<body>
  <header>
    <h1>Where the Air Feels Lighter – Journey to Bankatiya Base Camp</h1>
    <p><strong>A story from the Johar Valley — of long roads, quiet peaks, two friends, and the simple truth that high altitude makes the air less complicated.</strong></p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/dc/6a/9f/dc6a9f06e9d17660f18e9ed282123cc2.jpg"
        alt="Morning light over Bankatiya Base Camp in Johar Valley" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </header>

  <section>
    <p>
      Some journeys aren’t planned — they’re <strong>felt</strong>. They start with a message from a friend, a free weekend, 
      and that quiet pull of the mountains. That’s how this one began — a spontaneous plan that turned into one of the most 
      peaceful adventures of my life: the <strong>Bankatiya Base Camp trek</strong> in Uttarakhand’s legendary <strong>Johar Valley</strong>.
    </p>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Day 1 (Friday): Haldwani to Bageshwar – The Warm Start</h2>
    <p>
      The story started from Haldwani, where I met <strong>Rahul</strong> — my companion from the Pindari Glacier trek. We packed our gear, 
      turned on the playlist, and hit the road through Someshwar. By evening, we reached <strong>Bageshwar</strong> and stayed at our friend 
      <strong>Mrigank’s house</strong>. His home became our base for the night — simple, warm, and perfect.  
    </p>
    <p>
      That night, I balanced between <strong>closing PBIs for work</strong> and packing my trekking gear. When the laptop finally shut down, 
      the real journey began.
    </p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/ce/6f/3f/ce6f3f507cccd77daf522ad545613da3.jpg"
        alt="Sunrise view near Bageshwar town before the journey to Munsyari" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;">
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Day 2 (Saturday): Bageshwar to Munsyari – Roads to the Peaks</h2>
    <p>
      We left Bageshwar early in the morning. The drive toward <strong>Munsyari</strong> was the kind that keeps you silent — rivers flowing beside 
      pine-covered slopes, every turn revealing a new landscape. We stopped for lunch at <strong>Birthi</strong>, where the people were as warm as the 
      food they served.
    </p>
    <p>
      After crossing nine steep bends, the <strong>Panchachuli Peaks</strong> appeared through the mist — snow-capped, calm, and majestic. It felt 
      like the mountains were waiting for us.
    </p>
    <p>
      We reached <strong>Tulsi Homestay</strong> by evening — a perfect little stay with delicious food and a view of Munsyari’s lights. 
      Later that evening, we explored the market and stumbled upon <strong>OneSoulAdventure Café</strong> — a cozy place filled with 
      wooden carvings, snacks, and stories. The café owner helped us plan our next day’s route to <strong>Bankatiya Base Camp</strong> 
      and even shared contacts for shared taxis.
    </p>
    <p>
      But we decided to take our <strong>own car</strong> — we wanted to travel at our pace, and besides, the mobile network fades after Lilam.
    </p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/88/70/31/88703127476bbbc3683361d2632f8a4b.jpg"
        alt="Panchachuli Peaks visible from Munsyari" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;">
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Day 3 (Sunday): Munsyari to Laspa – Into the Johar Valley</h2>
    <p>
      The morning was crisp and cold. We flew our drone from the homestay terrace, capturing the sunrise over the 
      Panchachuli. After breakfast, we packed food, gear, and fuel, and left Munsyari around <strong>9:30 AM</strong>.
    </p>
    <p>
      The <strong>road to Laspa</strong> is about 50 km long, winding through <strong>Lilam</strong>. The initial part is decent, but after Lilam, 
      the terrain becomes rough and steep — loose gravel, under-construction roads, and occasional BRO trucks. At one point, we even saw a 
      <strong>left-hand drive BRO vehicle</strong> — something rare in India.
    </p>
    <p>
      Not long after, our car hit trouble. A sharp stone had struck the tyre, bending a connected part. The car couldn’t 
      go any further. We parked it carefully along the mountain wall and prepared to continue <strong>on foot</strong>.
    </p>
    <p>
      Near our parking spot stood a <strong>temporary milestone</strong> with “31 km” written on it — not an actual distance from Munsyari, 
      but our only reference. As we walked ahead, the next milestone we saw near Laspa read “42 km.” That’s when we realized 
      we’d <strong>walked 11 km by road</strong> — fully loaded with our gear.
    </p>
    <p>
      The route was wild and beautiful — waterfalls spilling across cliffs, mist wrapping around trees, and a faint rainbow 
      glowing above the valley. I was fighting off a cold, my body weak, but the mind kept saying, *“Just a few more steps.”*
    </p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/bb/4f/5f/bb4f5fd4d29da927afc839670ee82774.jpg"
        alt="Golden Roads to Laspa" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;">
    </div>
    <p>
      By evening, we reached <strong>near Laspa village</strong>. The BRO and ITBP personnel stationed nearby offered us water and a 
      place to pitch our tent. Two mountain dogs wandered close by, becoming part of our little camp family. We cooked dinner 
      under a sky filled with stars so bright, we didn’t even think about taking pictures. Some memories are meant to be lived, 
      not captured.
    </p>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Day 4 (Monday): Bankatiya Base Camp – Where the Air Gets Simpler</h2>
    <p>
      We woke before sunrise, the cold biting but the excitement higher. After a quick breakfast, we packed light and 
      began our climb toward <strong>Bankatiya Base Camp</strong>.
    </p>
    <p>
      <strong>Laspa village</strong> was silent — houses shuttered with tin sheets and nails, abandoned for the winter. We left our heavy 
      bags near a small mandir and started climbing. Soon, the <strong>Bankatiya Peak</strong> appeared — first as a shadow, then as a 
      clear outline behind the mist.
    </p>
    <p>
      The valley was breathtaking. Glacial streams sparkled through the meadows, the air was thin but pure, and the silence 
      — deeper than anything I’d ever felt. We flew our drone, took shots, and simply stood still for a while. The moment 
      felt endless.
    </p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/36/0b/9e/360b9ed9b1ee6d65226cd83c13e92623.jpg"
        alt="Bankatiya Base Camp valley with glacial streams" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;">
    </div>
    <p>
      We returned to <strong>Laspa around 3 PM</strong> and set up camp in a protected spot surrounded by rocks. As the sun dipped, we 
      lit a fire to fight the cold. Later, an ITBP patrol stopped by and warned us about a bear spotted near the village — 
      likely the one responsible for an open door we’d seen earlier. They smiled and said, “Good that you lit a fire — it 
      keeps them away.”  
    </p>
    <p>
      The sky clouded over that night, hiding the stars, but the crackle of fire and mountain wind was enough.
    </p>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Day 5 (Tuesday): The Road Back Feels Different</h2>
    <p>
      Morning came softly. We packed up, cleaned the campsite, and began the <strong>11 km walk back</strong> to our car near the 31 km mark. 
      By noon, we reached it. The car was dusty but loyal — waiting exactly where we left it.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we drove back toward Munsyari, the same roads somehow looked different — maybe because we’d changed. Every turn 
      felt familiar, every silence comforting. That’s what the mountains do — they reset you.
    </p>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>What the Trek Taught Me</h2>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/41/09/dd/4109dd9c3bb39885a985387122fdc646.jpg"
        alt="Trekker resting beside glacial stream near Bankatiya Base Camp" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;">
    </div>
    <p>
      The mountains don’t test you — they reveal you.  
      <br><br>
      I learned that <strong>strength isn’t about how fast you climb</strong>, but how long you keep walking.  
      That <strong>companionship matters more than comfort</strong>.  
      And that <strong>high altitude truly makes the air — and life — less complicated</strong>.
    </p>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Quick Trek Summary</h2>
    <ul>
      <li><strong>Route:</strong> Haldwani → Bageshwar → Munsyari → Lilam → Laspa → Bankatiya Base Camp</li>
      <li><strong>Distance:</strong> ~50 km road (11 km walked due to vehicle limit)</li>
      <li><strong>Duration:</strong> 5 Days</li>
      <li><strong>Best Season:</strong> April–June, September–October</li>
      <li><strong>Nearby Treks:</strong> Milam Glacier, Ralam Glacier, Nanda Devi East Base Camp</li>
      <li><strong>Highlight:</strong> Silent valley views, glacial streams, and solitude.</li>
    </ul>
  </section>

  <footer>
    <h2>Thinking of Going?</h2>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/e2/17/b3/e217b3cdcc7a66acc4ed0e0b9d13171e.jpg"
        alt="View of Johar Valley during descent from Laspa village" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;">
    </div>
    <p>
      If you’ve been craving silence, mountains, and simplicity — <strong>Bankatiya is your place</strong>.  
      Pack your bag, call a friend, and just go.  
      The air there will remind you how light life can feel when you breathe with intention.
    </p>
    <p><em>See you on the next one.</em><br><strong>—Trekkingtale</strong></p>
  </footer>
</body>


A journey through the quiet corners of the Johar Valley — where roads fade into silence and mountains breathe peace. This is the story of our trek to Bankatiya Base Camp, where glacial streams run pure, the Panchachuli peaks glow at dawn, and every breath feels lighter. Because high altitude doesn’t just change the view —
it makes the air less complicated.

Where the Air Feels Lighter – Journey to Bankatiya Base Camp


<body>
  <header>
    <h1>Adi Kailash Road Trip: A Soulful Ride Through Hidden Valleys & Sacred Silences</h1>
    <p><strong>From misty Khati to the spiritual embrace of Gaurikund, this isn’t just a road trip—it’s a journey stitched in silence, clouds, and awe.</strong></p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/9c/3c/d1/9c3cd1421730435997525f15565df1f3.jpg"
        alt="Scenic view of Adi Kailash peak through clouds" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </header>

  <section>
    <h2>Return from Khati – The Road Beckons Again</h2>
    <p>After wrapping up the Pindari Glacier trek, we returned to Khati—muddy shoes, tired legs, and hearts full. A hot meal, warm smiles at the homestay, and one short nap later, our minds turned to the next adventure: Adi Kailash. We were about to trade trekking poles for winding mountain roads—and the thrill of the unknown.</p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/14/c7/45/14c745a0401c69dd1ad7ee9d67eae5a2.jpg"
        alt="Leaving Khati village after the trek, road journey begins" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Shortcut to Dharchula – Off-Map Magic</h2>
    <p>“Google won’t show you this shortcut,” our homestay host smiled. The route he gave us snaked through <strong>Kharlake → Chetabagar → Gauchar → Didihat → Ogla → Dharchula</strong>—a hidden artery of Uttarakhand’s terrain. We followed it, and what we got in return were cliffside roads, river glimpses, and stretches of untouched serenity.</p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a5/9e/60/a59e6048677bd1dcabe61f133c1d9f3f.jpg"
        alt="Remote road curving through hills between Kharlake and Didihat" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Dharchula – Mountains Under Moonlight</h2>
    <p>We reached <strong>Hotel Nanak</strong> just after sunset. The host welcomed us like family, and the food felt like home. Outside, beneath a sky spilt with stars, a local travel agent arranged our permits—₹800, Aadhaar, car number, photographs—all sorted before morning. Bureaucracy had never felt so peaceful.</p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/ff/0a/69/ff0a69e4dd6413e83c7e2b4269e47717.jpg"
        alt="Starry night and roadside stalls in Dharchula town" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Landslides, Hairpins & High Spirits</h2>
    <p>We packed veggies for Rahul’s friend in <strong>Nabi Gaon</strong> and began our ascent. Soon, a landslide paused our journey. While waiting, mist curled into stories across the cliffs. Later, we climbed through the legendary <strong>36 Band</strong> — hairpin after hairpin, each turn unfolding a new layer of the valley's majesty.</p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b0/af/43/b0af438f8d56d90a573c8f0d4a5012ac.jpg"
        alt="Curving 36 Band road surrounded by mist-covered mountains" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Welcome to Nabi Gaon – A Hidden World</h2>
    <p>Nabi felt timeless — quiet, soulful, and untouched. We flew the drone near the river, ate local food and sour achar, and listened to tales about Nepal’s old trade routes. That night, I slept like the valley had cradled me into stillness.</p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/c1/f3/86/c1f386a0d749b9e361572010e5726bbc.jpg"
        alt="Traditional homes and riverbed in Nabi village, early evening" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Morning Chai & Drive to Adi Kailash Base</h2>
    <p>We woke up to chai steam and scenery that felt cinematic. Waterfalls whispered down cliffs and clouds drifted like ancient prayers. As we drank in the moment, the mountain stood silent in the mist — less like rock, more like spirit. After breakfast, we started toward the base. BRO roads curved dramatically through steep ridges. By noon, we reached the base — a quiet plateau wrapped in reverence.</p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/bc/df/0d/bcdf0d42ee4ad95b08830ab942a86112.jpg"
        alt="View from Adi Kailash base with peaks partly covered in clouds" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Trek to Gaurikund – Where Silence Worships</h2>
    <p>A short trek of 2–3 km brought us to <strong>Gaurikund</strong>. Mist floated between pines. Shiva and Parvati’s idols stood quietly. We prayed, filled bottles with holy water, and looked up at <strong>Adi Kailash</strong> — tall, eternal, humbling.</p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/19/b1/04/19b104a0618f7af38efd33bb9c2bae4f.jpg"
        alt="Stone idols at Gaurikund surrounded by mist and pine trees" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Parvati Sarovar – Lake of Stillness</h2>
    <p>Further ahead, <strong>Parvati Sarovar</strong> shimmered beside a small temple. We received prasad, took a few stills, and just stood there — surrounded by silence that felt ancient. The lake didn’t just reflect the sky — it reflected something in us.</p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b9/a3/a0/b9a3a0895e2ffd20c1c229adf4116fce.jpg"
        alt="Sacred lake Parvati Sarovar beside a small temple" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Back to Nabi – Goodbye with Grace</h2>
    <p>We returned to Nabi for one last night. A simple dinner, a walk through fogged fields, and memories swirling quietly inside. The next morning, mist followed us as we descended — like the valley itself was saying farewell.</p>
    <div class="image-container">
      <img src="https://i.pinimg.com/736x/33/35/e2/3335e2f130ef037828fab161f78f1522.jpg"
        alt="Morning fog on the trail leaving Nabi village" oncontextmenu="return false;"
        style="width:100%; height:auto; border-radius:8px; margin:20px 0;" />
    </div>
  </section>

  <section>
    <h2>Travel Tips for Adi Kailash Journey</h2>
    <ul>
      <li><strong>Best Time:</strong> May to October (avoid peak monsoon).</li>
      <li><strong>Permits:</strong> ₹800 per person. Carry Aadhaar, car details, and passport-sized photo.</li>
      <li><strong>Fuel:</strong> Last fuel station at Dharchula—fill up!</li>
      <li><strong>Road Conditions:</strong> Landslides possible. Prefer SUVs and skilled drivers.</li>
      <li><strong>Network:</strong> Limited beyond Dharchula. Inform family beforehand.</li>
      <li><strong>Packing:</strong> Rain gear, warm clothes, basic meds, dry snacks, and mental calm.</li>
      <li><strong>Stay:</strong> Homestays in Nabi & Dharchula. Simple, local, soulful.</li>
      <li><strong>Respect:</strong> Dress modestly, be mindful. You’re walking through sacredness.</li>
    </ul>
  </section>

 <section>
  <h2>Closing Reflection</h2>
  <p>
    Some journeys are driven by curiosity. Others by silence.  
    This one—Pindari to Adi Kailash—was driven by something else entirely: a longing to understand.  
    Not just the terrain, but ourselves.  
    If you're craving something raw, spiritual, and soul-stretching—this road is waiting.
  </p>
</section>

  <section>
    <h2>📸 Follow the Journey</h2>
    <p>Check out the full cinematic vlog on YouTube, and let’s connect on Instagram for behind-the-scenes reels and trek stories!</p>
    <ul>
      <li><strong>YouTube:</strong> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/@trekkingtale" target="_blank">@trekkingtale</a></li>
      <li><strong>Instagram:</strong> <a href="https://www.instagram.com/nn1_maverick/" target="_blank">@nn1_maverick</a></li>
    </ul>
    </section>
</body>

One journeys begin with a question.  
“Why walk so far?” they ask.  
This time, my answer stretched from the mist-draped trails of Pindari Glacier to the sacred silence beneath Adi Kailash.

Welcome to a story where two paths meet — one of raw Himalayan terrain, and one of inner stillness.

Welcome to MyIsland.

Welcome to
MyIsland.