Switzerland of the East or the Land of Warriors!
As an impulsive traveller, I tend to pick destinations on a whim—which is precisely how I found myself in Nagaland.
Since last few years I ensure that my travels always featured a short trek or a hike and this time it was a trek to the Dzukou Valley, just a moderate 7 to 8-hour (at my speed) hike located at an altitude of about 2,452 meters (8,045 feet). I joined a group and we started from the Jakhama village. Whilst I have done numerous hiking and trekking, I’ve never faced an experience as scary as what’s about to come up.
Although it had been raining since morning, we started our trek exactly on schedule. Donning our raincoats and gripping our trekking poles, our group of six began the hike in high spirits, chatting away. I did not have a proper raincoat, so the leader arranged a large plastic sheet for me, which I wrapped around myself. As the only single person in a group of couples, I initially blended into the collective chatter. That shared rhythm lasted less than an hour. As everyone grew distracted by different sights along the trail, the group split. Soon, I was hiking alone, caught in the quiet space between those leading the pack and those lagging behind. Through years of solo travel, I have realized that true freedom lies in remaining completely untethered from expectations—whether my own or those of others.
The route through the Jakhama village is shorter but steeper, more rugged and physically demanding. The initial phase tests your stamina with a rocky or dirt slope lasting 1.5 to 3 hours. Reaching the top of the initial climb, there is a gradual ascent which rewards you with your first breath-taking look at the vast, rolling green landscape of the lush green carpet valley stretched for around 10km.
Thereafter you’ll enter the Japfu Peak trek route, which is a dense dwarf bamboo forest. The trail passes through dense forests, rocky ridges, and open grasslands.
I was walking through a dwarf bamboo forest with an endless stretch of tall grass on my left, while the Ghost Caves appeared on my right. The trail was dead silent—not even the sound of birds chattering. Heavy winds whipped through the valley, causing the tall bamboo grass to sway violently. The rustling felt like whispering right behind me, echoing the faint murmur of the Dzukou River down below. The sensation that someone was tailing me grew so overwhelming that I couldn’t summon the courage to turn around. After all, Dzukou Valley is famous for local legends of spirits, phantom creatures, and wandering souls haunting its rolling green hills.
The sun vanished and darkness seeped in, and yet I was still lost. The green hills faded into shadowy silhouettes, and the path ahead turned pitch black. My phone was my only source of light, but I dared to switch it on only in brief bursts to preserve the precious battery for the rest of the journey.
At one time, I thought I would stop walking immediately and stay where I was so that rescue teams could find me easily. Fear took over as a barrage of questions overwhelmed me: What if this is the end of me? What if I disappear forever? What if a wild animal finds me first? What if a bear comes out of the caves?
Hiking alone through the dense jungle cleared my mind to concentrate on the surroundings. The Dzukou Valley forest is filled with various slender tree trunks that rise upward through a thick layers of fog or low-hanging mist. There was this one beautiful flower spread everywhere, which I googled later to know that it is the Dzukou lily, a flower that only grows here and nowhere else on the planet. I walked and walked and walked enjoying the views and the weather, I love rains!!
Most people do not realize they are lost all at once; it usually begins with a small feeling that something is not quite right. I had been walking for a few hours when I noticed that not a single person had passed me going either up or down. It was quite a challenge walking along the slippery paths and sloshing through the mud in the rain. Massive, moss-covered trees towered overhead, completely blocking out the sky. It was a cold, damp trek through a forest so thick that the sunlight could barely break through. At one point, I found a fork in the trail with an arrow pointing the way. In some places, I had to crawl to move through tight or steep spaces. I was completely drenched and cold, as my flimsy plastic sheet barely protected me from the downpour. I fought to keep my backpack dry, as it held the fresh clothes I would need once I arrived at my destination.
My mobile battery was draining. I tried to get a signal to check GPS maps, but nothing worked. Realizing I needed to conserve power, I stopped using the phone. A dark thought hit me: What if no one finds me? What if I’m dead when they do? I drafted a text to my family explaining my situation so they would eventually know what happened.
It was only 5:30 p.m., but the Dzüko Valley had turned pitch-black. Shivering to my core, with soaked clothes clinging to my skin, waterlogged shoes weighing down every step, and not a single drop of water left to drink, I was utterly exhausted and at my absolute limit. Out of nowhere, two human figures appeared in the distance and started heading toward me. My heart hammered against my ribs. Exhausted and unsettled, I hesitated, wondering whether they were humans or ghosts.
One of them checked if I was okay, saying, “Oh, looks like you got lost. Don’t worry—in Dzükou, even the locals get tricked by the darkness.” They advised me to stick to the straight path to reach my destination, adding that if I got lost again, I should just call out and someone up ahead would come help. Although every step in my waterlogged shoes was agonizing, my panic had completely dissolved. I kept walking for 30 minutes until the faint light of the Trekker’s Hut finally glimmered in the distance, where several mobile flashlights were signaling toward me. After a short descent and crossing a tiny running stream, I reached the gate, where the sight of my group members waiting for me brought overwhelming relief.
This experience of being lost and found during the trek was overwhelming and would stay with me for life. It stripped away every bit of arrogance I carried, leaving behind a deep, quiet gratitude for the solid ground beneath my feet and the simple gift of finding my way home. As soon as my phone was charged, I called home to tell them I was absolutely fine. To this day, I have not told them what happened—they don’t need to carry the ghost of that night. Some survival stories are never spoken aloud. They belong solely to the forests that witnessed them and the quiet spaces in your mind where you remind yourself what it truly costs to be saved (Maybe they will know it now).
Reaching the peak of the Dzukou Valley gave me a profound sense of victory—a chance to renew my connection with nature’s cycle.
#dzukouvalleytrek
#nagalandstories
LifeinACircle 