CAUGHT IN SHUFFLE

A chaotic, spontaneous, unforgettable journey through Lansdowne, Jaiharikhal, and Haridwar

If there’s one thing the universe loves, it’s drama.

We asked for a simple, sweet road trip… and the universe really said, “Say less.”

My husband and I had been planning this getaway since our engagement, and the funniest part? We didn’t even end up staying in the place we originally planned for. This trip somehow became everything we asked for and everything we absolutely did not ask for — all at once.

As brand-new car owners with barely any road experience, we set out expecting a fairly easy road trip. Hills were a given, but steep climbs, night driving, morning fog, heavy traffic, and unexpected detours were not something we had prepared for.

Somehow, the universe chose to make this trip far more eventful than we had planned.

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The Plan: Reach Lansdowne… Or Jaiharikhal… Or Anywhere, Honestly

Our chosen destination was Lansdowne — a peaceful hill station in Uttarakhand and the closest one from where we live. Every time we asked people for a good first-time road trip spot, Lansdowne topped the list.

The plan was beautifully simple:

Drive, reach Lansdowne or Jaiharikhal (a tiny town just 5 km away with surprisingly good stays), explore, and then pick a place to stay.

We didn’t pre-book anything because this was our first hill drive, and the idea of booking a stay we might not even reach felt… unwise.

And thank God for that decision — because with the two of us, something always goes hilariously wrong.

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When Kotdwar Said, “Let Me Spice Things Up.”

Everything was perfect until we entered Kotdwar.

We were chilling.

Music on.

Vibes immaculate.

Fully convinced this road trip thing?

Yeah — we had it under control.

And then the traffic police showed up.

They rerouted us once.

We were like, cool, fine, makes sense.

Then they rerouted us again.

Still okay. Still trusting. Still optimistic.

Then we realised that “next right” was kind of… important.

So we made a full U-turn, somehow found our way back to the correct road, and just when we thought, okay, sorted —

one or two kilometres later… rerouted again.

Then we were sent onto a road that Google Maps looked at and said,

“Girl, I’ve never seen this street before in my LIFE.”

And that’s when the real fun began.

Suddenly, it was just us, the hills, a patchy network, and a road that kept climbing like it had personal beef with the concept of flat land.

Every turn was twisty.

Every twist was blind.

Every blind curve was basically saying,

“Good luck, newbies.”

This was our first real uphill drive in our barely two-week-old driving experience — and of course it had to be on a road that looked like the Earth forgot to finish constructing it.

At one point, we stopped at a sharp bend because:

1. The road ahead looked suspiciously like an offbeat trekking trail pretending to be a road

2. Google Maps refused to acknowledge our existence

3. My anxiety said, “Pause. Breathe. Reconsider… this road trip.”

We even stopped a passing car and asked,

“Does this actually go to Lansdowne?”

They confidently replied,

“Bas upar chalte jao, pahunch jaoge.”

(Just keep going uphill, you’ll reach.)

Did that reassure us?

Absolutely not.

But we kept climbing anyway.

Left side: steep drop.

Right side: hill so close it could high-five the car.

Me: “DON’T look around. Eyes. On. The. Road.”

My husband: trying very hard not to admire the views.

The views: showing off anyway.

The higher we went, the narrower the road got — as if the mountain was whispering,

“Oh, you wanted adventure? Bet.”

But strangely, every terrifying turn made us more confident.

By the time we reached the top, we were still scared… but also proud.

Like,

“Look at us. First-time hill drivers with a 100% survival rate.”

When hunger finally hit and we had almost no energy left — with 20 km still to go — we stopped at Aavaas Hill Resort.

And honestly? We reached just in time.

The sun was slipping behind the hills, the sky glowing in soft orange hues, and for a moment, everything felt calm again. The cabin overlooked the mountains, and suddenly the entire chaotic day felt… worth it.

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Day 2: When the “Partially Planned” Day Became “Fully Chaotic” Again

After surviving yesterday’s uphill chaos, you’d think we’d behave sensibly the next morning.

No. Of course not.

Because with us, nothing is ever linear.

Just like these hills.

The plan for Day 2 sounded simple on paper:

Stay in Jaiharikhal, explore Lansdowne on the way, starting with Bhulla Taal — the postcard spot of Lansdowne.

Since Lansdowne is a military cantonment area with old British-era buildings, we decided to explore it properly — on foot.

So we parked the car, opened Google Maps, and confidently started walking toward Bhulla Taal.

Or so we thought.

Halfway through, Google Maps gave up.

Then we took a video call with a family member… and lost the remaining sense of direction.

We confidently walked to what we assumed was Bhulla Taal —

only to realise we were on the opposite side of town.

We had basically covered half of Lansdowne on foot without meaning to.

And that wasn’t even the crazy part.

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The Accidental Forest Adventure

We reached Snow View Point — which had absolutely zero snow but plenty of excitement. And right next to it? A tiny, unused trail.

For reasons unknown even to me, I said,

“Let’s walk this.”

And my husband — fully supportive of questionable decisions — said yes.

So off we went, confidently entering what looked like a nature lover’s secret shortcut.

For the first few minutes, it was beautiful — narrow, wild, untouched, and honestly way better than the official viewpoint. We felt adventurous. Capable. Outdoorsy.

And then things took a turn.

Because we walked one kilometre…

and there was no road.

Not even a suggestion of a road.

Not a hint.

Nothing.

My husband — fully calm, annoyingly optimistic — said,

“Arre, even if there’s nothing, we’ll just go ahead a bit. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll walk back.”

Walk back???

Walk BACK???

I did the math instantly and dramatically.

“So we walk 2 km forward, find nothing, walk 2 km back, then walk another 2 km on the main road to reach the car??

That’s a whole trek we did NOT sign up for.”

Meanwhile, the forest was silent. Judging us.

So we kept walking.

Because what choice did we have?

Either forward… or become permanent residents of the pine forest.

And let me tell you —

this was NOT a cute stroll.

This was cardio with emotional damage.

Finally — finally — after another stretch of panicking, praying, and pretending to be brave, we spotted a tiny, steep uphill path. Completely unused. Random. Like the mountain scribbled it for fun.

But we took it.

We climbed.

Almost slipped.

Almost cried.

But we made it.

Suddenly, we were back on the main road — alive, proud, confused, sweaty… but proud.

Bonus comedy moment?

A family on a scooter had stopped there for a water break. They stared at us like we had just emerged from a secret portal.

“Where did you come from?”

“Is this a trekking route?”

“Can we also go from here?”

We shook our heads like experts who absolutely knew what they were doing.

“No, no… this is not a trail. We just… found it.”

Their faces: total confusion.

Our faces: total pride.

Inside our heads: total clownery.

We didn’t discover a forest trail —

we discovered how confidently two people can get lost together.

And honestly?

Iconic couple behaviour.

Adventure craving: satisfied.

Lansdowne exploration: complete.

And Then We Said… Let’s Go to Haridwar

We reached Q Nest Cloud End Hotel for lunch, thinking we’d rest afterwards.

But within 30–40 minutes, we ditched the plan completely.

Why?

Because Jaiharikhal had nothing much to explore, and we still had the whole day.

So obviously, the most logical next move was:

“Let’s go to Haridwar.”

Three hours away.

Because why not?

And off we went.

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The Kotdwar Chaos: Part 2 — The Sequel No One Asked For

Leaving Jaiharikhal, we genuinely believed the hardest parts of our trip were over.

Cute. Really cute.

Because the real test of our road-trip maturity was waiting just a few kilometres ahead.

We were cruising downhill, planning to reach Haridwar early, eat dinner, relax, and reward ourselves for surviving the hill roads.

And then… chaos arrived.

Remember the detours in Kotdwar?

Turns out, it wasn’t a landslide, not construction, not even road repairs.

It was a mela happening near a temple.

People from nearby towns and villages were pouring in from every direction.

And we?

We were the geniuses trying to cut through that road to Haridwar.

So there we were — on a narrow hill road where overtaking isn’t even a fantasy — stuck behind hundreds of cars.

Cars ahead.

Cars behind.

Cars so tightly packed that even the mountains were like,

“Bas. Aaj yahi ruko.”

People around us casually mentioned that traffic wouldn’t move until 8 PM.

Fantastic news for two people who:

• had barely eaten

• had two hours of driving left

• had absolutely no idea how to deal with standstill traffic in the mountains

Luckily, the road opened around 7:30 PM.

But those 1 hour and 45 minutes in between?

An entire mini-vacation inside the car.

Every 14 minutes, the entire line moved exactly two car lengths.

That’s it.

Two jumps.

Like the universe pressed its “nudge” button.

We kept shouting,

“LOOK! Look! It’s moving!!”

Except… it wasn’t really.

We were just delusional and hopeful at the same time.

So what did we do?

Honestly, everything possible inside a parked car:

• Switched off the engine

• Opened the sunroof

• Played music

• Watched the sky go from sunset-orange to dusk to night

• Explored our car interior like archaeologists

• Read the car manual (first time ever)

• Played rock–paper–scissors

• Ate snacks like they were gourmet meals

Thank God we packed snacks.

If we didn’t, I would have been fully, unapologetically hangry.

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Driving Through the Dark (and Gaining Confidence Accidentally)

Finally, around 7:30 PM, the line started crawling — and that’s when our real challenge began.

Driving at night through fields, patchy network, and absolutely no experience.

Suddenly, driving wasn’t a one-person job.

It was a full-time two-person operation.

I was glued to the map like a DJ mixing beats, switching between zoom-in and zoom-out every two seconds.

My husband gripped the steering wheel like someone defusing a bomb for the first time.

“Left!”

“Straight!”

“No no — the map changed again!”

“Follow that car! He looks like he knows where life is going!”

Pure chaos.

Peak teamwork.

Peak panic.

Peak bonding.

But honestly?

Those two hours — the traffic jam, the dark roads, the mysterious fields, the constant map-checking — changed something.

We didn’t just survive it.

We became accidentally confident.

Accidentally brave.

And a little proud.

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Peace at Har Ki Pauri

The next morning, we stayed in Haridwar. Maybe Maa Ganga called us.

Even though we missed the Aarti, we still made it to Har Ki Pauri.

My husband once told me that looking at Ganga ji brings peace.

And he was right.

You can sit there for hours, watching the river flow, without realising how time passes.

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One Last Test Before Home

We decided to leave early to beat city traffic.

Smart move, right?

Except we forgot one very important factor.

Weather.

Just a few minutes into the drive, we were met with yet another first — winter morning fog.

Thankfully, it wasn’t very dense. Thank God.

But it was our first time driving in fog, and like always, we placed our lives in blind faith.

We spotted a car ahead and collectively decided:

“Yep. This car knows where it’s going. We’ll follow this one.”

At one point, I told my husband,

“Please stay with me. Don’t leave me alone.”

He checked Google Maps.

I focused on the road.

Because Google Maps had already broken our trust earlier in the trip.

It kept saying, “Straight road.”

But how do you know it’s straight when all you see is fog?

The fog stretch lasted barely 5–10 minutes, but it felt much longer.

Our speed didn’t go above 20.

And then — just like that — we were out of it.

The fog cleared.

A full-blown sunrise appeared.

Bright. Calm. Beautiful.

It felt like a reward.

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Home, Finally

We entered the city — only to remember that traffic waits for no one.

Despite leaving early, we were stuck for two hours.

At 8 AM.

I still don’t understand why.

Two hours later, we were finally close to home.

And let me tell you — driving is exhausting.

Even when it feels easy.

Even when it feels automatic.

Walking into our house felt like a blessing.

Sofas. Beds. Silence.

The ability to stretch our legs.

Pure relief.

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Final Thoughts

This trip gave both me and my husband something invaluable — confidence.

Confidence that we can drive on our own.

Confidence that we can handle situations when things don’t go according to plan.

Confidence that we’re ready for many more road trips ahead.

Lansdowne, honestly, wasn’t extraordinary.

But it was enough.

Enough adventure.

Enough learning.

Enough firsts.

Driving on hills, handling curves and blind turns, dealing with traffic chaos — all of it taught us patience, resilience, and teamwork.

And ending the year still learning, still growing, still stepping out of our comfort zone?

Honestly —

that feels like the best way to end it.