Ranikhet – Misty Pines,
Monkey Business & Mother-Daughter Meltdown
The morning air in Ranikhet was
laced with the fresh scent of pine and a promise of calm—a welcome contrast
after yesterday’s motion-sickness marathon and Google Maps misfire.
We woke up at Xomotel
Ranikhet Heights, nestled on a quiet hillside fringed with deodar trees.
Our room had large bay windows, and as the sunlight filtered through the fog,
Tia whispered, “It’s like living inside a poem.” Ritu kissed her
forehead—motherhood thawing for a moment—and Chintu, not to be left out,
immediately knocked over the water jug trying to join in the group hug.
Breakfast was a hearty affair.
The staff, especially a jovial man named Mohan ji, brought us aloo parathas
with curd and a local pahadi chutney that sang songs of the mountains. “You
city people always forget how real ghee smells,” he joked, chuckling.
We headed to Jhula Devi
Temple, famed for its bells and peaceful vibes. As we rang the bell and
made a wish, Chintu loudly asked, “Papa, did you ask for Wi-Fi?” The priest
burst out laughing. “Let this one make the gods smile more often!” he said.
Later, at Chaubatia Gardens,
rows upon rows of apple and apricot trees stretched under a hazy sky. Ritu
transformed into a fruit sommelier, explaining which ones were ripe while
Chintu chased butterflies. But trouble loomed: Tia, trying to capture “the
perfect shot,” handed me her phone and barked, “Papa, crouch! Lower! Ugh,
you’re cutting the sky!”
Ritu intervened. A scuffle of
opinions flared—“You’re too demanding!” “You never listen!” “I just want a nice
memory!”—before dissolving into silence during tea at Upat Golf Course.
I let the tea steep longer, hoping emotions would too. A passing local vendor
selling rhododendron squash whispered, “Sir, sometimes the hills heal louder
than parents can.”
Touché.
We returned to Xomotel by dusk,
and the manager arranged a small bonfire on request. Wrapped in shawls, sipping
soup, we heard local tales from the staff—of leopards spotted nearby and
colonial officers once stationed here. Chintu clung to me that night. “No
leopards, right Papa?”
“No son, just mountain dreams.”
Dhanaulti—Whispers in the
Woods & A Midnight Meltdown
We left Ranikhet early next
morning after a quick goodbye to the ever-smiling Mohan ji. Our drive to
Dhanaulti was one of the most magical legs of the journey—misty valleys,
terraced farms, and quaint dhabas under prayer-flag-strewn roofs.
By late afternoon, we arrived at
Apple Orchard Resort, nestled deep among cedar forests. The wooden
architecture and apple-laden trails were right out of a Ruskin Bond novel. The
staff welcomed us with warm apple cider, and a soft-spoken caretaker named
Rekha di showed us to our rooms.
The resort didn’t feel like a
hotel—it felt like an old family estate lost in time. Tia called it “Pinterest
heaven.” Chintu immediately befriended a Himalayan shepherd dog named Dholu,
who followed him everywhere.
After settling in, we visited
the Eco Park, a forested area with swings, nature trails, and incredible
silence. It was here that Ritu—usually the pragmatic planner—suddenly grew
quiet. “Sometimes I wonder,” she said softly, “if we are living too fast back
home. These trees—they don't rush.” We stood there, letting her words hang in
the air like mist between branches.
Evening brought a bonfire
arranged by the hotel. Local folk songs played in the background. We shared
laughter with a couple from Kolkata who were also doing a road trip. Over
dinner—rajma chawal and ghee-laced rotis—we exchanged stories with the kitchen
staff. Our server, Raju, told Chintu, “You should become a mountain guide
someday!” Chintu beamed like he’d won an award.
But just as peace settled, disaster
struck at midnight.
A sudden power cut sent us
scrambling. The electric blankets shut off. Chintu woke up crying—“I can’t see
Dholu!” Tia stumbled in the dark and shrieked, “Something touched me!” Ritu
pulled out her phone flashlight like a warrior.
I stepped outside in my shawl,
teeth chattering, searching for the backup lights in the car. There, in the
bitter cold, under a moonlit sky, I saw Dholu sitting calmly by the Scorpio, as
if guarding us all.
Back inside, the staff had rushed in with candles and extra blankets. Rekha Di apologized profusely and
stayed until Chintu slept again.
“Bunty,” Ritu said softly,
“Tonight, you earned your Chief Baggage Handler and Crisis Manager title
again.”
Hotel Contact Links (for
fellow travellers):
Xomotel
Ranikhet Heights
Location:
Ranikhet, Uttarakhand
xomotel.com/ranikhet-heights
Tip: Ask for the valley-facing rooms for sunrise views. The chef’s pahadi aloo
is a must-try!
Apple
Orchard Resort, Dhanaulti
Location:
Dhanaulti, near Eco Park
appleorchardresort.in
Tip: Book in advance for rooms with fireplaces. Carry a flashlight—power cuts
happen.
Read the Full Series:
- Page 1: Nainital—A Bottle, a Temple & Too Many Selfies
- Page 2: Mukteshwar Mischief & Ranikhet Reflections
- Page 3: Dhanaulti Dramas & the Drive to Auli
- Page 4: Slopes, Snow & Surprises in Auli and Chamoli
- Page 5: Kausani Views & Ghost Stories in Abbott Mount
- Page 6: Pangot – Whispers in the Woods & a Farewell We Didn’t Want
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