We were 22 on the bus from Dehradun to Dhaula that morning, apart from the local guides and the driver.
We passed the Indian Military Academy with the cadets in full uniform, amidst a parade to our right. The remnants of the small-town that this part of Dehradun seemed to be was swiftly left behind.
But the journey really began when the road became precarious and we steadily gained height. A river roared way down below us. Trees, always a balm in vision. The mountains appeared, looming, not gigantic, but green, forested and beautiful. Anytime I looked to the left, the tires were inches away from a free fall.
The journey began when the danger and uncertainty became apparent.