A waning quarter moon had lit up the sky to a dark blue hue reminiscent of the deep sea as I rode pillion with my friend, Waseem, in the slight early April morning breeze.

The sky was clear and a lot of stars were visible. A vigorously blazing Jupiter had just risen over the eastern ridges of the Hindu Raj mountains when the bike’s rear tyre developed a flat and refused to be dragged along any further. While Waseem lamented the loss of air in the bike’s rear wheel, I found a welcome opportunity to enjoy the belated unveiling of Scorpio and the Cosmic Teapot. The moon was now setting.

I had travelled before on the track to Birmoghlasht (the walnut plain) as the heights of Chitral Gol National Park are known. Never before though had I undertaken this endeavour in the dark so that this pre-dawn foray was magical. As lights from various Chitral towns went out of view behind the mountainside, the Kari village was revealed. There was a curious smattering of light on a distant mountain face. Set high up in the mountains, this isolated but shimmering blob was the Phasti village. At the time of the night it could easily have been mistaken for the prettiest open cluster in the whole sky.

In the distance, the first rays of the sun seemed to have ignited embers on the twin icy peaks of Tirich Mir. The wonders of Chitral Gol had started unravelling. There is a watcher’s hut here amidst pristine stands of deodar, chilghoza and blue pine. A stroll in these stands affords an unbelievable view of the sheer magnificence of the valley. From a low elevation of 5,500 feet to the alpine wastelands well over 15,000 feet, the tremendously panoramic landscape of thickly forested north faces shows green blobs on the mountain face. The tree line is indicated by a change from a greenish tint in the mountainside to a brown one. Massive pine stands in the distance appear as miniature figurines, all while you are perched beneath monster conifers to remind you of the realistic proportions of these giants, some of which hold legendary status in local folklore.

This excursion to Chitral Gol National Park came after more than half a decade. Frankly, Chitral Gol had not mesmerised me before as it did this time. The rising sun in the east slowly eroded the last vestiges of night, revealing the grandeur of the stupefying glacial masses in the distant peaks as well as the pale crags of Shpeder, the largest sheer rock face in the National Park. For over 26 months back in the years 2013-15, I had resolutely resisted the longing to explore this immense towering massif. Little had I known that once I see it up close I would be left so gobsmacked.

Chitral Gol was declared a National Park in 1984 to conserve one of the last remaining populations of the Kashmir markhor in the world. The initiative turned out to be a resounding success as Kashmir markhor populations have increased about tenfold in about three decades. The success, coupled with the generation of exorbitantly costly trophy fees for a legal Markhor hunt under the CITES regulations, has made Chitral and the Chitral Gol National Park a popular name in global biodiversity and hunting circles worldwide.

It has also boosted numbers of other rare species. Waseem grows tired of my inquiries on resident wildlife, although not without revealing a treasure trove of information. According to him, the National Park has the magnificent Monal pheasants aplenty. Lynx and wolves are in good numbers and the incredibly rare and nearly endemic woolly flying squirrel can also be found. Stragglers include the odd black bear, langur as well as the snow and common leopards. Many of these species are native to the Park, but some are vagrants crossing over the high altitude mountain passes linking Chitral Gol to the dense protected forests of one of the last remaining Kalash Valleys in the world; Rumbur. Sighting any one of these species for a wildlife enthusiast or birdwatcher is worthy enough cause to undertake an excursion to Chitral Gol.

As the day progressed on the crest of the hill, the mid-summer sun began heating up. While bare ground beside us still lay partly covered by remnants of last winter’s snowfall, Waseem and I were forced to scramble downhill in search of denser shades. It wasn’t long before a sighting of a splendid group of male markhors dragged us further downhill. Later, after having observed these for a while, climbing back up to the track on the crest a thousand feet above us appeared as the most monumental task to be undertaken ever.

The huge expanse of Chitral Gol National Park is mind-numbing. The views from the crest of the mountain certainly do justice to it. I was informed of other tracks in the National Park, leading to the furthest reaches in this snow-fed river valley, and beyond. Particular interest was aroused by a pencil thin streak zigzagging through precipitous granite slopes at the base of Shpeder. This one, I was informed, and other tracks down below in the gully meandering over impassable glacial streams bridged by wind-felled logs, lead to an otherworldly meadow, called Gokhshal. Sadly, from my perch on the crest, Gokhshal was not visible. I cannot help but imagine how stupendously magnificent this jewel in the Chitral Gol crown must be.

Just as the rising sun had welcomed us in a warm embrace in the early morning, its disappearance behind the high western peaks heralded the onset of a chilling, bone-freezing night. Unprepared for a bivouac, we scrambled back to the hut, startled by the whizzing turtle doves and wood pigeons and the squeal of a flushed Monal pheasant scared off its evening perch. Soon the track was lit only by an emaciated moon, as we finally trudged back to our camp. Although the day’s excursion was over, Chitral Gol National Park had opened a wondrous new world for me - a world I now hoped to explore deeper in the future.

The writer is an Environmentalist by qualification from the University of Melbourne, presently working in the Government of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. He may be contacted at sindsparrow@gmail.com