Journeys & Jerseys

Most travelers seek the mountains for an escape, but my journey to Jaunsar Bawar felt more like a transition into a different century. While the world outside moves at the speed of a fiber-optic cable, life here although completely in sync with the modern world, but the beauty can still be measured by the height of the sun and the strength of the winter snow.

The Departure from Delhi: 6:45 AM at Platform No. 1

My journey began from my home at 5:00 AM in the blue-grey light of a Delhi winter morning in a cab to the railway station. There is a specific kind of energy at the New Delhi Railway Station (NDLS) at that hour – the smell of diesel, the calls of chai-waalahs, and the rush of travelers. By 6:45 AM, I was settled into the Dehradun Shatabdi Express.

If you are a student or a traveler on a schedule, this is the gold standard for the first leg. The coach was quiet and comfortable, and as the train pulled out of the city, I traded the concrete skyline for the green expanses of western UP. A warm breakfast in my seat made the four-hour journey to Dehradun feel effortless.

The Yamuna & The Wrong Turns

In Dehradun, the air already felt lighter. I met up with friends, and we began the climb toward Chakrata. This is where we learned our first mountain lesson: Google Maps is a suggestion, not a law. We took a few wrong turns that led us deeper into the valley than planned. But as we backtracked, we found ourselves driving alongside the Yamuna and Tons rivers. Watching the water transition from the muddy grey of the plains to a brilliant, crystalline turquoise was mesmerizing. Our “mistakes” forced us to roll down the windows and ask local villagers for directions. In doing so, we didn’t just find our way; we found our first conversations with the people of Jaunsar.

Traveler’s Logistics:

• The Private Route: Driving allows you to stop at the Kalsi Ashoka Rock Edict or grab a tea overlooking the river valleys.
• The Local Route: For those seeking the “Maxx experience,” take a bus from Dehradun to Vikasnagar. From there, shared taxis are the true social hubs of the mountains. They are affordable, scenic, and usually come with a local playlist and plenty of mountain gossip.

Our Guardian of the Hills:

He was our guardian, ensuring that as we moved from the plains into the high ridges, we weren’t just “tourists” looking at a landscape, but students learning about a home. It was through him that we secured a stay in the village of Ashtaad, at his uncle’s traditional house – a rare privilege that allowed us to see Jaunsari life from the inside out.

Having Nitin with us over the telephone, and further throughout our journey was like having a living map and a cultural encyclopedia rolled into one. He didn’t just help us navigate the physical roads; he navigated the social ones. He was our guardian, ensuring that as we moved from the plains into the high ridges, we weren’t just “tourists” looking at a landscape, but students learning about a home. It was through him that we secured a stay in the village of Ashtaad, at his uncle’s traditional house – a rare privilege that allowed us to see Jaunsari life from the inside out.

The Final Mile: Navigating the Scars of the Earth

Leaving the main market of Chakrata, the road to Ashtaad becomes an adventure in itself. About 4 km before we reached the village, the asphalt gave way to a narrow, rugged path.

The mountains here are beautiful but fragile. Recent landslides had left their mark, making the road narrow enough to test any driver’s nerves. We crawled forward carefully, navigating the debris. My advice for anyone following in my footsteps: arrive before the sun goes down and try to prefer asking the locals over trusting the Google maps. These roads require your full attention, and you don’t want to be caught in a narrow bend when the mountain shadows take over, atleast when visiting for the first time.

Stepping into the Silence

The moment I stepped out of the car in Ashtaad, the world went quiet. The air was sharp – cold enough to make you pull your jacket tighter but clean enough to feel like a tonic for city-worn lungs. I arrived just as the sun was setting, painting the ridges in shades of bruised purple and burning gold.

The hospitality was immediate. In Jaunsar Bawar, you aren’t just a tourist; you are a guest of the Khat (the local social unit). But there is a reason this place feels so untouched. Because it is a Defense Protected Area, there is a strict checkpost at the entrance. International tourists are not allowed, and even for us, there is a sense that we are entering a space that the modern world has agreed to leave alone.

As I watched the last of the light disappear behind the peaks, I didn’t know yet about the dry springs or the winter carnival dances. I just knew that I was exactly where I needed to be.