I have always been naively adventurous, with a nothing-wrong-can-happen-to-me kind of confidence. I have no idea how this confidence got instilled in me, but it has always been there as far as I can remember. Perhaps it’s simply my innate nature.

And this innate nature has always served me well when I travel solo. I take detours as and when it pleases me. And that has led me to unexpected and unexplored experiences.

One such detour took me to Bhimtal in Uttarakhand. I was staying in an old British bungalow, deep in the hills, with just one pathway leading to and from it. Nothing around it for miles except trees and birds.

The family living there let out a few extra rooms to people like me who loved nature and solitude and didn’t mind the company of dogs and cats. I was there in January when my bones could easily feel the cold mountain air, hot cups of coffee became my best companions and sitting cosily in the garden with a book in one hand and the sun on my face felt just perfect.

On my second day there, during breakfast, the hostess told me that a bit further from the house there was a nice forest trail I could do since I liked nature. The thought of it was enough to excite me: tall trees, endless greenery, birdsong and a single path winding through it all. I told her I’d love to do it the very next day. The hostess sketched the trail on a piece of paper while carefully marking each landmark as she explained the route. I was confident that I could do it by myself and so was she.

She also warned me that there were leopards in the forest, but they only came out during the night so there was nothing much to worry about. For a minute, I doubted my plan, but nothing-can-go-wrong-with-me confidence came out shining bright and I made up my mind to go.

The next day despite the temptation of my cosy, warm bed, I forced myself to get out of it and get ready to head out for the solo forest hike. Outside, my kind hostess was waiting for me with a packed breakfast. She walked me through the map once more and told me to have fun.

With my backpack on, I set off with an eager stride. After a few minutes of walking, I found the start of the trail as marked in the map. I continued walking on the trail which had been clearly etched out by many walkers before me. Slowly the trees grew taller around me, sunlight sieved in through the branches, and I know longer felt the morning chill, my body had warmed up.

The trees mostly looked as though they belonged to the same family, with a few different looking ones scattered here and there. Different scents drifted in the air, maybe of the leaves and the bark, or maybe of the sunlight melting the mist. It felt refreshing. All the thoughts that usually surround me in a city had disappeared. Here, I was simply a child-like observer.

As I kept walking the bird calls fascinated me. I stopped to listen. I didn’t know which bird made which sound in the forest, but each one of them sounded melodious to me.  

At each short interval, I kept looking at the map to make sure I was going in the right direction. So far, I was.

After spending some time walking through the forest, the tall trees no longer felt intimidating, they had somehow grown familiar. I started noticing the different species, the aged trees, and the young ones. Whenever I noticed a very old tree, I stopped to touch it, feel it and hopefully absorb some of its wisdom. The walk became a meditation. Just me, the trees, the birds, and the occasional butterfly.

Walking through the forest, I found myself wondering how easily we forget that we’re part of this world too. In cities, nature often feels like something separate from us. Here, surrounded by towering trees, that illusion quietly disappeared.

As I kept walking, I lost track of time. That happens. Time becomes irrelevant inside a forest especially during the day as the sun keeps following you in a consistent way through the spaces the trees allow. As long as you notice the sun, you don’t really think about time.

Since the forest sat on a hill, the path gradually turned into an uphill climb. Finally, when I reached on top, I was greeted by a sweeping panorama. A crisp blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds stretched like a blanket, sunlit hills glowed in shades of yellow, while a stream quietly passed through this landscape. It looked like someone had carefully arranged it together into a postcard.

I sat down to soak in the view. Then I unpacked my breakfast and ate it slowly, grateful for this perfect moment. There was something special about having breakfast on a wintry morning with the sun shining generously on me and with a million-dollar view right in front of me.

After breakfast, a bit of rest, and a heart full of peace, I decided to continue my walk, I still had to cross over and reach the village at the other end.

I continued on the pathway, stopping every now and then to click pictures of the cinematic views. After some time, I was back in the dense forest, and I was back to being surrounded only by trees.

Suddenly I noticed that there were two paths diverging from the one I had been following. But the map didn’t indicate it. I wondered if I’d become so engrossed in the trees that I’d lost sight of the trail. So, I decided to take the path that branched off to the right hoping it would eventually reconnect with the route marked on the map . I began walking but this time making a mental note of every tree and shrub I passed. I walked for a while, but none of the landmarks in the map appeared. No bend in the trail, no distinctive tree, nothing that looked familiar. That’s when I realised I was on the wrong path.

So, I started walking back to the point where I took the right turn. Once I got there, I took the left turn instead and kept walking. Something inside me told me that I was lost. A bit of panic was beginning to seep in. I started taking faster steps. I kept looking at the map and the surroundings, everything looked the same. I looked harder. But I just couldn’t find the right path.

I stopped and started weighing my options. One – I could keep walking and see where the path led, it would definitely lead somewhere. Two – I could go back to the point where the paths diverged and then look at the options again with calm eyes. Since I had walked quite a bit in this direction, I decided to continue for a bit. But as luck would have it, there was a diversion again in the path. At that point I knew that if someone didn’t guide me, I could keep walking in circles in the forest and wouldn’t get anywhere. This is what happens when you’ve lived in a city all your life and you are accustomed to sign posts and another person never too far away. I made a mental note to do more forest hikes in the future and not be such an alien in the forest. But for now, I decided to walk back to the point where the paths had first diverged.

Once I got back, I knew there was no point in guessing anymore. I found a big, comfortable rock and sat down, hoping and praying that someone would eventually come along and point me in the right direction. The hostess had told me that the path was frequently used by villagers, so I was bound to come across people on the way, even though I hadn’t seen anyone so far.

I fretted for a while. Thoughts circled, replayed and tangled themselves. But slowly, I saw how futile it was. So, I simply surrendered to that moment. To that moment where it was just me and the forest.

I looked up at the canopy of branches, dancing rhythmically to the light breeze, while also protecting me. The sunlight creating shadow art on the forest floor, patterns that shifted and disappeared as if the earth was creating and erasing.

The birds called out from one corner to the other, their conversations carrying no urgency, only a hidden purpose.

The soft rustling of the leaves and the spread of green, in every shade, was quietly calming me. A pair of butterflies fluttered around , they moved in no straight line, my eyes tried to keep a track of them.

I was lost in the forest, and somehow, I enjoyed that feeling of being lost .

More than an hour passed before I heard footsteps in the distance. Though I enjoyed being alone in the forest, I let out a sigh of relief. I would finally be able to complete my hike and get to the other village.

Those playful footsteps belonged to two boys who were returning from school with backpacks on their shoulders. They looked at me with surprise. When I told them that I wanted to go to the next village and had lost my way, they confidently told me to follow them. They led me along shortcuts that only they knew. I had to quicken my pace to keep up with their sure-footed steps. They jumped over roots, zigzagged through the trees and grabbed onto low hanging branches as they went. I smiled and silently walked behind them.

When we finally reached the road, they told me we had arrived at the village. I gave them some chocolates and thanked them for helping me. They shyly accepted it and ran away before I could say anything else.

I cast one last glance at the forest, thanked it for the experience, before continuing along the road. After a while, I hitchhiked with an elderly man in a jeep and he dropped me off near the bungalow.

When I reached the bungalow and the hostess asked how my forest hike was, I simply said, “It was a hike I’ll never forget.”