The Calling of the Hills
Let me take you all back to the year 2021, when the globe was still in the middle of its battle against COVID-19. I was about to wrap up my second semester at IUT with the final exams. The day after our finals ended, my friends and I decided on a plan over discord to embark on an adventure in the Saint Martin Island and Bandorban. Our plan was rather straightforward— we would go trekking through some hilly spots in Bandorban, and head to Saint Martin Island right after. Those who weren’t interested in going trekking would join us on the Island.
First destination: Bandorban. This is one of the eleven districts making up the hill tracts of Bangladesh. This southeastern area is renowned for its breathtaking natural beauty in the forms of hills, rivers, waterfalls, and woods. The area is home to several indigenous tribes with their own distinct language and ways of life, such as the Chakma, Marma, Tripuri groups.
Sangu River is one of the aforementioned natural wonders of Bandorban. You can traverse the river by boat, as transportation and fishing are common livelihoods of the locals. The locals lead their life close to nature, using a slash-and-burn agricultural method called jhum farming. They’re well-known for their handicrafts like weaving and bamboo crafts.
But the area isn’t without its difficulties. There are ongoing conflicts over land rights, creating tension between the diverse ethnic groups living in Bandorban. Efforts are being exerted to resolve the issue, and for the lovers of mountainous areas in Bangladesh, this isn’t exactly new information.
February 4, 2021, was the date. I was waiting at the Panthapath bus terminal outside Dhanmondi with Sadat, Nayeb, Mahfuz, Shihab, Muhib, Amman, Mizan, Ontik, and my roommate Shams. These people are my friends from IUT, and they’re all enrolled in the same EEE programme as me.
The bus arrived ten minutes before its scheduled departure, and we took our assigned seats. Safwan, another friend of ours, was also supposed to be a part of the Bandorban plan, but he couldn’t make it and decided to join us in Saint Martin’s. The engine roared, announcing our departure, at exactly 11.37 PM. We snapped this selfie before the bus started on its way.
Before I begin my account, I must include a crucial tip for those hoping to travel to Bandorban— try to bring along only the essentials to keep your luggage as light as possible. This is a cautionary tale born of my own blunder, as I couldn’t properly estimate my capabilities thanks to this being my first hiking excursion. I had my photography equipment in one bag, my personal possessions in the other. Handling them turned out to be quite a feat, as I brought along the entire set of my newly purchased Hero Go Pro 9 Black and its accessories with me.
It took the bus over one and a half hours to escape Dhaka’s mayhem. We took a quick break at Comilla for refreshments before resuming its journey. At 3.45 am, we arrived at the GEC More in Chittagong, where we picked up our friend Mannan. We were preparing to enter Bandorban around 4 in the morning.
Day 01:
Officers from the army, police, as well as the BGB boarded our bus to verify our ID cards at the Bandorban entrance point, maintaining strict security. We eventually made our way toward Bandorban’s winding lanes, and the light of dawn was filtering through the gentle slopes.
We arrived in Bandorban Bazar amidst fog so dense that even at close range, things were barely visible. The moment we stepped off the bus we could feel the chill in the air, and I wrapped myself in some cozy pajamas to protect against the cold, rubbing my palms together for warmth.
Up until now, Muhib had been acting as the tour guide. He was able to retire from this role when Mr. Rafiq, a Bangali who was a permanent resident of Thanchi, arrived. He drove us around in a Jeep that the locals called “Chander Gari,” or “the car of the moon.”
We were able to spectate an extensive tunnel construction project across two hills in the vicinity of the Bandorban bus station. The chilly winter air hit us as the Jeep accelerated, dehydrating our skins and lips.
After twenty minutes or so, the driver pulled over next to a hotel in the marketplace for breakfast. The cuisine was typical for the area, but the paratha we had was rather unusual, since it was prepared using locally made flour.
For the entirety of this ride, we had to travel uphill on a steep road, almost devoid of any indication of civilization. Because of the high speed of travel, the gusts of wind we felt were strong, which caused us to be grateful for our jackets.
Imagine a roller coaster ride that lasts longer than five minutes. It continues down the undulating paths, up and down and up and down. It seemed as though we were on a ride. Moreover, we saw the lowest since we were higher than everyone else, and in less than thirty minutes, we were too high to see the earth. With that in mind, we realized we still had five and a half hours of climbing ahead of us. Although the description may seem frightening, we never felt in danger while traveling.
Imagine a roller coaster ride that goes on for seemingly hours as it continues down the undulating paths of Bandorban, alternating between going up and down, up and down, and over again. Even at the lowest points, we were higher than anybody on the surface, and at the highest peaks, we were barely able to see the earth at all. We still had about half an hours of travel down similar paths, and despite the daunting description, we never felt a sense of danger.
We continued gulping since, within two hours, low pressure in the ears had caused them to begin shutting out the air. The streets were clean and uncrowded. Vibrant hibiscuses, chrysanthemums, and wild banana trees lined both sides of the road. It felt as though the Pahari way of life was greeting us with an arch of wide flowers. A cabin appeared after a great distance, a lone sentry amid untamed, steep forests. Out of all the schools we spotted on our way, just one was built of brick. I had my GoPro with me, and captured countless moments throughout our journey, starting from our flight. The shots taken from high altitude came out incredible.
We were stopped at three checkpoints, in two of which our documents were inspected by authority. Solidly situated in the heart of the hills, near the road, was the Bolipar BGB Camp, our second stop, where the soldiers extended their hospitality to us by offering us snacks and a delicious olive juice they made themselves.
The only people we came across en route were Pahari folks or security personnels, and they welcomed us into their homeland with grinning faces and waves. We arrived in Thanchi around noon, and went to the Thanchi Kutir (থানচি কুটির), a restaurant targeted towards tourists.
If you want to travel to NafaKhum, AmiyaKhum, AliKodom, or PoddaJhiri, you’ll always find yourself at Thanchi, which serves as a center. On top of a hill at Thanchi there is a government tourist office, where you have to sign a whole bunch of papers before you continue on your journey. Vehicles like motorbikes, Chander gari, jeeps, buses, and CNGs are parked here to aid you on your journey ahead.
If you haven’t previously gotten in touch with a guide, Thanchi is a great place to start your search for one. If you leave Dhaka for Bandarban and head straight for Thanchi, you may be there by midday, do your paperwork, get a guide, and be off to NafaKhum soon enough.
The guide contacted us right after lunch, and he led us to the boat house to finish our paperwork for a travel permit from the nearest police station and BGB camp. This permit would allow us to go trekking Nafakhum, Amiakhum, Debota-Pahar, and Vela Khum. While ascending the boat we met some of our batchmates from Industrial and Production Engineering (IPE). We captured the coincidental moment before journeying away from network accessibility.
We couldn’t go trekking without suitable shoes, so we bought some from Thanchi Market. Here’s where my experience can be of use to you. When you buy trekking shoes, make sure to get quality shoes from reputable retailers. They’re a bit pricier, but if you cheap out on shoes you’ll have to pay the price when you walk through muddy, rugged terrains on your track. Nayeb was the only one who foresaw this, the rest of us had to suffer all the way through.
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In the afternoon, our friends Mannan and Shihab finally joined us as we began our journey to Remakri on speedboats. There were a total of four speedboats to transport our entire party, which were rather noisy. The hour-long journey can be quite pleasant if you’re able to acquire a comfortable seat and ignore the noise pollution.
The water under our boats was crystal clear, allowing us to see the rocks all the way at the bottom, despite the great depth. The water flowed downstream from Amiya Khum to Nafa Khum, then towards Remakri all the way to Thanchi, we were going against the current.
On both sides of the creek were hills. The stream was blue, and the sky was clear. The trees that flanked the road were lush and verdant. Every now and then, the rocks on the waterbed warped our route.
At one point of the ride, the atmosphere got so quiet that the boat was the only thing I could hear. The scenery was inexplicably beautiful— deep, crystal clear water passing through a channel in between two gigantic rocky mountains. I can still see this incredible view whenever I close my eyes.
In order to aid the boatman as he took the speedboat upstream, we descended on a little island and strolled around to look around the local stores. We resumed our trip upon crossing the river, inching towards Remakri with every passing moment.
When we arrived in Remakri around 5.15 PM, we found local stores just like the ones at the island before. The stores sell lychee beverages, tea, and pastries. The prices are a little higher than usual due to the difficulty in transporting the merchandise from Thanchi to here. The paharis are honest, hardworking individuals. Tourists generally leave their belongings at this point with them, and they look after all these valuables. Here, I once again continued taking photos of the sights, whereas my friends Mizan, Sadat, and Shams offered their Maghrib prayers on solid rocks. It was truly an amazing display of devotion.
Here’s where I can finally begin my account of our hiking experience. We had to pass through uneven terrain, rocky and humid patches on our path. With nightfall, the speed of some members of our party decreased gradually. Almost within an hour, I, along with Mahfuz, Mizan, and Muhib, fell behind and lost track of the rest of the group. We called the rest of the group after twenty minutes of waiting, and found that we had two options at this point. We could return to Remakri and seek lodging at a hotel, or we could wait for the rest of the group to join us.
Thankfully, we ran into another party of tourists from BUET. Their tour guide showed us the way, and we reunited with the rest of our group on the other side of the stream after an hour of hiking through bushes. We had to move quickly, because the rural areas of NafaKhum slept early. If we were too late, we wouldn’t be able to find a decent place to spend the night.
As we moved closer to NafaKhum, we could hear the gentle burbles of the stream. We reached NafaKhum Para, also known as Tripura Para, around 8.30 PM. Our accommodation for the night was close by. We took two rooms, one small and the other large.
The stream was audible from our place, creating a pleasant experience. Upon freshening up, we ordered food and started playing UNO. Our meal of fried eggs, mashed potatoes, daal, and rice was excellent. Exhausted from a long day of travel, we all ate plentifully.
Around 10, Nayeb, Sadat, Muhib, Mahfuz, and I went near the Khum and took photos of the beautiful stars. I decided to create a timelapse out of these stunning images, which ended up capturing the movement of the galaxy with astonishing clarity. With minds full of anticipation, we went back and crawled into bed.
Continues……
Day 02:
At the beginning of our second day, we awoke with the impression that we were somehow inside an iceberg and not in Bandarban. While we were expecting chilly weather, the reality was much colder than we could have prepared for. We all wrapped ourselves in two or three blankets provided by the staff of the lodging. Not to mention, the windows couldn’t be blocked, so the chilly morning air flowed in freely. I was up around 5.30, and realized all of us were facing the same predicament.
We noticed the sun around seven in the morning, its rays warming us and clearing the fog little by little.
After much procrastination, we left our beds around nine and discovered that other tourists were heading to the Nafakhum waterfall. Some were also wading into the Khum’s crystal blue water. We decided to skip breakfast to save money and time, and traveled to Nafakhum with the other tourists.
I was determined to take a dip into the Khum despite not knowing how to swim at the time. Mahfuz and Ontik were the only ones in our group who knew how to swim, but everyone with the exception of Nayeb and Shihab proceeded to dive into the Khum anyway with life jackets on. Mahfuz, Ontik, and Sadat dove into the Khum, and I tried to capture this action with my GoPro. Mahfuz tried to dive all the way to the bottom of the water body, but the depth made it impossible for him to hold his breath for that long.
The water felt incredibly cold at first, but after a few moments of immersion, it didn’t feel like it anymore. We took a whole bunch of photos, the surroundings making for an incredible background. Despite the remoteness of the place, the gathering of tourists made it quite crowded.
The weather in the mountains is significantly different from what we’re used to. When we left Nafakhum in the afternoon, it felt like crossing a large expanse of desert. However, just in the morning, we felt like we were stuck in the arctic. As we made our way through high and low grounds, streams over and over, the sweltering heat caused us to sweat uncontrollably. The water we brought along was running out, and after about an hour of hiking, we came upon another tribal community next to a fresh stream.
We discovered a small store nearby and replenished ourselves with some snacks, buying a large quantity of dates for a quick energy boost.
Mr. Rafiq advised against long breaks, as the walk would become difficult if we relaxed our muscles too much. These two and a half hours were honestly one of the hardest trekking portions of the entire Bandorban excursion. From Nafakhum, we were to travel towards “Debota Pahar,” a mountain of Bangladesh notorious for being difficult for trekking.
We had to spend the night at the closest tribal settlements before we could travel to “Debota Pahar.” There were two Para or settlements nearby—Thusia Para and Zinnah Para.
Zinnah Para was the closer of the two. We made the mistake of assuming that by close, it would be a 5-10 minute walk from where we were. We ended up being served with the unpleasant discovery that close in mountainous terrains means at least 1.5 hours of hiking. Zinnah Para and Thusia Para were 30 minutes away from each other.
We had to traverse an upward inclined valley before reaching Zinnah Para. As we climbed up the hill on which Zinnah Para is located, we spotted a few BGB soldiers near the summit. They’re stationed there to mitigate any problems should they arise.
Our oxygen levels were dropping dangerously as we climbed. As a result of the unfavorable weather, our hurried travels didn’t allow us much time to digest our lunch. Some of us experienced muscle pulls and nausea. Nayeb, in particular, was close to giving up the uphill walk, and had to stop after a few more minutes of hiking.
Considering our conditions, we wondered if our trekking plan to Debota Pahar the next day was a good idea. Our tour guide started to reconsider our return strategy, as we intended on returning to Thanchi taking a different route. This route, known as “Poddomukh”, entailed relentless travel for over 7 or 8 hours, not to mention we would have to climb two or three hills. When we finally got to Zinnah Para after overcoming all this, it was almost dark.
The locals playing football on a pitch was the first thing we saw upon entering Zinnah Para. We rented the very first cottage we chanced upon, and prepared a bed for Nayeb. We gave him some refreshments, and left him alone to recover his health.
We were in the second storey of the cottage, which was built with bamboo. We were running low on battery on our devices, but we decided to use the remaining bit of it to play music as we sat in front of the cottage to relax. Sadat left us there to join the locals in their football game, and after we were done catching our breaths, we went to take a bath.
Locals utilize a long pipe that is connected to a waterfall for water supply. This was organized by BRAC, a global NGO, who even set up a little billboard promoting themselves. In the bathing area, I chanced upon one of my seniors, Mayaz vai. He used to study in the same college as me, and was here with his friends from BRAC University. He told me that he got here through Poddomukh, and advised against that route as it was quite physically demanding to traverse.
Paying heed to his warnings, we told our tour guide that we would return the same way we came. He called the boatman using a satellite phone from the BGB to let him know that we would be at Remakri.
We ran into more of our seniors on that day. Up on the hill, there were students from batch 17, 18, and also from 19, although they were from a different department. It felt like we were having a reunion for IUTians in this remote area far from the campus.
While we bought necessities from a store nearby, we found that the residents use solar power to meet their electricity demands. As the night got darker, the cold started to increase, causing us to recount our memories of the previous night. The owner of our cottage warned us that it would take two to three hours to prepare our dinner as we ordered. Nayeb woke up, and we all offered our prayers. As we waited for dinner, Mizan decided to spontaneously begin a religious discussion, whereas Mahfuz, Muhib, and Shihab headed to the football pitch to practice their astrophotography.
We ate dinner sometime after 7 o’clock. We were all ravenous with hunger, and ate a lot once more. We had rice, known as “jhoom” in the region, which the tribal people cultivated on the mountainside. The menu also consisted of Aloo Bhorta or mashed potatoes, fried eggs, chicken, and daal.
After dinner, we took a painkiller, rubbed pain relieving gel on our muscles, and chatted. Sadat made a mimicry of Taheri Hujur,a well-known public figure in Bangladesh. After about 30 minutes, our guide joined in our chat, telling us some scary stories.
Let me give you a quick introduction of our tour guide, Mr. Rafiq. He is a Bangali who lives in Thanchi, and is familiar with the local tribal tongue not being a member of their communities. He had a barbershop at the Thanchi market, and being a tour guide was his side gig. He visited the capital city of Bangladesh only twice in his life, and he didn’t particularly enjoy Dhaka.
He carried only one bag as he guided us, where he stored a pair of shoes and a lungi. The remaining space of his bag was filled with Paan or Betel Leaves, to which he was practically addicted. We witnessed him chewing on Paan throughout the way.
Mr. Rafiq shared some terrifying stories with us, but we actually found them quite amusing. At some points, we thought his stories were actually quite absurd. This storytelling session went on for about an hour, and as soon as the lights were off, we put on warm clothes, put our electronic devices to charge, and went to bed for the day. I was acutely aware of the emptiness in the area, and the chirping of the crickets. Soon enough, all that was out of my mind as I went to sleep.
Continues……
Day 03: