TRAVERSE 116
One morning I stopped at a viewpoint overlooking a deep valley and noticed what appeared to be a faint line scratched across the opposite mountainside. At first I assumed it was a trail. Hours later I realised it was the road I was riding towards.
The engineering involved in constructing roads through these mountains was astonishing. Entire sections seemed to cling impossibly to cliff faces. Bridges spanned raging rivers. Hairpin bends climbed slopes that looked inaccessible even on foot.
Yet despite the challenges posed by the landscape, life flourished everywhere.
Women worked terraced fields with hand tools. Children walked to school along mountain paths. Small shops appeared in locations that seemed completely isolated from the outside world.
What fascinated me most was how naturally everything appeared integrated into the landscape.
In many parts of the world, development feels imposed upon nature. Here it felt adapted to it. Villages occupied ridgelines that maximised sunlight. Fields followed the contours of the mountains. Roads traced routes dictated by geography rather than convenience. Nothing seemed accidental. Everything reflected generations of experience living among these mountains.
As the kilometres passed, I developed a routine. Ride for an hour. Stop for chai. Ride another hour. Stop again.
In Uttarakhand, chai stalls were more than places to buy tea. They functioned as community hubs, information centres and social gathering points.
One stop near Rudraprayag remains particularly vivid.
The tea stall consisted of little more than a wooden shack overlooking a river valley. I intended
TRAVERSE 116