Journey to Daral Lake is more than a trek through the majestic mountains of Swat Valley? It is a journey into endurance, faith, and a rare encounter through the quiet power of nature – a wisdom that leaves a lifelong imprint on the soul.
Even today after a decade of our gruesome journey to Daral Lake, my friend reminds me about it – half in disbelief, half in awe. He is still unable to believe that I was the first among them to reach the lake unhurt, while most of our companions had collapsed under the weight of exhaustion. Of the entire group, only three of us remained standing by the end of the trek: my friend, the shepherd, and me.
The following day after our returning back home, I attended my duty as usual – while none of the others had the strength even to rise from their beds. I owe this resilience to my yoga excercise that quietly trained my body long before the mountains tested it – enhancing flexibility, balance, mobility, and joint stability. Its deeper benefits revealed themselves on that unforgiving trail in strength, endurance, mental discipline, and reduced injury risk. When muscles failed others, the yoga carried me forward through the mountains.
The Journey to Daral Lake Begins: Bara Drushkela to the Foothills
We began our expedition from Bara Drushkela, Matta, where I spent the night with my friend, Saddam, a police constable. He had invited three other friends from Barikot and two cousins from Lalko to join us on the way.
That night, some shepherds visited us. I noticed their whispering and sideways glances. Later, my friend told me plainly what they had said: “He won’t be able to reach Daral Lake – especially considering his weight. It’s better if he doesn’t go.”
But my love for nature and my belief in Allah were stronger than doubt. I calmly told my friend not to worry about me. “I will be fine.”
It was in the month of July – to me the best time to visit the lake. That time, the road to Gabin Jabba had not yet been constructed. A pickup dropped us at the foothills, and from there, the real journey began – on foot.
Gabin Jabba: Gateway to Daral Dand
The journey to Gabin Jabba itself was unmatched. Located in the highlands of Swat Valley, Gabin Jabba lies about 65 kilometers from Mingora and 20 kilometers from Matta Bazaar, at an altitude of 8,471 feet above sea level. It serves as the gateway to the alpine lakes of both Daral and Sidgai. Pine, cedar, and conifer forests lining the winding trails, offered an untouched connection with nature. The winding paths were flanked by mountains and dense woods. Each turn revealed a new vista – more breathtaking than the last.
Upon reaching Gabin Jabba, I found myself fully immersed in the pristine setting that felt untouched by time. The time seemed to slow. Vast green meadows stretched endlessly, wildflowers bloomed in abundance, and the sharp scent of pine filled the air. The only sounds I could hear were the chirping of birds, the gentle rustle of leaves, and the soothing stream – nature’s own symphony.
That night, we camped under a sky thick with stars. It was almost hypnotic, beneath the starlit sky and the moon’s gentle, silvery glow. Later on, rain fell softly, and its music – gentle and rhythmic – lulled us into deep sleep.
The Ascent to Daral Lake: When the Body Breaks
At dawn, we set out for Daral Dand, the biggest water reservoir, nestled in the hill top of the western upper reaches of Bahrain at an elevation of 3,505.2 m (11,500 ft). The lake can be accessed through different routes. From Bahrian, it is a four-hour climbing. From Saidgai, one can access it in two three hour rigorous trekking. From Lalku valley, it is at around six hours long trekking.
The fourth route to the lake is from Gabina Jabba, which is the most charming way to the lake being full of lush green meadows, divine flowers, dense forests and trickles of crystal clear water. The trail is a 5 to 7-hour trek, moderately difficult but relentless, winding through forests, meadows, and steep chasms. Undeniably, the length was high and the heat unforgiving, due to the high altitude, where solar intensity is higher than on the ground. It splashed up and down my back. The sweat from my eyebrows ran into my eyes, making it sore.
Odd looking, I tramped on inching my way up the chimney until I was close enough to hack away some more. Dragging my feet, I made the canyon floor well in time. The younger companions had stamina but lacked restraint. They rushed ahead, calling back for me to hurry.
I warned them, “Slow down, or you’ll exhaust yourselves.”
They laughed: “We are the sons of the mountains.”
I steadily inched up my way, heaving up the slope like a baby elephant. I was trembling with exhaustion. My breath was harsh. I only tried to hear by-now familiar sounds of my sniveling. Yet faith lifted me back to my feet. ‘If I gave in to my strength I would never get to the other side’. I had to help me to my feet to roughly line-up with others like ants to a mound.
The Shepherd and the Strength of Compassion
Indeed, it was a hard part of the journey lay along the cliff to the top. We were tramping along the track, winding up to the top.
One man never left my side – the shepherd. He matched my pace, watched my weaknesses, and encouraged me gently: “Keep going. Stay covered. Stay cheerful.” Those simple words carried immense power.
Near the summit, the sun became merciless. My body trembled uncontrollably. The sinews in my arms trembled with the effort. Tiredness made me blurred. My blood pressure dropped, my hands blistered, and fear crept in. My friend believed I had brushed against a harmful plant and fed me onion and bread. Hunger overtook us all – we ate like men rediscovering food.
Ironically, those who had mocked my pace were now broken. Their strength and energy had staggered; they looked awful. Their lips were beginning to crack; tongues seemed to fill their mouth. Their minds were sleeping and they forced them to concentrate on keeping the rhythm of jog, feet, hands, shoulders and head pulling against them.
Their muscles were full. They couldn’t take anymore. They had not known such heaviness. Several times, exhaustion forced them to collapse onto loose gravel, utterly drained.
Crossing the Ridge: Hope Is Born
When we finally crested the ridge, a new strength surged through me – strength born of hope. Below us, the landscape unfolded like a patchwork quilt draped over a sleeping giant. The descent was gentler. Cool air rose from the canyon, easing my suffering.
My muscles finally obeyed me again, and my pace increased naturally. I walked ahead – alone. The shepherd called out in disbelief, asking me to wait. He could not believe I was moving so fast. Then came the final stretch.
Reaching Daral Lake: Pain Rewarded by Beauty
And then, Daral Lake appeared. Silent. Vast. Timeless. The view was worth every ounce of pain. Reaching Daral Lake, I felt like stepping into another world – one where the sun battles drifting mist, clouds gather without warning, stars pierce the deepest darkness, and silence rules the long nights. The magnificent lake of Daral, also called Daral Dand, is sprawled over a huge area in a giant amoeba like shape at the foothill of Spinsar Mountain. Large rugged and jagged boulders of various shapes and sizes guard and shackle the lake.
The lush-green grass and exotic flowers that blanket the edges give a welcome contrast to the blue and wavy water against the rugged and jagged mountain cliffs in the background. This makes it an illustration of natural beauty and a sanctuary of peace for nature lovers.
Three Days in a Timeless World
We stayed three unforgettable days at Daral. The mysterious lake of Daral is far more than just being a water reservoir. Wearing the colour of spirits, its world is full of secrets. It takes you to a place, where the things appear to have got something secret to tell you.
The nature is completely connected with the meadows around the bloom through vibrant colours of variety of wildflowers; the crisp and clean air is filled with the scent and sound of gentle breezes rustling through the trees. The visitors experience a touch of ecstasy after rigorous climb. Mundane life is thoroughly disconnected in exhilarating view of this masterpiece of nature’s grandeur.
Here, the sun looks like it is in fight with the dangling mist, the clouds bob up for drizzling ahead, the stars meet up the dead dark, the light fears to breach into the silence of the long night. The dramatic weather patterns of the area brought a surreal charm. One movement the sun, the other moment the clouds, then rain for a short while, then again the sun.
The shepherds welcomed us with an open-hearted warmth, slaughtering a sheep in our honour and inviting us into the quiet intimacy of their world. As night fell, they entertained us with haunting, ballad-like songs, turning their simple utensils into rhythmic drumbeats. One by one, they sang in turns, their voices rising under the starlit sky, weaving stories of mountains, solitude, and life on the high pastures.
We also played cricket on the high plateau, laughed freely, and watched clouds being born and released – as if Daral were a factory of the sky. Time seemed to stand still.
Why the Journey to Daral Lake Changes You
Journey to Daral Lake teaches a profound lesson to us: nature does not reward speed – it rewards patience, humility, discipline, and belief. My regular yoga practice prepared my body, faith steadied my mind, and nature rewarded every step with wisdom.
Daral Lake is far more than a destination. Journey to Daral lake is a test, a teacher, and a quiet reminder that true strength often reveals only when the body begins to fail.
This journey is narrated from personal experience, recorded during my trek to Daral Lake in July 2018.
