Simtola in Uttarakhand’s Almora region offers a mix of picturesque landscapes and haunted tales that leave you wanting for more. Text & Photographs by Vagmi Joshi
Climbing uphill, pushing my feet against thick grass, I catch sight of a giant cellular tower station. For years, I identified Simtola only with this tower amidst a thick oak and pine forest, layered with wild grass looming some three-feet high. My little self felt safe around the unmanned tower station. My biggest fear used to be of the mountain leopard, whose tales were narrated to me as bedtime stories from Corbett’s books and whose local accounts were grandpa’s favourite conversations. Now, I laugh at the irony of my fear of nature that has been completely replaced with a dread of human encroachments.
In and Around Simtola
Simtola Eco Park was set up in August 2010, over an area of 64 acres of reserved forest land, to protect the forest from overgrazing and falling of trees. Midway on the road from Almora to Kasar Devi (14 kms north of Almora) lies Paparsali, where a broad dusty pathway leads upwards to the gate of the Eco Park.
On stepping inside the gate, I am awestruck by a sea of marigolds shining in crimson hues. Further ahead emerge narrow pugdandis (mountain pathways) surrounded on either side by acacia trees that present a brilliant golden spectacle of blooms every spring. I pick up flowers fallen on the ground, holding them for sometime before softly pressing them in my fist where they crumble and tickle my fingers and then disperse in the air, leaving behind a fragrance.
Every few steps bring sight of wooden boards with heartwarming messages of environment conservation. Swings allow visitors to gaze at the clear blue sky as they sway to and fro. Pine cone in hand, I quietly absorb the sounds of the forest while basking in the winter sun. I hear the wind rustling past deodar and oak and pine trees, interrupted only by the cicadas. On walking further, a white, bunny shaped dustbin amuses kids passing by. A spiral stairway leads up to a watch tower offering splendid view of the mountains.
I am fascinated by the dhyaan-kshetra (meditation hall), where, I’m told, rishis (sages) once meditated. Interestingly, to the right of the place is a dysfunctional well with rusted iron grills. I’m regaled with tales of ghosts that lived in the well—of a conjuring power that devastated anyone who took any thing from the forest with them. My coward heart palpitates when I pass by the well, hoping that if I do encounter a ghost, dhyaan kshetra would be a safe place to run to.
Taking the route round the spooky well at dusk, I conquer my big fear. And lo! I behold a valley bathed in breathtaking cosmos flowers. I’ve never seen so many flowers together in one place. Neither have I felt as carefree as I do running on these pathways, splashing on the muddy pool waters, scraping my knees after falling off the swings, laying down on the grass on a winter afternoon, and looking up at the sky. I smile as I recall what a board on my way here read: Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures. And memories.
Related: A Nostalgic Journey: A Traveller’s Love Letter To Kasar Devi, Uttarakhand
