Given the precarious conditions of travel in 2021, the year saw travel enthusiasts expressing increasing interest in exploring landscapes closer to home. A new year beckons, but with a new variant of Covid already looming over us and travel restrictions still in place. It remains to be seen if 2022 will be the year travel comes back to normal.

As 2021 comes to an end, some of our regular contributors tell us about the places that stimulated, enchanted and comforted them in a year that was not exactly much different from 2020.

Mehjabeen Abidi-Habib

12 million of us Lahoris have been choking, coughing and spluttering through the winter months. Man-made smog from rice stubble burning, steel re-rolling mills and brick kilns across the northern subcontinent have descended like a tonne of bricks. Sunshine hidden behind a soupy blanket, our walks curtailed, and our smutty gardens out of bounds, Lahore has felt despondent. Many of us are confined to rooms with air purifiers, hunkered down, awaiting winter rains to cleanse the smog.

So when my husband announced the intent to go to Islamabad for some meetings, we devised an air quality retreat – a journey to Islamabad seeking better air and walks in the Margalla Hills National Park. A novel experience to flee home in search of breathable air and walks, we became air quality refugees. We soon discovered that many Lahoris fled like lemmings away to the capital territory, travelling for the same reason.

Our average car journey on the silky M2 begins with the blue skies and flowering kikar trees beyond Lahore. It is punctuated with a traditional picnic lunch and ends in gentle undulations of approach to the federal capital. This time, there were no blue skies, and a hesitant stop at Kallar Kahar. Here the elevated Salt Range might be less perilous for an outdoor picnic owing to whispers of clarifying air currents. We pressed onwards to complete our journey in a smoky sunset in Islamabad.

Sunday morning and with merely a ‘very unhealthy’ air quality index ranking, we headed to Trail 5. To our delight, we joined a bonanza of walkers with just the sort of single-mindedness as ours. The trail hosted extended families, single women, college buddies, expat families and Lahoris – walkers galore. The shrub forest seemed to breathe into our clogged lungs a restorative unction that soothed the soul and revived our hope that humans still crave the regeneration that only nature can provide.

– The writer is an ecologist who lives in Lahore

Ans Farooq

I really like Mosul. It looks like a burning football field which even the tamed Tigris can’t put out. Of course, I have never visited it but I like its look from up above. Through the eight hour flight from Pakistan to the UK, confined to the narrow seats and bristling knees with other passengers, it is the only city that was awake with its illuminated shrines. It is the epitome of a prisoner’s fantasy but surely, the distance and naivety of my imagination hide the destruction it saw over the last few years.

I travelled a couple of times between Pakistan and the UK this year. It might look like the pandemic did not affect my mobility, which is true and my experience does not truly reflect the experience of most people. However, between a dozen Covid PCRs and three weeks of isolation, it almost felt undesirable.

I said goodbye to my home to find a new nest in a cold island country, where the sun is not as generous and the clouds all but impenetrable. People here ask about your well-being rhetorically and the tower bridge's lights are too intense, even for the fish in the Thames.

I have treated Covid-19 patients throughout the pandemic and listened to their breaths in proximity many times. But it has taken away my privilege to fantasise about roaming around in faraway places, places that still have not turned into replicas of developed cities. For the next year, all I ask is my privilege to be back.

– The writer is a medical doctor and an occasional mountaineer. He can be reached at ansfarooq96@gmail.com

Shueyb Gandapur

It’s fair to say that the hopes wanderlusters had of 2021 at the dawn of the year were dashed miserably. Twelve months later, they do not know whether to harbour any travelling desires for the year ahead or keep reminiscing about adventures past. I spent more time in Pakistan than I have had the opportunity to spend in a long time. The biggest impediment in returning to the UK was the exorbitantly priced mandatory hotel quarantine requirement. The obvious workaround was to spend two weeks in a third country that’s not on the UK’s red list. The choices were hopelessly few and severely volatile.

Eventually, I managed to make it to Croatia, where locals and visitors were celebrating the summer in style. I had been to this gorgeous Balkan country before, but it again filled me with wonder at its abundance of beauty. It was at my first stop, Pula, that I learned how to carry a spare mask by rolling it up my elbow, just in case it’s required to be worn somewhere. Yet one morning, I forgot to carry my mask. At the café where I was having breakfast, I asked the woman behind the counter if she had a spare one. She looked in the drawers but didn’t find any. Shortly after I walked out of the café into the street, I heard someone running after me. I turned around to meet the same woman, who had found a mask and brought it for me. “It's red,” she said catching her breath, “But I guess it will do.”

“It sure will.”

That mask has been serving me till now as I write these lines on a bus to the Andalusian city of Almería to catch a ferry to Algeria, hoping I won’t be punished again for taking the risk of travelling in uncertain times by being denied return to the UK like last year.

– The writer is a freelance contributor based in London. He is an avid traveller and shares stories from his travels on his Instagram @Shueybgandapur

Omar Mukhtar Khan

Not travelling due to Covid was not an option for me so this year as well I made a few overnight sojourns to the abandoned city of Tulaja in Soon valley and the mediaeval Kussak fort near Choa Saiden Shah besides a few customary visits to Murree and Nathiagali.

But then the annual summer trip up North is a must and this time it was Karomber Lake up in the Pamirs. The jeep trek from Chitral to Baroghal valley was about sixteen hours of jolts and dust along rocky precipices and some beautiful glaciers. This was the home of the people of Yarkhoon and Baroghal valley who are beautiful inside out. The jeep stopped at Lashkargaz, a small shepherds’ hamlet and it was another twenty-five kilometres trek to Karomber Lake from there. There was not a single tree in the vast wilderness as we walked towards the majestic lake in the wide gorge separating us from Wakhan corridor and Tajikistan on the left and from Yasin and Ishkoman valleys of Gilgit on our right. On our way, small streams from glaciers all around would flow down to converge into the massive Baroghal stream at the base of the gorge. In the two days in this extreme wilderness, we came across only a few herds of yaks and maybe a couple of shepherds.

Karomber Lake was the ultimate prize, nestled among snow-capped mountains, far bigger than any other lake I have seen in Pakistan. We could even see pebbles at the bottom of the blue lake. It was silent, serene, cold and beautiful.

The Karomber Lake trek is still without plastics and cans. I do hope that the local community and the government keep it that way. I often dream of crossing over the Karomber Lake into the Chuperson valley in Hunza or maybe over the Wakhan corridor into Tajikistan. One day, perhaps.

– The writer is the author of Once upon a time in Murree and tweets @omk1973

Salman Rashid

In August I was in Chitral for a short visit where I stayed at Hindu Kush Heights owned by my friend Siraj ul Mulk. Directly upon arrival, he said he would show me something remarkable after dark. An hour or so after sundown, we went out to the lawns and he said we had to wait. A little later, like a wraith materialising out of thin air, a small animal appeared: it was a young wolf. Siraj said her name was Josephine because he had once owned a dog called Napoleon.

The story was that in May some people brought him two starving wolf cubs either abandoned by the mother, or, more likely, because the mother had been killed. Siraj took them in, but the male pup died. Josephine made it through. She stayed on the premises for a couple of months and grew healthy on regular food. Then she disappeared one morning. But after sunset she reappeared to be fed and to play with Polando, Siraj’s ageing Rhodesian ridgeback.

Seeing me with Siraj who petted her, Josephine took me to be a friend and crept up to me when I was not looking to nuzzle my leg. He said his grandchildren were like siblings to Josephine with whom she would romp as with her own. But poor Polando was too old for spirited little Josephine.

Siraj was very concerned that as she made her way from her secret daytime lair to his hotel, she might one day fall foul of uncaring humans. He was also worried about official suggestions to trap her and send her to a zoo. Siraj said he would rather take her to some remote wilderness and release her there.

Josephine became the star of my travels of 2021. This was one encounter which I will not forget for a long while.

For me the year 2021 was no different from other years because I always go solo. Moreover, the nuisance begins with foreign travel and I did not go abroad. At all my destinations where I was photographing bridges I had friends who very kindly took care of things. I suppose one has to be an uncomplaining traveller to make the best of every situation.

– The writer is a fellow of The Royal Geographical Society and author of several books. He tweets @odysseuslahori

Adnan Rehmat

The best place I visited in 2021 was the Hinglaj Mandir in Balochistan tucked away on the outskirts of the sleepy Hinglaj town along the Makran Coast about 20 kilometres from the Arabian Sea. The area falls under the Hingol National Park – where greenery is sparse but wind-shaped stony mountains abound with so many other-worldly red-and pale gold geological patterns that the place could be on either Mars or Venus. The temple – a shrine to a Hindu deity, Hinglaj Devi, – is spread over two thousand square metres with several quaint establishments. The main one is a large single-space cavity carved into the side of an imposing stony mountain with a sheer drop where tranquillity prevails. Pigeons flutter about or coo in the high, sweeping stony arch above. Large portraitures and several small statues from the Hindu pantheon are everywhere. The air is incense laden. A sense of ancient spirituality envelopes you. Sounds of a nearby water stream flowing over aged rocks adds to the sense of calm. A nearby small town populated with devotees and Hindu natives completes the remarkable sanctuary for the restless spirit in the middle of nowhere. It takes three and a half hours to drive from Karachi through a mostly harsh landscape to get to Hinglaj but the prize of being there in the green and gold oasis is priceless. It was also a small miracle for me to make this trip in the late summer of 2021, another year of a pandemic that has made carefree travel well-nigh impossible. The trip was personally significant, being the first foray outside of my hometown, Islamabad, in over 16 months for me. Hinglaj was virtually the farthest point from Islamabad within Pakistan, so that’s where I went, and in the process resumed my peripatetic spirit. I hope 2022 takes me farther.

– The writer is a political analyst and media development specialist. He can be reached at adrehmat@gmail.com

Aliya Salahuddin

In so many ways, I can’t tell 2020 apart from 2021. Thinking back, much of the two years is a big blur. However, this year, the days following vaccination drives, lifting of lockdowns across countries and the rebirth of travelling brought many precious reunions for my family. Some of these reunions also ended in tragedies. I lost close family members who caught Covid-19 while they were on holiday in a country which had not been entirely transparent about its contagion numbers and they were relying on a vaccine provided by the Pakistani government that the WHO had not recommended for their age group. That was what the entire year was all about – the freedom to move, but without complete knowledge and appropriate ammunition.

It didn’t stop me from travelling. It only added to my sense of urgency to travel to meet family members, making most of whatever is left of our valuable time together. But each journey is now also filled with more anxiety. With Omicron variant spreading like fire across Europe and Covid rules, testing requirements and flight restrictions changing one day to the next, I am again making a short, nervous journey back to Karachi to meet my parents. We have all got our booster shots, our N-95 masks and hopefully our common sense to deal with the everyday but we will be keeping our fingers very crossed for the entire trip.

– The writer, formerly a producer with Geo TV, now lives in Italy

Hafsah Sarfraz

Although many travellers began crossing borders this year, I was still hesitant. Travel can be stressful as it is; adding Covid tests and ever-changing travel restrictions, can make everything more complicated. But I was also itching to leave home throughout so took short trips to the north. This year I travelled to Chitral, Hunza, and Swat for the first time in my life and to say that my mind was absolutely blown by the sheer beauty of these places would be an understatement.

In Chitral, more specifically, Kalash Valley, I was amazed to see that the Kalasha (people of the region) have preserved their culture. The valley is so hidden from the world and the lives of these people are so different yet rich in culture and tradition. I stayed at the Villa Ayun, a newly opened beautiful eco-friendly resort in a small town called Ayun in Chitral and it was the most charming place to be at but that’s a story for another day.

In early fall, I got the opportunity to travel to Hunza and I saw that while some trees held their green leaves tight, others embraced the change and turned into different shades; yellow, orange, and red – a befitting reminder that beautiful things happen when you let go. It made me realise that life really is an act of letting go, as Yann Martel once said.

In Hunza, I saw women running furniture factories, weaving carpets, and making the best chaap shoru (local specialty). I saw some of the most beautiful lakes I have ever seen, ate the best yak burger 20,000 feet above sea level and finally understood why people keep going back to Hunza. As much as I’m hoping to head back to the north again, I’m also hopeful that 2022 will ease travel restrictions and I’ll get to see the world again.

– The writer is a communications professional, journalist and photographer

Ali Syed

From late 2020 onwards cobwebs were removed from planes and hotel rooms as essential travel and limited tourism arose from the ashes of Covid-19.

I was fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on your point of view) to experience travel in the times of Covid-19. The travel regulations, however, left a lot to be desired.

Take, for example, the two-metre social distancing rule enforced diligently at most airports of the world. The rule goes out of the window as soon as you sit cramped in a plane where at least eight people are in your proximity. You are forced to wear a mask during the longest of flights. However, you are allowed to take it off as soon as the food is served. Then you have eight strangers breathing down on each other’s food while you eat.

My point is not to criticise but simply highlight the inconsistencies which make life more difficult than it should be.

Top of the experiences that stood out to me this year would be the two-week quarantine in Singapore. I had never experienced such isolation before. The sight of the Holy Kaaba (Makkah) cordoned off so no one could touch it was unforgettable. A few weeks later I was in Karbala, Iraq, where a majority of people were unmasked and unabashedly kissing and touching the holy shrines.

Once this crisis is over my nostrils would breathe a sigh of relief. They have been violated too many times to mention.

As I write this piece, the Omicron variant of the coronavirus is spreading fast but with much less lethal consequences. It is expected that this will serve as nature’s vaccine especially in poorer countries where vaccines have not been delivered. Fingers crossed and wishing for a better travel year in 2022.

– The writer is a finance professional based in Dubai.