The Sunrise Surprise: Dona’s Skandagiri Trek with Thrillophilia
This year, my birthday did not come with cake or candles.
Instead, I got a small pink envelope from my brother, Sutapa. Inside that, there was a handwritten note that said:
“Be ready at 11 PM on the 13th. No questions. We are going somewhere special.”
I stared at him. “What are we doing? Where are we going?”
He just smiled. “Trust me. You will love it.”
And he was right. Because a few hours later, I found myself climbing a hill in the dark, holding a torch in one hand and laughing more than I had in months.
The Drive That Took Me Back in Time
At 11.30 pm, we were picked up from Bangalore in a shared tempo traveller with about ten other sleepy-looking people. Most of us barely spoke, covered in jackets and holding onto our bags like pillows.
As we drove through the quiet streets and left the city behind, Sutapa nudged me. “Remember this song?”
He handed me one earbud, and suddenly we were listening to old Bollywood tunes - our road trip playlist from when we were kids. Songs our dad played during every holiday drive. Songs we sang out loud while passing chips and juice boxes.
It took me back to being 12, in the back seat, teasing each other and laughing over silly jokes.
“You planned this whole thing just for nostalgia, didn’t you?” I asked.
He smiled. “Maybe. Or maybe I wanted to give you something more than just cake this year.”
I leaned my head against the window and smiled.
Climbing Through the Cold and Quiet
We reached the base of Skandagiri Hills around 4.30 am. The air was cold, sharp, and fresh, and the sky was dark and filled with stars.
At 6 am, we started the trek.
The group moved slowly through the dark forest, following the guide’s flashlights. The path was rocky, with small climbs and narrow turns. It was quiet, except for the crunch of shoes on leaves and the occasional giggle when someone stumbled.
Of course, Sutapa had jokes ready the whole time.
“If I collapse here, you have to carry me,” he said, dramatically leaning on me.
“You will trip over your own bad jokes first,” I replied.
We stopped a few times to catch our breath. At one point, we reached the old ruins of Tipu Sultan’s fort, halfway up the trail. The stones felt cool to touch and held history and stories of a different time.
We sat there for a bit, sipped water, and stared up at the slowly changing sky. The stars were fading, and a soft orange glow was peeking over the hills.
“I cannot believe we are doing this,” I whispered.
Sutapa smiled. “Best birthday ever, right?”
A Morning Painted in Gold
By 8 am, we reached the top, and it felt like walking into a dream.
We were above the clouds. Literally.
Below us was a thick and endless layer of white mist, like a sea of cotton. And ahead, the sun was rising - slow, golden, and beautiful. The light touched the rocks, the trees, and our tired faces gently.
I stood there in silence.
It felt like time had stopped. Like we had climbed into another world.
I looked at Sutapa. He did not say anything either. He just looked at me, then looked back at the view, smiling like he knew exactly what this moment meant.
We found a rock near the edge and sat with our legs dangling, not speaking much. Just watching. Feeling.
Then we took a selfie, of course - a horribly angled one with hair flying and half-closed eyes, but both of us smiling like we had not in ages.
I don’t think I have ever felt that peaceful and alive.
The Climb Down and a Warm Breakfast
After staying at the top for 1.5 hours, we started our way back down. This time, the trail felt easier. The sun was up, and we could see everything clearly now - the trees, the birds, and the little flowers growing between the rocks.
It was almost like a different place from the one we had climbed a few hours ago.
By the time we reached the base, I was starving. Thankfully, breakfast was waiting.
We sat cross-legged on a low wall and ate hot idlis with chutney and sipped steaming filter coffee. I swear that meal tasted better than any five-star buffet.
Around us, other trekkers were chatting and laughing too. Strangers at the start of the day, but now sharing something special.
The Little Promise That Meant Everything
As we waited for the van back to Bangalore, Sutapa pulled out a tiny notebook from his bag.
“I want to make a pact,” he said, handing it to me.
Inside, on the first page, he had written:
“The Sunrise Pact: One trek together, every year. No phones. No excuses. Just us.”
I stared at it, heart full, and signed right below his name.
Our Experience
This birthday gift did not come in a box with a ribbon or wrapping paper.
But it gave me something I did not even know I needed.
Time with my brother.
A morning full of laughter, peace, and beauty.
A reminder that life does not always need big plans, but small and real moments.
So if you ever get the chance to leave your bed at midnight, climb a hill in the dark, and watch the sun rise with someone you love - say yes.
Because sometimes, the best views in life come after the hardest climbs.
And sometimes, the best birthdays begin with a handwritten note and a simple and thoughtful plan.
Read More:
Thrillophilia Bangalore Trek Reviews