A free weekend doesn't always call for an ambitious expedition. Sometimes, a quiet walk through the hills is all that's needed to break away from the monotony of city life. With just a couple of days to spare, I was looking for an easy getaway rather than a demanding trek. Joining me was my friend Riya Das, whom I had first met during the Hilley–Varsey-Gorkhey trek. This time, we signed up for a short trip to Kurseong organized by the travel agency Neer-Vana, hoping to spend a leisurely weekend wandering through the misty hills and soaking in the slower pace of the mountains.
Getting to Kurseong
Like many of our trips to the hills, this one began aboard the Darjeeling Mail from Sealdah to New Jalpaiguri. After an overnight journey, Riya and I reached NJP early in the morning, where we met the rest of our group. There were sixteen of us in total, brought together by Neer-Vana for the weekend.
From the station, we split into two cabs and started the drive towards Kurseong. The familiar transition from the plains to the hills never gets old. As the road steadily climbed, the humid air of the Bengal plains gave way to a much cooler breeze. After weeks of enduring Kolkata's sticky monsoon weather, the drop in temperature was a welcome relief.
We stopped for breakfast at a small roadside restaurant perched beside a mountain stream. The sound of the flowing water, the fresh air, and a simple hot meal made for an unhurried start to the day. It was one of those brief halts that become memorable more for the setting than the food itself.
By noon, we reached White Orchid Homestay in Kurseong. Nestled on the hillside, the homestay was comfortable and offered beautiful views of the surrounding valleys. Thick clouds drifted across the hills throughout the day, hiding the distant ridges, but thankfully the rain held off. After settling into our rooms and enjoying a hearty lunch, we changed into our trekking outfits and gathered outside, ready for the first adventure of the weekend.
An Afternoon Walk Through Dow Hill
Our first outing in Kurseong was hardly a trek. From the homestay, we simply walked downhill towards Dow Hill at an easy pace, with no particular urgency to reach anywhere. The route itself was the attraction. Every few minutes someone would stop to admire the scenery, take a photograph, or simply enjoy the cool mountain air.
The hillsides were dressed in every shade of green. Moss clung to stone walls and tree trunks, while ferns sprouted from almost every damp corner. The recent monsoon had transformed the landscape into a lush carpet of vegetation, making the walk as refreshing as it was picturesque.
Soon we entered the pine forests of Dow Hill. Tall trees lined the road, their straight trunks disappearing into the misty canopy above. At the heart of the forest lies a small park maintained by the Forest Department. Dow Hill is perhaps best known on the internet for its supposed ghost stories and tales of haunted woods. While we had heard our fair share of those before arriving, what greeted us instead were decorations that looked more suited to Halloween than horror. Whatever spooky reputation the place has, it felt perfectly peaceful on that cloudy afternoon.
We spent some time wandering around the park before heading towards the food stalls just outside. The little roadside shops served an assortment of snacks that were both inexpensive and delicious. Naturally, we sampled more than we had originally planned, convincing ourselves that all the walking had earned us the extra calories.
Before returning, we stopped by the historic Victoria Boys' School and the nearby church. Unfortunately, our hopes of exploring the school grounds were short-lived. Since the schools are fully functional educational institutions, tourists are no longer allowed inside, and the security guard politely turned us away.
As the evening wore on, the mist grew thicker and the familiar outlines of the hills slowly dissolved into the fading light. We had no intention of calling it a day just yet. Before making the climb back to our homestay, there was one more stop on the agenda. Little did we know that the walk back would prove just as memorable as the leisurely stroll that had brought us to Dow Hill, only this time under a blanket of darkness.
Evening Tea and a Walk Through the Dark
On our way to Dow Hill earlier that afternoon, Riya and I had noticed a charming café perched on the hillside. It was called Nirvana, and even from the outside it looked inviting enough for us to promise ourselves that we would stop there on our return.
So, while the rest of the group headed back to the homestay, we split off and made our way to the café. The name turned out to be rather fitting. Nestled among the hills with large windows overlooking the valley, it had a quiet, elegant atmosphere without feeling pretentious. We settled into a corner and ordered a pot of first flush Darjeeling tea along with a hot chocolate. The tea, unsurprisingly, was exceptional—light, floral, and fragrant, easily among the best cups I have had in the hills. There are few better ways to spend a cool mountain evening than lingering over good tea with a friend while conversations wander as freely as the clouds outside.
As often happens in such places, time slipped by unnoticed. By the time we paid the bill and stepped outside, daylight had almost disappeared.
The walk back suddenly felt very different from the one we had taken just a couple of hours earlier. The road climbed steadily uphill towards our homestay, disappearing beneath a dense canopy of pine trees. Whatever little twilight remained was quickly swallowed by the forest. Every now and then the moon peeked through a gap in the branches, but it offered little more than fleeting patches of silver light before the darkness closed in again.
The road was almost completely deserted. Once in a while a car would emerge from the darkness, its headlights briefly illuminating the mist before vanishing around the next bend. To make matters slightly more adventurous, our phones had no cellular reception, leaving us with nothing but the road ahead and the confidence that we were walking in the right direction.
Neither of us spoke much about it, but we were both aware of the unusual solitude. We simply kept a steady pace, following the winding road uphill through the silent forest. After what felt like much longer than the actual half-hour walk, the lights of our homestay finally came into view. Reaching it brought a shared sense of relief—not just for us, but also for the rest of the group, who had begun wondering where we had disappeared.
Looking back, that walk through Dow Hill after dark became one of the most memorable moments of the trip. There was nothing supernatural about it despite the area's ghostly reputation, yet the combination of towering pines, empty roads, deep darkness, and mountain silence made it an adventure in its own right.
Campfire, Moonlight, and a Shooting Star
Back at the homestay, the evening gradually gave way to celebration. A campfire was lit in the courtyard, and before long the group had gathered around it with music, singing, and dancing. It didn't take much encouragement for everyone to join in. Laughter echoed across the hillside as one song followed another, and soon the campfire had become the centre of the evening's festivities.
I have never been much of a dancer, so I was content to stay on the sidelines. Watching everyone else enjoy themselves was entertaining enough. There is something infectious about genuine enthusiasm, and even without taking part, I found myself smiling through most of the evening.
After the celebrations wound down, we gathered for a hearty dinner before calling it a night. Or so we thought.
Instead of heading straight to our rooms, Riya and I climbed up to the terrace of the homestay. The clouds that had followed us throughout the day had finally cleared, revealing a sky full of stars. A bright moon hung above the surrounding hills, bathing the landscape in a soft silver glow. We stood there quietly, taking in the rare luxury of a truly dark mountain sky.
Then, in the space of a second, a bright streak of light tore across the heavens.
A shooting star.
Both of us saw it at exactly the same moment, leaving no room for doubt or imagination. It flashed brilliantly across the sky before disappearing into the darkness, as suddenly as it had appeared. It was one of those fleeting moments that cannot be photographed or repeated—gone almost instantly, yet memorable enough to stay with you long after the trip is over. Of all the experiences that evening offered, that unexpected glimpse of a meteor remains the one I remember most vividly.
With that perfect ending to the day, we finally retired to our rooms. The real hike still awaited us the next morning, and we drifted off to sleep looking forward to whatever adventures the hills had in store.
A Morning Gift from the Himalayas
The next morning rewarded us with a sight that none of us had expected the previous day. Overnight, the thick blanket of clouds had quietly disappeared, and when we stepped outside, the mighty Mount Kanchenjunga stood proudly on the northern horizon. Its snow-covered peaks glowed golden in the first rays of the morning sun, rising far above the rolling green hills of Kurseong. It was one of those views that instantly silences every conversation.
Not wanting anyone to miss such a spectacular morning, we hurriedly called the rest of the group out of their rooms. Within minutes, everyone had gathered outside, trying to experience a scene that no photograph could quite do justice. We lingered there for a while, simply admiring the mountain before the morning routine reluctantly called us back inside.
After breakfast, it was time to bid farewell to the White Orchid Homestay. The hosts gave us a warm send-off that reflected the hospitality we had enjoyed throughout our stay. Before leaving, each of us was presented with a traditional yellow scarf—a simple but thoughtful gesture that made our departure feel especially heartfelt.
With our bags loaded into the waiting vehicles, we left Kurseong behind and began the short drive towards Chimney Village, the starting point of the day's hike. The leisurely walks of the previous day had merely been a prelude; the real adventure was about to begin.
Through Forests, Meadows, and Mist
Our next destination was Chimney Village, where the actual hike would begin. Neer-Vana had arranged for a local guide to accompany us, and after a brief introduction, we set off along the forest trail, leaving the village behind.
The path wound gently through a lush green forest. Towering trees lined both sides of the trail, their trunks draped in thick layers of moss—a testament to the moisture these hills receive throughout the year. Although the famed orchid season had already passed, the forest was by no means devoid of colour. Wildflowers bloomed in abundance along the trail, adding cheerful splashes of red, yellow, and white to the endless green.
Every now and then the dense woodland would open into broad meadows, revealing rolling grasslands framed by distant hills. These open stretches provided a refreshing contrast to the enclosed forest paths and naturally became popular spots for photographs. We walked at a leisurely pace, enjoying the scenery far more than worrying about reaching our destination.
The trail eventually brought us through the quiet settlement of Deorali Village. Nearby lay the Deorali Grass Ground, a beautiful open field bordered by stately pine trees. It was one of the most picturesque spots along the hike, where the vast green meadow met the dark silhouettes of the pines against the cloudy sky.
A short detour led us into another pine forest, this one wrapped in a gentle veil of mist. The atmosphere changed immediately. The world seemed quieter beneath the tall trees, with only the occasional birdsong or rustling leaves breaking the silence. It was one of those places where serenity seemed to reign naturally.
Hidden within this forest was a small shrine, modest enough to blend into its surroundings. Following our guide's suggestion, each of us offered three leaves as a symbolic gesture before continuing our walk. Whether one is religious or not, the quiet simplicity of the place felt perfectly in harmony with the forest around it.
Our guide turned out to have another talent besides leading the way—he was an enthusiastic photographer. At almost every scenic viewpoint, he eagerly volunteered to take group photos, suggesting poses and camera angles with surprising confidence. Thanks to him, we returned with far more photographs together than we might otherwise have managed.
Emerging from the forest, we visited the nearby West Bengal Forest School Museum. Despite its modest size, the museum was fascinating. It housed preserved samples of various types of timber, forest products, and wildlife native to the region. Among the most striking exhibits were preserved specimens of a tiger, a wild buffalo, and a python, along with numerous birds and other mammals. It offered an interesting glimpse into the rich biodiversity of the forests we had just walked through.
Our final stop was the nearby Foxtail Grassland, where we settled down for a well-earned rest amidst the open greenery. The peaceful meadow provided the perfect place to catch our breath before concluding the hike. There was a brief moment of excitement when our guide discovered that a leech had attached itself to his hand, though it was removed quickly with little fuss. As if to remind us that we were still in the monsoon season, a passing rain shower soon followed. We hurriedly pulled out our raincoats, only for the rain to stop almost as quickly as it had begun.
With that, our leisurely hike came to an end. It had never been about covering great distances or conquering difficult terrain. Instead, it was a day spent wandering through moss-covered forests, quiet villages, misty pine groves, and open meadows—an unhurried journey that allowed us to appreciate the quieter beauty of the Kurseong hills.
Journey Home
With the hike behind us, we climbed back into our vehicles for the drive down from the hills to Siliguri. As always, the descent marked the slow transition from the cool mountain air back to the warmth of the plains. The conversations in the car were noticeably quieter now, interrupted only by the occasional recollection of a favourite moment from the weekend.
At Siliguri, our group dispersed. Most of our fellow travellers headed to New Jalpaiguri to catch their train home, while Riya and I boarded an overnight bus back to Kolkata. It was a different journey home, but by then the destination mattered little—the trip itself had already given us plenty to remember.
This was never meant to be a grand expedition or a demanding trek. It was simply a short weekend escape to the hills, with an easy hike woven into it. Yet sometimes these smaller journeys leave the strongest impressions. A quiet walk through moss-covered forests, conversations over a cup of Darjeeling tea, an unexpected shooting star, and the first light of dawn on Kanchenjunga were enough to make the weekend feel far longer than the two days it occupied.
In the midst of busy schedules and the relentless pace of everyday life, this brief getaway was exactly the respite I needed. It left me refreshed, grateful, and already looking forward to the next opportunity to return to the mountains.
RSS Feed
Write a comment: