I was 11 when I went for a 24 day trek on the Garhwal Himalayas with a group–The Explorers and Adventurers. It was nothing even close to a school trip; these were professional trekkers some of whom had scaled the Mt.Everest and conducted low difficulty treks for all age groups. We’d trek for 8-12 hours a day depending on the distance with sufficient breaks in between.
The target was to reach the destination before 6 pm so that we had enough time to pitch our life-sized tent (that accommodated 20) and the sherpas had enough time to prepare dinner. There is very little I remember from this trek especially the places which were complete non-tourist routes, yet one memory still remains very fresh.
One evening we were at an altitude of about 2500 mtrs looking for the ideal location to pitch the tent. The mountain we had trekked on was a steep one and we had no other option around. We picked the least slanting spot to put up the tent which was no less risky; the fag end of the tent was hardly a few meters away from the valley.
To add to the extremity of the situation, the wind was strong and our tent billowed along its force. Within a few minutes it started to rain and to our delight and the instructors’ dismay, it was ‘hailing’. We screamed and started collecting the little drops of ice in our mouths, bowls, hands, anything available. But the chill got to us. So much for embracing the elements!
We had no idea how bad it would get in some time. We ran back inside the tent and snuggled our shivering selves into sleeping bags since sweaters stood no chance of fighting the sudden chill.
Our instructors asked the sherpas to get all of us huge mugs of strong tea since we were to too young to be given brandy. “Tea? The thing that I detest so much?”–I thought to myself. Every time I’d look at tea in that transparent, ribbed, ‘cutting’ glass, I would fall in love with its aroma but my tongue could never follow my nose and the taste would put me off completely.
However, shivering inside the tent with the hailstorm in full momentum, I had no other comforting elixir to rely on. I hesitantly took the large army mug, made a face, brought it to my lips after a few attempts to cool it and took the first sip.
It was a sip I was to remember forever. Rejuvenating and heart-warming. I didn’t even realize when I had finished the whole mug and looked around for smiles of approval but seeing the sullen faces, kept the joy to myself. “I drank tea and loved it too!” was one of the first things I told my mom after returning; she of course was more interested in observing how dark and thin I’d become.
Today, I fiercely guard my passion for tea and maintain that a good cup of tea cannot be substituted by even the most exquisite champagne and while travelling, it is the the only health drink I trust enough to sip.
I owe my love for tea to that cold, challenging day. There could not have been a better start to a warm, delicious, lifelong relationship.
Vidhi Salla is writer, blogger, movie buff and traveller. She writes movie reviews and also contributes informative travel articles to websites. She gave up a lucrative corporate career to pursue creative writing, that she strongly believes is her calling.