People who can’t stay home in the searing summer of June and July rush to the heavenly valley of Upper Dir. I leave my home to explore the same divine terrain.

It is the first dawn that I witness right in PTDC hotel Upper Dir. More than a couple of times, I stroll down the steep steps just to enjoy the sight of a cloud almost touching a beautiful peak shrouded in snow; I want to be there. But after a while, I come back, flipping through my smart phone’s screen.

"Why can’t I make it to the valley up there?" -- It reminds me of the old man working at the place.

"You’ll see our Baba daily between 7 and 8’o clock in the morning," one of the waiters said.

The Baba heads down the street and come back after an hour or so with a sack of daily kitchen-items. At least he is fit enough to do so.

I download the "TimeTune" app for Android phones in the quest to optimise my time by creating a schedule, and to prevent the hours from fading away in procrastination.

The hour hand strikes 9am. I won’t let myself down this time. Exploring this beautiful mountain to the West of our guest house is on my to-do list. An exertion of two hours will get me through this mountain. It is not the same as the snowy one in the front of our lawn, yet a good one to get to.

"Why can’t I make it to the valley up there?" -- My mind casts this question again.

Within no time, I’m ready to break the cycle of procrastination that has lasted for two days now.

I am on my way to undertake a challenging hike. My friend, Saboor who is to accompany me is lazy enough to make me wait outside. At last he is out, unaware of what it takes to be back on the trail. I’m sniffing out the herbs that I shoved in my side pocket last year on the way to Ultar Glacier. We are old allies on our way to a new destination, a new territory to encroach upon, and with a new companion, Awais.

"There isn’t that much difference between the two (last year’s hike and this one); is there?" asks Saboor.
I wish it were a mist-free morning. When you’re having a splendid journey, you wish to get some more time for making the memories stronger. To save time to see other places too, my steps are getting faster. Some strangers are on their way back home but we’re heading towards a place we are in love with.

Alongside the trail is a spring oozing fresh water towards our left and a river making cacophonous sounds as its hits the boulders towards the lower right.

We’re gaining height. The weather is getting cold. I can see a man walking ahead.

Why not ask him about that village uphill? I think.

I have to call out to him, but politely.

"Hello! Hey! I’m sorry I have to stop you, can you point out a good way to that mountain top?" I ask him.
"You missed one back there. Here you go," he says (pointing back somewhere).

"Oh, what now? Is there any other way ahead?" I ask.

He offers to show us the way and we follow him without ifs and buts.

The man is in 40s, I think, and so fit.

"Sons, keep yourself with the stream, you’ll reach the top," he says and leaves us to figure the rest of it out.

We follow his direction -- and why not. We don’t want to stray. I’m walking fast. The track is steep enough to leave us huffing and puffing. But we are here to test our real strength; this is just the beginning. Saboor is already drenched in sweat.

"These mountains have no tops, do they?" Saboor asks.

I’m quiet. I don’t want to argue that it was Ultar Sar (from last year’s expedition across Ultar Glacier) which appeared to have no top in sight, but we found one for it. This one right now is way easier than that.

"Just keep moving, our legs will make it to the top," I pat him.

The trail is slippery and herbs more than a foot high are covering it. Some fresh dung shows us the path used presumably by shepherds.

Finally, after a couple of hours, we are up on the peak, screaming at the top of our lungs to celebrate. A village is there, and a beautiful one. It is small yet charming. The houses are made of timber and stone with children playing outside. We’re all excited. We see two boys laughing and talking as they are going back to the village.

"Come here! Let’s take a selfie," I shout at them. They both pose shyly. The two brothers; Ali, 13, and Hameed, 11, are happy to see us.

"What is this village called?" I ask.

"It is Band," they chorus.

Ali insists that we must stay with him. I nod politely and say thanks to him. The duo disappear by jumping into the bushes like rabbits.

We have our cold drinks ready with snacks. It’s time for this small group of three at the top to enjoy itself.
As the clouds spread across the sun, I see a young boy who has a gas cylinder on his back. I ask him to sit with us and he is thankful for a glass of Coke I offer him. The instant energy will help him get back home, I hope.
"It’s up there," he points, "the one with smoke leaving the chimney."

"How long does it take to get to your home?" I ask.

"I’m on it, it’s just a few minutes away," he replies with confidence. This boy sews clothes in the market, and goes down there daily. He is healthy and smart with side burns almost touching his ears.

As he leaves, we too plan to move down as it is getting late. We are returning from our journey, overjoyed with a sense of achievement. Finally, we’re once again on the path along the stream.

The Baba is also returning with something in hands. This time, I’m content. I have made it to the valley up there. Indeed, I have.