At 4 a.m., the alarm pierced the silence. I pushed aside the blanket, and winter rushed in like an uninvited guest. The cold wrapped itself around me so completely that I immediately made a firm decision: I was not going anywhere. I slipped back under the blanket.

Then Shanu called.

“Are you ready?”

Strangely, I was. Or perhaps I could be. Within minutes, I stepped back into the cold, woke my siblings in the next room, and somehow gathered myself enough to reach Meenangadi (Wayanad) before dawn.

The traveler arrived at five. Ranjith and Subhashettan jumped out into the biting air as if it were nothing. I, on the other hand, shivered my way inside the vehicle. Around ten or fifteen others were already seated, laughing and chatting as though this early morning chill was merely decorative. I wanted to join them, to dissolve my hesitation in their warmth, but the cold reduced me to silence. I curled up and drifted back to sleep.

The road stretched ahead for nearly four hours. We paused to fill petrol. We stopped at the iron bridge in Mananthavady (Wayanad) for tea and food. I remember black tea warming my hands, the sweetness of unniyappam from a roadside shop, fragments of conversation, and the comforting rhythm of sleep in between. Each time I opened my eyes, I wondered whether I had overestimated myself.

But then it was breakfast time. Bread. Egg. A spoonful of kappa with fish curry. Tea again. Strength returned in small, humble portions.

By around 9:30, we reached the base of Thadiyandamol in Karnataka. Names were entered in a register, phone numbers noted, entry forms filled. With that simple act of writing, we committed ourselves to the mountain.

The trail welcomed us with a carpet of fallen leaves — yellow, green, even hints of purple. They reminded me of the postcards my friend Lin Savia sends from Switzerland. The wind lifted a few and brushed them against my face, as if blessing the journey.

Soon the cold softened into sunlight. One by one, sweaters and shawls found their way into our backpacks. Layers shed, both outside and within.

I began to know the people around me — not in dramatic ways, but through small kindnesses. Apples sliced and shared by Anoop’s wife. A tiffin box lent by Kunjumon. Biscuits passed around without ceremony. Somewhere between the bites and the banter, strangers turned into companions.

The climb was deceptive. Many hills pretended to be the summit. Each time we thought we had arrived, another rise appeared ahead. Yet the real peak waited patiently, visible in the distance, calling us onward.

Poet Madhusudhanan Nair kept repeating, “One step, one step to reach the top.” And that became our rhythm.

When we finally stood at the summit, the reward unfolded in every direction — a full 360-degree embrace of sky and land. Endless green. Stretches of yellow. Rolling hills dissolving into horizon. It felt like standing at the edge of something ancient and immeasurable.

In that vastness, I remembered the words of Balachandran Chullikkad:

“On the rock of this moment, we build the temple of time…
In this gaze, we see life.
What is our meaning other than us?”

Up there, the lines did not feel like poetry. They felt like truth.

No photograph could hold what the eyes witnessed. I thought of Kolukkumalai. Of Chembra. Of Pakshipathalam. Each mountain carries its own silence, its own language. Thadiyanramol spoke in wind.

There was no shade on the open top — not even the shadow of a crow’s wing. We searched and finally found a vine-like shelter to sit and eat. Food packets opened. Laughter resumed. Inside that small patch of coolness, we forgot the sun blazing just beyond.

After lunch, I handed a copy of my book to Rajeshettan — a quiet exchange, witnessed by fellow travelers and the sky itself. A few photographs followed, proof that we had stood there, though the memory needed no proof.

Then came the descent.

Strangely, going down felt harder than climbing up. Knees trembled. Steps required caution. But the mountain sent a breeze with every stride, cooling and steadying us. We walked along paths carved by countless others before us — rocks polished smooth, tree roots worn gentle by time and footsteps.

KGS once said that the ocean feels vast simply by seeing it. Likewise, these paths must have grown vast by walking.

And so we walked — step by step — carrying back not just tired muscles, but something quieter and deeper: the knowledge that some journeys begin with hesitation, pass through doubt, and end in wonder.

Dhanya Indu

The Rise of “Adventure Zones”

In a significant move, the Kerala Tourism Department has inaugurated several “Adventure Zones” across the state, specifically designed to offer curated experiences in a safe and regulated environment.

“Our goal is to unlock Kerala’s full adventure potential while ensuring minimal environmental impact,” stated Minister for Tourism P.A. Mohamed Riyas at the recent launch of the Thenmala Ecotourism Adventure Zone. “These zones provide a holistic approach, combining high-octane activities with responsible tourism practices.”

These new zones feature activities such as:

• Zip-lining: Over lush tea estates in Munnar and across scenic lakes like Karlad in Wayanad.
• Mountain Biking: Through spice plantations and challenging forest trails in Thekkady and Vagamon.
• Rock Climbing & Rappelling: Utilizing natural rock faces in areas like Jatayu Earth’s Center in Kollam, which also boasts the world’s largest bird sculpture.

Backwater and Coastal Adventures

While the tranquil backwaters have always been synonymous with houseboats, a new wave of water-based adventure is making a splash:

1. Kayaking and Canoeing: Explore the labyrinthine canals of Alappuzha and Kumarakom in a more intimate and active way, often guided by local fishermen.
2. Stand-Up Paddleboarding (SUP): Gaining immense popularity in serene lagoons and estuaries, offering a unique perspective of coastal life.
3. Surfing: Beaches like Kovalam, Varkala, and Cherai are witnessing a surge in surf schools and camps, catering to beginners and experienced surfers drawn to the Arabian Sea swells.

Highland Thrills: Trekking and Off-Roading

The Western Ghats continue to be the backbone of Kerala’s high-altitude adventures:

• Trekking: Trails to Chembra Peak (Wayanad), Meesapulimala (Munnar), and the lesser-known Banasura Hill offer breathtaking views and challenging ascents. Forest department-approved guides are mandatory for many routes, ensuring safety and ecological preservation.
• Off-Road Jeep Safaris: Destinations like Munnar, Vagamon, and Wayanad provide thrilling 4×4 experiences through rugged terrain, often leading to remote waterfalls and tribal settlements. Initiatives like the “She-Trails” off-roading events in Wayanad are empowering women in adventure sports.

Once known primarily for its quiet spice plantations and prehistoric caves, the district has transformed into a high-octane hub for “Responsible Adventure.” From the upcoming Her Trails 2026 conclave to the soaring ziplines over tea estates, Wayanad is proving that its spirit is as resilient as its ancient rock formations.

The New Wave: Women-Led Adventure

The most significant buzz in the region revolves around Her Trails 2026, India’s first women-only adventure conclave, scheduled for January 17–18. Organized by the Wayanad Eco Tourism Association (WETA), the event is set to feature a massive 4×4 off-road expedition through the rugged Parison Tea Estate in Mananthavady.

“This isn’t just about travel; it’s a movement,” says local entrepreneur Ranjini Menon. “We are positioning Wayanad as a national model for safe, women-led sustainable tourism.”

The initiative highlights a broader trend in 2026: She Tourism. Infrastructure improvements and specialized safety training for local guides have made Wayanad the preferred destination for solo female travelers and all-women trekking groups.

The “Big Three” Adventures of 2026

For the adrenaline seeker, the district currently offers a diverse “Adventure Menu”:

1. The Vertical Thrill: The zipline at Karlad Lake remains one of the longest in South India, stretching 350 meters across the water. For those seeking a raw climb, the trek to Chembra Peak (2,100 m) continues to be the ultimate challenge, famous for its perennial heart-shaped lake.
2. The River Run: Bamboo rafting at Pozhuthana and Kuruva Island has seen a surge in popularity. Unlike motorized boating, this traditional method offers a silent, eco-friendly way to navigate the Kabini River’s tributaries, perfect for spotting the Malabar Hornbill.
3. The Wild Path: Jeep safaris in Muthanga and Tholpetty are currently at their peak season. With the post-monsoon lushness still lingering, sightings of wild elephants and gaurs are frequent near the forest watering holes.

Sustainable Recovery and Infrastructure

Following the challenges of previous years, the Wayanad travel scene in 2026 is notably more organized. The government has implemented carrying capacity limits at sensitive sites like Edakkal Caves to protect the 6,000-year-old Neolithic carvings. While this has led to longer wait times, it has also spurred the growth of “Alternative Wayanad”—hidden gems like the Carbon Neutral Coffee Park and farm-to-table stays in Vythiri.