekker, the Srikhand Mahadev trek more acceptive of what I could change, what I could not, and to take whatever came my way in my stride. Another trek would follow for sure, and one participant would be more than ready.