As the road begins to snake up to the Pindar River Basin from Tharali, the lush aroma of the woods begins to tickle your senses. Villages with identical white houses appear sporadically amid lush fields of wheat and bright red amaranthus. As you stare at the distant northern horizon, your gaze falls on a dense forest of rhododendrons and oaks, and beyond them the spotless white faces of the mighty Trishul, Maiktoli and Nanda Ghunti peaks. Before you know it, you’re at the top of the ridge and closing in on the tiny hamlet of Gwaldam.

Mined to the hilt by the British as a summer resort, Gwaldam (6,221 ft) still holds remnants of the Raj in well-preserved nooks of this idyllic, quiet corner of Chamoli. Why it should have been paid so little attention in all the modern-day tourism hype is mystifying, but it’s probably just as well. I, for one, seem to have found a place that seems to have fallen off the well-trod path.

If you were heading to Bedni and Ali bugyals, the famous high-altitude pastures of Chamoli, you would pass through Gwaldam. And most people do just that — use it as a base for treks. But to give Gwaldam a miss is to lose an opportunity to experience a uniquely composite hill culture, existing as it does on the border between Garhwal and Kumaon. There are Garhwalis, Kumaonis, even a small settlement of Bhotias here. There is none of the traditional rivalry between the two neighbours, its residents speak a dialect that is neither Kumaoni nor Garhwali but a mix of both. All of which makes Gwaldam a place like no other in Uttarakhand.