The chader gari rattled to a halt at 13 Kilo, and we tumbled out, our city legs wobbly, our eyes wide with anticipation. This was it. The end of the road and the beginning of the real adventure. A small tong dokan (stall) stood as the last outpost of civilization, and we descended upon it like a swarm of locusts—bananas, chips, and water bottles were hastily purchased. This was our final chance to load up on easy calories.
A quick costume change followed right there on the roadside! We swapped our city clothes for 2- and 3-quarter pants, the unofficial uniform of Bangladeshi trekkers. With 4-liter water bottles strapped to our packs (a decision we would later bless countless times), we gathered for the obligatory "before" group photo, all smiles and fresh energy. Little did we know what the trail had in store.
🎒 The Great Divide: The Hares and the Tortoises The trek began gently, but my lungs disagreed. I fell behind, watching the rest of the team disappear around a bend, their laughter fading into the jungle's chorus. For a few minutes, it was just me and my breathing problem, a secret I kept to myself. Pushing through the discomfort, I found a rhythm. Soon, I was not just catching up but overtaking them! I found them lost in the joy of the moment, snapping photos and laughing. I joined for a few pictures, but the watch didn't lie. "Let's move, guys! We have a long, long way to go," I urged.
Liton and Rimon, my loyal juniors, fell in step with me. Soon, we caught up with our guide, Shawpon Dada, who was waiting with a knowing smile. The walk became a moving conversation. We learned about his life in Alikadam, his love for his daughter, and his profound respect for his mother. He, in turn, asked about our lives in the concrete jungle of Dhaka.
Then, he worked his magic. Out came a mini speaker, and the hills of Bandarban were suddenly filled with the nostalgic tunes of our youth. It was incredible! Music, good company, and breathtaking views—he pointed out the Sangu River, distant markets, and named the towering hills. Then, with a mischievous grin, he pointed to a massive hill in the distance. "See that one? Our destination is just on the other side." Our hopeful cheers were met with his hearty laugh. We were so, so naive.
🍍 The Joom Ghor Oasis and The Porter Rescue After about 1.5 hours, we reached a T-junction, a critical fork in the trail. This is where we waited for the rest of the team. When they arrived half an hour later, the difference was clear. Our heavier friends—Adiv, Johny, Imam, and Foysal—were already feeling the strain. Their faces were flushed, their steps heavy.
The trek resumed, with rest breaks becoming more frequent for the back group. I decided to unleash a secret weapon I’d been carrying: two cans of Sprite. The fizzy, cold (well, cool) drink was a luxury that lifted everyone's spirits instantly.
A true oasis emerged in the form of a Joom Ghor, a temporary hut for hill farmers. The four men living there greeted us with incredible kindness, offering us sweet, juicy papaya and fresh pineapple. It was a taste of heaven. When Foysal, Alamgir, and Shawon caught up, they devoured the fruit too. Seeing our friends' struggle, Shawpon Dada, in a stroke of genius, hired one of the local men to carry the bags for Foysal and Alamgir. The relief on their faces was palpable. They even cut slender bamboo sticks for everyone—a crucial support for the slippery paths ahead.
😢 A Heartbreak in the Forest & A Sweet Surprise The next part of the journey was sobering. We stumbled upon a scene of devastation—a patch of forest where smugglers had illegally felled massive, ancient trees. The sight was a punch to the gut. The stumps stood like graves, a silent testament to greed. I took photos, my heart heavy with a mix of anger and sorrow.
But the forest gives, and the forest takes away. Soon after, Shawpon Dada's sharp eyes spotted a wild hill fruit, one I'd never seen before. It looked like a boto brikho fruit. He handed one to me. Tentatively, I bit into it—a unique blend of sweet and sour. Then, to our amazement, this grown man shimmied up the tree like a squirrel and showered us with more fruits! We gathered them for our lagging teammates, a sweet offering for their struggle.
🐛 The Leech Legion & The Drunken Philosopher As evening approached at around 5 PM, the trail transformed. We entered a moist, shaded area, and that's when we met the Leech Legion. They were everywhere—on leaves, on the ground, inching their way toward our shoes. Panic erupted! Shrieks of "Leech! Leech!" filled the air. Our first-timers were especially terrified. We became a chaotic but efficient unit, pulling out salt, scissors, and a salt-water spray. We doused ourselves, creating a protective barrier, turning a moment of fear into a shared, slightly hysterical, bonding experience.
Just when we thought it couldn't get weirder, we met a local man, clearly having enjoyed the local brew. He slurred out hilarious, philosophical musings that had us in stitches. His grand finale? He pointed at our pants and asked if we had a spare one for him! We laughed till our stomachs hurt and continued on our way.
🚑 The Final Push: An Injury and a Night Arrival The path became treacherously slippery as darkness fell. Then, disaster struck. Adiv, our 120-kg friend, lost his footing and injured his right leg. A wave of fear washed over us. How would he walk? We were still hours away. After a tense rest, Adiv, showing incredible grit, insisted on continuing, using his bamboo stick as a crutch. We shared Ocean biscuits for a burst of energy, our headlamps cutting lonely beams through the inky blackness.
Finally, at 9 PM, exhausted, muddy, and triumphant, we stumbled into Khemchong Para. But the leeches had one last surprise. As we caught our breath, Liton did a frantic dance, shouting, "They're on me! They're on me!" Shawpon Dada calmly removed three fat leeches from his leg.
Finding a place to stay was a challenge itself, but we managed. We freshened up, devoured some dry food, and then, with our last reserves of energy, cooked a legendary meal of hill chicken and Jum rice. As we ate under a blanket of stars, the day's struggles—the pain, the fear, the leeches—melted away, replaced by a profound sense of accomplishment and camaraderie. We had made it. Day one was in the books, and we fell into a sleep so deep, not even a leech could disturb it.
To be continued... Wait until you see what happens to our heroes on Day 2 at Kristong and Rungrang Summit!