Two Generations, One Trail: Shripad’s Dayara Bugyal Trek Review with Thrillophilia

There are moments in life when time slows down because your heart starts beating in rhythm with something larger than yourself.

For me, that moment came when my 15-year-old grandson, Param, looked up from his tablet and asked, “Aajoba, do you think we can walk on snow?”

I set down my cup of tea. “Walk on snow?” I laughed. “I have never tried. Why do you ask?”

He turned his screen toward me. It showed vast white meadows, pine forests, and a group of trekkers smiling under a wide sky. The title said: Dayara Bugyal Trek with Thrillophilia.

His voice was soft but full of eagerness. “Let’s go, Aajoba. You and me. Let us do this trek together.”

At 63, most of my peers were content with park strolls and family dinners. But something about that image and Param’s glowing eyes stirred something within me. It was the idea of walking with him.

And so, we booked it.

The Calling of the Mountains

We landed in Dehradun, with bags packed with warm clothes and warmer hopes. Our driver from Thrillophilia greeted us at the airport. And soon, we were driving through winding Himalayan roads toward Raithal, a little village in Uttarkashi district. The journey took nearly seven hours, but we hardly noticed as each turn revealed a new view.

Param could not stop pointing things out: goats balancing on rock ledges, waterfalls trickling like silver threads, and pine trees lining the road. I listened more than I spoke as I did not want to break the spell the mountains were weaving.

When we finally reached Raithal, the cool air kissed our cheeks, and the homestay welcomed us with hot chai and warm smiles. It was situated above terraced farms, with the snow-capped peaks peeking in from behind.

That evening, we met our trek leaders, Ashish and Kapil Rawat. “We do not often see grandfather-grandson duos,” Kapil smiled.

“Well,” I said, “it is my first snow trek, but he is the boss here.”

Param replied. “Aajoba’s going to crush it.”

Later, Param and I stood on the homestay’s porch under the sky full of stars. The air was still, except for the distant chirp of crickets. “Are you nervous, Aajoba?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “Just grateful.” 

The Trek to Gui

The next morning, we began the climb to our first campsite, Gui. After breakfast and a safety check, we tightened our laces, adjusted our backpacks, and took our first step into the forest.

The trail was lined with oak trees and filled with birdsong. It was not steep, but the continuous climb made us aware of every breath. I kept a steady pace while Param moved ahead as he was fascinated by moss-covered trunks and wild mushrooms.

After four hours, the trees gave way to a beautiful alpine meadow of Gui with a row of tents against a backdrop of snow-kissed peaks. The air was thinner now, but the views filled the lungs with wonder. Our tents were cosy, and dinner was served hot and simple. As night fell, we gathered around a campfire. The trekkers shared stories, and laughter echoed in the dark.

That night, wrapped in sleeping bags, Param whispered, “Aajoba, this already feels like the best trip of my life.”

I smiled in the dark. “We have just got started.”

To the Top of the Dayara Bugyal

The next morning brought frost on our tent zippers and excitement in our veins. This was the day we would climb to Dayara Bugyal.

We layered up and set off after breakfast. The trail was quieter now and more intense. Snow appeared in patches at first, and then covered the ground slowly like a soft white carpet. Every step crunched, every breath was visible, and every view brought new beauty.

Kapil walked alongside me. “You are doing well, sir.”

“I am walking with purpose,” I said, my knees a little sore but my heart strangely light.

The last stretch to the top was steep. Param had already moved ahead, but I took it slow. Ashish stayed with me and offered gentle encouragement.

And soon, I was there.

Dayara Bugyal appeared before us, with the Dodital range rising in the distance. It was, quite simply, the most beautiful place I had ever seen.

Param ran up to me with snowflakes clinging to his jacket. “Aajoba, we made it!”

I laughed, pulled him into a hug, and looked around. “I never imagined something could be so vast and yet make you feel so complete.”

We sat on a rock and shared a chocolate bar.

The Descent and the Memory

After staying there for a while, we returned to Gui. Our final night at Gui was calm. There was a shared stillness and a deeper understanding of what the mountains had offered us.

The next morning, we began our descent to Raithal. The trail we had climbed now felt familiar and friendly. Kapil walked with me again. “Sir, not many people your age come on treks like this.”

I smiled.

Our driver waited at Raithal. As we left, I turned around one last time. The peaks stood tall and unmoved.

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