The Plan:
Amidst deadlines, targets, and the endless cycle of consultancy work, I suddenly noticed the weather turning colder. Blankets made their way back into my routine, and somewhere between half-awake moments, it struck me — it was already December. In the gentle pauses between sleep, I decided to end the year on a trekking note: chasing cloud beds, embracing the chill, and taking on a bit of adventure that would truly test my fitness.
The very next day, I called my solo-trekker friend Don and shared my expectations. Without a second thought, he suggested Meesapulimala — the right choice, I felt instantly. We then looped in a mutual friend Rohit who was also craving a similar break, and just like that, the team was set. The three of us searched for a slot that fit our schedules and finally found a two day package that matched our plans through the Code and Compass Instagram page. My friend confirmed the slots and handled the formalities. Then they added into the WhatsApp group for instructions. When the itinerary arrived, our excitement only grew as we waited for the D-day.
Unexpected twist:
As we waited for the day to arrive, Don suddenly pinged us with the news that he couldn’t join due to a personal emergency. With no refund policy in place, cancellation wasn’t an option. He reached out to another mutual friend, Abhijith, as a replacement - but we never had a single clue that he would turn the tables.
Trail Trekking:
Finally, the day arrived. We left from Rohit’s home in Kottayam at a sharp 5 a.m. — or at least that was the plan; it ended up being closer to 5:30. With a sleepy head, I took the front passenger seat as we drove through the Oonukal route, which felt eerily remote at that hour. I tried to keep Rohit engaged during the drive, but failed miserably and drifted off to sleep within minutes. We reached Munnar Post Office by 9 a.m. Along the way, after a long and desperate starving search, we finally managed to grab some breakfast.
Once we arrived, we checked the WhatsApp group for instructions we had missed. Rohit called one of the coordinators, and we headed to the pickup point. A crowd had already gathered, so we joined them and reported to Arjun, one of the coordinators. We soon met Aneesh from Trivandrum, who had ridden all the way on his bike. With some time in hand, Abhijith went to pick up snacks — our survival kit for the next two days — but the options were disappointing: three Fuse chocolates and a small pack of biscuits. As we stood there slightly disappointed, a guy suddenly asked our names. My first thought was, “Who are you to ask?” before he introduced himself — “I’m Faris.” That’s when I realized he was another trip coordinator. By 10.30 Faris quickly took charge, energetically asking for a count of members who had arrived in their own vehicles and directed us to the Meesapulimala Eco tourism Booking Center to park our car and hand over the keys to the forest officers. On the way, we met Yuhan, his mother Dilu, and their companions Rilja and her daughter.
While we waited after submitting the keys, Faris said, “We have some time here — you can use the washroom or visit the Rose Garden.” As suggested, we walked around the Munnar Rose Garden, where a wide variety of flowers were on display. We clicked a few pictures and headed back. Soon, everyone had gathered. By 11, We got into the jeeps and began our journey to the base camp.
There were seven of us in the jeep, and on the way we introduced ourselves — Nideesh, Sachin, Anson, Rahul, and the rest of us. We stopped at Silent Valley for a tea break. Tea was included in the package; anything else came at an extra cost. This was also the last shop on the route, so we stocked up on snacks for survival. A brief get-together followed, with introductions all around. Remembering 56 names at once wasn’t easy, but one that stayed with me was Anil, fondly called Poonilavu after his house name. He was accompanied by his wife, Leka. They were probably the oldest members of the group, enjoying retirement life with admirable energy. After the introductions, we split into eight groups for an exciting treasure hunt. I joined the Poonilavu team, Rohit the Kangaroo team, and Abhijith led the Chathans team. Faris and his team explained the rules — a series of group activities and tasks that required collecting or capturing listed items. Once the instructions were clear, we gathered for a group photo and got back into the jeeps to resume the journey. That’s when I noticed something unusual on the ground. Like a scene from a Mentos ad, it sparked an idea. I asked my teammates to capture a photo. Confused, they asked what it was. “Don’t you see it?” I said. “A naturally shaped heart.” Yes you guessed right— it was cow dung shaped like a heart, and it earned our team the very first point.
It was a 25 km long jeep road trek, but we were vibing to music the entire way. Soon, we noticed the people in the jeep ahead of us catching the same vibe, almost mirroring our energy. Around 1:00–1:30 p.m., we finally reached the Meesapulimala Base Camp. Hunger hit us hard, so brunch was served first. The options were puttu (steamed rice cake) or rice with chickpea curry, pickle, and papadum. During brunch, I had a brief conversation with Nycil. He was curious about my pen name, while I was intrigued by his profession as a food reviewer. His curiosity won, and the discussion moved to my scribbles, especially my movie reviews. Soon, the conversation drifted to the Kalamkaval review, where we both found common ground. Once our stomachs were full, Faris and his team officially welcomed us and briefed us on a few important instructions: we were inside a reserve forest and merely guests, so disturbing the habitat was strictly prohibited; electricity was limited, with charging available only from 6:30 to 10:00; tents had to be zipped closed when entering or exiting; and the fencing was not to be crossed. After the briefing, tents were allocated. We got two-person tents, so Rohit and I stayed together while Abhijith shared with another trekker. I spent some time roaming around the camp — the temperature was pleasantly cold, not extreme. The base camp had a small garden area and surprisingly neat washrooms.
Around 3 p.m., we gathered to begin the Kurinji Valley Waterfall trek. Faris briefed us with simple instructions: don’t pick or drop anything, watch out for rhododendron trees along the way, don’t overtake the first guide, and don’t fall behind the last one. Once the rules were clear, we set off. The trail began as an off-road walk, but soon narrowed, with natural obstacles that required a few careful jumps along the way. Everything around us was lush green, and the temperature slowly dropped. We spotted flowers, birds, and dense greenery, but the real highlight was the calmness of the forest. As we moved forward, the waterfall came into view — perched on the next hill. To reach it, we had to climb one slope and then descend halfway before crossing over. Just as Faris had mentioned, we spotted Rhododendron trees along the trail. They weren’t in full bloom, but a few flowers were visible. Seeing Nepal’s national flower, even from a distance, made me genuinely happy. At one point, we reached a spot where the waterfall appeared in its entirety. To me, it looked like a rising stock market index — steady in the middle, surging at both ends. Soon after, we arrived at our destination, which was actually the midpoint of the falls. The view was breathtaking: below us lay dense forest, and above, the waterfall poured down towards us. The water was crystal clear and freezing cold. I hesitated to take a shower until I saw Yuhan step in, shivering yet determined. That was enough motivation. I followed him down, braced the powerful flow, and managed to stay in for a few minutes. Once the cold became unbearable, I stepped out — refreshed, numb, and thrilled. Soon after, Arjun asked us to gather for team pictures, and we began our return journey. On the way back, I realized that downhill trails can be harder than uphill ones. Still, it felt like the perfect warm-up trail before the main trek the next day.
We reached the base camp around 6:30 p.m. By then, everyone was busy wrapping up the treasure hunt. The weather slowly shifted, growing colder by the minute, and I finally put on my jacket as the chill became hard to ignore. Chairs were arranged, and the campfire was lit. As darkness fell and fog crept in, we were almost compelled to gather around the fire. What followed was one of the most memorable moments of the trip. We sat around chatting, with a few people sharing stories from their travel journeys. In between, Abhijith got a chance to share some of his own moments, which made him a little more visible among the group. One thought echoed through everyone’s words — travel is one of the best parts of life. It helps us grow, explore the world without prejudice, and connect with people from different walks of life.
As a debutant, it was truly an eye-opener for me. And as they reminded me, it’s never too late. I was simply happy to be part of that circle. The ambience made the conversations even more special — we were sandwiched between fire and fog, under a clear sky streaked with shooting stars.By then, the cold had become unbearable for me, while Rohit proved to be the hot guy, swagging confidently in just a T-shirt and lungi. Around 8 or 9 p.m., hunger called for dinner, and the team paused the session. As I headed to eat, I noticed many people charging their phones. That’s when I realized how limited the network was — probably only BSNL worked there — and with airplane mode on, battery drain was minimal. Still, since we were using our cameras to capture the moments, I plugged my phone in and went for dinner.
Dinner was served with ghee rice, chapati, chicken curry, dal curry, and salads. Around the same time, it was announced that sleeping bags were ready to be collected. By then, the cold had become unbearable, and as sleeping bags were distributed, a few people began to call it a day. I was shivering too. Rohit wrapped a scarf around himself — yet somehow still managed to stay in his lungi. Those who stayed back gathered around the fire, and we began singing a few songs, which eventually turned into an impromptu game of Antakshari. As the crowd slowly dispersed, we went stargazing. The sky was crystal clear — even the faintest stars were visible, and we spotted a few shooting stars.
With the cold becoming unbearable, I left the spot midway and walked back to the tent. I slipped into the sleeping bag, letting the night quietly settle in. It was my first time sleeping in a sleeping bag. Despite the cold outside, it was surprisingly warm inside. The zipper could be pulled up to cover the entire body, leaving a narrow opening for the face to allow airflow. Abhijith had warned me earlier — “It’s a sleeping bag; you can’t roll inside,” knowing my sleeping habits well. But the bag felt bigger than expected, or at least that’s what I thought. I could roll over easily, though I struggled to align myself with the face opening. With a little discomfort, I finally closed my eyes.
The ambience was unreal — a silent atmosphere, broken only by the distant sound of flowing water, the breeze, and drifting fog. In between, I could hear faint whispers from the tent beside mine. Somehow, sleep slowly took over. Then all I remember is that I rolled… and it happened. Something hit — or patted — my back. (Those who’ve watched Backcountry will know exactly what I mean.). My inner voice screamed run, but I couldn’t even find the opening. I had rolled inside the sleeping bag so badly that I couldn’t reach the zipper. Panic kicked in. Survival mode was on. I pushed my entire body towards the opening, but it felt unreachable. In that moment, I felt like Anikuttan from Malayankunj — trapped and helpless. I could still hear whispers from nearby tents and Rohit’s snoring beside me. I tried calling out for help, but for some reason, no one heard me. Then I heard a whistle. Gathering every ounce of strength, I pushed hard once more — and this time, my head broke free through the opening. I could breathe again.
Moments later, I heard a second whistle. That’s when I realized - I was dreaming. It took me a few minutes to fully come out of the dream. Then Rohit asked me the time. I checked and said, “It’s 4 — let’s move.” Stepping outside, the cold hit hard. Even basic morning routines felt like a task. Faris and Arjun kept whistling, waking everyone up. After freshening up, we gathered at the base camp for tea and snacks. Once everyone was assembled, Faris and his team gave a brief introduction — we were going to trek one of the highest reachable peaks in South India, with Meesapulimala being the second-highest peak of the Western Ghats. “Are you excited?” he asked. A loud “Yes!” echoed back. He then added something important: the trek would be considered complete only when we all reached our homes safely. Until then, each of us was responsible for the others, helping whenever needed.
With that thought in mind, we began the journey to the destination we had all been waiting for.
The D - Day:
The jeep ride started around 5 a.m. — a 10-km off-road stretch. Some of us, including me, were still half-asleep, while others buzzed with curiosity. As daylight slowly broke, the altitude became evident. Below us lay lush green valleys and layers of clouds stacked like waves.
Soon, we reached Rhodo Mansion, where the actual trek would begin. We were told that we had to climb seven hills, with the eighth being our destination. The first climb was a little steep, and after about 30 minutes of trekking, we reached the top of the first hill — just in time for the golden hour. Rohit was visibly excited, blabbering, “Come, let’s capture both Rohits in one frame!” The view from the top was stunning. Golden rays gently touched the hills, and beneath us lay a vast cloud bed. We clicked countless photos, the golden hour acting like a natural filter for every frame. From there, we could spot Meesapulimala and parts of Sooryanelli, though they slowly began to fade behind thick fog. After a short while, Faris gathered us and announced that this was the last return point. From here onward, once you start the trail, you must finish it — no turning back. No one was ready to give up. We took a group photo and resumed the trek.
Though we started as a group, the pace soon varied. Some moved ahead, some fell behind, and eventually it was just Abhi, Nideesh, and me trekking together. We crossed a small stream — almost needing a jump — and quenched our thirst there. The next hill was steeper, but after that, the trail eased as the hills aligned at similar heights, making it feel like we were moving from one hill to another seamlessly.
The weather grew colder, with fog drifting across the path. Some stretches ran dangerously close to the edge, and with the fog thickening, it felt unsettling — one wrong step and it would be the end. Fatigue slowly crept in, and that’s when we realized the snacks and drinks were with Rohit. With no choice, we followed others who had something to bite on. That’s when we met Chaithra, who shared her snacks with us, and we continued the trail together. Along the way, we spotted rhododendron and neelakurinji. Finally, we could see our destination — right above us. That final climb, I felt, was the toughest part of the entire trek.
Slowly, we climbed and finally reached Meesapulimala around 9am. Standing at 8,661 ft, it was pure bliss. Clouds drifted beneath us while fog gently patted our backs. When the sky briefly cleared, the Rhodo Valley revealed itself, dotted with countless rhododendron trees.
Up there, conversations faded. It was just heavy breaths, tired legs, and a strange calm that made every step worth it. From the top, we could spot a blue, rectangular patch — the Mattupetty Dam reservoir, looking like a perfect drone shot. The famous Kolukkumalai peak appeared surprisingly small from this height. We stood there quietly, soaking in the views, letting the moment sink in. Soon, a small guest came to greet us — a Nilgiri Tahr, calmly making its presence felt. The guide then showed us the border point. Before long, everyone gathered at the summit, and we wrapped up the moment with group photographs.
Once the photo session was over, we began our descent. As the trolls say, going downhill was tougher than climbing up. The trail opened into vast grasslands, and with the weather settling into a comfortable chill, it felt perfect for trekking. Soon, Nideesh and I reached a point where we felt momentarily lost — there was no one ahead of us, and no one behind. Somewhere down in the valley, for those few minutes, we experienced the true vibe of solo trekking: just the earth and us, nothing in between. We sat beneath a tree for a while. Silence took over. We simply observed our surroundings, soaking in the landscape that felt like a Da Vinci painting brought to life.
Soon after, we spotted Chaithra, struggling but unwilling to give up. Not long after, Francis joined us. The final hour was a real test — we were tired, pushing ourselves, and desperately waiting to see the finishing point. Then, finally, we spotted the jeep parked at Rhodo Mansion. The four of us made it there together, marking the end of the trek.
Once Vahida and her husband arrived, we began our journey back to the base camp. Everyone was exhausted and hungry, yet there was a quiet satisfaction that we had completed the trek. You could sense it in everyone’s silence and smiles. After reaching the camp, we had brunch — the same spread as the previous day — and then vacated our tents. Goodbyes were exchanged, warm and genuine. Soon after, we started our return journey to the booking center where we had parked our car. The jeep ride was filled with conversations about the experience we had just lived through. I was happy just listening. Around 4 p.m., we reached our car and began the drive back. Rohit took the wheel with Abhijith as co-pilot. From our conversations, it was clear — we were all extremely happy. Coincidentally, it was a debut trek for all of us, and interestingly, though we started together, we each walked the trail with different sets of people. We stopped a few times to satisfy our hunger and finally reached Rohit’s home around 10 p.m. By 11, I was home. I jumped straight into bed, wrapped myself in the blanket, and felt a deep sense of relief. The frog had finally jumped out of the well and whispered, “macro, macro.” And somewhere in my mind, I quietly told Faris —
we had submitted the highest trekkable peak in South India: Meesapulimala.
A frog in a well
Viswabhai.
