H and I have always had one recurring conflict. I like my routine, but she likes disruption. I like to live by the clock, have my tea on time, do things with predictability. She likes nature, surprise, and occasionally situations that feel life-threatening to me but strangely peaceful to her. Over the years, she has dragged me into adventures I resisted and later secretly loved.

My Papa told me men who achieved great things in their lives always did things on time. So I made it my life’s principle of sorts to be in a routine — live by a routine and avoid too much change in the day.

So I realised there is a pattern to my strife with adventure. I say yes to an adventure, thinking one day I will do it. Then finally that day comes, and I find reasons to escape it. Then H tells me that it’s time, and then I take the leap.

Which is exactly how one Sunday morning found us at the foot of a mountain in Thailand.

Well, this question from H on doing something interesting requires me to think very hard, as I generally don’t make plans unless I really have to. And I know the answer to this question — we will go somewhere in nature, H. So I told her we could go for a trek. She asked which one.

After having bailed on her earlier for a trek (story for another day), I started thinking we should go for the closest one. I didn’t want to ride too long, then reach the trek site, do the mountain trek, and ride all the way back — the whole day would go, and my routine would get severely disrupted. As it is, this was already going to be an off day from my daily rituals. So I picked the closest trek. ChatGPT told us this was a beginner-friendly trail, and we launched on our bike.

We are not any great hikers, so we don’t have any gear either. No stick or gloves — nada. We lost our way to the mountain. Google Maps was not perfect that day, and it can be challenging to find the starting point of the trek on your own. Most treks like these are organised with someone who has done this multiple times leading the same. After going back and forth on the same road twice and up and down the mountain a few kilometres on the bike, I stopped at a shop to ask them if they could help.

The Mountain of a Promise

A birthday trek, a promise I nearly regretted, and the strange things discomfort quietly teaches us.

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I am having my morning tea, thinking I’ll continue reading the book I have been onto this week and finish it today. H looks at me and asks me what we are going to do this weekend. It was her birthday weekend, and we hadn’t done anything really cool. Well, we had gone for coffee and lunch, but not anything cool.

There was a small scenic lake near the foothills of the mountain. Other than some dogs on the side of the road and two guys sitting there with their fishing nets, there was no one else. For a moment, fishing looked like a good idea — safe, easy, and relaxing — aka routine.

Back to real life — we got ourselves ready: jackets off, bags on, carrying some nuts and water. In our heads, this was a simple 3–4-hour trek followed by lunch in the city.

You must know by now, morning routines are important to me :) So naturally, we had started only after breakfast, and by the time we actually found the starting point, it was almost 12. We had carried no proper food, just optimism and nuts.

Then, while we were getting ready to start, we still had to figure out which road to take, as there were a couple of paths going up. Once we found the side of the road where the trek began, we saw a white guy coming down. I have made it a habit to talk to anyone who seems even 1% open to talking. So I said hello. He was the friendly one. Yes, you got it right — he was a Canadian.

We started talking about random stuff, and then I told him this was maybe our second or third trek. He said he had been doing treks in Thailand for a while, but he would rate this one as the hardest. He told us to be very careful about the rocks, as it gets quite slippery up there. He said the whole trek was 8 kms. People usually start from one side of the mountain and end up on the other. But he recommended we not continue the descent on the other side because it gets quite slippery there. Climbing up was about 5 kms and the descent around 3. But if we came back on the same trail, it would be 5 up and 5 down — maybe easier because we would know this side better once we reached the top. So we said alright, let’s figure it out as we go.

I looked at H and she gave me look number 3. Allow me to explain; H has three looks which generally give me a clear indication of how I should behave next. These looks are applicable to almost all situations. Look 1 means I am happy with your performance, good job, you will get good treatment today. Look 2 means you are not doing well, up your game else….. (you can fill that yourself). Look 3 means we both have the same information, so apply your brain also sometimes.

So I knew what I had to do next — fulfil a promise… so we started the trek. We saw two sticks lying towards the side of the road, which we thought may come in handy for climbing, so we picked them. I was telling H how walking is something I am very comfortable with, and these treks seemed to be right up my alley. I didn’t know what was coming, obviously.

The trek did not start rough. Which, in hindsight, feels slightly deceptive from the mountain’s side. It started like a fairly normal jungle walk — shaded, quiet, and honestly not that intimidating. There was enough tree cover to make things pleasant and enough optimism in us to think, this is manageable. Now we were both alone in a jungle-like setting, figuring out our path without any trail app or anything. (Ya, there are trail apps, which I had no clue about before doing this one.)

We kept walking higher and deeper into the jungle, talking about random things, occasionally checking if we still looked like people who knew what they were doing. The trail itself was not exactly obvious — there weren’t many signs or boards pointing us in the right direction — but there was enough of a path to convince us that other human beings had successfully gone this way before, and somehow, that felt reassuring.

Slowly though, without any formal announcement, things started changing. The path narrowed. The incline steepened.

Dry leaves began covering loose stones like nature had decided to add a small surprise element. You started paying more attention to where your foot landed. Somewhere along the way, conversation between us naturally reduced — not because we had nothing to say, but because the mountain had quietly started demanding more focus.

Then came the part where the mountain seemed to stop pretending to be friendly. The climb suddenly became steeper and rougher, almost as if the mountain had decided, Alright, enough warm-up. What felt like trekking slowly turned into climbing. Rocks appeared everywhere. At times, we were not really walking a trail anymore but figuring out how to move from one rock to another without doing anything stupid. In a lot of places, there were ditches that could take you down almost 10–20 metres if you were not careful. And the path to cross the jungle next to the ditches was just enough space for our feet, which was crazy. I mean, how do people do such treks and WHY, was the question in my mind.

Then we saw a group of eight Caucasians who were going down. I tried my friendly smile to check how far up was left, and it looked like they didn’t speak English. For many of us from India, it is slightly difficult to imagine a white guy who doesn’t speak English. You know, if you know what I mean :) Well, in my politest voice, I asked how the rest of the road up was, to which they just gave me an expression that said, dude, this is a bad trip.

So I looked at H and she gave me look number 3, but this time the look also said, do you want to head back?

The jungle around us became denser and quieter, opening up every now and then just enough to remind us how high we had already climbed before pulling us back into the trees. There was something strangely humbling about it. The mountain wasn’t dramatic or angry; it was simply difficult. Calmly difficult. Every few hundred metres, it seemed to ask the same question: You still want to continue? And somehow, by then, turning back had started feeling harder than continuing upward.

Our hands and legs started hurting. We were sipping water every 10 minutes or so, mindful that we needed to get down the same path as well. In my head, I had a bigger problem — if climbing this mountain had been so hard, how the hell was I going to get down? The stones under the leaves were so slippery that I was very sure we both were going to fall badly many times when we descended. It was 2:30 pm now, and we were both tired, scared, and hungry.

I am not a big fan of smartwatches, not now at least. Mine sits in the drawer, and I love my analogue, but today, because H was wearing hers, we could figure out that we had walked this much and maybe we were reaching the top in another 10–15 minutes or so. So we thought to ourselves, let’s do another 15 minutes and then we will take a call.

Now the mountain had changed again. This part demanded that we climb big rocks. There were ropes to pull yourself up, but we had never done anything like this before and were quite nervous about the whole thing. Somehow, we managed to get through most of the rocks and reached a point after another 10 minutes or so. By now, this was not trekking in my head anymore. This was mountain climbing. At least for someone like me :)

The view from this spot where we were now was quite panoramic and pretty, with almost all of the greenery and the view of the city visible from one place. We had to decide whether this was the peak of the mountain for us or if we should climb the last part. It looked like it should be another 50–100 metres from here once we climbed a big rock near a cliff.

We sat down and started munching nuts and sipping water. A group of Thai guys reached the spot after us. These guys must have been in their 20s but still had a look on their faces which was half smile, half what the hell is this trek. Clearly, they also didn’t do proper research before coming. So we said hello in our little bit of Thai, and they also knew a bit of English.

They also were in two minds whether to go up from here or not. I knew this last part could be fairly dangerous, but somehow I didn’t want to give up today and fulfil a promise on her birthday. So I told H I’ll give it a shot. This time she didn’t give an expression, or at least I could not read it.

Then we saw a Russian couple who slipped trying to climb the last part and almost went near one of the cliffs, but were quite unfazed about it. We both looked at each other, and now it was very clear we had pushed beyond our limits to do this trek. Now we just wanted to head back. But the top of the mountain was very near, and it demanded us to use the final rope and climb. Honestly, this was very scary, but my instinct said I could climb that much. The only thing was, if I fell, I was not sure if I would trip down the cliff or just fall there only like the Russians.

Once I saw our Russian friends climb up, I was willing to give it a try. So I held the rope and started climbing. After almost three steps, I felt as if I had no strength left. I felt as if the trek up had taken everything out of me. I really tried hard but could not go up. So I came down. We sat there for some time, puzzled. Then one Thai guy climbed all the way up. I am not the most intelligent person you will meet, but I can learn things just by looking at others do things. I saw how he climbed sideways and then used a rock and then lifted himself up.

So I looked at H and said I think I can do it. I went the same way this guy did. By now, after the rest, I got some energy back, and my FOMO had also kicked in. Somehow, FOMO has made me do a lot of funny things, but this time it was coming to my rescue.

It was surprisingly easier than I had thought if you climbed sideways. Maybe sometimes the Indian jugaad is what life asks for, and we keep applying brute force. Maybe this is what they call lateral thinking or lateral climbing, I don’t know, I am just thinking out loud :)

I told H the trick from up there, and she did it in three attempts as well. We reached the top, and the view was just jaw-dropping. There was a Buddha statue at the top and a small temple-like structure. We couldn’t believe we had made it to the top. It almost felt like getting into IIT JEE. IITs have been among the toughest exams in India for a very long time.

The journey up till the peak felt totally worth it now. Somehow, it felt like it had to be hard if one had to reach this kind of a peak. You could see the whole mountain range in a 360-degree view. It was unbelievable. You could also see the city in the far distance, and it felt as if you had kind of conquered everything — maybe even your fear to an extent. Maybe not 🙂

The clock struck 3:30, and we knew it was time to begin the descent. In the jungle, darkness arrives quickly, and this wasn’t a place you wanted to be stuck in after sunset. Nuts offered us something to eat, but hunger and nervousness had already settled in. The path down looked brutally steep. If I had one wish that day, I would have told God — beam me back to my house, Scotty. But we had to do this. We had no choice if we had to get back ALIVE.

Somewhere on that descent, I stopped arguing with the mountain. There was no shortcut, no better option, no “let’s do this tomorrow.” We simply had to get down. One careful step at a time. Funny how life quietly puts us in situations like that.

What I remember most from the descent is this: we fell. A lot. Four or five times at least. Sometimes together. Sometimes one after the other. Every few steps, one of us would slip, laugh nervously, get up, and keep moving. We kept telling ourselves the same thing: just keep going. We had no choice.

Every single step demanded complete attention. One distracted moment and you could lose your footing. We barely spoke. There wasn’t much energy for conversation anyway. Our only job was to stay upright, to make sure the other person was okay, checking in after every few steps — a silent understanding between two tired humans trying to make it down a mountain before dark.

And then, almost without realising it, the mountain slowly began loosening its grip on us. Somewhere between the falls, the silence, and the constant negotiation with every step, we found a rhythm. Not confidence exactly — more like surrender. The kind where you stop fighting the difficulty and simply move with it. Knowing that these were the cards we had been dealt and we would have to play with them.

The loose rocks kept slipping beneath our shoes, dry leaves hiding little traps underneath, demanding complete attention. More than once, we laughed out of sheer exhaustion after stumbling again, bruised but somehow still moving. And then suddenly, after what felt much longer than it probably was, the slope softened.

By then, the mountain had softened, or maybe we had. We looked at each other and smiled a little. Nothing dramatic. Just the quiet relief of having made it down together. Back on flatter ground, even the bruises felt okay somehow. Like we had earned them.

We reached the point where our bike was parked, kept the bags back in their place, and were about to start our road trip back. I saw the guys sitting near the lake fishing. They were packing up for the day as well. They looked content with their day, having got enough for the day — or maybe a couple of days.

One of the guys looked at me. In my mind, he was kind of asking me — How was the trip to the peak? I didn’t have an answer for him right at that moment. Maybe he has to try it himself. Maybe he has done it himself and now just fishes on the side of the lake.

On the ride back, thoughts kept coming to my mind. Should I just refuse these crazy trek ideas? What could have happened today? Do we really need to do these things?

Honestly, I was also very proud of what we had done. Yes, we were scared about what might happen, but somehow we had faith that things would work out. Maybe we should make trekking our thing. It challenges us in ways we never imagine. Yes, we should be better prepared and maybe go with a group, but it was definitely worth it. To get out of your comfort zone and try something really out of the ordinary.

I see H’s point, but we both got very scared too. Maybe that’s what adventures are. I am probably not the right person to comment on adventures.

Maybe this had always been our thing. Me resisting. Her nudging. Me complaining. Then somewhere in the middle of the discomfort, a space opens up which tells me that today life has shown me something beautiful — something I didn’t seek out to find, something that would have otherwise totally passed me by, maybe even changed the way I looked at things.

Thais try to help you even if we don’t understand each other. So again, using Mr Google (Translate), we tried to have a conversation about the starting point direction. He said follow a certain road and you will reach the convenient side of the trek. H picked up what this guy was saying, and we followed our instinct. We finally managed to reach the starting point.