Trekking out of my comfort zone in the Kumrat Valley

Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m not the most active of people. Sure, I’ll walk to the local shops instead of taking the car or bike, and sometimes I’ll take the steps instead of the escalator or lift, but any mention of trekking in the mountains and you’ll find me hanging out by the samovar, offering my services for chai duties.

It was with a bit of hesitation then that I accepted the opportunity to travel with Aventru Treks and Travels to the Kumrat Valley, a remote fold in the mountains north of Swat. To be completely honest, I didn’t realise how much trekking would be involved, and to be fair, it wasn’t that much, but it was much more than I had ever done before – it even involved staying overnight in a place where nobody else lived!

Dhal at Mian Jee’s at Lalamusa

Regardless, it was late one Saturday when we set off from Lahore, the minivan packed with a group of budding trekkers like myself. We drove through the night towards Islamabad, making the time-honoured ritual stop at Mian Jee’s dhal hotel at Lalamusa on the way. I’d had a huge day before that, so I had dozed off by the time we arrived in Islamabad. However when we stopped for a bit of chai at a truck stop on the capital’s outskirts, the excitement had kicked in – we were heading north!

On the road near Attock

The managers of Aventru – Sufiyan and Wahab – are like two sides of the same coin. Both share a passion for travel, adventure, exploration and fun. Sufiyan is the more spontaneous one, the guy on the trip who says “come on, let’s do this! Let’s gooooo!”, while Wahab is more calculated, planning for what lies ahead. Both elements are what makes a good traveller, and together, they make a perfect team – something which shows on tour. While travelling they operate in perfect synch, ensuring that the trip runs like clockwork.

The confluence of the Attock and Indus Rivers

We made a few more pit stops along the way – including the confluence of the Attock and Indus Rivers at Attock, and a traditional Pathan breakfast of red kidney beans and fluffy naan at Mardan, before we began to climb. The road took us up into the entrance of the Swat Valley, but before reaching Mingora we swung to the left and struck out for Dir. By this time most of the passengers on the bus were enjoying their second siesta – it was late afternoon, and we had been on the road for about 16 hours.

Breakfast at Mardan

The days’ light faded and the road deteriorated, but the driver told us that he knew what he was doing, having been there before. By the time we jolted into the Kumrat Valley it was after 9pm, the temperature had dropped to around zero degrees, and the road resembled little more than a rocky track. We had originally planned to sleep in tents, but an early winter this year meant that all the valley’s camping grounds had closed up by mid-October. Instead we checked into the basic Kumrat Continental Hotel where we unrolled our sleeping bags and mats and stretched out on the floor.

We hadn’t seen the landscape by daylight yet, but in the pristine, frozen night air we could make out the ghostly shape of the snow-covered mountains looming over us. The trickle of the water from the nearby river gave us a clue that we were in a place of significant natural beauty – there’s something about a crystal clear stream that even sounds somehow more pure when it flows. Before we slept the group organised a bonfire and some hot chai to see the night out. A bit of music, a bit of dancing around the bonfire and we were all just about done.

Kumrat Valley

When we woke the next morning we were only half surprised by the beauty of our surroundings – our expectations were already so high – but we weren’t disappointed. Kumrat is undoubtedly a place of astounding natural beauty, but what makes it even more special is how little touristed it is. We were the only group in the hotel that night, and throughout the morning we realised that we were some of the only outsiders in the valley on that day. This has to do, in some part, with the valley’s distance and inaccessibility from the population centres of Lahore and Karachi; even Islamabad is 15 hours away, including stops.

Breakfast with the gang in Kumrat

We walked towards the village of Thal where breakfast was waiting for us at a small hotel. I had mentioned that I loved chappli kebabs, a Pathan speciality of fried spiced beef patties, and worried that we wouldn’t be able to find them elsewhere on the road, it was decided to have chappli kebabs for breakfast. I probably wouldn’t inflict that on the group again if I had the choice (they’re hardly an ideal breakfast item for many people), but I was certainly sated!

Looking back towards the Kumrat Valley

Kids on the road to Janderai

There was no time to hang around in Thal, because we were about to head out to Janderai, the starting point of our trek to Jahaz Banda meadows. Our van rattled along the rocky road towards Janderai, and we passed a schoolyard full of children who were excited to see us – they watched on as we navigated a stream which crossed the road, and once we were clear, they ran alongside our vehicle cheering, welcoming us to the valley.

On the road to Janderai

Janderai is a tiny hamlet at the bottom of some seriously big mountains, and before setting out on the trek we perused the local museum which contained artefacts and relics from the local villagers’ lives. Guns, hunting trophies, coins, books, household items and photographs with dignitaries were all on display.

Once we had repacked our bags and put a couple of packs into storage, we set out for Jahaz Banda. The road was initially not too steep, skirting a river bank as it carved its way through the mountains. We passed a handful of farms and a small mosque which was still under construction, and then we left the road to continue on a dirt track. We hadn’t been on the track for more than 500 metres when it seemingly reached a dead end. Our guide, who had been showing us the way from Janderai, sat down to take a rest, and we all looked at him quizzically. Was this the last stop? He nodded towards the steep hill behind us – the message was clear; we were about to start some serious climbing.

Mosque at Janderai

And boy, did we climb. The track became more like a series of rocks which we used to stop us from slipping down the mountain. The initial ascent was the toughest, often at a 45 degree angle, as we navigated a dense pine forest. With regular stops we made it to the halfway point, a wide, open clearing which overlooked the valley where we began our journey. The sun was getting low in the sky, so after another break of ten minutes we resumed our assault on the summit to reach before nightfall. We continued to climb through the forest, past the snow line, and just as the last of the day’s light began to recede behind the mountains the track levelled out. Exhausted, we mustered up the last of our energy to stumble into the resthouse at the meadows. Our guides prepared a bit of dinner, and we fell asleep under thick thick blankets to ward off the freezing cold.

The view on the climb

The next day we woke early, and it wasn’t cold. The room had warmed up overnight, and outside was blazing sunshine. I emerged and was immediately blinded by the light and its reflection off the glistening snow. And the snow was everywhere around – the entire meadows were blanketed in powder, punctuated only by the pine trees on the edge of the plateau. A river cut the meadow in half, the crystal clear water our enough to drink straight from the stream. Even taller mountains covered in a cloak of thick snow towered above us. The scene was simply perfect – I felt on top of the world – and it was as if we had landed in heaven. We were going to spend a whole day there, and return to Janderai the following evening, but it wouldn’t have been enough.

Jahaz Banda Meadows

On the far end of the meadow the stream tumbled over the edge of the plateau into a canyon where the snow had already melted. Peering over the edge revealed verdant green vegetation, slate grey rocks and, from the base of the waterfall, the continuing teal of the river. We scrambled down to the base of the waterfall where we were blasted by the spray of the pristine water. A rainbow appeared in the spray, and suddenly it was as if we had arrived in the proverbial garden of Eden. Could this place be any more perfect? I doubted it. The only negative to the whole scene was knowing that we couldn’t stay forever. And so it was that later that afternoon we began our way back towards Janderai, our legs still sore from the climb the day before, but our heads full of dreams of what we had witnessed up there on that little patch of perfection.

I travelled to the Kumrat Valley courtesy of Aventru Treks and Travels.

Have you ever travelled so far to reach somewhere so perfect? Where did you go? Comment below!