The Monroe hiking trail, nestled deep in the dense pine forests of Mansehra district in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, was intriguing, to say the least. The fact that it was not on many people’s bucket lists only added to its allure, fuelling our curiosity and urgency to explore the unknown territory.

Therefore, on a sunny May morning, we left a buzzing Lahore for a rest house — which also serves as a training camp for young foresters — up in the hills, owned by the Pakistan Forest Institute. But after a six-hour-long drive, we found the facility closed with a sole guard on duty.

Honestly, we expected a better-kept facility, but perhaps limited resources seem to have taken a toll on every aspect of governance.

After settling ourselves in the rest house, we arranged for a jeep to take us to the Tourist Facilitation Centre near the colonial-era Kund Bungla, another government-owned rest house located on a mountaintop overlooking the scenic Shinkiari village. Ponies were summoned to bear the burden of our camping gear and chapli kebabs were ordered for dinner.

In the meantime, we started planning for the next day, not knowing that it would soon all go down the drain. The remainder of the evening was rather uneventful except that being in a forest, surrounded by a vast complex of old unkept buildings, made one remember all kinds of horror movies and novels.

Jeeping across forests

The next morning, the jeep duly arrived at 5am and oh my, what a royal blue gem it was. The young driver and eager passengers were both smitten by the beauty on display. Most of these jeeps were auctioned by the military and then refurbished by locals into stunners.

Once out of the reverie, all of us and our bags were stuffed into the open jeep and the journey began.

The ride to the Monroe trail’s tourist facilitation centre, although bumpy, was breathtaking. Coming out of the dense pine forests, we headed towards a ridge where on our left was the picturesque Siran Valley. On the right was the marvel of the Kaghan Valley. Soon, we were passing through ridge saddles and could simultaneously view the expanse of both valleys, basking in the glory of the glowing sun.

The ridge — a long, narrow hilltop or mountain range — defined the watersheds for the Siran and Kunhar rivers, and also served as forest boundaries between Siran and Kaghan, the former on the left and the latter on the right.

What previously seemed a long drive now seemed short. Almost two hours later, we arrived at our destination.

The tourist facilitation centre of the Monroe trail was still only semi-functional as the season was just starting. The facility, which was established a couple of years back with a lot of fanfare, seemed to have now dried up, with the infrastructure incomplete and staff unpaid. There were some tents, sleeping bags and other gear procured for the project but with no further funds, the investment was a risk.

Currently, the centre is run by Ghulam Rabbani — its only guard/ caretaker — and his family, who served us a hearty breakfast. The trek could very well begin from the facility, but we decided to instead save some time and take jeeps to Suran, a plateau further 30 minutes on the trail and the end for four-wheelers.

Disclaimer: Please do not try to drive yourself beyond the Pakistan Forest Institute as the trek is tricky. Also, why risk your life when there are good local options available?

A history lesson

Before we divulge into the much-anticipated trek, here’s a little history of the little-known Monroe trail.

The 66-kilometre-long trail dates back to 1900. A. V. Monroe, a forest conservator, in British India was the man behind it. The idea was to establish a horse trail from Kund to Kamal Bun near Khanian in Naran valley, traversing the ridge between Siran and Kaghan valleys.

The project spanned over five years (1900-1905) and envisaged regular forest rest houses on the route alongside the wide horse trail. Situated around eight miles from each other, the facilities were planned for a day walk or horse ride, leaving time for inspection of the surrounding jungles.

They included Kund Bungla, Shaheed Pani, Nadi Bangla, Sharan and Kamal Bun rest houses — all roughly a five- to six-hour trek from each other. Unfortunately, Kund Bangla and Shaheed Pani became victims of the 2005 earthquake and were subsequently replaced by incomplete infrastructure. These structures, however, were provided with solar lights under the sustainable forest project, which means that you would always find a forest guard there and a good camping ground.

The Nadi Bangla rest house, to some extent, is also nourished under the same project, but the facility in Sharan is newly constructed and surrounded by tourism department camping pods and grounds. The last rest house on the trail, Kamal Bun, is also functional with basic amenities.

Except for Shaheed Pani, all of the facilities are connected to the main road through jeep treks; Kund and Nadi Bangla to Balakot, Sharan to Paras and Kamal Bun rest house to Khanian near Naran.

Alternative universe

Enough of the history and back to the trek now.

The jeep first took us to what was once the Kund Bungla, which boasts a strategic location with a commanding view of Balakot and its verdant lawns. One can’t help but wish someone had tried to restore the rest house to its original glory, but then heritage has never been our best suit.

The good old forest guard offered us tea, but we had miles to go before finally retiring for the day and hence the trek continued. In about 20 minutes, after crossing a few shepherd’s summer settlements, we reached the Surraan plateau, where we reunited with the ponies carrying our camping gear.

The plan for the day was to trek straight to the Nadi Bangla and spend the night there. After hours of traversing through the forests, we were soon able to differentiate Chir trees from Kel and Diyar. We marched along a 40-45km-long pipeline, responsible for bringing fresh water from Musa ka Musalla — Siran Valley’s second-highest peak — down to the villages.

The uphill trek, although moderate when it comes to difficulty and gradient, leads you to an alternative universe, away from the noise. Here, you are greeted by winds whistling through tall pines and the chirping of the birds nestled on them. The silver snake-like Siran and Kunhar rivers serve to be perfect companions, never once leaving your side.

Mostly on your own throughout the journey, forest guards and ponymen sometimes make a special appearance. Interestingly, the forest guards were all young with degrees in international relations or journalism from Hazara University.

In about three hours, the forest guard of Shaheed Pani joined us. Together, all of us charged towards Nadi Bangla, which was still four hours away, with the aim to arrive at our destination before sundown.

As we crossed the tree line near Shaheed Bangla, the landscape began to change, tilting towards the blander side. We had been warned that the snow from the previous winters could be a potential nuisance, but that didn’t stop us. Our resolve was further strengthened by assurances from locals.

Of skewed glaciers and wild boars

The warnings though were not entirely false as we soon found ourselves tiptoeing around large chunks of snow. About 20 minutes from Shaheed Pani, we found our way obstructed by a glacier blocking around 10 metres of the trail. Here, our gear (read walking sticks) finally came in handy. But 10 minutes more and we came face to face with yet another glacier.

That is when the seed of doubt finally sprouted in our brains, and lips started doing their job: prayers, lots of them. One wrong move on the skewed glaciers could throw us straight into the Siran River. That didn’t stop us though.

But in another 30 minutes from the Shaheed Pani diversion, we found ourselves standing before a 30m-wide glacier with a 60-degree slope. And, as most Pakistanis would, we decided to take a tea break, during which all the scheming was done. It was a risky proposition, even for the experienced forest guards and ponymen.

We had planned the trek for months but here we were, stuck in the middle of nowhere. Legendary mountaineer Reynold Messner was right when he said, “On these heights, it’s the mountain that decides.” And so we let the peaks have the final word and decided to return to the facilitation centre.

The gloomy return trip was easier on the lungs but heavy on the heart and knees. One of our ponies and its man almost slipped from one of the glaciers we crossed and brought us some relief over the decision we had taken.

When we finally reached the facility, just before the dusk settled in, our knees gave in, forcing us to resign on the first wooden benches we saw.

Defeated and disappointed, we found comfort in pipping hot tea and biscuits and within hours found ourselves planning for what came next. Soon, another jeep was ordered to take us down to Balakot, where our own vehicle would be waiting to take us wherever we wanted to head. As a consolation for the day’s misadventures, we were shown wild boars from afar.

The next morning, off we left for Balakot in yet another Willys jeep, this one dated back to the Second World War. Little did we know that the jeep trek would turn out to be far more thrilling, and in about two hours, we were in Balakot, safe and sound. Safe to say, it was a luxury to be back on carpeted roads and in an air-conditioned vehicle.

We later tried to trek from Sharan to Nadi Bangla and failed, again. But that is a story for another time.

That said, the government must revive the wonderful Monroe trail and the Sustainable Forest Project with support from donors and its own resources. All that is needed is the revamping of forest rest houses and camping sites, training of forest guides and more information about such treks in the wilderness.

Hope someone is listening!

Header image: Onto the Monroe trail

All photos by author