ARUN ARORA
NEW DELHI: AS I stepped off the train in Kathgodam, the gateway to Uttarakhand’s hills, I felt a mix of excitement and relief. Nainital had been on my bucket list for years – the glittering lake, the bustling Mall Road, and the colonial charm. But as I researched, the stories of overcrowded streets, honking cars and selfie-stick armies deterred me.
I craved serenity, not chaos. So, I rerouted my solo trip to explore the quieter gems around Nainital – places where nature whispers rather than shouts. Over a week, I discovered lakes that mirrored the soul, hill stations that healed the spirit, wildlife that thrilled the senses, and ancient temples that stirred the heart.
A tranquil world
My first escape was to Bhimtal, just a 20-km drive from Nainital, but worlds apart in tranquility. The road wound through pine-scented forests, and as I arrived there, the lake unfolded like a hidden sapphire. Larger than Nainital’s, Bhimtal’s waters stretched calmly under the afternoon sun, dotted with a tiny island housing an aquarium. I rented a paddleboat and glided across, the only sounds being the soft splash of oars and distant bird calls. No hawkers, no throngs; just me and the reflections of the surrounding hills.
I spent the evening at a lakeside café, sipping masala chai while watching the sunset paint the water in hues of orange and pink. Bhimtal felt like a gentle hug from nature, perfect for anyone seeking quiet introspection. Energised, I headed next to Naukuchiatal, mere four kilometers away, often called the ‘lake of nine corners’. Legend has it that if you spot all the nine corners from one vantage point, your wishes come true. I only managed seven, and that’s fine; my wish was already granted in this peaceful haven.
Queen of Meadow
The lake is deeper and more mysterious than Bhimtal, surrounded by dense forests that teem with butterflies and exotic birds. I opted for a paragliding adventure here, soaring above the treetops with an instructor, the wind rushing past as the lake below looked like a flawless emerald. Landing softly on the shore, I wandered to a nearby butterfly park, where vibrant wings fluttered around me like living confetti.
Craving higher altitudes, I drove to Ranikhet, about 60-km north, a quaint cantonment town that feels like stepping into a bygone era. Perched at 1,869 meters, it is known as the ‘Queen’s Meadow’, and it does live up to the name. The air was crisp, laced with the scent of deodar trees, and the views of the snow-capped Himalayas were breathtaking.
I hiked through the Chaubatia Gardens, an orchard bursting with apples, apricots, and plums – though out of season. The paths were lined with wildflowers. Ranikhet’s golf course tempted me for a casual swing, but I preferred strolling the Jhula Devi Temple, where bells tinkled in the breeze, hung by devotees whose prayers were answered.
Crown on a ridge
From Ranikhet, Almora beckoned. Another 50 km away, it nestled like a crown on a ridge. This ancient hill station, older than Nainital, exudes a cultural vibe that’s hard to resist. I checked into a heritage hotel overlooking the valley and explored the bustling, yet uncrowded, bazaar, picking up handmade woolens and sampling local bal mithai – a sweet treat of roasted khoya coated in sugar balls. Almora’s real magic lies in its temples and viewpoints. I trekked to Kasar Devi, a hippie haven with magnetic fields said to inspire creativity. The panoramic vistas from Bright End Corner, where the sun dips behind the peaks, left me speechless. Almora felt like a wise old friend, offering history and harmony without the hype.
Pushing further, Mukteshwar became my adventure playground, 50 kilometers from Almora. At 2,312 meters, it’s a paradise for thrill-seekers and view-chasers. I zipped across canyons on a flying fox, my heart pounding as the Kumaon hills blurred below. Rock climbing at the Chauli ki Jali cliff tested my limits, rewarding me with sweeping views of orchards and distant Nanda Devi peak.
The Mukteshwar Temple, dedicated to Lord Shiva, added a spiritual layer, with its ancient bells echoing through the mist. I stayed at a cliffside cottage, waking to monkeys chattering outside and eagles soaring overhead. Mukteshwar was raw, untamed beauty, far from Nainital’s polished crowds. As I wrapped up my journey, heading back to Kathgodam, I realised these spots aren’t just alternatives to Nainital; they’re treasures in their own right. They offered solitude, adventure, wildlife, and culture, all wrapped in the embrace of the Himalayas.
