Jatin’s Solo Adventure to Netravati with Thrillophilia

The idea for this trek wasn’t born out of some grand plan. It started with a cup of chai and a restless mind. After months of juggling deadlines and endless notifications, I realised I couldn’t recall the last time I did something purely for myself.

Scrolling through Instagram, I saw a post about the Netravati Peak trek- lush green hills, starry skies, and the promise of a quiet escape. It was enough to spark a thought: what if I just went? Alone. No group plans to sync, no compromises, just me and the mountains.

The decision wasn’t easy. Friends were skeptical. "Solo? Are you sure?" they asked, but I was determined. I booked the trek through Thrillophilia, packed my gear, and soon found myself boarding a jeep under the dim glow of Bangalore’s streetlights. As the city receded, so did my doubts.

Breakfast, Banter, and the First Steps

The overnight journey to the base camp was a blur of winding roads and fleeting conversations with fellow trekkers. By the time we arrived, the morning mist was beginning to lift, revealing a landscape that looked like it had been plucked straight from a postcard. The base camp buzzed with energy as people prepared for the climb.

Breakfast was a simple spread of idlis, chutney, and steaming filter coffee- comfort food that hit the spot. A local guide, spotting me sitting alone, joined me. “First solo trek?” he asked with a smile. When I nodded, he added, “Good choice. The mountains, they listen better than people.” I wasn’t sure what he meant then, but I carried his words with me as we started the trek.

The Trail of a Thousand Stories

The trail started gently, winding through dense forests where the sunlight danced on the ground. The air smelled of earth and greenery, and the only sounds were the chirping of birds and the crunch of boots on the path. We crossed several streams along the way, their clear waters glinting under the sun. At one point, we had to hop over slippery rocks to avoid soaking our shoes. It was a balancing act that left everyone laughing- nothing like a little shared clumsiness to break the ice.

Midway through the trek, the guide handed out packed lunches, and we stopped under the shade of a massive tree to eat. As I bit into my roti, I noticed a tiny shrine tucked between the roots of the tree- a simple structure with a few flowers and a diya. The guide explained it was an offering to the forest spirits, a local custom to seek their blessings. It struck me how deeply connected the locals were to their land, treating it with respect and reverence.

The Summit’s Simple Magic

The final stretch to the summit was the toughest. The incline was steeper, and my legs screamed with every step. But then, as I pulled myself up the last few meters, the view hit me like a breath of fresh air. Hills stretched as far as the eye could see, their green slopes blending into the soft blues of the horizon. The clouds hung low, close enough to touch, and the wind carried with it a coolness that felt like a reward.

Sitting at the top, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time: calm. It wasn’t about the view or the climb; it was about the stillness, the feeling of being in a place where time didn’t matter. A fellow trekker shared a story about how locals believe the summit is where the earth and sky meet, a sacred space where wishes whispered to the wind have a better chance of being heard. I didn’t have a wish, but I stayed silent, letting the moment fill me up.

Evenings by the Campfire and More to Explore

Descending was quicker, though my legs felt like jelly. Back at the base camp, dinner was waiting, and the campfire soon followed. As the flames flickered, so did the stories. One person talked about their love-hate relationship with trekking, another recounted a hilarious misadventure involving leeches on a previous trip. I didn’t share much, but I laughed along, feeling a quiet sense of belonging despite being a solo traveller.

Later that night, I stepped outside my tent to find the sky alive with stars. It was mesmerising, the kind of view you forget exists when you’re stuck in the glare of city lights. I stayed there for a while, lying on the grass and feeling the cool breeze on my face, savouring the quiet.

The next day brought a visit to the Netravati Waterfall. The sound of water crashing against rocks was both loud and soothing, and the mist in the air made everything feel fresh. Some trekkers braved the cold waters for a dip, but I chose to sit on a rock nearby, letting the cool spray wake me up.

Our final stop was the Belur Temple. Its intricate carvings were a testament to the artistry of another era, and the stories etched into the stone felt like a connection to a time long gone. A priest performing a small ritual handed me a flower as I left, a gesture that felt strangely comforting.

A Few Thoughts Before You Go

The Netravati trek wasn’t just a trek; it was an experience that stayed with me. It wasn’t about reaching the peak or ticking off another adventure. It was about the little moments- the shared laughter, the quiet at the summit, the stories of locals who live in harmony with nature.

If you’re thinking about this trek, my advice is simple: go for it. Solo, if you can. The silence of the forest, the kindness of strangers, and the beauty of the journey are worth it. Carry snacks (jaggery is a lifesaver), stay hydrated, and keep your heart open to the little things- a shrine on the trail, a story by the campfire, or a flower from a stranger.

This isn’t just a trek; it’s a reminder of how much we miss when we rush through life. Thanks to Thrillophilia for organising everything so seamlessly, making it easier to focus on the journey instead of the logistics. Trust me, this is one adventure you won’t regret.

Read more: Thrillophilia Bangalore Trek Reviews