Our long-planned Char Dham Yatra finally kicked off on the morning of 19th May, with the core pilgrimage squad: me, my wife, my brother and sister-in-law, and my elder sister
BHPian ramkya1 recently shared this with other enthusiasts:
Hai friends,
Been away for some time / years! Felt a compelling urge to post this T Log to share my load of pain and pleasure form my recent trip. I have doused it with my stark style, hope nobody will take offense. This expresses my objective world view of God, Worship and rituals, just my views. OK? The clicks are not my best, but what my mobile can do! Enough Said.
19-05-2025: Ghaziabad to Haridwar – Surrendering the Steering Wheel
Our long-planned Char Dham Yatra finally kicked off on the morning of 19th May, with the core pilgrimage squad: me, my wife, my brother and sister-in-law, and my elder sister. Being the default driver in the family, I had naturally assumed I’d be at the wheel—but was quickly outvoted (read: overruled). My wife led the mutiny, with full backing from the others. Peace at home demanded that I step aside. Husbands, you know the drill—it’s either humility or a highway with potholes in your marriage. I chose humility.
We went with Panikar Travels this time, and I must admit—being a passenger wasn’t bad at all. Without the usual wheel-gripping stress, I could focus on life’s finer joys: endless photo-taking, travel journaling, and posting updates for jealous friends back home. Surprisingly therapeutic.
Our ride, a petrol Innova Crysta (automatic), was solid. The real gem though? Mr. Thomas, our driver-cum-guide-cum-roadside philosopher. With 20 years under his seatbelt on this route, the man knew every pothole and poori stop like the back of his hand. He was part encyclopaedia, part fixer—advising where to halt, when to haggle, whom to ignore, and where to drop a donation without getting duped.
A big-built fellow, he moved with the grace of a sumo wrestler and the efficiency of a Swiss watch. His morning routine was a show in itself: unloading our 5-suitcase circus from the roof rack, cleaning the vehicle till it sparkled, and vanishing the moment it was time to climb stairs! Our seat layout was perfect—two upfront, two captain chairs in the middle, a snug triple seat in the back, and barely enough boot space for a toothbrush. AC usage was scientific—strictly off on steep climbs and demanding overtakes. The man even dropped it to manual mode and crawled up inclines in first gear with a finesse that made me cringe as a former driver. “Let the engine work,” he’d say, and work it did.
We kicked off from Vaishali around 8 AM with the usual road rituals—lemon under the tyres, coconut smashed, camphor lit. By the time we crossed Modi Nagar, our lovingly packed breakfast had mysteriously vanished. We reached our hotel in Haridwar by 2 PM, crashed for a siesta, and headed for the iconic Ganga Aarti in the evening.
Does the Ganga Touch Your Soul? Yes. But Watch Your Wallet.
Haridwar—the gateway to the gods, and sometimes to gullibility. The Ganga Aarti at Har Ki Pauri was majestic, deeply moving, and absolutely worth the jostling. Oil lamps dancing on the river, chants echoing across the ghats—it’s an audio-visual bhakti overload.
But between the glowing lamps and drifting petals, another spectacle played out. A dark comedy of spiritual extortion:
- Sadhus who looked more like bouncers in saffron, demanding donations with the intensity of loan sharks.
- Tikka girls ready to bless your third eye and empty your pockets in one smooth motion.
- Donation agents with ‘official’ receives and aggressive sales pitches for Ganga Art “By” Packages—Because Apparently Even Ganga Maiya Needs a Budget these days.
20-05-2025: Haridwar to Barkot – The Real Ghat Start
Google Maps boldly declared “5 hours” for our 180-km journey. We, wiser with Himalayan Road reality, packed extra patience and started at 8 AM.
Mr. Thomas, our hill-roads ninja, avoided Mussoorie and Dehradun like the plague—opting for obscure one-lane jungle routes that even Google Maps couldn’t comprehend. “Turn back!” she screeched every few minutes until we finally silenced her for sanity.
We passed dry waterfalls (Kempy Falls looked like someone forgot to pay the water bill), but struck gold at Yamuna Deck Resort—a gorgeous cliff-top dhaba overlooking the Yamuna. The food was simple but lip-smacking, and the views were Himalayan Picture post card worthy.
By evening, we rolled into Hotel Ratauri Annexe in Barkot. Let’s say… expectations were low, and they were generously met. Rooms were basic, but the food filled our tummies, and that’s half the battle won in the hills. We spotted a couple of minor landslides en route, but the BRO (Border Roads Organisation) swooped in like heroes with bulldozers, clearing the road in record time.
Reached Barkot by 5 PM. Not glamorous, but functional. Tomorrow, Yamunotri awaits.
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